My husband’s grandfather (Papa) lived many years in
the Basque region of France. Many of his other family members are still in France, but
his grandfather ultimately left and moved to America after he and his wife had their children. Papa blew a kiss to death three years ago, shortly after I met Casey, but sadly before I ever had a chance to meet him. His wife, known to the grandchildren as Matchi, lives locally but still visits France. She
brought me back a gold Basque cross from her last trip. It’s a beautifully crafted,
more feminine version of the one my husband has worn every day since we
met in 2010. Casey's mother and Matchi are both members
of the Sonoma-Marin Basque Club and enjoy member’s luncheons with the large
group. We were invited to be guests at their most recent lunch and looked forward to the event for weeks.
Expecting rain for this first
weekend in March, I dressed in layers. But the weatherman once again
disappointed me with his inaccurate prediction and it was a warm Sunday
afternoon. Especially inside the room where more than a hundred people had
gathered to dine together. The luncheon took place on the campus of St. Vincent's School for Boys in San Rafael. The buildings and grounds were outstanding. We walked around the massive property and saw gardens and play areas, giant trees and fountains; we even peeked into the church
where Sunday Mass was taking place. My father-in-law said it reminded him of the churches in Europe; It's high ceilings and stained glass windows were breath-taking.
A Mus tournament was in it's final stages as lunchtime approached. We didn't play in the tournament this year, but I would love to learn to play this partner's card game for the next event. For now, I was focusing just on lunch.
Lunch time! Let our feast begin! Our meal began with a noodle soup with
chicken and tomato broth. The flavor was beyond unique. It was simple but powerful. The tomato taste really stood out even though it was a clear, thin broth. I loved this soup
with the little tiny noodles. Baguettes
were handed out next and it was hard to not start nibbling on these, but I knew
by now what order the food came in, and cheese was generally the second to last
course.
Our main course followed the soup
and I was about to try something I’d only heard of before, but never seen or
tried: Blood Sausage! If you've never heard of this, it's a sausage containing pork and the dried blood of a freshly killed pig, and suet (fat). I pushed the thought of what it was out of my head and bit down into a wonderfully tasty dish. It was much darker than the other sausage on the table. The "regular" sausage was also much spicier than the blood sausage, so I ended up enjoying it a little more, but it was great fun to try something new!
The Spanish women sitting to my left were thrilled at hearing this was my first time to taste blood sausage, and seem genuinely interested in what I thought of it. I watched as one of the heavily-accented women pulled the inside of the sausage away from the casing. She explained that she'd grown up in the Basque country and they butchered the family pigs on the coldest nights in winter, and it was her job to use the intestines for natural casing of the sausages they prepared. She no longer wanted to eat this part of the pig. They both told stories of growing up in the Basque region and I enjoyed listening to them. It was great company!
Mashed potatoes and a tomato sauce were served with the sausages. Following that course came the salad, prepared with a light-mustard flavor dressing. The long-await Petit Basque cheese appeared and I ate it with what was left of my bread. Gâteau Basque was served as dessert. It was a cake-like pastry with a creamy filling and hints of almond; almost more savory than sweet. The little slices were held in our hands as we ate and remarkably it didn't crumble at all as I took bites. 
I do not believe that this particular Basque club has restrictions on membership. I know the French Club my husband belongs to in South San Francisco requires that you be born in France, or the child of someone born in France. We intend to join this Basque Club next year at this same lunch. For now, we'll enjoy going places as guests of Mom and Dad and Matchi.
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