| Château de Mirambeau
It could not have been easier. We flew into the small and organized airport at Bordeaux Merignac, and, with only hand luggage, we flopped into the luxury people-carrier with fruit, water, madeleines and roses placed in a wicker basket by our side. Simple, thoughtful and uplifting.
Arriving at the Château is quite something. This time I took my eldest sister, an eccentric, effervescent, romantic interior designer and, before I could open my mouth, she was eulogising in several languages, leaving me quite speechless. I remember her exhaling in her ineffable manner, which, roughly translated, meant 'amazing'. Château de Mirambeau really is a perfect turreted Rapunzel-style castle dating back to the 15th Century. I adore the sandstone walls and slate roofing. It doesn't take much imagination to picture the dukes and princesses that have flirted and danced the nights away here over the last centuries.
Although a little weary (it was a very early start), the greeting was so warm and genuine that I actually felt I had returned rather than arrived. We were handed welcome refreshments and, after a little peek into a couple of outstanding rooms, we were led to our magnificent suite on the top floor. It is a visual feast with lashings of rich Nobilis fabric covering armchairs and armoires and Louis XVI escritoire and a walnut bureau. Petals are strewn over the bed, and canapes and freshly squeezed orange juice placed on a low table for casual consumption. Our windows have far reaching views across the landscaped lawns and grand old oak, lime, chestnut and poplar trees. The bathroom is gorgeous: a central faux hipbath is set up on a platform surrounded by marble, and mirrors with flattering lighting and deliciously fragrant bath accoutrement (relaxing sea fennel) is laid out a hand's reach from the deeply comfortable tub.
A sensational lunch
The dining room at Mirambeau has to be one of the most exceptional dining salons in any home or hotel worldwide. It is flooded with sunlight, being double aspect, with floor to ceiling French windows leading on to a glorious terrace to the west and the citadel's courtyard to the east. In true cosseting Baglioni style you sit at round tables in glorious Nobilis clad armchairs with Limoges parrots clutching red roses. The views are dreamy: looking out over the large stone terrace and across the sweeping lawns is really quite special, and so too is Frederick Milan's culinary hand. We sat bathed in sunshine in complete luxury, being waited on by totally adorable staff. We had a marbled terrine of foie gras and lobster with a wine jelly followed by John Dory perfectly cooked with Spring vegetables. This is when we were also introduced to our pleasingly affable and gifted sommelier, Aurelien Vincent, affectionately known as Vinny. Vinny the peripatetic viticulturalist who, from now on, became our travelling 'buddy' and alcohol imbiber.
Following our memorable lunch, Vinny took us to Cognac to learn the extraordinary skill and complex art of cognac making. We went to the most prestigious home of Cognac, Hennessy, set in original 16th century buildings on either side of the river Charente. Our stunning guide, Patricia, spent the best part of three hours taking us from vault to vat explaining the history and processes involved in each different style and blend going right back to 1756 when Richard Hennessy arrived from Ireland and started the company as a trading post for his production of eau de vie. We went on the Hennessy river cruise, which I strongly recommend and, by the end of the day, we were not only informed we were also very expensive to please. If we couldn't have a glass of Richard Hennessy then we wanted Paradis, if not that then Ellipse (€3,500 a bottle!), but if all else failed we could have a glass of at least 50 year old XO. I settled on purchasing a bottle of XO from the slick Boutique des Quais.
That night, after a relaxing soak, we put on our glad rags and headed for the exquisite terrace where we sipped pink champagne while the sun slowly dipped behind the majestic trees, and as the shadows lengthened across the soft rolling lawns, we identified the different bird songs from thrush to blackbird with the constant cooing of contented doves in the background. At eight, the bells from the chapel chimed and we were led to our favourite table for a gastronomic feast of jellied oysters and ragout of lobster followed by delicious local cheeses and a trio of delicately flavoured crème brulee. Vinny recommended a local sauvignon blend, Hommage a St Vincent, which was light and grassy and, as Cinderella and her big sister were nearing midnight, he tried to twist our arms with some Paradis. Another time, perhaps, but the paradise I was looking forward to was upstairs in our boudoir, where we drifted off like spoilt princesses cocooned beneath soft Egyptian cotton.
Off to St. Emilion
Breakfast was an omelette, expertly executed by Frederick and, soon after, we waved goodbye to our special citadel as Vinny took us off to St Emilion to learn about another grape variety... Merlot. We visited a wonderful estate, Châteaux Trottevieille, where they blend generous quantities of Cabernet Franc with Merlot to create nectar quite sublime. Well informed and really excited by the prospect of lunch at the incredible Hotel Plaisance, in the Romanesque and picturesque town of St Emilion, we drove past, what I think, are some of the prettiest vineyards in France. This is a beautiful region, really quite magical.
After a quick shop in 'Le Bordeaux Biarritz', housing a creative and stylish mix of accessories from espadrilles to suede bags and silk scarves, below the ancient town square, we headed off for our Michelin-starred dejeuner created by master chef, Phillip Etchebest. He is a "meilleur ouvrier de France" or best worker in France, a coveted award given to the best-of-the-best in the manual trades. With only one star, we are confident the next is merely jammed in orbit. It really was sensational. Marinated medallions of tuna on a chutney of aubergine followed by tender chicken with gnoccchis and petits legumes in a jus de poulet, slightly sticky and ridiculously tasty. The wine was a rare dry St Emilion Sauvignon Blanc, crisp and easygoing, chosen by Vinny. In fact, my smitten sister offered her hand to the chef, in the matrimonial sense, and, a little later, his charming wife brought us our plates of goat's cheese followed by a chocolate mouse surrounded by granadilla. Our tastebuds were reeling on the next star by this stage. Before leaving, we sipped a small glass of Sauterne on the terrace outside, underneath the impressive Roman church, with screeching swifts diving overhead, looking out across the sweetest town in France, St Emilion.
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