Nearing the end of the (lunch) line

DATELINE: Begun Tuesday, Oct. 24, in Vaison. May continue until Thursday, Oct. 26, in California (if all goes well).

Lovely day, but sun very hot until Brit at left
coaxed waiters to roll down awning over patio. Applause.

Summary of Tuesday, so far. Worked on laundry and preliminary packing most of morning, then off to Vaison's center for a good lunch at the usual brasserie. Back home to continue getting ready to fly. And to do a little more blog work.

We've kept up pretty well so far, putting most of these posts online within a day of the events described. It's been fun: looking, talking, meeting, writing, and mostly eating. But travel is looming, and it makes almost all other activities impossible. So here's why NOT to expect much new blog work from us for a few days.

We fly out of Marseille airport this Thursday before dawn local time. To be there for our early flight, we're leaving Vaison tomorrow (Wednesday) after lunch. We'll return the rental car and stay in an airport hotel before we take the hotel's earliest shuttle bus to the main terminal.

A short-haul jet from there should take a little over an hour to reach Paris's CDG airport. Our transcontinental jumbo jet lifts off around 1:10PM. After flying against the earth's rotation for 11 or so hours, Air France 084 is scheduled to land about 12:35PM local time at San Francisco.

A Napa-based shuttle bus is supposed to cruise the airport around 2:00PM, and the ride back to Napa is around 90 minutes if the traffic is only as bad as usual. Final lap: a taxi or a helpful neighbor to deposit us and all our luggage back at 918 Marina Drive. Home before dark.

With all that going on, plus an absence of internet service most of that time, it's unlikely much new blog posting will occur. Can't honestly say whether it will resume once we're home, or if this is the closing chapter. We'll have to see.

It's been fun, though. Glad you came along.

NEW DATELINE: Resumed writing about 7:00PM on Tues., Oct. 24, in Vaison

Nothing like an unexpected crisis to knock the fun out of life. We just had a lulu!

About 4:30 this afternoon, we walked to the cathedral. We'd parked our car in the church's lot last night to keep clear of the big market this morning. Roz and I locked the house, walked a quarter mile to where the car was, and drove it to a slot in the Post Office lot. Then we walked to the town place for ice cream sundaes. Contented, we strolled back to the house and I fished in my pocket for the key....

Yep, lost the house key. Big problems loomed, but we started out bravely. Back to where we had just parked the car to see if the key was in it or around it. Nope. Back to the ice cream shop to see if it fell on the floor while we were eating. Uh-uh. Walked all the way back to the cathedral and looked where the car had been parked. No avail -- and it was getting dark.

Panic rising. If we couldn't get back in soon, we'd have to find a place to sleep tonight. Tomorrow, we'd probably start getting penalized for not returning the car by the appointed time. Of course, we could  also miss our flights to Paris, then to SFO on Thursday. And on it goes.

All we had with us was wallets (cash and credit cards) and iPhones. We did know two people in Vaison who the owner of our rental trusted for cleaning and repairs. Met them both earlier this trip. But did we have their phone numbers with us? Would they be home? Did they have spare keys?

Roz's phone already had the number for Michele, the cleaner. But no answer, so she had to leave a message. Things looked more grim for a little while. Then Roz remembered that Allan, the owner, had sent us an online summary of what to do and who to call via email a year or so ago. Roz was pretty sure she could download the document to her phone from the internet. We sat in the car (I still had that key) to keep her phone plugged in and charging. Using her web wiles, she found that she'd put the whole thing in the Dropbox online storage service. Downloaded it to her phone and searched to find... Ta Dah!!! The handyman's cell number. 

His first name is Alain (same as the owner's, but with French spelling) and he met us back at the house about ten minutes after Roz finished explaining. Let us in and gave us a spare key. I wouldn't have minded if she kissed him (heck, I almost did myself), but instead we thanked him with an unopened bottle each of hard cider and good French fizzy wine.

Wrung out by the whole thing, we collapsed at our computers with aperitifs and I started writing this chapter of our "going home" adventure.

Roz’s photos of the more pleasant part of the day (as always, mostly food-based) start here:  Day 21

Cold wind, warm lunch... but where is everyone?

DATELINE: Monday, Oct. 23.Vaison to Grignan and back.

Cold this morning as we walked together to the bakery for pastries. Roz and I planned an early 3o kilometer drive to Grignan, where a chateau to visit and a lunch to eat would be waiting.

The autumn countryside was gorgeous in the slanting sunlight as we drove westward. But the wind was rising fast. By the time we got out of the car at the base of Grignan's hill it was a fight to keep the car doors from slamming. The narrow sloped streets seemed to funnel the wind in our faces no matter what direction we walked. Is this the infamous Mediterranean mistral? We think so.

Topping Grignan's steep hill sprawls a chateau made famous by witty 17th century society woman, Madame de Sévigné. I've never read any of her famous letters, but Roz was interested in her.

But another woman was the driving force behind the chateau's restoration from post-revolution damage and two following centuries of neglect. Marie Fontaine was a very wealthy woman who spent a fortune rebuilding the chateau as the 19th century became the 20th. The restoration is not historically precise, but plays variations on French history from as far back as the early 16th century well into the 18th. Now Madame Fontaine's portrait hangs on walls where many noble faces once did before noble heads rolled. Though the chateau's fame began with Mme. Sévigné, its current style is Fontaine's creation.

After taking pictures in and around the windblown edifice, we were in need of warmth before the usual French lunch-serving hour (12:30 or later). Fighting our way down the town streets, we spotted the restaurant where Roz had made the reservation. As we stood shivering outside, pretending to read the day's menu, the hostess discreetly unlocked the front door. Next to it, we were surprised to see a small card lettered (in French, of course) "The restaurant is full". It looked like we'd be the first of a large crowd.

When we finally went in (about 12:15) the staff were seated eating their lunch. They tided us over with aperitifs until they were ready to begin serving.

Amuse-bouche: a tiny glass full of great flavors

The meal was generally good, especially the tiny but mighty good amuse-bouche, meant to tickle one's tongue and rev up the taste buds. I loved it, and only as I downed the last wee spoonful did I hear the answer to Roz's question to the waitress, "What was that made of?" The answer: mostly a puree of green peas and lentils -- two vegetables I have feared eating for more than 50 years, after scary allergic reactions to them. Thank heavens, no trouble today.

Otherwise, the meal followed a profile that we've noticed this trip: a great start, with top-notch appetizer (often after an amuse-bouche), but then a disappointing main course, following which dessert comes to the rescue with a delicious finish. That describes today, when we both found the codfish oversalted, though the pilaf-like rice was good. Dessert was fine.

Oh, and that crowd the restaurant's outdoor note seemed to expect? It never showed up. We have lunched yet another day in solitary spendor. Is it something about us?

Then out into the cold gusts, down the hill to the parking lot, and home by about 3:00PM. Later, after some preliminary chores to prep for tomorrow's big pack-a-thon, we had prosecco and cheese.

For more pictures, see Roz's photo album, Day 20. 

From a rib-sticking breakfast to a less thrilling luncheon

DATELINE: Sunday, Oct. 22, in Vaison and Entrechaux.

Today it was oatmeal again. I alternate breakfasts in Vaison between sweet pastry from the local baker and that stove-top staple. Actually, it's microwave oatmeal these days, fortified with blueberries, raisins, and cinnamon. I'm sure it'll help me grow up big and strong.

Shortly after that, Roz and I hit the trail at Théos Park for a two-miler in a stiffening breeze. Beautiful morning sunshine, but we were glad to get out of the wind by the time we got back to the car. This is predicted to be the first of three windy days.

Not exactly classic French architecture

After sprucing up, we fetched the car again from the Post Office lot. Then on toward the adjoining village of Crestet for today's lunchtime adventure. L'Epicurien is definitely a cut below the pretensions of other, more elegant dining venues: paper napkins and thin flimsy tableware utensils don't measure up.

But the waiter was eager to help, showing off his English as much as possible. He gave the menu to me in English, to Roz in French. He was also learning the ropes of a new handheld order-placing gadget and I could sympathize with his frustration. Still, he kept things coming pretty well as more diners were seated.

Best dish: R's gazpacho with potato wafer

But the food was uneven. Roz seemed fairly satisfied, but I noticed a few problems (surprise!). For example, my appetizer terrine was in gelatin so salty that the chopped rabbit might as well have been chicken. My main dish salmon was good, but the ratatouille on the plate with it was fantastic! I'd have happily swapped the salmon for a triple serving of the vegetable.

Dessert was good; hard to go wrong with warm chocolate and cold ice cream. But all told, the price was a little out of line, compared to the value we've found at more attractive venues. The locals know it -- it was the least busy of the three places we've eaten on Sunday this trip.

The 50 centiliter bottle of wine we had was pretty tasty, and helped me catch a good nap after I drove carefully home. Later, in the evening (still cold and windy outdoors), we had some prosecco and cheese while editing photos and writing for this blog.

More photos on the "Roz's photos" link to left. Scroll down to Day 19, or click here to go directly there. 

Why so many good restaurants empty on a nice weekend?

DATELINE: Saturday, Oct. 21, In Vaison and nearby Malaucène

Awoke to cooling weather after a warm-ish night. I walked out in the dawn gloom to my favorite bakery; I've developed a taste for their pastry with apples -- chausson aux pommes -- literally "a slipper of apples". Tastes much better than it sounds.

After breakfast, we walked around Vaison, partly to explore an alternate route for moving the car between the Post Office lot and the cathedral parking area (as market days require).

As usual, luncheon was the feature event planned for the day. Destination: a restaurant named Le Four à Chaux (the lime kiln). It's in the village of Caromb near larger Malaucène. On the map, it looks quite close to Vaison, but the narrow road swoops and curves all the way, making it a longer and tenser drive.

The final approach to the restaurant takes you off the road at a stone bridge, then under that bridge to the eatery on the bank of a small river (the river gets two arches of the bridge; the restaurant gets one).

The restaurant occupied quite a large building, probably the combined home-workplace of the kiln operator. Today, it's nicely decorated, with inventive lighting. Not crowded, though. Each of the only three occupied tables had a separate small dining room to itself. That's only three couples for the Saturday "lunch crowd". I hope they do better on other days and evenings.

So many empty tables at peak mealtime

The menu was full of things I never ate as a child. Travel in Europe really broadened my gustatory horizons.

The half-liter bottle of wine we ordered arrived chilled, to our surprise, but went well with our meal.

The drive home seemed shorter, but with less traffic it was easier to drive.

Very colorful autumn vegetation decorated the hillsides and valleys.

I think a nap may have occurred shortly after our arrival home. The late afternoon and evening passed pleasantly, with aperitifs and cheese as dusk turned to night.

REMINDER: More of Roz's photos are viewable by clicking the link to the left of this post. Or click here to go directly to Day 18. 

Fuel for memories

DATELINE: Friday, Oct. 20, in Vaison

Hang in there, friends, through just one more day in and around Vaison. The weekend ahead will resume our travels to more big lunches.

But back to Friday. After breakfast, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, four people stood there: a couple about our age, and two younger men loaded down with bulky equipment. We looked at one another with blank incomprehension. Did they think we were expecting them? Finally, I conjured up the French for "Can I help you?" After Roz joined the conversation, it became clear that the older couple were purchasing the abutting house west of ours. This procedure required an extremely accurate survey of the property's dimensions. But one key exterior surface was only exposed in the little patio off the guest bedroom on our second floor. They asked if they could come in and use their satellite/laser measurement system to measure that surface accurately. With some wariness, we said yes.

The following half hour was an interesting mix of high technology surveying, mis-matched languages, and clumsy conversations. But I was impressed by the politeness which made all this pleasant. The putative house buyers especially liked the view of the Roman ruins from our front bedroom. Handshakes all 'round as they departed. I hope the deal works out for the twosome; they seem like good potential neighbors.

Later, during our morning walk along a one-mile path from Park Théos, the sound of helicopters rattled the morning air. When we looked up toward the castle that caps the height of medieval Vaison, a chopper was shuttling back and forth between an out-of-view part of the hilltop and the old fortress. On the way to the fortress, it carried a package at the end of a long cable. Then hovering above the castle, it lowered slowly until the package disappeared behind the old walls. A few seconds later, the 'copter rose again with a bare cable, went back to the loading zone, got another load, and repeated the cycle. Noisy, but apparently the only practical way to transfer some important cargo into the ancient stone building.

Later in the morning we faced a dreaded situation -- our car was running low on fuel! We've had many misadventures buying gasoline or diesel fuel during 20-plus years of driving in Europe. Such as inscrutable (or absent) pump instructions, unclear payment procedures, stations unstaffed on Sundays, and pumps empty because of delivery strikes.

This time our troubles centered on the car we were driving. Before we left our space in the Post Office lot, I wanted to figure out how to open the fueling port.  I looked inside for a lever or button -- no luck. Jumped out of the car and looked at the door over the port. Couldn't see any way to open it from there. Back inside, tried every button. Meanwhile, a lady in a blue car was getting honked at as she waited for our space.

Finally, a much closer look at the exterior fuel door revealed a tiny depression at one edge where I could get a finger under and pry the door open. By this time, of course, the blue car lady had to move on. Je suis desolé, Madame.

Fueling done, we were soon back at our little house for a simple lunch: reheated take-home pizza from yesterday at Bella Napoli. Good.

Duck confit

The evening's feature attraction was the last of this trip's three meals at Mathieu's wine shop. Roz had arranged for a table seating four in a corner while a large party of 15 otherwise monopolized the long center table. Mathieu outdid himself, preparing a superb duck confit with sesame seeds, that sat atop a risotto-like preparation of spelt grain. Dessert was a chocolate pear crumble. All made even better by our dinner partners, Agnès and Tien Chong, whom we had first met here two weeks earlier.

We said goodbye to them and to Mathieu after supper. Not certain whether we'll ever be back to see them again.

Mathieu

 

It was a day full of small adventures that we'll remember.

Lunchtime satisfaction rediscovered, twice, right here in Vaison.

DATELINE: Wednesday, Oct. 18. Vaison and around.

Maybe I should change the name of this blog to The Lunch Line. The focus of almost all of this year's posts has been our dejeuner;  where it was, what it included, and how the experience went down. I'll think about it.

There is good news on that topic however: our lunch luck changed back to positive on Wednesday, and at a more appetizing price level.

The day had begun with a visit from "The French Tornado", my nickname for Mme. Maurel, the local lady who handles cleaning and tidying for our rental lodging. In addition to her own energetic work, her grand-daughter and her great-granddaughter pitched in. In about an hour, the place was looking much better, plus we had enjoyed three lovely people.

When our lunchtime rolled around we walked to the center of Vaison to try a creperie recommended by our new friends, the Chongs. It's called "La Fleur de Sel" (The Salt Flower") to evoke the north coast of France. Far less elegant than our three previous lunch venues, it still offered outdoor seating, though on a back-street sidewalk. The menu listed a terrific collection of galettes. which are thin pancakes made with buckwheat/egg batter (hey, it's gluten-free!). These are folded onto various tasty fillings to form a square usually served on a plate of the same shape (picture on Roz's photo site).

We both had savory fillings with good melted cheese, washed down with hard cider (the essential drink of Brittany). Simple, but excellent -- for about $35 total. Our lunch line is back on high ground!

Though the sweet crepes on the menu were tempting, we took the plunge on pastries from the upscale patisserie, Peyrerol, we passed walking home. A conscience-clearing afternoon walk helped reduce our guilt as we ate them. Again, see Roz's photos.

All we had for evening nourishment was a bit more cheese with our usual aperitifs. 

DATELINE: Thursday, Oct. 19, in Vaison, Nyons, and Entrechaux.

We still had not scored any really great olives this trip, so Roz insisted we try once more at the big Thursday market in Nyons. We made an early run right after the market opened, found the stall with the best olive vendor, loaded up, and skedaddled before the crowd really arrived. We unloaded back home, then drove out to the Théos park for a brisk two-mile walk.

Pizza with roasted vegetables

Next, we pushed our Lunch Line luck a bit further with another Vaison restaurant. Pizza this time, at Bella Napoli, recommended by our host, Toronto native Allan Glube. Another great find with good food at a reasonable price, and within easy walking distance. Wish we'd found these good, nearby lunch places a week or more ago.

The after-lunch hours were spent back at the house. We had a date for aperitifs with our new friends, the Chongs, for early evening, so rested a bit then got ready to go. Their home, in a village near Vaison, is a very well-done remodel of an old Provence farmhouse. Beautiful landscaping, too. We four had a good time swapping stories and opinions. We consider meeting them to be one of the high points of this trip.

The drive home began on dark country roads, but soon put us on familiar highways. Plenty of parking at the nearby Post Office lot. A pleasant evening in many ways.

Outdoor lunch: third time, no charm

DATELINE: Tuesday, Oct.17. Another market day in Vaison

Walking out to buy pastry in this morning's grey pre-dawn light, I could hear clanks and clicks as the metal frames of booths were being assembled for today's big market in Vaison.

The bustle wasn't just in the Post Office parking area, but also on the narrow streets I walked through. People were pulling large plastic tubs out of their vans, laying out the contents on just-unfolded tables, and stacking the tubs back in the vans. A surprisingly calm buzz of conversation filled the air, as stall neighbors greeted each other. It was chilly, so warm jackets and sweatshirts were the uniform.

A few cars and vans, having deposited their contents at a booth, were leaving to make more room. These added a mobile challenge for we few "civililan" pedestrians threading our way to bakeries and cafes. Still, it was a pleasant glimpse "behind the scenes" of French daily life. Tomorrow, this will all be repeated in some other town or village. And on and on....   

Around 10:00AM, Roz and I headed out to the now-open market. As usual, she found more to buy than I did: fresh seasonal fruit for her, but no zip-front sweater for me.

After noon, when we walked through town toward our lunch destination, the same booths I'd seen and heard being erected this morning were already being folded into cars and vans. 

Our table with aperitifs,
the high point of the meal.

Our destination was a restaurant just across the old Roman bridge from downtown Vaison. We'd eaten at Le Moulin à Huile last year, and found the new chef/owner's cuisine to be very good then. Sadly, we aren't even certain that the same guy was in charge today. 

After two great meals, our third outdoor luncheon in a row was disappointing for several reasons:  (too much salt here, too little there, for example) and when the chef came out to talk to the diners, we didn't recognize the man from last year. Maybe the restaurant has changed hands again.

We stopped short of dessert there, but yielded to temptation as we walked home past Léone on the town square. Their ice cream lifted our spirits, and we arrived home much happier.

Late afternoon involved little excitement: got the car from the cathedral parking lot and put it back in the Post Office lot now that the market was gone. Another quiet evening followed.

Today's challenge: another big, delicious lunch outdoors.

DATELINE: Monday, Oct. 16. Vaison to Gigondas and back.

Monday used to be when you paid the price for the good times you had over the weekend.  But Roz and I just charged ahead with the challenge we’d set ourselves: Can we eat a large, rich lunch every day and live to tell the tale?

Somebody has to do it, so we girded our tummies for today’s challenge — Les Florets, a lovely hotel/restaurant near the village of Gigondas. If that town name is familiar to you, you’ve probably seen it on the labels of good Rhone-style wines. 

One of few artworks
in lower Gigondas

On previous visits to Gigondas, we’d enjoyed the lovely village before settling in to a restaurant. Both of those visits had shown off the town’s art scene. In 2014, large sculptures spread throughout the town. Last year, crochet was the art on display, with trees wearing colorful sweaters and iron railings wrapped in sock-like weavings. But this year, according to the (unusually un-helpful) lady at the Tourist Information office, most of the new artwork was in the upper reaches of the village. But, although we still think it’s one of the area’s prettiest towns, we weren’t motivated for much climbing. We had other work to do.

A steep road winds its way up to Les Florets, which sits on a terraced slope surrounded by hills of dense forest. On our last meal there, we had walked in across the lovely stone-floored patio, where outdoor tables looked inviting. But no outdoor seating was being offered then. Happily, this year the terrace was open and tables were set and waiting for lunch guests. The autumn colors made it one of the most beautiful places we’ve ever eaten.

Which we did with gusto and satisfaction. The service was almost Sunday-slow, but we finished in about 2 1/2 hours. Except for the pain-in-the-bottom metal chairs, it was relaxing and comfortable. The well-spaced tables had filled and a mix of French, English, and German was audible but not unpleasant.

Roz’s photos will show and tell you more about our lunch than a long essay by me. Just click on the blue link “Roz’s Photos” to the  left of this column, then scroll down to Day 13. Another tip: when you're looking at Roz's photos on that site, click on the little white circle containing an ”i” at upper right of the picture. This will open the descriptive comment she adds to almost every picture.

Fig tart, custard on top, plus other goodies.

The meal service was fine, though not quite as friendly or as smooth as at yesterday’s Sunday feast. The price was the highest so far for a meal with wine, but not out of line. We left comfortably full as we headed our car back toward Gigondas and the road homeward.

Back in Vaison, it was around 4:00PM and comfortably warm. Roz wanted some exercise, so I grumblingly assented to driving out to the Théos park again, where we found the sun grew warmer during our 2-mile walk.

HEALTH NOTE: One major meal per day for us. Evening consumption is limited to aperitifs, some fine cheese from a famous Vaison shop, and maybe a little red wine.

Sunday: no internet, but delicious tradition.

DATELINE: Sunday, Oct. 15. Vaison to Entrechaux and return

 We awoke to find our internet service down. Without it, very few of the applications on our computers, phones, and other electronic gizmos worked. No incoming email, news, maps, messages. No updates on the fire situation back in Napa. We couldn't send email or messages nor updates to this blog.

Definitely a First-world problem, but it's scary to see how dependent we are on instant worldwide movement of information. Rural France, however, has been doing without this technology until very, very recently. 

What does work here is tradition, one of which is outdoor markets. Today, Vaison's big parking area was hosting a brocante -- a market focused on crafts, antiques, (and some junk). There were nice displays of copper cooking utensils and old signs, but the cleverest was a craftsman who cuts silhouettes of people or other subjects out of old vinyl phonograph records.

Another, even more firmly entrenched French tradition, is a big mid-day Sunday meal with family and friends. Our plans for lunch took us to nearby Entrechaux, another tiny village that seems to be mostly one pointy hill. Roz had carefully put the necessary map on her iPhone some days ago. Thanks to that, we didn't need an internet connection to find the well-hidden Restaurant St. Hubert.

We arrived at 12:30PM, the time most restaurants open for luncheon, to find the place already nearly full. But our reservation had saved us a nice table under the enormous leafy arbor  that shaded the dining patio. We settled in (to chairs that later grew more and more uncomfortable), ordered aperitifs, and scanned the large menu. Not cheap, but full of good seasonal foods.

After we ordered, we sat and looked at the groups seated around us. There were  no small children, but many tables seated multiple generations. A motorcycle gang of five loud, rumbly Harleys pulled up, but when they came in with helmets off, turned out to be two couples at least 60 years old. Sitting close to Roz's side of our table were a couple in their early 40s, their early-teen son, and his glamourous blonde grandma. 

Other tables seated groups as large as eight, or as small as one person. Many arriving guests were obviously frequent clients, and exchanged bises with one or more of the waitstaff. Two tables, including the one right next to me, had small white dogs underneath, alert for any dropped morsels.

Our first course arrived: a huge bowl of mussels for Roz and a big chunk of foie gras for me. After the usual photos (click on R's link at the left and scroll to Day 12), we dug in.

Roz's mountain of mussels

The sound level was surprisingly low: no babies mewling, no dogs barking, and most groups speaking in polite tones. True, the volume rose somewhat during the afternoon, as the many bottles of wine took effect.

The service was very polite but speedy delivery was not part of the waiters' mission. At first this annoyed me, but  the calm pace became a lovely part of our 3 1/2 hour meal. 

Our main courses were very different. Roz, having conquered that mountain of mussels, continued with codfish. I had wild boar, served in a copper pan that the waitress placed atop a chafing dish arrangement.

The crowd was beginning to thin by the time our dessert was served. We enjoyed our desserts and our coffees. After leaving Restaurant St. Hubert, we walked toward the village center where an enormous vide grenier was underway. At first this seemed like a brocante, but instead of craftsmen and collectors presenting their wares, it is a gigantic yard sale, set in the town plaza and nearby streets. The closest translation of vide grenier is "empty the attic".

Getting our car out of the town lot was a bit challenging, but soon we were on our peaceful way home. A later stroll around Vaison in early evening was followed by aperitifs and cheese for an evening snack. We finished some delayed blog work (Roz figured out how to re-start our internet service) and so to bed.

A lovely way to spend a Sunday. Who needs the internet?

Special: 2 days for the price of 1

DATELINE, Friday, October 13. In Vaison.

If you think Thursday's blog was boring, be grateful I'm sparing you all but a brief summary of Friday:

1. Usual oatmeal breakfast.

2. OK lunch at usual brasserie on Vaison's place. 

3.  Afternoon nap for yours truly. 

4. Short auto run in late afternoon to supermarket on edge of town to get a bottle of Campari, an aperitif we enjoy. Discovery: French school kids can be as rude as American ones, especially when buying after-school snacks. 

5. Highpoint: Friday night dinner at Mathieu's wine shop. A delicious risotto, with pear tart for dessert. Good meal, good price, accompanied by good Sancerre red wine.

6. Worked on blog, went to bed. Bye-bye Friday. Onward to...

DATELINE: Saturday, Oct.14, Vaison to Cairanne and back.

After breakfast we drove to the Théos park on the west side of Vaison. Walked two miles or more through woods and around the arrangement of boulders carved with poems that we discovered last year.

For lunch, back to Cairanne. This time, to the town center (unlike last week's visit to a different restaurant at the edge of town). Today's trouble finding Le Tourne Au Verre was because the address on their website, which our GPS went to, was actually their back door (on an alley with no sign). The main entrance faced the town's main drag with a big sign.

It was worth the trouble, though, for an excellent lunch and a reminder that we really like Cairanne's local wines, both red and rosé. Roz's pictures are available at link at your left (scroll to Day 11). We bought a bottle of Cairanne red as we left the restaurant.

We had skipped dessert because an interesting ice cream shop back in Vaison had reopened after an end-of-summer break. We had liked it last year, and were pleased again this time. The place was mobbed at 5:00PM, so we had to come back around 6:00. Looks like Léone will continue to prosper.

Once that tasty dessert wore off a bit, we relaxed at home with some fizzy wine and a splash from the bottle of Campari we had bought Friday. Spent most of the evening bringing this blog up to date.

These were two pleasant and relaxing days, just not very thrilling to share with you. Will try to pack a bit more excitement into tomorrow.

Market to market

DATELINE: Thursday, Oct.12. Vaison to Nyons and back

Nyons is less than 20 kilometers northeast of Vaison. Like Vaison, it stretches alongside a river that can switch from dribble to torrent in a blink. Unlike Vaison, Nyons stretches up into hills on just one side of the river. It's not divided into flat town on one side, hill town on the other.

The town is famous for its black olives, and they're always featured in the largest square of its weekly market. Our problem today was: we couldn't find that great big square.

I had wanted to come because I'm looking for a zip front sweater to wear on the cold mornings and evenings Vaison has this time of year. Didn't find what I wanted at Tuesday's market in Vaison, so I was trying the next big market in the area, at Nyons.

Short summary: no luck on the sweater or the really good olives. Suddenly, it was past noon and the Nyons market was closing. We had to find the restaurant where Roz had booked lunch for 12:30.

Few signs, absent street names, steep terrain (slow walking for aging legs) lead to near panic. GPS was little help when surrounding stone buildings blocked the satellite signal. But eventually, we blundered into the correct side street and there was Le Resto des Arts.

We just made it in time for our reservation, and settled in for a very good lunch. (See Roz's pictures, Day 9). Needing a walk after that, we headed (slowly) uphill trying to reach the distinctive tower that peaks the town's skyline.

The pointy, gothic-looking top of the tower, called Tour Randonne, was actually built in 1862, atop a tiny chapel that had been converted in 1280 from a defensive tower of the local baron's castle.

Made it all the way up there, got some photos, then started even more slowly back down the hill. Across the river bridge to find our car alone in an otherwise empty lot. All the other market visitors were gone. 

Home by way of one more supermarket, and then we relaxed as much as worries about Napa Valley's wild fires would allow.

Hellzapoppin'

DATELINE: Wednesday, Oct. 11. From Vaison southwest to Mausanne and Les Baux (near Avignon), then returning, with many detours each way.

What do you call a day that starts with watching anorexic female models being photographed amid the Roman ruins, then features a hellish drive to a very good lunch, followed by medieval images of Hell projected on the giant inner walls of a former stone quarry? The return trip wasn't as bad as the outbound journey, and it all ended peacefully back in Vaison.

The model shoot was almost below our bedroom windows. Two excessively slim women posed in various states of languor amid statues and columns, while the photographer's minions danced about moving shade panels, flash reflectors, tripods

and other impedimentia of the trade. ALERT: next season's fashion palette will be black and white; those were the only colors in the outfits the young ladies showed.

After they moved to another part of the ruins, we hit the road. The drive went smoothly until we left the A7 superhighway. The trouble began with simple-seeming detours around construction.

Approaching St. Rémy, the traffic seemed to slow and the detours got harder to follow. GPS was having trouble keeping up with the temporary roadwork. A major moment of panic came when we entered the edge of town. A big Mercedes in front of us turned left into what looked like a very narrow alley. Our GPS told us to do likewise.

The Mercedes slammed on its brakes just as we were fully committed to following it. Ahead of it, facing us and filling the road, were at least three large trucks. Looking in my rear-view, I saw another car turn in right behind us. Deadlock.

The oncoming vehicles couldn't (or wouldn't) back up, so it fell to us. The Merc's back-up lights popped on. I checked the rearview again and was delighted to see the car behind us already backing and turning to get out of the way. My next few minutes were tense, as I inched the rental car (which has terrible rear vision and no fancy back-up camera) backward between the scratchy-looking stone walls.

Finally escaping from the 5-way intersection I backed into, we were off on a different route suggested by the GPS voice. Unfortunately, it took us right into the pavement repair project that was the central cause of the whole mess. 

 We were on another walled-in town road (way too narrow to turn around) intersecting a wider street whose old pavement was being chewed up by a monster machine the sized of a locomotive. We needed to turn left. The car ahead was signaling right. The monster left only one lane open, and there was two-way traffic taking turns in that lane. One harassed-looking guy in a hard hat was directing traffic. We waited for every other string of traffic to pass through the site, some more than once, before finally getting a grudging nod and a finger pointed to the left.

It got a little easier after that, and we found the small restaurant Roz had booked. Parking on its narrow street was tricky, but I'll spare you that. Good lunch, though a bit slow.

Next destination was the planned pinnacle of the day. A huge stone quarry near the rocky medieval stronghold of Les Baux had been turned into the venue for a vast light show. This isn't the open-pit quarry we see in the States, but a huge man-made cave with a few million tons of rock still on top. Several years ago, someone decided to plant a bunch of digital picture projectors high up near its ceiling where they could throw images onto the walls, floors, and visitors.

We first saw it eight years ago, when the images being splashed about were Picasso's paintings. This time, the subject was the work of three late medieval/early Renaissance painters: Dutch artists Hieronymus Bosch and Pieter Brueghel plus the Italian painter who went by Arcimboldo.

If you're not familiar with these artists, search for them on the web. Weird stuff, huh? So imagine being in a gigantic stone space, underground, with walls at least 60 feet high and intersecting at crazy angles. Fading, blending, and slithering on those walls are images by these three fantasists.

The images overlapped and when cross-fading from one artist to the next we could see Brueghel's drunken peasants dancing with Bosch's devils. Then Arcimboldo's faces made of vegetable produce entered the fray. Loud music ranged from "Carmina Burana", through Led Zeppelin, to a haunting modern soprano. 

When we staggered out of the giant cave into natural light (and life), the giant stone shapes seemed about to dance. But they held steady while we found our way out through the poorly marked lanes to level ground and started home.

Though much detouring was involved, the GPS seemed to get an update en route, and we got back to the same entry onto the A7 where we exited before noon. Uneventful drive was followed by a bit of shopping in Vaison's center, then by a very welcome aperitif at our cafe.

It took a while for the day's tension to relax, but we slept well. No monsters or nightmares. We'd seen those already.

Marketing, Provençal style

DATELINE: Tuesday, Oct.10. All day in Vaison.

Need a 5-foot tall ceramic giraffe? An olive dish in your choice of 20 colors? A wool cardigan with two great big cicada bugs knit into the design? This and much more seen today at Vaison's weekly outdoor market.

About half a block from our front door, Vaison's large central parking lot is cleared of cars every Tuesday to accommodate the region's biggest collection of booths selling all kinds of food, clothing, toys, produce, flowers, and collectable junk. The streets of town are also filled with booths and crowds that make it a challenge to move.

We walked over about 10:00AM and joined the throng. Typical of European outdoor markets, no-one tries to keep right or otherwise form distinct walking lanes. Then there are the wheeled grocery baskets and the baby carriages to slow things further. So strolling the market is NOT an aerobic exercise.

Friends in foreground, market in background

Roz had bought a few scarves and some fresh strawberries when we ran into the couple we'd enjoyed meeting at last Friday's dinner at L'Arbre à Vins. After a quick loop around some stalls to complete their shopping, the four of us headed to the row of cafes that face onto the town square. They do a very good business on market days, and we had to scout around to find a table for four with a little shade. Coffee and some good conversation flowed for a leisurely hour, then we invited them back for a quick glance at our rental house.

Then it was time to split (though we hope to get together again this coming Friday at the wine shop dinner). They went to find their parked car and head home, while we walked across the river and up the hill into the medieval part of Vaison.

Destination: Bistro du'O, one of our favorites, where we joined many other diners in the crowded dining room. Pictures of our luncheon are on Roz's online photo album (click the link to the left).

After lunch we walked further up into the old village and peeked into the de-sanctified church to see a fairly dull display based on French archeological expeditions in the long-lost Greek colony of Philippi. Back outside, we came upon a ... I suppose I'd call it a public balcony ... with an open view to the east. Photos ensued.

Looking eastward from the medieval part of Vaison, which perches on a steep hill.
On horizon to far right, Mt. Ventoux. On closer hilltop, a statue of we-know-not-whom.

Home for a rest, then out about 6:00PM to move the car from the cathedral parking area back to the nearer Post Office lot, which had been cleared of every vestige of the morning market. We then walked to the town place for a relaxing stop at our usual cafe where we had an aperitif as we watched the locals play and relax.

Home again, a little cheese and wine, and to bed after some blog work. Not an exciting day, but filled with the relaxing scenes and activities we come here for.

A note about the devastating wildfires threatening much of the Napa Valley: Our neighbors tell us our condo is not currently endangered. We're worried about it, of course, but also very concerned about some of our friends, who have already been evacuated from their homes in other parts of Napa County. Even Napans whose homes don't appear to be threatened are being subjected to very unhealthy smoke-filled air. Please may they be careful and stay safe. Good luck to all of us.

A romantic royal hunting lodge, all to ourselves (for lunch)

DATELINE: Monday, Oct. 9. Vaison and Uchaux, Provence. 

Slept even later this morning (I could get used to this). When I finally came downstairs, I couldn't face oatmeal again. 

So I daringly soloed-out to buy pastry without my trusty interpreter (Roz). Successful completion of this mission required my correct use of maybe 10 words in...French! But I returned home from the boulangerie victorious, clutching my pain aux raisins.

The day's next adventure began with a 30 kilometer drive to a town where a romantic part of French royal life played out in the 1500s. The hunting lodge at Uchaux was built by King Henry II. Years before, at the court of his father, Francis I, Henri had fulfilled the role of tall, dashing Prince. And there he fell deeply in love (and often into the sack) with a beautiful, though married, courtier named Diane de Poitiers.

But in those days politics trumped love, and Henry had to wed Catherine of the famous (some say infamous) Medici family of Florence. Catherine was no great beauty, though she shared the family skill at wielding power. But not enough power to split up the two lovers. Diane herself was no intellectual slouch, and after Henri ascended the throne on his father's death, Diane did all she could to help him impregnate Catherine, to continue the royal line.

Catherine, Henri II, and the ever-lovely Diane

But the unwed lovers maintained their avid affair. Both Diane and Henri loved to hunt. So they often stole away to the royal hunting lodge Henri had built in Uchaux (with, no doubt, an enormous entourage).

Roz and I drove there, just the two of us, in our ugly little Renault. The lodge's medieval bones are still visible, though the modern luxury hotel and restaurant that have been added-on tend to obscure some of the old masonry.

We sat just inside the glass double doors,
with a great view of the garden.

But we had it to ourselves, probably with more privacy than Henri and Di-de ever had. We behaved ourselves, however, and settled for being the only customers at today's luncheon.

It was a royal feast in its own right! Inventive flavors, handsome presentation, and super-polite service gave us a luncheon fit for a king (and his honey). Roz captured it all in photos (link is at left, scroll to Day 6).

After our meal, we strolled around the lodge's grounds, even visiting the garden where (today's) chef has his vegetables and poultry raised.

But our reign ended when we drove back to Vaison just in time to let the handyman in to fix a non-working ceiling light in the kitchen. Where's that entourage when you need it?

What happened to Henri, Diane, and Catherine? 26 years after he married Catherine de Medici, Henri and Diane were still "an item" But then Henri died from a wound received in a joust. Catherine became the acting monarch and quickly made things tough on Diane, who eventually moved back to the secluded chateau of her long dead first husband.

Romantic? I guess, if you like the tragic kind of love story. 

The waitress who took this photo thought we were "cute". I'm happy with that.

Sunday dinner -- C'est traditionnel

DATELINE: Oct.8. Vaison to Cairanne and back

It felt like a good morning to sleep in, so I did. But Roz arose, donned her exercise clothes, and went downstairs to do her daily "leaping about".

The day's later activity mostly centered around lunch. Our destination was a restaurant in nearby Cairanne called Coteaux et Fourchettes (knives and forks). We had liked it very much on our first stay in this area, in 2014. 

It was relatively and pleasantly informal then. We sat outdoors and enjoyed good food with service that was a little friendlier than usual for French restaurants.

Foreground: an "amuse-bouche".
Why doesn't my mouth look amused?
Also, 2 of those glasses are R's.

On our visit this year, it was too windy for any outdoor seating, but the interior was spacious and très modern. The wait staff was more formal in manner this time, though casually dressed. But by the end of the meal we did spot a few signs of spontaneity.

In France, going out for long Sunday meals is de rigueur for families. C&F is a perfect place to do it. The five-place table nearest us seated grand-mère (not the same one as yesterday), a couple about the right age for her offspring, and a twosome in their late 30s to complete the three-generation spread. Similar multi-generational groups were chatting and eating throughout the room. I think we were the only couple there. 

Again, I was struck by how little noise this roomful of people produced despite the enthusiasm and enjoyment that were evident. Also, of the few teenagers present, none were hiding behind smartphones. I did see one or two adults use theirs to show off family photos. Needless to say, Roz forged on with her collection of food photos, which you can see by clicking the link to your left and scrolling to Day 5..

After we got home and rested a bit, we took a short walk down along the river. In the later evening, we had a little cheese and wine and worked on this blog.

From a hill village to a glowing mountain

DATELINE: Vaison-la-Romaine. Events of Saturday, Oct. 7

Friday's wind was almost gone by the time we got up on Saturday. Sunny skies remained.

Tour groups were already roamin' the Roman ruins across the street. Yesterday only junior high students ran around braving the breezes, but today most visitors were sedate adults. The voices of their guides drifted to us in a variety of languages.

Our destination this day was Puymeras, a small village just 8 kilometers away. At its center is Girocedre, a restaurant whose distinguishing feature is a lovely garden/arbor area where they serve meals on nice days. Since today was gorgeous, that seemed a great idea.

Entering Puymeras

Puymeras is small, heaped on and around its little hill; it makes a major change from bustling (and much larger) Vaison. The restaurant's entrance is near the bottom of the hill on a street that continues upward to the Mairie and post office. The church sits high atop the whole pile of rustic stonework.

Entering the restaurant's peaceful garden, we found a few tables already occupied. We chose to sit in partial shade and were comfortable through the meal. I still haven't got used to the rhythm of French restaurant service, and am seldom ready with my decision when the waiter suddenly appears, notebook open to take our order. But if I ask for "un moment" more, I don't see him again for ten minutes.

Our garden table

Eventually we placed our orders and sat back with aperitifs, awaiting the first course. At the nearest table was a family treating grand-mere to a nice lunch. Beyond them, another table had perhaps six young women chatting and laughing pleasantly. The tables were well separated and no-one's behavior intruded on others. A welcome change from the clamor of American eateries.

The meal was excellent  and the garden setting pleasant. Click the link to Roz's pictures in the column to the left to see the food (in Day 4). Our two servers were Giselle and Cedric (respectively Gi and Cedre of the restaurant's name, Girocedre). Ro for Roger was apparently chef-ing away in the kitchen.

Near the end of our meal, the table hosting grand-mere was getting ready to leave. A wine bottle they had been pouring from was still half full. One of the younger women, after checking that none of the staff was watching, picked it up, jammed a cork into it, and slipped it into a tall carry-all bag she had brought. When she saw me watching and grinning we both laughed. Apparently not all (maybe not any) French restaurants will re-seal partially full bottles, that customers have already paid for, so they can be taken home.

After lunch, we strolled up and down through the narrow streets of Puymeras.
Eventually we found the tiny village square (la place) with the customary monument to local men fallen in World War I. As usual, I found this moving.

The drive home was uneventful. Naps seemed necessary to aid digestion. Later, the two of us strolled out for a long walk around Vaison. The setting sun was painting the stone buildings and casting a red glow on looming Mt. Ventoux. We finished with aperitifs at our usual brasserie as we watched local fathers and their sons play together on the paved place. A pleasant (and very French) way to end an evening.

Mont Ventoux looms over Vaison at sunset