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.