By the Loire, cursed cats and the pike that got away

The Chateau de Chenonceau was under siege.
Battalions of Italians flooded through the wooded grounds; regiments of Japanese tramped the formal gardens; platoons of Poles rushed the bookshop, a rowing boat flotilla skirted the graceful arches over the River Cher.

"I've done Azay-le-Rideau and Cheverny, it was pretty tough, but nothing like this," groaned one Parisian veteran of the Loire Valley summer campaign as he manned the line in the stables-turned-fast-food-outlet.
Chenonceau it is the epicentre of the annual August invasion of the Loire's chateaux route.
The combination of its graceful towers and arches, its unique position astride the Cher, art-filled rooms and a scandalous history filled with the amorous adventures of French royalty draws tourists from around the world.
Fortunately Chenonceau's charm manages to survive the assault. The view of its arches reflected in the shimmering waters of the Cher is one of the great sights of France and a triumph of Renaissance planning.
Inside, there are paintings by Murillo, van Dyke, Tintoretto, Poussin, Veronese, Rubens. Bed chambers are hung by the richest Flemish tapestries, graced by vast ornate fireplaces and silk draped four-poster beds. Every window offers a glimpse of the river or the formal gardens below.
Those four-posters have seen some wear and tear over the years. Chenonceau is known as the chateau des dames, and this delicate retreat was long the favoured rendezvous for the French monarchy and their courtesans.
Renowned 16th-Century beauty Diane de Poitiers made the place her own while she was the favourite of King Henri II _ until his wife Queen Catherine de Medici kicked the mistress out.
A right royal schemer, Catherine became the power behind the throne in France while three of her sons became king. She ran affairs of state from the little office next to Chenonceau's library. A charming place, no doubt, to plan the massacres of Protestants and poisonings of rivals for which she was renowned.
One of the chateau's most richly decorated chambers is the room of the five queens in honour of such illustrious guests as Mary Queen of Scots and La Reine Margot, played fetchingly by Isabelle Adjani in the blood-soaked movie of the same name.
In the Francois I bedroom, there's a painting of three naked sisters _ the Mesdemoiselles de Nesle, who took turns as the mistress of Louis XV.
The helpful guide also explains how the mother of another of the Louis once threw a birthday banquet for her son and his chums with nude serving wenches on hand to grant their carnal and culinary desires. The era is captured well in Eleanor Herman's rollicking history Sex with Kings.
Just passing through, we had little time to visit the other great chateaux on the banks of the lazy Loire between Tours and Orleans. Just a peak at classical Cheverny _ the model for Tintin's Moulinsart _ and mighty Chambord where we were watched by a boar munching its way through the undergrowth of the surrounding forest.
On the eastern edge of the main chateau drag is the sleepy little town of Beaugency, which boasts its own 11th-century castle keep and brace of medieval churches. The Loire is wide and lethargic here, spanned by a 14th-century bridged considered such a wonder at the time, that many suspected a supernatural hand in its construction.
Local legend has it that the Devil build the bridge over one night aiming to capture the first soul that crossed it. Old Nick's plans were thwarted when a black cat scampered across at dawn, saving the townsfolk from damnation, but earnng the curse of witchery and evil eye for all sooty felines.
Overlooking the bridge, L'Abbaye de Beaugency, rebuilt in the 17th century after a fire, is now is an atmospheric hotel, with rooms in the old monks' cells. Many are duplex, great for families, with views over the sandy banks of the river. There are roaring fires, mounted stags' heads, monumental staircases and long, spooky corridors. A wide terrace beside the shady Loire shore is the perfect place for summer breakfasts.
The restaurant features a tempting selection of sander and langoustines, lapin chasseur and rognons de veau a la grains de moutarde. Unfortunately, both times we've stayed there, the chef's been sick or on leave and we've been forced to dine elsewhere.
With Beaugency perched between the Solonge, the Beauce and the Touraine, three of France's great culinary regions, that shouldn't have been a problem, but both times we ended up disappointed by restaurants brandishing snooty staff or substandard grub.
On our most recent visit we tried L'Abbaye's rival, L'Ecu de Bretagne, an old post inn on the town square, where there's a fine market on Saturday mornings replete with crispy rillions of pork belly, andouilles and andouillettes, fresh local fruit and veg and ash sprinkled Saint-Maure goat's cheeses.
Here the rooms in the main building are cosy and cheap at 70 euros for a double, but a bit rudimentary, those in the outbuildings have been restored to a high standard but come at a higher price.
The restaurant came highly reputed. Comfy despite its size, it's a typically old school French countryside place, with cheery waitresses, an authoritarian sommelier and the expectation of regional cuisine of the highest quality.
We started on a bottle of Cheverny Point du Jour full of cool cherries and a hint of liquorice, then dived directly into the menu de terroir which began with a delightfully creamy terrine de chevre and finished with the pungent pick of the cheeseboard and a refreshing soupe aux fraises.
In between came quenelles de brochet, the restaurant's signature dish.
This is a speciality here beside the pike-invested waters of the Loire. These were fluffed up with beurre blanc and produced a light souffle texture full of fresh eggs and fine butter flavour.
There was just one thing lacking _ the brochet. I could detect hardly a soupcon of any fish. Maybe my brutalised Anglo-Saxon taste buds were missing some subtlety here, but the frown on the face of Parisian missus confirmed that this fish seemed to have gotten away. I asked the waiter if the pike were caught locally, he looked confused and muttered something about a cash-and-carry.
After a third disappointing dinner in a town which has seems to have everything it needs to produce gastronomic success, we were left to reflect that perhaps Beaugency's black cat had crossed out path.

http://www.ecudebretagne.fr
http://www.hotel-abbaye-beaugency.com
http://www.chenonceau.com