PROVENCE: TALES AND TASTING

FRANCE EN FETE

Festivals abound in Provence in the summer months. I've been to many, community celebrations in honor of lavender, cheese, pumpkins, hunting dogs, truffle dogs, melons, lemons, gardens...plus many focusing on music and meals.

On Bastille Day, July 14, I head to a neighboring village, Vacheres, for their celebration  which commemorates the storming of the Bastille fortress-prison on July 14, 1789, and the beginning of the French Revolution.

The Vacheres fete is mainly about food, an obsession with the French.  A school yard is transformed into a huge picnic grounds with long tables under an open-sided tent.  There's music, camaraderie, and lots of kissing as everyone seems to know most everyone and air kisses on each side of the cheek are the de rigueur greeting.  But the reason for the gathering is to eat.  This year it was an aioli festival.

Aioli, garlic mayonnaise, is a favorite in Provence, but also refers to a Provencal dish: boiled vegetables (green beans, carrots, potatoes, cauliflower), hard-boiled eggs and boiled fish (usually  desalted salt cod) -- all accompanied with the garlic-mayo.  It's not my favorite, but at Vacheres it was preceded by an aperitif, a type of cherry punch served with lots of tasty snacks, then followed by cheese and melon, plus all the wine (red or rose) you cared to drink.   You could have seconds, even thirds, of the aioli. Not bad for 15 euros ($21).

Marie Terese and  her companion on the keyboard provided the entertainment.  She does a passable imitation of Piaf and sings other old French favorites.  The crowd loved it -- lots of clapping and cheering.  After her performance, locals took to the stage, an Italian singing opera, a young girl, a group of teens.  It was all quite jolly. 

Past Bastille Day meals in Vacheres have included paella and a Sardinade (grilled sardines) -- my favorite. Another Provencal dish, soupe au pistou, was the focus of a festival in the village of Viens  several years ago. Pistou is the Provence version of pesto, but made without pine nuts.  The hearty green soup is rich in vegetables -- heavy on green beans -- and all flavored with pistou.

At that festival  you were expected to bring your own dishes and silverware. I showed up without, but was quickly supplied. It seemed strange to be feasting on soup on a hot summer's night, but it was delicious, although after waiting for more than two hours, maybe anything would have been delicious.  The fete was supposed to begin at 8 p.m. Hundreds of people, a melange of children, newborn babies, their parents, senior citizens and teens,  sat at long, long tables in a park.  At 10 p.m. they started banging on the tables.  Where's the food?  At 10:15 huge cauldrons of the soup, each carried by two men, arrived. I had three bowls, my husband had four, plus lots of wine, a cheese course and ice cream with apple cake.  Worth the wait.

The Frenchman next to me explained that each bowl of soup would taste differently depending on who made it (all had been prepared by locals) and how long it cooked.  In addition to eating, the French love to talk about food. "It's one of their favorite topics," a French chef once told me.

A meal based on truffles was the star attraction of a festival in honor of truffle dogs.  This was a winter festival in a tiny village where there were stands selling truffles, sausages, cheese etc., and truffle dogs who were led to a field where the prized fungi had been buried.  They went crazy digging the dirt which covered the truffles.  The pricey meal (35 euros/$49), each course enhanced by truffles, was a disappointment.  I couldn't detect any special, fantastic tastes.

The only food to be had at the Festival of St. Jean in nearby Mane was grilled sausage.  The festival, however, was a winner. The feast of St. Jean the Baptist on June 24 is traditionally celebrated with huge fires. The Mane fete was a pyromaniac's dream.

It began with music, more precisely, the pounding and banging of large drums by a "band" of mainly teenage girls.  Their dynamic male leader directed them in different rhythms.  The crowd -- all ages, all sizes-- followed the band up a path of cobblestones, then dirt, to the castle atop a hill.  Darkness was aproaching.  Lights below began to twinkle.  The views of the surrounding Luberon hills were spectacular.

The pounding never stopped.  It was hypnotic. Then the torch-distributors arrived.  Everyone was given a torch -- a type of candle on a long stick.  Even small children got torches. The fires were passed from torch to torch so that everyone's torch was burning  for the parade back down to the village.  The crowd was dense.  There were precarious, stony steps to navigate.  The path was narrow. Some torches blazed out of control. It was exciting, but scary.   No way U.S. fire regulations would have permitted this flaming scenario.

Back at the market place, a gigantic tower of wooden crates had been erected.  More drum pounding. Some started dancing.  Then the signal was given and the torches were thrown onto the crates.  Soon it was a roaring blaze with flames dancing high into the night sky.  The crowd moved back to escape the heat. Not a fire truck in sight, but a man stood by holding a hose.

The drums took a rest and a rock band took over.  Everyone -- well almost everyone -- started dancing. First there was a chain dance, with revelers linking hands and dancing around the  flames. Then random dancing. Parents with children, children with children, young lovers, teenage girls, old folks. This was a party.  And, there was nary an accident.

 The Oriental fete in Reillanne, my town, several years ago featured a belly dancer and a mid-Eastern meal of tagine.  A regular dance followed the meal, although there were some Oriental sounds which prompted many of the female festival goers to try belly dancing. Very amusing.

I sat with Kenneth and Marjorie, a British couple who were vacationing at the nudist camp outside of town and entertained me with stories of life without clothes.  "You never have to worry about what to wear," Marjorie said.

Last year I went to Avignon for the theatre festival which takes place in the town every July, an entire month of theatrical and musical performances at venues throughout the city.  I did not attend an actual theatrical event, but enjoyed the pre-festivities in the streets.  Costumed thespians, musicians and dancers wander through the narrow streets of the old city, passing out flyers with the hopes of  enticing members of the crowd to attend their particular performance.  Some actually stop in squares and stage mini-performances. They interact with the crowd. It's wonderful entertainment.  I'll go back again soon.

Just a few weeks ago I ventured to Cruis for its annual music festival.  A different band plays at each of the small city's squares.  There are also strolling bands and a church concert.  It's crowded, lively and fun and goes on until the wee hours.  But, unfortunately there was little food.

There's no reason to be bored in Provence in summer.   For more photos of fetes, click on the photo in the center column.

 

 

To Market, To Market

Markets are the essence of Provence.  Most towns have a market  at least one day each week -- morning events where you can find the luscious products and produce of Provence. Plump green and black olives, cheese, sausage, clothes, ceramics, baskets, products made from olive wood, tools and gadgets, jewelry, Provencal souvenirs and colorful fabrics, plus fruits and vegetables and more.  All outdoors in the glorious sunshine. Shopping has never been so much fun.

  Our town, Reillanne, has a wonderful Sunday market that is especially bustling in the summer when tourists join local shoppers.  I go almost every week, year round, and have my favorite vendors.

Reynard Bouchard specializes in "products of Provence that are grown with lots of love." He stands behind his picture-perfect display  of tomatoes, zucchini, cucumbers, beans, nectarines, raspberries .. and offers customers an "apricot for breakfast,"  then proceeds to recommend making a sauce for duck with the succulent fruit. (I did -- excellent)  One of his patrons offers another suggestion-- an apricot tart with lavender.

"I adore coming here," he says.  "I can speak with everyone, give advice, explain my products... I speak of love."  His truffle dog, Cerise, sleeps under the stand, ignoring other dogs who come by. (Many shoppers bring their dogs to the market, and many dogs belonging to locals wander among the stands in Reillanne. ) 

For cheese, I visit Daniel Nigro who sells between 200 --250 kinds of cheese from his large truck with a side-panel that opens up to a display.  Nigro has a regular clientele, many of whom he knows by first name and greets with the obligatory air kiss on both sides of the cheek.  He chats, he jokes, he recommends, he offers tastes.  That's how I discovered my favorites -- aged Beaufort and Brie de Meaux.

Like most market merchants, Nigro follows a circuit, traveling to a different town every morning to sell his products.  He's in Manosque on Saturday, Forcalquier on Monday....but Reillanne on Sunday is his favorite.  "The people here are very nice.  It's Sunday.  People are relaxed," he says.

Nigro sells goat cheese (chevre), but for that I visit Pierre Maulet, a young farmer who has 45 goats.  His cremeux chevre is exquisite. Maulet, 27, said working the markets, especially Reillanne on Sunday, can be demanding.  "I only had 1 1/2 hour of sleep last night," he says, explaining that he was out late at a festival.

"People think it's not trying to work the market, but it's difficult," explained a pretty woman who sells jewelry from India.  She preferred to remain anonymous, but did say that she has to get up at 6 a.m. to get to the market and set up her stand.  She travels to India where she spends a month every year to buy her products  -- silver jewelry, some with stones such as lapis lazuli, turquoise and onyx.

Clothes from India are the specialty of Sylvie and her daughter.  Like the jewelry seller, she spends  a month in India every year where she has the clothes made following her designs.  I always admire her fashions, very trendy and chic, but out of my price range.

I like the bargains offered by Carmen Soustre, a jolly woman with a range of moderately priced tops, pants, skirts and dresses hanging from racks under a tarp.  Like most market vendors, Soustre likes "meeting people."

"This is what we want to do.  We meet lots of people," says Martine Caron, who, with her husband, Didier, sells products from their farm -- "four hectares with lots of animals" -- plus some 20 different kinds of confiture that she makes.  The flavors are innovative:  poires au caramel (pears with caramel), bananes a la vanille, and my favorite, tomates au romarin et vinagre balsamique  (tomatoes with rosemary and balsamic vinegar).  She suggested I serve the latter with cheese.  She's right.  It's very tasty. 

Sylvaine Contour also sells confiture, 15 sweet varieties, plus 15 "salty."  In the latter category are vegetable pates.  She gave me a taste of  Delices de Carottes au Carvi  (Carrots with caraway). Delicious --I had to buy a jar, plus a jar of Aubergine au Curry (curried eggplant).

Olives -- the taste of Provence -- are always on my list.  Jasmine Lubineau sells 13 different kinds, mostly Provencal olives, but some from Spain, plus the jumbo Kalamata olives from Greece.  I usually buy some of the Kalamata, plus her Provencal melange, a mixture of different kinds of both black and green olives, with bits of onion and other tasty tidbits.

For bread, it's Pascal Boffa with 17 different kinds of bread all baked in ovens fired by wood and made without yeast.  "These are products of the region made with local flours," he says. His most popular bread is demi-complet made with three different grains and rich in fiber.   I prefer his nut and olive breads.

For flowers, it's Francois Bonnet, although in summer I don't buy flowers as we have an ample supply in our yard. But it's a treat to buy from Bonnet who touts the merits of special blooms, gives specific instructions on care, and painstakingly arranges gorgeous bouquets.  He often adds an extra stem at no extra cost.

"He's delightful," says one of his regulars. "The quality of his flowers is the best... his bouquets last for 15 days. He's passionate about flowers."

As for Bonnet, "It's always a pleasure to sell flowers," he says. He enjoys working at the market which he calls "a happy event."

Nazmi Uzunca, A Turk and vendor of Turkish jewelry, most of which he makes, also likes the joyous ambience of the markets.  For some 30 years he's been selling at between five and six markets each week. "I'm very happy in France," he says. "Turkey is beautiful, but it's changing a lot, becoming too religious.  I hate religion.  I believe in God, but not religion."

Viviane Angelvin is the placiere regisseuse (traveling agent) at the Reillanne market.  It's her job to collect fees from the vendors who pay 1,10 euros per linear meter for their space.  In summer there are about 53 stands in Reillanne, although in winter the number drops to 20.  "The market has really grown in the past 20 years.  It's very varied with all kinds of products for all tastes," she says  "Reillanne is noted for its Sunday market. People know we have it and they come."

After shoppinig I often meet friends on the terrace of the Cafe du Cour overlooking the market.  It's a delightful ritual. We sip pink wine and catch up on news.