"We went to Perigueux during the annual summer sales. We needed plates and bowls for the business and there's a cheap pottery outlet just on the outskirts. The plan was to get the crockery then head to Boulazac on the other side of the city...to enjoy lunch at the best Chinese buffet we've found in France, by far. The Perle de Chine. We aimed to eat to excess, then browse the abundant malls and shops in the same area to walk off the oriental indulgences. We got the crockery and traversed the city, salivating at the thought of our forthcoming feast. We were imaging what we were going to have so vividly, we somehow missed the turn off. As I was directing, himself as driver was not amused. We ended up miles out of Perigueux before turning back. We started talking again just before reaching the retail park where Perle de Chine nestles. Like a burnished jewel it beckons you with promises of mysterious wonders. Except it was closed! But not just closed. Shut. As in permanently. Gone. Forever. Deceased. The disappointment was massive. We peered through the grubby windows, wishing for the serving tables (still there) to be laden once more with our favourite dishes. It wasn't happening. Obviously. Judging by our rumbling bellies an alternative needed to be found and quickly. Across the car park we could see tables, with diners, outside a place called Au Bureau. It was the only place nearby offering food, so we checked it out. It was one of those faux Victorian bar type places with fake leather Chesterfield sofas and fake old dark, dark furniture. And big TVs on the walls showing football. Somebody had obviously been to a Wetherspoon's and run wild with a similarly depressing idea. It screamed chain We Googled it. That confirmed the worst. We were starving, so took a seat outside. The young waiter was friendly enough, but he only showed us to our table. His colleague would take our order, he said. We were handed slightly grubby folding menu cards. Everything was pictured looking lovely. People moan about Photoshopping bodies in magazines, but no one mentions the lengths food stylists go to make something look appetizing. Himself fancied the look of a Welsh burger. A succulent burger of minced beef with a fried egg and cheese on top Served with fries and a side salad. I went for the seductive looking duck breast and peach brochettes. With garlic potatoes and salad. Himself had an Orangina. We shared a coup of Breton Cider. Today's special A blackboard had proclaimed. The waiter colleague was swift. Efficient. Disinterested. Water and bread were brought and plonked on the table. Chains! The other diners were tucking in enthusiastically. Their food looked okay. Ours came surprisingly quickly. And do you know what? It was perfectly fine, adequate, unsurprising mass produced fuel. The burger was done well. The chips were crisp. The salad? Best draw a veil over that. Bagged, browning and lifeless. My duck chunks were juicy, if a little chewy. A rest before serving might have helped. Tinned sliced peaches helped to cut through the fatty skin. The garlic potatoes were very good and very generous. It was... satisfying. It wasn't terrible. It wasn't brilliant. It's just what you would expect to fill your belly on a disappointing day, when what you really wanted was something completely at the other end of the food spectrum. We had bitter espresso coffees to finish. Again, pleasant, unremarkable, yet somehow satisfying. Chains! The bill was just under for"
