Many years ago we spent a summer holiday in Wales – Cardigan Bay. One of my abiding memories is that, despite the weather being very British, all the activities were on offer come rain or more rain. France in May with indifferent spring temperatures can’t cope in quite the same way. Saturday evening, normally so busy around the vieux port in La Ciotat, is relatively empty and for 2 hours we are the only people in the restaurant- rows of empty tables and chairs are a sorry and rather sad sight.
So we have moved away from the coast and reminded ourselves that Provence, and especially the départements of theVar and the Vaucluse, has an abundance of ridiculously pretty villages perched improbably on hillsides, totally hidden until you turn a corner. Many are overshadowed by sheer rock faces – I say overshadowed, my initial thought was ‘threatened’ (the writer her indoors’ was ‘protected’) – note to self, check out possible psychological interpretations of these differing views… We have sipped cafés au lait in a variety of market squares; a re-assurance of the French way of life. We have driven through the countryside evoked by Cézanne and Pagnol, past fields filled with poppies and other wild flowers worthy of paintings by both Monet and Renoir, flora and fauna that feed the multitude of wild birds we have seen, but bizarely only one magpie at any time…
Braving the stiff breeze back at our local Sunday market, it was interesting to see pamphleteers from a range of political parties out in force prior to the vote this coming week. The major political parties were all represented. Being the south, there was a disproportionate ‘Le Pen’ presence and several party enthusiasts pushing ‘Frexit’ (for which there are posters splashed all over the area). There was much heated debate, a certain amount of ignorance and many leaflets on the floor by the end of the day.
I think it fair to say that the incomprehension of the ‘unusual’ weather and inability to cope with its implications reflect France’s unease at the political situation. Let’s hope that the single magpies we keep seeing aren’t an omen for the results to come and that the voice douce is more than symptomatic of where Europe is now and France and the UK in particular…
Eating: Can’t be by the coast in France without some mussels. Malaise strikes here too as the previously ubiquitous moules marinières are not to be found. We had the above instead, in a restaurant in La Ciotat, La tête d’ail, and it is their speciality. Moules à l’éclade, pommes de terre sautées – mussels cooked and smoked with pine needles – delicious for a night that wasn’t as warm as it should have been!
Drinking: Obviously more rosé – can’t get away from the stuff down here, so it would be rude not to! The above was eminently quaffable, yet with enough character to manage the smoked mussels.
Listening to: Given the vagaries of our internet access here, as well as a phone that is ‘having a moment’, we have been listening to son #2’s go to revision music, as he revises for finals – Bach Cello suites Nos 1,5 and 6… I am discovering a love of the deep and re-assuring sound of the cello.
Cook.Eat.Blog.Repeat. 