TdF Files: Le buffet de presse

One of many reasons why Anthony Tan keeps on coming back to the Tour is the gastronomic spread put on by the finish towns for the journalists, otherwise known as 'Le buffet de presse’.

The buffet is great TanMan – so long as you like ham As I walked into the press room at the finish of today's third stage finish in Redon, circa 2 p.m. Central European Time, the first thing I felt was my stomach.

It needed to be filled, for it had already been three hours since I last stuffed my face at breakfast before leaving our hotel in Nantes, the marvellous five-, er, I mean, two-star All Seasons Nantes sud Rezé. (Names can be deceiving, can't they? Last night, I dreamt I was at the Four Seasons in Ubud, Bali, staying with the fetching blond podium girl that agreed to marry me only days before, where, from our infinity lap pool, we watched the sun set below the vermillion horizon before making love. Then I woke up.)

Oh yes, back to my stomach…

Lucky for me and the 300-400 print journalists at this year's Tour de France, on most days our lunchtime dietary requirements are met by way of 'le buffet de presse'. A spread put on by the town locals to keep us hacks smashing away at our keyboards throughout the afternoon and evening, it gives us poorly paid scribes a chance to sample the foods of the region without paying one Euro cent… Who says there's no such thing as a free lunch?

It almost always comprises of raw or already-cooked foods that do not require reheating, for we arrive at different times of the day, depending on whether we first go to the start and how fast we drive to the finish. To quote Raymond Babbitt (a.k.a. Dustin Hoffman) in Rain Man, I'm an excellent driver.

Inside Redon's Complexe sportif Joseph Ricordel, I plonked my bags and lappy down, alongside my travelling colleague for this Tour, Gregor 'I've been blacklisted by Bjarne' Brown (Link here), and made a beeline for le buffet.

Already there before me were the SBS and Fox Sports TV posses cutting in on the culinary action, patriarch Mike 'I've got the 'flu and no-one gives a rat's' Tomalaris at the head of the table, puffing on his Cuban cigar.

"Buongiorno, Don Tomo," I said, before grasping his hand with two of mine and engaging in the customary kiss on both sides of his face, to which he replied: "Why come to me? What have I done to deserve such generosity?" (For effect, I made that last bit up.)

Today was a choice of ham, couscous, or potato salad, or ham, couscous and potato salad. Spoilt for choice, it took me somewhere between one and three seconds' procrastination before I could decide. Ham and couscous it would be. Too many carbs are bad for digestion.

So busy was I filling my gob a second time today, when I briefly looked up to catch my breath, Don Tomo and famiglia were gone, back to the TV truck where they belong.

Next time they would not get away unscathed, I thought to myself, butter knife in hand, before returning for seconds.

Follow Anthony on Twitter: @anthony_tan