A Week In Provence
If you’ve ever read the book “A Year in Provence” or seen any movies about this neck of the woods, you’ll likely know a few things. Great wine, including incredible rosé, comes from here. It’s world renowned for it’s lavender fields which scent the air in every direction in the summer time. Quaint French farmhouses stretch for as far as the eye can see. And a wind, called Le Mistral, blows like all holy hell particularly in the change of seasons from winter to spring. We arrived on the first day of spring and right on cue, Le Mistral was barreling down the valley at 60kms per hour.
It’s actually quite a fascinating phenomenon. I’m used to gusty winds having grown up by the sea, but Le Mistral is curious because it doesn’t really gust, it’s a constant fierce wind. It’s like someone switches on a massive fan that blows relentlessly, usually for three days straight. And then, just like that, someone switches the fan off and it’s calm again. And the fan was on full speed when we arrived and no mistake. The temperature was hovering around 4 degrees, when you add the wind, it felt more like minus 8 according to the weather app. That’s a bloody cold wind howling in your face, my friends.
But as with all weather events on this trip, it didn’t slow us down (hopefully you’re not sick of me saying that). Before checking into our Airbnb, we had a wine tasting pitstop (it would be rude not to) at the fantastic Domaine de Trevallon in St Etienne du Gres, where the lovely Ostiane showed us around the vineyards in the howling wind. Her Grandfather, who was a painter and friend of Picasso, purchased the land in 1950 as a quiet place to retire. In the 1970s Ostiane's father, Eloi Dürrbach, moved from Paris to create the winery from scratch and planted the first vineyard in 1973. Now Ostiane helps her father make some of the best wines in the region, they are absolutely superb, as is the olive oil that they've started to produce.
Driving through the countryside on the way to our Airbnb, through small villages and fields full of fruit trees with a couple bottles of great wine on board, I was really beginning to fall for Provence. Then we pulled up to our house and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Back when we booked the trip so many months ago, we had decided to book a large house in the hope that lots of folks would be able to come and visit. So our mansion was a whopper, the place has 9 bedrooms and sleeps 14 people. Turned out in the months since we booked, due to work commitments, family promises, general work loads and life getting in the way, the guest list for the week would be a mighty 4: Mr T and I, WillJeSuis and young Wilkins fresh off the plane from the UK. <Editors note: Shadow just reminded me that dogs are people too, so make that 5>. Either way, it was a massive place for our small group but we promised to make the most of it.
We took one look at the exquisite gourmet kitchen and decided that instead of eating out each evening, we would cook instead. I’ve never cooked in a kitchen quite like it, deBuyer pots and pans, industrial fridges, every utensil you could imagine. They even have a creme brûlée blow torch for heavens sake. Over the course of the next seven days we would whip up legendary spaghetti bolognese, Provençal coq au vin, Cote de Boeuf, pork vindaloo, berry pavlova, scones, cauliflower cheese, and on the last night an epic crostini-off to use up all the leftovers. It’s quite amazing what you can make with some stale bread and a fridge full of bits and pieces. Take that, Julia Child!
Our house in Cabannes was in a great location within driving distance of so many wonderful towns and villages. Each day we got to experience something new. We had a smashing day trip to the seaside town of Cassis which was breathtaking, once the snow cleared and the sun came out. Yep it’s still snowing, which is, to quote the line we’ve heard most often on this trip, very unusual for this time of year. That line is usually followed by “If only you’d been here last week it was 20 degrees and sunny.” There’s only so many times you can smile through gritted teeth.
Anyway back to Cassis, which is truly a wonderful place to visit. Despite the less than perfect weather conditions, I was instantly in love. It’s quite the sight driving into town because it's surrounded by some of the highest seaside cliffs in Europe, used by sailors as a landmark for thousands of years. The harbour is full of little boats bobbing up and down waiting to take tourists to the famous ‘calanques’ or steep sided inlets. On account of the snow there weren’t many takers on this particular day, but it would be a smashing thing to do with a bottle of rosé on a sunny day.
Talking of wine (as we so often do), another fun fact is Cassis was the very first AOC (appellation d'origine contrôlée) which means it was the first region in France to be officially recognised. If you fancy trying a bottle, we’d recommend Domaine du Bagnol which we tried during a delicious seafood lunch at Nino’s. It’s a winner. Upon leaving Cassis I discovered another reason I felt an instant connection to this place. Believe it or not (and I still l can't) it is twinned with my home town Burnham-on-Sea in Somerset. Now I love Burnham, but I have to say I'm not sure the people of Cassis would be as thrilled if they were ever to visit the seaside town where I grew up. Let's just say there aren't a lot of similarities!
The following day, we were in for an absolute treat. After a quick trip to very charming Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, where I managed to get chatted up by a 70 year old French bloke while waiting outside a shop for the lads (I still got it, people!), we took a trip out into the countryside to go truffle hunting. I can’t tell you exactly where, if I did I’m afraid I’d have to kill you. Truffle hunting is a very secretive business you see, the little buggers are worth a lot of money and there’s been quite a bit of skullduggery in the past involving truffles.
I have to confess that I’m not a massive fan of truffles. I thought truffles were just one of those things that people have latched on to because they are expensive and the taste isn’t really up my street. But it sounded like a fun experience so I was really excited to hunt them but not really eat them. Not for the first time on this trip, I’ll admit I was completely wrong. But before we get into snaffling them, let me tell you a little more about how truffles grow because it’s absolutely fascinating.
For a start, truffles only grow on oak and hazelnut trees, and it takes 7-10 years for one truffle to grow to maturity. It needs very specific conditions to grow, the warm summer and cold winter, the open space and right amount of light, the specific mix of soil. You don’t really know which tree is going to sprout a truffle and there’s no way to tell if there’s one there unless you start digging. It’s no wonder they are so expensive that people call it Black Gold, they are elusive wee things.
I always thought pigs snuffled for truffles but turns out I was wrong (again). They used to, but there’s a couple of reasons why they are no longer used. Pigs like to eat the truffles which is not ideal when they go for 60-100 euro a piece. Which leads to the second problem, pigs will take a finger clean off in one bite. Not great if you’re trying to wrestle a small muddy ball out of it’s chompers. So now truffle hunters use dogs because they don’t want to eat the truffles, they are much easier to train, they love to please humans and well, dogs are awesome.
So that’s how we found ourselves on Johann’s beautiful organic farm, surrounded by trees, grapevines, and beehives, following behind two incredibly cute dogs called Eclair and Mirabelle as they sniffed about. The dogs go from tree to tree and when they catch a whiff of a truffle, they paw and dig a little at the specific spot where the truffle is. Then the truffle is dug out very carefully using a very technical piece of kit…an old screwdriver. There’s something about being crouched in the dirt with two clever pups uncovering one of these little gems that is just epic. As for the taste, the secret is the right combination of fat, salt and truffle. Given truffles only last two weeks it's likely I've only eaten stale or dead truffles. If you eat them while they are still vibrant, especially the way Johann makes them, well, that's a whole different truffle game. Then you add some good champagne and then my friends, I'm in heaven!
It wasn’t always like this for Johann and his family. His Grandfather and Grandmother lived on the land since the 1960s and had no idea that truffles were there. As they spent their days working incredibly hard on the land, it’s highly likely that people were sneaking by and taking the truffles for themselves for years without ever telling his Grandfather about it. One day, Johann’s friend persuaded him to take a look at the land with a couple of truffle dogs and the rest is history. Johann doesn’t seem to be bitter about all those stolen truffles, instead he’s honoring his Grandfather’s memory by making the organic farm a wonderful place to visit. Sadly his Grandfather passed away recently and sounds like an incredible man, having fought in both World War I and World War II. He created a wonderful legacy for Johann to continue so if you visit Provence, be sure to look Johann up and pay a visit, you'll enjoy every moment. You can find him on Airbnb if you're all signed up (and you should be!) or you can find him at Les Pastras website.
If you’re a wine lover, no trip to Provence would be complete without a visit to Châteauneuf-du-Pape, one of the most renowned wine regions in the world. The region is famous for very rocky vineyards with rounded stones (called galets) and is home to the world's most famous Grenache based wines. We paid a visit to Domaine du Pegau, one of the oldest names in the region, which is also home to female winemaker Laurence Feraud. According to Mr T, Châteauneuf wines can often be quite big and jammy, however, Pegau’s show more finesse and freshness while still maintaining the richness you’d expect from great Châteauneuf. So there you have it, the experts view. I just drink it and to me, it was a delight.
Next stop for our merry team was Aix-en-Provence which is a real treat, especially on market day. There really is nothing like slowly wandering around the market stalls, picking up cheese, vegetables and other delights. But this is no ordinary market, along with our Comte cheese and our French beans, we also snagged some Szechuan peppercorns, stuffed fried raviolis, chicken roti and all manner of other things. You should plan your trip to Provence around being here on a market day. The ‘grand marché’ (big market) of Aix is on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays on Place des Precheurs and Place de Verdun, two squares that are actually like one big square. In Place des Precheurs is the food market, and in Place de Verdun is the market, selling clothes, fabrics, furnishings, and books. There is also a flower market outside the Town Hall.
And so to our last day, when the sun came out and the Le Mistral stopped blowing, we went for a 8 mile hike in nearby Les Baux-de-Provence, a town built on a rocky outcrop with views of the Alpilles mountain range and all the way to the Mediterranean Sea. Our hike took us all around the fortress in every direction, through beautiful vineyards, and acres of the famous Garrigue, the Mediterranean scrubland made up of low growing, bushy plants and herbs including juniper, rosemary, sage and thyme. You come out smelling like a slab of meat ready for roasting!
We rounded out the day with a rousing game of Boules, some nice bottles of rosé and a rip around the grounds on my favourite mode of transport, a rather sporty pedal powered quad bike. I need one of these things, they are so much fun.
Provence, thank you for being your wonderful self. You have a piece of my heart forever. Thank you to special guest stars WillJeSuis and Wilkins for a cracking time, what fun we had! Now we leave the sunshine and warmer climes for the snowy alps for a week in Courchevel. No doubt I’ll have the Christmas tunes on with the first snow flake I see. You know I will.
