Sunday, Aquitaine, it's time for lunch

First Sunday lunch in Aquitaine
Friends suggested the village of Tremolat was a winner so on Sunday we drove over to check the place out.
Driving through the village we came across  a restaurant that looked like it was full to overflowing with diners so we thought  why not give it a go.
For those of you who haven't experienced French restaurants at lunch time all I can say is that in respect to operating hours they operate with military precision.
If the hours are advertised as noon to two and you attempt to get a table at one minute past, then you are out of luck.
It's maybe one thirty when we walk through the entrance of Le Bistrot d'en face.
A waitress is rushing past and Julia asks about the chance of a table for two. The immediate response is "we are full, very full".
Julia thanks the woman and turns to walk away when suddenly the waitress breezes past and says "let me see what I can do".
Lots of noise of tables being moved, patrons asked to shift, a table for four split in two and bingo , we are in business.
Our table is in the middle of a row of three tables for two.
First things first. Just as the English have a thing about apologising at every turn , when it comes to greetings the French are in a league of their own.When we arrive at our table we know the drill and  Julia immediately turns to the table on her right and says to the couple "bonjour ". In turn each of these guys looks at Julia and says " bonjour".
Now it's my turn and I turn to the left, let rip with a bonjour and get a couple of bonjours served back at me.
Now Julia turns to her left and repeats the process, they reciprocate , I follow , they reciprocate again and eventually after no less than twelve bonjours we take our seats.
No, the introductions weren't quite over as at that point the aged proprietor , resplendent in hunting attire and scarf to match approached our tables, introduced himself and then went to great lengths arguing for and against the merits of all food options his restaurant had available for this particular lunch. It has to be said that this chap was a PR genius and in no time flat had us all ordering the upmarket Menu at an extra €3.50 per head.
Time for stuttering small talk
English? No, New Zealanders...Kiwis.
Aaah!! Les Blacks....Haka.....Jonah Lomu......Sheep?
Yes, that's us.
Where's that waitress. I need a vino before this conversation takes a turn for the worse.
The couple to my left were a bit older than us and were immediately notable as they were the only guys in the restaurant not drinking wine . This is very odd, as in really very odd.The woman was dressed to the nines yet the guy was wearing the sort of sweater post war mums used to knit for their kids using variously coloured wools  That sweater was hard to look at without laughing out loud. The guy was a piece of work, as when he wasn't trying out his English skills on us he was reaching across the table grab his wife's hands , pull them over to his side of the table them proceed to caress them at length whilst at the same time whispering  sweet  nothing's into her ear in a tone that vaguely sounded like the sort of language you would hear on a Dutch porn channel. All very interesting.
The couple on my right were eighty if they were a day and  came scrubbed up in their Sunday best.
Things started getting lively after the old couple had knocked back their first 50cl of white wine , which on reflection was probably 49cl more than their fragile bodies could cope with.
The woman managed to hold things together quite well however by the end of his second glass the old dude was at a stage where whenever he attempted to put his fork loaded with lettuce anywhere near his mouth it ended up hitting his flesh about one inch below his lower lip. Highly entertaining stuff . His wife had a good laugh whenever he managed to hit the spot without having to first negotiate entry via his chin.
When this guy ordered a second 50cl carafe of red I thought he must have had some kind of death wish. This guys attempts at pouring a drink straight out of the carafe into his glass was also a bit of a mission by this stage. If my French wasn't so poor I would have offered to help as at every attempt vino was splashing in all directions . What a waste!
Meanwhile we were dining on fantastic tasting white asparagus and Parma ham for starters followed by the best Boef Bourguignon  that has ever past our lips.
A couple of hours on and we exit left and walk back to our car.
At the same time the elderly couple also exit the restaurant . Oh, I forgot , this guy also ordered a third 50cl carafe. 1.5 litres over lunch split between two eighty year olds. These guys were legends.
It was the funniest thing as we watched these two old guys clinging onto each other as they staggered off home. I'm confident if the slightest of winds had blown up these guys would have fallen over on the spot.