We spent the new year period staying at a friend’s house in Cavaillon which is in the Vaucluse Department of the Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur region in southeastern France. The converted barn replete with ancient timber beams and shapely plaster walls is nestled between Avignon and Aix-en-Provence and some of the most charming villages of the Luberon region. I’m familiar with the character of the Mediterranean with its dry, scrubby landscape, red rooftops, stone walls and dramatic cliffs where for centuries people have literally carved their lives from the rocks. What makes the Provence area different is the colour of their houses. The homes are built and painted a creamy yellow that appears soft against the harsher greens and greys of the foliage and they paint their shutters blue. But it’s not a deep blue that you might find in Greece but rather a vivid lavender that mimics the fields that Provence is so famous for.

On our mini tour of Provence we went to Avignon and saw the majestic Papal palace that towers over the town. We meandered through the winding markets of L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, a little town surrounded by the river Sorgue, famous for its antiques and flea markets. We strutted with the well-heeled and well-tanned folk of Aix-en-Provence where even in winter the sunny, yellow buildings make the town feel vibrant and warm. We were taken to the famous 120 year old  Pâtisserie Béchard where our hostess ordered the traditional festive tart la galette des rois.  Made of two sheets of puff pastry, filled with frangipane and in our case hazelnut cream as well, the tart contains a fève, a small china doll or a bean and whomever finds it becomes king or queen. There were three fèves in our cake and my piece had the bean, but alas there was no crown with our order because that particular detail is reserved for the Epiphany on the 6th of January.

Our final day, New Year’s Day was spent driving around the hills and vales of the Luberon Region. We climbed the ramparts of Oppède, which is being slowly restored back to it’s former glory by people who are moving back to the deserted town. The newly laid stone paths and villas contrast with the moss covered ruins. We had lunch in Bonnieux whose history lies as far back as Roman settlement. La Flambee’s restaurant was heaving with new year revellers, and so we had to sit in the front bar area. But it was great because it was a lot quieter and we could watch the busy host preparing the dessert course, carefully placing a clementine on each plate and burnishing tiny creme brulees. Even under pressure the staff were friendly and welcoming and our pizza feast was one of my favourite moments of the trip. The ambiance and comfort of the cafe made me want to sit there all afternoon. But with two restless little boys, this was not possible, so we were off again on our tour this time driving through Apt, Gordes and into the valley to see the 12th century Cistercian Abbey de Senanque. In the warmer months this famous abbey is enveloped by fields of lavender and it is how the monks earn their income.

Our hostess Madame B was kind and thoughtful. She not only opened her home to our rowdy family, but she also cooked us meals, made us laugh and even bought us gifts. Our connection to Mdm B was her daughter and long time friend Mdm A, who kindly arranged for us to stay in the home she grew up in. Mdm A was constantly preparing food and supervising the preparation of cocktails and aperitifs. We were given lavender pouches, some Herbs de Provence (savory, fennel, basil & thyme), Lavender Syrup which I am yet to try – I was told it makes an excellent addition to a glass of Champagne. Little baubles were made, jingling with specialty sweets from the area including nougat, chocolate candied peel and the most well-known, the calisson which is almond shaped and made of marzipan and flavoured with fruit, in this case the rockmelon that the town of Cavaillon is famous for. My favourite gift however was a gigantic tin of duck confit from Perigord. It is the very same type that Madame B cooked up for us on New Year’s eve and most definitely the best duck meal I have ever eaten.

The culinary highlights of the trip would have to be the enormous salads at Le Papagayo in Aix, Madame B’s supreme confit of duck, our cosy pizza feast in Bonnieux and in a broad sense the general eating habits of the French. Food is laid on the table in abundance, and each course savoured. Every night is like a dinner party which starts at 8pm with aperitifs and canapes and goes well into the evening with course after course and bottle after bottle. The bread is always good and the cheese is always varied and plentiful.

What I like best of all is the fact that a greedy guts like me is not shunned as a glutton but rather heralded as a gourmandise. I heartily endorse this term and would indeed consider myself as such.

Final notes on Southern France (Days 13 – 21) cont…

By this point on our trip we had seen so many beautiful old French towns that they had slowly started blurring together. Although Aix en Provence is a wonderful town, my attention was wanning. There were fountains, statues and artworks placed all around the city however I’m ashamed to say that only thing that managed to capture my attention at this stage was the site of an unusual man dressed as a French dandy who appeared to be juggling cats outside of a footlocker store. On closer inspection it turned out that the cats were not being juggled, but were doing tricks whilst perching on the man’s head and shoulders. For obvious reasons, I found this incredibly odd (how the hell does someone make a cat do tricks?), so I decided to take a photo for further consideration and began to move on. This was apparently a big mistake and I was presently abused by said cat man who pointed me out from the other large group of tourists taking photos and began to approach me whilst yelling at me in French. My initial reaction was to hide behind Jac, which did not aid me in this particular situation.

It’s quite terrifying being yelled at by an insanely dressed man waiving cats about in your face. Thankfully our wonderful host Fabienne came to the rescue who began to yell back at him in French with her arms protectively around me. I still had no idea what was happening and had even less idea when a large white hissing cat was thrust into my arms and the crazy performer was then wrapping his arms around me and signalling at Jac to take photos of us together. I just wanted to get the hell away from this guy, not get a happy snap, but instead a large black cat was literally pressed into my face (while I was still clutching tentatively at the white snarling cat) and I was ordered to kiss him. I was then apologised to by the cat man, in broken English and French, and told me that if I ever got married in France he would perform at my wedding for free. Not likely you freak.

Despite this apparent gesture of forgiveness, I was still utterly confused as to what was going on and it wasn’t until about 10 minutes later, after we had escaped his desperate clutches, that I was given the run down. Apparently there was a sign in French that said if you take a photo, you make a donation. This man was offended that I had not made a donation as he was sick of this always happening and decided to make an example of me to all the other tourists as apparently ‘this is what he does for a living to support his family’. God forbid that this man actually does support a family by terrorizing cats into performing on his head. God forbid that this man has actually slept with a woman to produce other human beings. When Fabienne explained to him that I didn’t speak French and that she had already made a donation on my behalf, he felt so bad that he wanted to make it up to me through forced cat love and wedding performances. So yeah, generally a pretty creepy afternoon and needless to say I now unfortunately can no longer remember anything else about Aix en Provence.

A few notes about Southern France (Days 13 – 21)

After our short stay in Tours we couldn’t wait to see more of the beauty that the south of France had to offer us. Our next stop was a small town called Cavaillon where we would be staying with French couple, and good friends of Jac’s parents, Fabienne – an English teacher, and Remy – a chef (I might add that both of these professions worked hugely in our favour).

In order to get to Cavaillon from Tours we had to catch a train back to Paris, change stations and catch another train to Avignon where we were kindly collected and driven to Cavaillon by Remy. We almost didn’t make it onto our final train after running between stations in Paris trying to find the right departure point left thanks to some very odd signage pointing us in two opposite directions. There was swearing, sweat and tenderised shoulders but we made it! There is no greater relief from the stresses of in-between travel and heavy luggage than arriving in a new home away from home and the knowledge that we wouldn’t be required to catch another train for over a week.

Fabienne and Remy sure knew how to make us feel at home, calling back to the days when they ran their own Bed & Breakfast which is exactly how they met Jac’s parents in the first place and thus the wonderful after effect that we now too could enjoy their wonderful company. Not only did we have amazing French meals cooked for us, we were also driven around to all the beautiful towns and sites around the area. PLUS there were four cats to play with. Nothing says home like a cat kneading your legs and rubbing its face down your arm.

Over the next few days I will post short stories and photos about a few of the towns we visited during our stay with Fabienne and Remy. To be continued…

Le Melon de Cavaillon est une désignation qui recouvre des variétés de différentes provenances suivant les époques de l’année. Le plus connu esr le cantaloup. Ce melon, originaire de l’Inde, arriva en Italie, via l’Afrique81. Ces melons furent cultivés dans les jardins d’une propriété pontificale, dans le village de Cantalupo, près de Rome. Ils arrivèrent dans le Comtat Venaissin, grâce aux papes d’Avignon sous le nom de pompon dans la seconde moitié du xive siècle. Cette variété est couramment dite melon de Cavaillon ou melon charentais. Mais il existe aussi le « melon tranché de Cavaillon », le « melon allongé de Cavaillon » et le « melon d’hiver de Cavaillon »82. Longtemps produit sur la commune de Cheval-Blanc, voisine de Cavaillon, lieu d’expédition, ces melons sont cultivés actuellement à Monteux et sous serres.
Leur célébrité date du xixe siècle et de la possibilité de les faire parvenir rapidement à Paris par chemin de fer. Alexandre Dumas les appréciait particulièrement. Il fit d’ailleurs don en 1864 à la bibliothèque de la ville de Cavaillon de la totalité de son œuvre publiée, en échange d’une rente viagère de douze melons par an. Le Conseil Municipal prit un arrêté en ce sens et la rente fut servie au romancier jusqu’à sa mort en 1870.

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Quel fruit est la spécialité de Cavaillon ?




                                melon






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My family, at Restaurant Prevot

I’m fortunate enough to have foodie parents who love great meals.  I’ve been to a number of wonderful places in my time, ranging from the current top US restaurant–Boulevard–to an unforgettable experience at a bush tucker restaurant in Sydney, Australia, where we enjoyed kangaroo, wallaby, emu, possum, and crocodile.  That being said…dinner last night was unreal.

Perhaps part of its magic was that we weren’t expecting much.  We had initially planned to go out to dinner in Salon de Provence, but due to poor timing (and a lack of exciting ways to kill time before dinner) we ended up coming home to Cavaillon.  We went home to unwind, and settled on the Restaurant Prevot.  We had found it online and saw that it had received some really great reviews, but didn’t think much of it.  It was a local restaurant–and Cavaillon doesn’t seem to have all that much going on.  Boy, were we taken by surprise.  We drove up to the restaurant, and were not entirely enticed by the outside.  The entrance looked nice, but surrounding it wasn’t really anything remarkable; what seemed to be a karaoke bar and a florist.  When we walked in though, we quickly learned that nothing at Prevot was what it seemed.

A photo of me at Restaurant Prevot. Note all of the melon decor in the background, paying homage to the city’s beloved fruit.  There were all types of melon items on the wall, from teapots to melon shaped bowls, and even a Barbie doll with a melon shaped skirt! Chef Prevot actually has an entire price fix meal that is based around melon courses…yum.

We were seated by a lovely waitress, who I later learned was in fact Chef Prevot’s daughter.  She was very patient with my extremely poor french, and luckily she spoke English.  She began by offering us a melon and star anise apéritif, prepared specially for Restaurant Prevot, which my dad was bold enough to try.  It was, as promised, very light and you could really taste the melon.  My mom went with a glass of white wine, which she loved so much that she took a picture of the label.

The melon and star anise aperitif, created for Restaurant Prevot

My mom’s much enjoyed wine

Then it came time to order.  My dad and I settled on the menu (in french, the “menu” is a price fixed meal, while “à la carte” is a single dish like a main course), while my mom ordered a fish dish.  Even just reading the menu, we could tell we were in for a treat.  My dad and I were looking forward to our 4 courses…which sounded like a lot.  That is, of course, until we ended up getting EIGHT courses.  Four courses which the chef simply made as additional treats.

We started off with the apéritif–the food course which came with our initial drinks.  We weren’t expecting this at all, and realized we may fill up pretty fast.  I don’t have a picture of this course, though, as I we were so excited that we scarfed it down.  It consisted of a plate of small tasters: a salmon roll filled with butter, algae (I’m assuming they meant agar agar), and herbs; a gazpacho, which contents are unknown to me…but they were great; and a chickpea bread kind of thing.  All very good.

Then, after the apéritif, and before our actual meal started, we got another extra item.  An amuse-bouche, which was a red pepper broth, with a small toast roll, stuffed with crab and fennel emulsion.  Typically, I tell people I don’t like crab…but my excuse may have fallen flat after I finished the whole thing.

Our amuse-bouche at Restaurant Prevot.  The emulsion was so unique.  It was light and wonderful, but you could still taste the fennel.  The red pepper base was my favorite part, having a distinct flavor that was perfectly paired.

Then came our entrée (you know…that thing we actually ordered?).  In France, the entrée is the appetizer by US standards.  I ordered “Slipper lobster mousseline stuffed with carrots, zucchini and fennel, with half slipper lobster fried in a shellfish broth“, and my dad ordered “A round duck liver foie gras: a terrine with leek, carrot, spring onion and green bean.  The famous bite-size comesquis with a crisp hazelnut”.  Both were phenomenal.  Once again, I don’t typically eat lobster, OR zucchini (my mom killed it for me at a young age by strongly enforcing the “token taste” rule), and I finished the whole thing.  In fact, it was so wonderful that both of us forgot to take pictures of our food before we were nearly finished.  Whoops…

My dish…which doesn’t look nearly as beautiful or appetizing as it once was. The carrots and zucchini were sliced thinly and cooked to perfection; every component melted in your mouth. The mousseline was amazing…although I’m not quite sure how he did it. It was an extremely light and fluffy dish, that must have been created with egg whites of some sort and had the consistency of a sort of whipped ricotta.

My dad’s foie gras. I can’t personally comment on it, as I did not try it, but both of my parents said it was wonderful.  The hazelnut toast was a unique touch, and the cromesqui was apparently fabulous.

Around this time in the meal, the Chef showed up.  Not often do you see a chef who so clearly emanates joy for what he does.  Chef Prevot is an extremely friendly man, with quite the sense of humor.  Although he speaks no english, we were able to talk slightly in my butchered french (I thought I had been doing so well until then!).  He even teased me a bit, as I told him we would be going to “Paris” (said in a very American accent).  He couldn’t understand where I was saying…until finally he said “OH!  Pah-reeeee!”.  He poked a bit of fun at me, and we all had a good time with him.  He even took a photo with us, and at the end of the meal after I requested a copy of the menu to bring home, he agreed to sign it for me (even writing a nice note).  I noticed him throughout the night from afar, slyly watching the guests be served.  You could tell he was clearly delighted with his craft.  He simply wanted to watch the expressions of everyone as they tasted the food for the first time…of which I never saw anything but smiles and nodding.

My mom and I with Chef Prevot….say “fromage”!

Then the plats arrived.  My mom and I both ordered the “Pagre roasted with citrus emulsified with olive oil, sweet lemon sauce and julienne of zucchini and bean sprout”, and my dad ordered the “lamb from the Crau plain, pan-fried with fresh herbs from Saint-Jacques hill.  Mille-feuille of lamb shanks with vanilla, artichoke perfumed with orange and goat cheese”.  Pagre is a white fish, somewhat like sea bass.

Our fish, which was not only beautiful, but cooked to perfection. The citrus emulsion on top was a wonderful pairing with the fish, but what really sold me was the sweet lemon sauce (the dots on the right). After touching only the tip of my fork prongs to it, I had a bite of the fish and was amazed at how clearly the flavor came through. It was outstanding.  The julienne veggies under the fish were so flavorful.  They were quite the treat once discovered.

My dad’s lamb, which was cooked perfectly as well, and was very tender. He loved the artichoke in the top right of this photo…which I didn’t get to try because he ate it so quickly!

Après our main courses, came the cheese.  After being informed that the cheese dish took a bit of preparation, I bypassed mine (we were all beyond full at this point), and we decided to just have my dad’s for the table.  Wow.  Wow wow wow.  The cheese dish was simply explained as “l’invitation au pique-nique avec le baluchon du Luberon”, roughly translating to a picnic invitation with a bundle of Luberon (the region).  What showed up was a cute bundle, held together by a clothes pin.  You could tell Prevot had fun with it.  Inside, is what can only be described as a “sandwich type item…that is way beyond a sandwich”.

My dad, with his picnic invite

This picture just does not do it justice. We think that Prevot had just cooked the roll which it was on, as there is no other way that it could be so fresh and piping hot. It was then filled with creamy goat cheese, apricot marmalade, and some sort of veggies of which I’m unsure. It was simply divine, and I truly regret not having enough room to have mine as well.

Finally…dessert!  But not the dessert we ordered.  First, Prevot had a special treat for us.  A homemade Crème brûlée, filled with cooked fruit.  It was somewhat cinnamon-y, but still had the classic strong vanilla bean flavor, with soft and delicious chunks of what was likely apple, pear, and pineapple.  It was so amazing, that even though I started by saying “oh no…I really don’t have room.  I’ll just taste it”, the next thing I knew I was looking down at an empty ramekin.

Talk about heaven on earth. My only sadness was that the sugar on top wasn’t very thick, which I always enjoy cracking. A very amazing creme, through.

Then time for our dessert.  My dad and I both ordered the “ultra light foam with berries on a sponge cake in a vanilla syrup, dark chocolate shell, and caramel ice cream”.  Oh man!  I hate to sound redundant, but again…unreal.

Our dessert. The caramel ice cream was perfect, and truly tasted like pure caramel. The chocolate bowl had the perfect amount of thickness to hold the sponge cake, which I can somewhat describe as an updated strawberry and raspberry short-cake. The custard type of sauce that came with it was wonderful, and I pretty much poured it on everything.

They brought a final round (which we didn’t take a photo of initially, so pardon the mess) of small treats at the end, including a small chocolate cake like item; a gelee that was seemed to have pineapple, melon, and some sort of cardamom-like spice; a cake-ish item with loads of mini chocolate chunks; and a small madeline filled with dried fruit.  As if we needed any more food.

And that’s it!  In short, our dinner at Restaurant Prevot in Cavaillon, France was nothing short of exceptional.  All three of us left saying “wow wow wow”, and have continued saying it through today.  If you ever find yourself in Cavaillon, the South of France, or even in the country at all with access to a car, I cannot recommend this restaurant more highly.  Not only is the food amazing, but the staff are extremely kind, and Chef Jean-Jacques Prevot is one in a million.  He has a true gift with food, and a charm that is hard to resist.

Tomorrow morning (France time) I will be posting our photos from today, which was truly amazing as well.

Bisous!

Mom and I looking through the pottery at the Carpentra market. I ended up getting a spoon rest for the kitchen! We also got cherries (cerises), apples (pommes), apricots (abricots), cheese (fromage), a pair of shoes, a table-cloth, and some small art pieces. Talk about an array of items!

After Carpentras, we went into Avignon for the day.  We started at Les Palais des Papes–the palace where the Popes lived in Avignon.  The Papacy was moved to Avignon for some time starting in 1309, as they Popes were fleeing the violence in Rome.  You can read more here.  We actually didn’t do too much looking around at the Palais itself, as there were some other destinations we wanted to go to.  We stopped in the town (a huge area around the Palace is all walled in, with shops, a post office, and restaurants) and had a nice lunch.  Then we walked down to the post office to try to send postcards home, and ended up getting sidetracked by some shopping.  My dad found a Mephistos store, which he was very excited about (they are his favorite shoes, which he only buys on trips to France), and I did some shopping as well.

Les Palais des Papes, in Avignon

By the time we finished at the Palais, it was getting late in the day.  We decided not to look around more because there was one place I was really itching to get to….the Pont du Gard!  I had studied the Pont du Gard in Art History in High School, and even though I couldn’t remember much about it like I once had, it was definitely somewhere I wanted to get to.  We made our way over there (it is about a 30 minute drive from the Palais), and walked over as it was getting cooler.  I think we lucked out, as we were able to snap a few shots in a bit more tolerable weather.  It had been so hot all day!  How exciting…

Me at the Pont du Gard

The Pont du Gard

I guess this is considered old-school graffiti. There were several places on the bridge where you could see things like this. They were on the bridge itself (opposed to the walking path which was added later), which now is guarded, so I think they really were from older times. Here is an etching from 1830!

An ancient olive tree at the Pont du Gard. It was over 1000 years old! With olive trees, you can tell their age by the thickness of their trunk (they get thicker over time). This tree was apparently planted in 980 AD…and my 6’3″ dad with his BIG wingspan show exactly how big this trunk is!

After Avignon, we made a brief stop for dinner in St. Rémy de Provence–a cute village which is apparently where Van Gogh was held in a mental institution.  We were exhausted, so I didn’t take many pictures at this point.  After dinner we just headed home.

A cute French side street

I’ll post more photos later from today’s adventures.  Possibly tonight…if I don’t accidentally fall asleep during my upload.  Hopefully, if our internet connection permits, I can post my photos at night from now on (at least night for me…) so I don’t waste our precious time in the morning!  Au revoir!

The water wheel, as your enter the main drive of Isle Sur La Sorgue

A house on the river in Isle Sur La Sorgue

Family lunch on the water in Isle Sur La Sorgue

After our afternoon in Isle, we returned to the house to relax a little.  It was unbelievably warm out–pretty uncharacteristic of this time of year in France–so we took a quick dip in the pool as well.  Talk about the good life.  We then picked a dinner location at random, and I decided on a town called Bonnieux.  I didn’t actually read anything about the town, other than there were several restaurants with good ratings and it wasn’t very far.  We are so glad we stopped!  It was a small town nestled into the mountainside, with hilly streets, ivy covered buildings, a couple of churches, and an amazing view.  Definitely something you would expect to see in the movies, but it looked fairly untouched.  Not too tainted from tourism (at least what we saw).  We wanted to go to dinner at La Founril–a Michelin reviewed restaurant–but were unable to go without reservations.  Bummer.  It ended up being a blessing in disguise though (as much as I would like to go back and try it), as we were able to walk around a bit more of the town before it got dark.  The views!  Unfortunately, I don’t have too many photos since it is hard to upload them here and the lighting wasn’t great.  We found another restaurant, had a good dinner, and then I hiked up to the top of the hill with the camera before it got completely dark–just in time to take a few more pictures of my view.  Talk about perfection…

With my mom, and a sleepy black cat, in Bonnieux

View from the top of the hill in Bonnieux, showing the lower church and the rooftops.  You can somewhat see the sunset, but I was unable to capture it with the strange lighting on my camera.

The church at the top of Bonnieux

My parents in front of Le Fournil

À bientôt!

Here is the entrance from the front gate. Complete with a pool and olive trees!

The view of our house from the front yard

The entry living room, with a view through to the kitchen

The stairs, which I love. The owner built this house with his father, complete with the typical provincial stone work and exposed beams.

Walking up the stairs. My room is on the right, with two more rooms at the top

My room. It has its own bathroom, and a nice view of the yard

The view from my room

My parents’ room

Master Bath

C’est merveilleux, non?  If I have time tomorrow morning, I will post our photos from today.

Bus stop provencial.

Market in Cavaillon.

Streets are as narrow as everywhere else.

All kinds of windows.

I’ve tried growing them in my little garden plot – twice – to utter failure.  Pete tells me they’re rather difficult to grow so I take some comfort in that.  Technically, these melon varieties are called Charentais or Cavaillon and are of the Savor variety but in France they’re just known as “melon”.  Leave it to the French to be so blaise about something so amazing – no 18 varieties, just melon simple as that. The markets are full of them and even the grocery stores have beautiful piles, stacked high.

While I was working at Le Pont de L’Ouysse this summer, Chef Daniel took us on an outing to the market at the nearby town of Brive-la-Gaillarde, a market he frequents for the restaurant.  When I stopped to buy a melon, Chef said “No, no!  Take one from the restaurant.”  Well, I wasn’t about to take food from the cooler so I insisted on purchasing my own. French men can be so gallant but I didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness.

After he realizes I’m sticking to my guns, he grabs my hand and says we must see his friend who grows the best melons.  Well, OK, I can get behind this.  Chef Daniel, having grown up in the area, knows everyone (later we meet his buddies for lunch, but that’s another story.) So I meet this farmer, who’s name now escapes me, and a lively conversation takes place with a lot of nods between Chef and this man while I stand there trying desperately to follow their rapid conversation.  They look at me, very intently, and ask when I plan on eating these melons.  “Well, today, tomorrow, Monday … “.  The rapid fire conversation continues.  My French comprehension isn’t that great, especially at high speeds, but I do catch a few words, most particularly the word cinq.  Five.  Wait … they have decided that I need FIVE melons?  What? “Non! Non! Deux melons, s’il vous plait monsieur!”  Now I love these things, but five is a bit much even for me.  Two will suffice.

The conversation continues, I keep interjecting but it doesn’t seem to matter – “Deux.  Non, deux.”  A lot of laughing takes place.  At one point, Chef smiles at me indulgently.  “Quatre” (four).  Oh lord.  Finally, I decide to split the difference and we settle on the lucky number three.  Agreed, smiles all around.  The farmer takes some time to find the exact perfect specimens and I am presented with a very heavy bag.  Somehow a transaction has taken place and my money is sweetly ignored.  I’m not too clear on what just happened but I am now in the possession of a very heavy bag, my money and a new friend among many thank yous and French double kisses.  It was all very whirlwind and quite funny.

The scent in the car was a little intoxicating, quickly filling the small space and created a Pavlovian response – I was literally drooling as I fumbled with the lock on my little cottage door.  I could not wait to dig into my treasures.  Upon unpacking, I noticed something interesting I hadn’t caught back at the market.  Each melon has a series of  marks; 1-3 X’s carefully made with a black Sharpie so I know what day I should be eating which melon.   The farmer has carefully selected my little beauties based on when they would be absolutely ideal to consume.  It’s just one of the lovely things I love about the French.  When you eat something is just as important was what you eat.

Truth be told, I had trouble sticking to the “X” schedule.  Three melons is a lot for one person to eat, even me, and the heady scent pretty much overwhelmed my little kitchen every morning.  But even now, just thinking about it, I am transported right back to that little terrace overlooking the little valley of La Cave and yes, I am drooling ever so slightly.

Last year, I made another soup with these melons, a creamy Asian inspired dish.  This weekend, I opted for something much simpler based on a recipe I picked up from my friend Kate Hill with whom I spent the later part of my trip at her cooking retreat in Gascony.  In fact, we made this soup with the last of my X’d melons.  I told you I was off schedule.

This couldn’t be easier; simply puree the extremely ripe melon with some wine – a sweeter wine is best – something acidic like sherry vinegar or a little lemon or lime juice and a pinch of salt.  That’s it.  She sticks a few sprigs of fresh lemon verbena in the mixture to infuse the soup with it’s lovely flavor and I did too, because I had it.  A little Thai basil or the zest of a lemon would work too.  Then you chill this until it’s ridiculously cold and enjoy.

Believe me, I know that these little French melons can be hard to find but you can make this with any variety, however, make sure they are extremely ripe and ridiculously fragrant.  If the melon is subpar, the soup will be too.  Kate also did a nifty little garnish that was rather tasty – she took a hard dry salami and grated a little bit on a microplane for some thin, salty porky shavings on top of the soup.  It was a nice touch and accented the soup beautifully.

STRESS BAKING THERAPY FACTOR:  ZILCH.  This has got to be the most unstressful recipe in the history of recipe writings assuming you’re starting with a great melon.  Unbelievably relaxing and if you have a melon lover among your crowd, they will be ridiculously pleased.  4 or 5 ingredients zipped up with a stick blender and voila, there you have it.  In fact, using a stick blender is always a good time, just make sure you keep the bottom submerged or you’ll spray soup all over your kitchen walls.

COLD MELON SOUP

Makes 2 quarts, serves 4

I really adore Cavallion and Charentais melons but those can be hard to find.  Just make sure you use a really ripe, fragrant and flavorful melon.

2 medium melons, extremely ripe and fragrant

¾-1 cup white wine, sweeter the better

2 teaspoons sherry vinegar (or lemon or lime juice)

2 sprigs lemon verbena

pinch of sea salt

1. Halve the melons, scoop out the seeds and remove the peel.
2. Roughly chop the melon into 1” pieces and place in a large bowl – you should have about 8 cups (3 ¼ lbs).
3. Add a healthy pinch of salt, the wine and sherry and puree until smooth– in batches in a blender or food processor or use an immersion blender right in the bowl.
4. Submerge the lemon verbena sprigs into the soup and chill until very very cold.
5. Serve cold in small glasses without the lemon verbena, or chop a little on top for garnish.  Or for a special treat, grate a little of a very hard, very dry salami on top.

From left to right: Cheeseballs, Bacon wrapped Shrimp, and Ahi Tuna

Before we even get to the actual meal, they served hor’deurves. Sorry, I was unable to take better pictures of these yummy things because I was running around attending to things. However, I did get to eat one of each and my favorite was definitely the Ahi Tuna! The cucumber was fresh and crisp and gave the perfect crunch to the soft tuna. I thought the bacon wrapped shrimp was a bit too salty, mostly because I think I’m not that much of a bacon person. The cheeseballs were deliciously fluffy and the cheese oozed out in the perfect consistency (not too congealed, not too runny).

First course: Endive Salad with Walnuts and Cranberry served with Fourme d’Ambert crostini drizzled in Honey

This dish came with a crostini on the side, which was spread with cheese and sprinkled with what I believe is pear? The salad was surprising because the salad used bitter greens, which as they sound, taste quite bitter; however, the sweet vinaigrette were able to balance out the bitterness of the salad and actually enhanced the positive elements in the flavor of the bitter greens.

Second course: Leek and Celery Root Soup garnished with fresh Burgundy black truffles

A bit blurry, but the soup was a cream color with a sprinkle of fresh truffles floating on the top.

To be honest, I hate celery – so it was with some hesitation and a trembling spoon that I approached my first sip. But after that first sip, I realized that I was being silly. I could definitely taste a hint of celery flavor from the root, but it wasn’t as crisp or as sharp as fresh celery and it complimented the leek flavor well. And the truffles. Oh lord, saying that I love truffles does not give it justice. Truffles make the world a better place and made this soup delicious. Overall, the soup was rather creamy, but left me scraping the bowl for more!

Third Course: Sea Bass, Yellow Chanterelles, Mushroom Risotto

I have never, ever, ever had such delicious risotto in my life!! If not done correctly, risotto has the potential to be rather flavorless and bland, but this risotto was flavor packed with a huge punch. The mushrooms were flavored equisitely – everyone at our table made a comment about how delicious the mushrooms were (and fyi, if you’re wondering what a chanterelle is, it’s a funky looking mushroom that you’ve probably seen before). I was really excited for the sea bass because it is one of my favorite fish. My mom cooks it in white wine and the fish literally melts in your mouth, so I was expecting a lot; however, I felt like the sea bass kind of fell short. The sea bass was cooked well and the meat was tender and soft; however, I felt like it could have done with a little bit of salt or a bit more flavor.

Fourth Course: Five-hour slowly braised short ribs, red wine demi-glace, butternut squash mousseline.

Sweet Mother of God. Even though all of the dishes were delicious and well made, this dish was by far everyone’s favorite. First off, the short rib was incredibly tender. It was basically a chunk of short rib cut into a large cube. Usually with such a thick cut, you run the risk of overcooking the meat, but because it was braised for such a long time, the moment your fork began to sink into the meat, the short rib came off easily. For those of you who have never had mousseline, it’s sort of like a mousse. The consistency of the mousseline was a rather thick cream, which when smothered over a piece of short rib, tasted absolutely heavenly. The sweetness of the mousseline and the demi-glace blended perfectly with the savory flavor of the short rib to make one kick ass party in your mouth. You know when you watch Top Chef or Iron Chef or any of those cooking shows and the judges keep commenting about the perfect balance of flavors or whatanot? Well, while eating this dish, for a moment, I finally understood how these judges feel when they sample an absolutely stunning dish.

Now for the awesome part: Dessert. There was a choice of one out of three; however, I was able to take a small sample of each.

Dessert #1: Lavender Ricotta Cheesecake

Disclaimer: I don’t like ricotta cheese and I don’t like lavender flavored desserts. I also despise cheesecake. So obviously, I didn’t really like this one; however, from the tiny bite I had, I do think that the consistency of the cheesecake was spot on and the crust at the bottom was quite delicious. This dessert was the lightest in both sweetness and in flavor of the three desserts. It’s a must have if you like cheesecake, but unfortunately, I don’t.

Dessert #2: White Chocolate Pistachio Torte

This is the dessert that I picked out of the three. It doesn’t mention in the title, but there is a thin layer of raspberry preserve inside of the torte. The funny thing is that I absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE pistachio, but I hate white chocolate and raspberry. Despite this, I thought this dish was phenomenal!! I was really full after the short rib course, but after a bite of the torte, I knew I just had to finish it. The first bite literally melted in my mouth in a complex mix of flavors. I could definitely make out the pistachio flavor, but something about it also reminded me of a sharp almond flavor as well. Everyone seemed to like this one the best and I completely agree!

Dessert #3: Chocolate Pyramid

This dessert is my next favorite. Really, it’s like a Ferrero Rocher disguised as a chocolate mousse cake. Starting at the top, there is a thin layer of chocolate. Below that, and for most of the cake, there is a lighter chocolate mousse inside. In the very center of the cake is a ball of thick chocolate, which I think was slightly hazelnut flavored. On the very bottom on the cake was a thin wafer that definitely had a hazelnut flavor. So really, it was a Ferrero Rocher in cake form. That’s not an insult, it’s a compliment, Ferrero Rochers are bomb.

Anyhoo, this is probably one of the last restaurant/food reviews that are coming up for a little bit because unfortunately, funemployment = operating on a budget. And if you really are funemployed too you probably wouldn’t be able to eat out either, ha. But really, on a good note, I will be cooking more and posting more recipes and results online so if you’re broke like me, we can enjoy delicious home cooked food together. Wish me luck, Thanksgiving is coming! Oh and since I’m going to spend Thanksgiving with my family in Norcal, my cousin Teresa, who took a culinary course in France, is going to show me how to make this FREAKING AMAZING stuffing! So look out for more delicious things to come!

Tuesday was a gorgeous day, big blue skies and quite warm weather, really a day to lay by the pool;

Now it's sunflower fields forever

 however, alas and alack, we had no pool. One of my traveling companions was eager to call home, so we drove over to Cavaillon to find an international phone shop. We had been here in the past and hoped it was still in business. As luck would have it, we found it rather easily, and headed back to Lourmarin, as it was too hot for a couple of my friends to weather (snigger, chortle, guffaw). I doubt they will be traveling in the summer anymore, anywhere. Even to see the sunflower fields, which cut wide swaths in the countryside. Too much a reminder of bright, sunny, hot days.

So my daughter and I headed out for Roussillon. This is unlike most of the other towns in the

Roussillon The Red

 Luberon, which are basically cream-colored structures. It is located in the heart of one of the biggest ochre deposits in the world and is famous for its magnificent red cliffs and ochre quarries. The vivid blue of the Provençal sky and the exceptional quality of light make this a magical site. The ochre façades of the buildings are intense with shades varying from light yellow to dark red, set off by brightly-painted shutters and doors. It is a don’t miss village if you happen to be in the area. However, this particular day it was quite crowded, most probably lending to the pending holiday on the morrow, so we didn’t stick around long.

Back to Lourmarin and the sleeping beauties. Relaxed the rest of the afternoon away on the terrace overlooking our lovely courtyard. Please forgive me, but I failed to get the name of the establishment where we dined on one of the best pizzas ever. Maybe I’ll come across a picture and return to correct this text at a later date; however, it is in the center of Lourmarin and has a large terrasse for dining in the back, so shouldn’t be diffucult to find. I believe it is right next door to a gelato shop, which, I might add, is some of the best gelato you will find anywhere. The fraise yaourt is fantastic and the noix de coco et chocolat……….what can I say.

Ooolala - La Tropezienne - the King of Cream Puffs!

On to Wednesday and Aix-en-Provence. It was 14 Juillet, Bastille Day. Most things were closed and they

Bechard - Fabrique de Calissons - Aix en Provence

 were gearing up for the night’s festivities; however, Bechard was not closed (12 cours Mirabeau). It is a fabulous, elegant patisserie, truly, with an amazing collection of mouth-watering choices. Everytime I am in Aix, this is the first place I go. It is like a Christmas dream: “visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.” I do have a favorite, which is the tropezienne (originated in St. Tropez). It is kind of like a cream puff on steroids made of brioche and, of course, cream. They make this in varying sizes. YUMMMMM. They also make my favorite calissons which are a, well not a cookie, but are an addicting almond…confection? And Aix is famous for them. Aix is great for shopping, but not today.

A little slice of Aix market

There was a street market in Aix and it was rich with the colors of summer gardens, pictures for your enjoyment below. So here is our weird French guy story. We were snapping pictures right and left, thoroughly enjoying the abundance and variety of this market when one of the vendors told us we couldn’t take pictures! HA! Of vegetables and fruit?! What? Some sort of trade secret? Designer green beans? He said we weren’t buying, so no pix. Whatever. So I meandered over to the fish market, looking for dinner that night. He actually came over to the the fish market and told them not to let me take pictures, imagine him waving his arms ranting about touristes… They looked at him like he was crazy and we smiled. They were then so nice, and after helping me pick out fish for dinner threw in a lot of shrimp for free. We asked about him and they said he was crazy, but they loved America! It was fun. Then we bought our veggies and walked by his stall with all our bags and smiled. I think he flipped us off afterwards. Armed with food for dinner and having eaten our cream puffs, we headed back for Lourmarin with visions of returning for more cream puffs still in our heads.

Didn’t quite get to make dinner, because we were missing items. However, we found the cutest restaurant

Sweet Restaurant under the stars

 in town, down a tunnel falling into an open courtyard. Twinkling lights and discreet lamps, along with good Provencal fare and the occasional screaming from the street due to it being the last game of World Cup Soccer. In fact, our wait staff and some customers would run out when the screaming started to see what was happening. But back to the decor, there were candelabras, perfect green chairs with funky accents and color, even a mini laser light show with crystal chandeliers hanging off trellises of colorful flowers. A cacophony of styles and patterns playing well off one another. Simply perfect evening.

Thursday, it was hot and our friends were suffering so without good old American A/C and ice, so we headed for the beach for a little refreshment. Just picked a spot on the map and headed south to Sausset-les-Pins, only an hour or so drive. Got in fairly early and they had a market on the boardwalk, not the stimulating eye candy of Sorgue, but an enjoyable stroll along the boat docks. Picked up towels at the market for the beach and then realized there wasn’t really a beach there. So after a morning repast, we headed for Carry-le-Rouet, just a few minutes down the coast and a sweet drive, we landed at a sandy beach on the Mediterranean and rented some chairs and umbrellas. As you know, I love a beach day: Sparking Mediterranean water, read, water, read, etc. Headed back about 4:30 and cooked a fabulous meal of fish with white wine reduction cream sauce, fresh green beans a la Mari and my version of a Viennese potato au gratin, along with fresh tomatoes, olives and bread – all sitting on our courtyard terrace. Again, yummm. Wish I knew what kind of fish those guys sold me.

La Plage Carry le Rouet

He had fabulous stuff - would have bought more if only I had room...

Last full day here and it is Friday, and it is market day here in our little village. And what a market it is; I certainly didn’t expect the size of it. Markets are just quite heady for me. I continue to write about them, but I love them. Well, I like shopping in general, so it’s not a wonder that I like markets. I like the crowds, the colors, the smells, the entertainment and sensation of it all. There are many things to tempt one, but it is the food that pulls me in. If I don’t buy anything else, if the soaps don’t grab me, if I can’t find the right outfit, I will inevitably buy food – jelly, tapenade, patisserie – something yummy, and this time was no different. Let me just say, whatever kind of artisanal cheese that was (and I made of the mistake of not writing it down), I will go back just to buy it again.

There are so many things left out, but I will add links to pictures later to fill in some of the gaps.  Oh, but let me throw in a plug for La Cordiere, our studio apartment in Lourmarin. It is located in the village and is an excellent location in the Luberon. Francoise is quite fluent in English, and in French, Spanish and Italian at the least. She is quite nice and helpful. It is modest and our room was without A/C, but is priced well and clean. Ours was with a kitchen, but there are just rooms with breakfast, I believe, also.

Fav shop in Lourmarin village

For those who could live on French cuisine alone, there is Cavaillon, situated mid-county in Santaluz, a new, upscale community in the northern reaches of San Diego.

Apart from Restaurant Week, chef-proprietor Phillipe Verpiand does not make a habit of fixed price menus, but given the exceptional quality of his cuisine, the prices seem more than reasonable.

In an era that has seen the price of steaks cross the $50 threshold, Cavaillon serves a $32 beef tenderloin perhaps unsurpassed for the flavor of the expertly cooked meat, and for such haute cuisine accoutrements as a subtle sauce of red wine and demi-glace, and log-shaped fondant potatoes, which contrast crisp exteriors with melting centers.

The steak is the top-priced dish on a short, lovely entrée list that encompasses seared diver scallops with creamy corn risotto, pan roasted salmon in a delicate herb sauce, and a deliciously crisp duck leg confit with a ragout of mushrooms and corn.

14701 Via Bettona, Santaluz (San Diego); (858) 433-0483; cavaillonrestaurant.com;Review by Signonsandiego

Bistro 101 (French 101's ugly twin)

We first tried French 101 in La Jolla, which was recently renamed Bistro 101. In addition to the name change, the menu now features buffalo wings instead of escargot. Bad move.

Whaling Bar & Grill

After googling “best tartare in San Diego” we stumbled upon a review of the tartare at The Whaling Bar & Grill at the Valencia Hotel in La Jolla. Disappointingly, the tartare had been removed from the menu. On top of that, everyone here was at least 50 years our senior. The mussels (for lack of better words) sucked.

Several French restaurants later, we finally found our tartare at Cavaillon in Rancho Santa Fe. This place was a little difficult to find (map here) considering it was way out in the countryside of Rancho Santa Fe, but it was well worth the trip. Tartare was actually not even on the menu, but the French chef agreed to make an exception and whipped up an amazing tartare dish for us. The Blend 24 wine here was very good, as was the scallop risotto.

Cavaillon

Mes engagements associatifs,  mon activité professionnelle de médecin spécialiste,  mon attachement aux valeurs humanistes, font que je suis déterminée à mettre mon expérience, ma rigueur, et mes compétences au service du canton et du département.

Je développerai un nouveau dynamisme en faveur de la médecine préventive, qui est déjà mon travail quotidien.

Je défendrai une véritable politique culturelle pérenne et populaire en évitant l’élitisme.

L’écologie, notre patrimoine à tous, doit devenir une des préoccupations majeures du département, un travail immense nous attend, dans l’intérêt des générations futures.

Je m’engage pour une gestion saine, transparente dans un souci d’efficacité et d’économie. Je privilierai l’écoute, le dialogue et la disponibilité.

A few notes about Southern France (Days 13 – 21) cont…

As previously mentioned, Cavaillon was to be our home base for the next nine days so it makes sense for me to describe a little of it to you. Although it’s not the most beautiful town we’ve seen, it has some really wonderful attributes.

The very first thing I noticed about the area when driving through was the insanely narrow roads with no lines separating the opposite lanes of the traffic and the erratic and incredibly fast drivers. After I decided to relax a little and leave my fate in the capable driving hands of Remy I noticed something quite different. The roads were completely lined with fields of apple trees. I didn’t know they were apple trees at first, as they didn’t really look to me what an apple tree should look like. But then it occurred to me that I had actually never seen an apple tree in real life and was basing all my views of them through what I had seen in movies or on TV. How sad. These trees were somewhat otherworldly. The trunks were gnarled, twisted and almost completely black with peach coloured fruit. Much more Brothers Grim than Disney. I found this very beautiful and enjoyed watching them go past on our daily field trips mixed up between the bright orange of pumpkin fields and the structured deep purple and green of the vineyards.

Upon our arrival, Remy drove us to the top of one of Cavaillon’s highest mountains to show us a striking yet devastating scene. Not one week before our arrival, an incredibly destructive fire had been set to the forest of that same mountain by none other than the disturbed son of the town’s Mayor. The entire side of the mountain had been completely wiped out. The smell of ash and charred wood stung our nostrils and the blacked remains of the forest crunched under our feet. The damage came right up to the many properties scattered along the top of the mountain but were luckily just spared.

The final note I will mention about Cavaillon is the curiously coloured doors and shutters. It took me a few days to realise, but the majority of doors and shutters in the south are painted various shades of pastel blues, greens or purples. I was told that this was very traditional and that these colours related to lavender, the famous plant of the south of France.