We didn't go out to a lot of restaurants while we were staying in sweet Mollégès, but instead sustained ourselves with lots of "Nibbly Wibblies" (an affectionate family term for small delicious things that together make a meal.) And in typical Oldham fashion, we usually had more alcohol than food.
Many of our meals consisted of the following:
Why, you might ask, is there a food item called "poop saucisson"?? Because:
(Although, to be fair to this poor sausage, it didn't smell NEARLY as poop-like as a certain traditional Lyonnaise dish that a certain collaborator of mine ate at a little bouchon when we visited the fair city of Lyon.) Anyway, the Poop Saucisson was not a family favorite. Luckily, the local chat vagabond, named Monsieur Butterlips by Katy and Erin, helped us out:
(Monsieur Butterlips was also fed nearly an entire jar of foie gras by Chère Erin. He was sorry to see us go, as you might imagine.) On the subject of saucisson, I never figured out why one of the particular sausages at the supermarket was called a Petit Jesus, but it never failed to make all of us giggle.