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?