Whew! We started our day at 9am with a short drive to reach the market in l'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. The village is best known for it's maze of canals, earning it the nickname "Venice of Provence". It is also regarded as the best place in southern France to shop for antiques. Philipe tells us he once ran into the actor, John Malkovich, and has also seen the director, Ridley Scott, shopping for antiques for his home here. I am not certain, but it did not seem Philipe was particularly happy to have Ridley as a neighbor. (Something about Mr. Scott's constant objections to the roosters crowing each morning?). They do have an amazing assortment of antiques with some wonderful old iron pieces, long ceramic tile tables I would love to have, and great cabinets and linens. Believe or not, most of these items were not priced in the "tourist price range", but were quite reasonably priced.
I'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is quaint and friendly and how I imagined a small town in Provence might look. Narrow, cobbled streets, foot bridges, cafes, and flowers amid terra cotta buildings with sun-washed shutters. The number of options made it a little overwhelming with vendors selling fruits and vegetables, meat and fish, olives, spices, cheese, bread of all kinds, as well as clothes, flowers, and linens. I could have spent two days just walking among the carts and trays. But Philipe had us on a bit of a schedule, so we did not pause long at any one vendor. I did manage to buy a few small pastries and a cotton sundress. I feel compelled to explain this purchase. I did not go to market this morning on a mission to buy clothes and, considering my suitcase (a superb purchase on my part) is bursting at the seams and zipper already, I should have walked away. Unfortunately, most of the pieces I brought along for the trip were based on requirements for cooking at Le Cordon Bleu (long sleeves and closed-toe shoes). It was also around 65 degrees in Paris, while I now find myself in 105 degrees. I left for market this morning in a long-sleeved denim shirt.). Thus, the cotton sundress. Philipe, on the other hand, was on a mission. During the drive, he kept mentioning it was time for a summer purchase. His son, Max, was along again and agreed they had something important to buy.
One of the things you have to love about French men is their lack of self-consciousness about showing affection toward other men, sitting side-by-side with another man, wearing certain colors, etc. The cart Philipe and Max were determined to locate was the shoe vendor where an assortment of espadrilles were being offered. Espadrilles are normally casual flat, but sometimes high-heeled, shoes originating from the Pyrenees. They usually have a canvas or cotton fabric upper and a flexible sole made of rope or rubber molded to look like rope. In the US, espadrilles are typically worn by women. If a man WERE to wear them, it would likely be in a shade like black or brown. While Susan and I were checking out the bread, the guys went to make their purchases. I had to smile when they returned, happy as could be, with Max wearing espadrilles in pastel stripes and Philipe in bright lavender.
During our post-dinner briefing last night with Marianne, I must have missed something in the details about our plans for today. I thought we were going to market only, with the goal of purchasing produce and protein for our cooking class this afternoon. Au contraire. A big day was planned with a side trip to one of the family's favorite places, Fontaine-de-Vaucluse. I am certainly not complaining. It was beautiful!! Situated around a spring a valley at the base of the mountains, there are wonderful water falls and majestic mountains and cliffs. Visitors can hike up the mountain to the source of the spring. The water is completely uncontaminated in this area and crystal clear. The foliage is breathtaking during the ascent to the top of the mountain. I only have one, tiny complaint. In an ideal world, I would not have been making the climb in a pair of Cole Haan sandals. Evidently, "Voulez-vous de gravir une montagne?" does not translate to, "Do you want to go to the market?", which I should have known. Market = du marche. du montagne = mountain. Regardless of the slight shoe inconvenience - and kudos to Cole Haan sandals, by the way - this is an idyllic location with a view that must be seen.
I cannot get enough of the bread in France. But then, carbohydrates have always been my closest friend. The two types offered at Domaine de Valmouriane are a wonderful round, yeast-based roll that looks a little like a drop biscuit and a sliced brown bread with delicious seeds/grains. I hope the French will forgive me for this comparison, but it looks a bit like the bread at Outback (the color from the use of molasses) but it is served sliced and not by the loaf. Dinner tonight was duck, so let's just say Susan and I were both very, very happy to have the bread!!
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