C’était hyper-bon!

Here is the final blog entry from our wonderful trip to Provence. On our second evening in Arles, we decided to treat ourselves to a unique dining experience at a renowned restaurant called L’Atelier. The chef, Jean-Luc Rabanel, has been awarded one Michelin star for this restaurant. The Michelin star rating system is the most recognized and influential culinary rating system in France.

There is only one choice when dining at L’Atelier. For 75 €, the diner receives 15 small dishes. The menu changes frequently and features local, seasonal products. Unlike everyone else who ate at the restaurant that night, we decided to dine outdoors. It was wonderful because it felt as though we had the place to ourselves. We could do and say whatever we wanted. And after Champagne and three bottles of wine, I am sure our voices only rose as the evening wore on. Now you may think that 15 dishes is a bit excessive, but we were there for four hours! Surprisingly, we were not too full when we left.

Before I list the dishes, I must commend Amy for being such a good sport. She’s not too culinarily adventurous, but approached the evening with a positive attitude. Turns out, she liked 13 out of the 15 dishes. One of her favourites was a dish featuring a raw piece of fish, something she would never have tried before. In the end, she agreed it was a wonderful experience, and was proud to have tried things that she would normally have avoided. So here is a list of what we ate. I was the note-taker, but as the evening wore on, I must admit that my secretarial skills got a little sketchy. Here goes:

1. Green asparagus fried in a tempura batter with two dipping sauces.
2. Greens, tomatoes, and a fresh anchovy served with an anise biscuit. A savory ice cream was served on the side. We all agreed the ice cream was too bland.
3. Pistachio cream over a sweet (pineapple?) jelly. A white asparagus stalk was inserted into the pistachio cream. This dish (pictured) was very yummy and one of Steve’s favourites.
4. “Non-sushi”: raw tuna-like fish served with citron, peanuts, shaved raw asparagus, chives, and edible flowers. A tomato sorbet was served on the side.
5. Chicken confit and rabbit liver served with green beans, mushrooms, and topped with a foam of balsamic vinegar. It was accompanied by warm pistachio biscuits. A foam appeared on many dishes throughout the night.
6. Purple artichoke, crème fraîche, topped with a prosciutto wrapped tomato bread stick (pictured).
7. Potato puree topped with salmon, peanuts, alfafa sprouts, and a peanut foam. Amy and April did not like this dish.
8. The next dish we called “salad soup”. A tomato stuffed ravioli sat in a thai broth loaded with fresh herbs. On top sat a parmesan tuile. Gilles thought the parmesan and ravioli were too contrasting with the thai broth, but the girls loved it!
9. Citron broth with shaved artichokes. Turbot grilled à la plancha. Beet tops, and another (mystery) foam.
10. Spring lamb chop, fresh peas, roast potatoes and garlic, chocolate smear. Probably Steve and April’s favourite.
11. “Virtual beer”: So yummy. This was the first of the dessert dishes, but most of the desserts had a savoury component to them. This dish (pictured with Amy and Steve) was made of strawberry, pineapple, and passionfruit juices with a non-alcoholic beer.
12-15 This is when the note taking got really bad. So for the remaining dishes we apparently had the following items, but I am not sure in what combination or order: Rosemary jelly with olive oil ice cream (not good), piement tuile, and something that looked like a chocolate turd (sorry, but there is no other way to describe it), Pastis ball, almond and olive cookie, mint jelly, mint foam, passionfruit jelly, limoncello, and an unidentified bitter biscuit.

In my defense, the decline in note taking was not only due to a wine-induced lack of concentration. Our private dining area got crashed by inside diners who came outside for a final drink and cigarette. Then the chef joined his outside clients for a digestif. Then the police showed up, and the chef mysteriously disappeared with them. Then we may have stolen some wine from crazy neighbours who left without finishing it. Then we decided it was time to call it quits. All in all, a wonderful dining experience that was worth every penny!

Provençal Cuisine

Provençal cuisine is very different than that of the rest of France. It is more Mediterranean, using tomatoes, garlic, seafood, olives, and olive oil (rather than the usual French preference for butter). We tasted some classic examples: Niçoise salad (I did not ask for ranch dressing, for those who have seen the movie a Good Year), olives marinated in garlic and herbes de Provence, tapenade, and aïoli provencal. The latter dish intrigued me. I knew aïoli was a garlic mayonnaise, but it was listed on menus as a main dish rather than a side dish. So, I gave it a try. I was presented with a plate of boiled fish, potatoes, and carrots, and grilled fennel, zucchini, eggplant, and shrimp. The homemade aïoli was served in a dish to be eaten with the various items. What appeared to be a bland and strange plate proved to be incredibly tasty. But they certainly did not spare on the garlic when making the aïoli. I am not sure how my companions could stand to be in the car with me the rest of the day!

We sampled plenty of the region’s olive oil and wine. After driving through endless olive groves, we stopped at an olive oil shop in St Remy. There, we learned about what gives olive oil its flavour. Regulated much like France’s other beloved food products, olive oil from the Provence region is made using any combination of five different types of olives. The combination of olives selected, and whether they were harvested will ripe or still a little unripe, gives each olive oil a distinct flavour that ranges from mild and sweet to fresh and sharp. After sampling many types, we loaded up with several bottles of olive oil from orchards we had driven by.

We spent one day exclusively dedicated to wine. The most famous Provençal wine region is Chateauneuf-du-Pape, but there are several other, more reasonably priced regions such as Gigondas, Côtes-du-Rhône, Lirac, and more. We started by visiting individual wineries, but unlike other wine-making regions we have visited (Okanagan, Sicily, St. Emilion), they were not equipped to give tours of their fields and manufacturing areas; they only offered samples. Not that we could complain about the samples, but we were interested in learning more about what makes a Gigondas a Gigondas. So for some better education, we ventured over to a tasting cave in Chateauneuf-du-Pape that represents several of the region’s vintners. They aim to educate their clients while doing a tasting. One feature unique to the the vines in the Chateauneuf-du-Pape region is how the soil is prepared. The ground surrounding the vines is covered with rocks that help seal in the heat, and protect the soil from the strong mistral winds that blow in the region.

We also enjoyed the quaint little wine town of Gigondas. In this tiny village, possibly too small for a school, we figured that every family has at least one member working in the wine business. At one winery, we were greeted by a lady, surely in her seventies, who gladly let us sample the wine from her sons’ vineyards. She ran around like a woman half her age, and found a way into all our hearts.

Provence Roadtrip

We recently said good-bye to our fifth set of Canadian visitors this year. Amy and Steve Duncan started their French roadtrip in Normandy. They slowly wandered down our way, stopping to visit D-Day sights and museums, castles, and ancient cave paintings along the way. They spent three nights with us in Pau, getting a taste of our French lives.

While here, we took the Duncans on our favourite day-trip from Pau: a visit to St Jean de Luz for a beach picnic, then to San Sebastian in Spain for a walk through the old town and a sample of their famous (and our favourite) tapas.

After a few relaxing days, we packed up our car and headed off for Provence, new territory for all of us. I headed to this region with pre-conceived images in mind. Provence seems to be this mythical place that people fall in love with and choose to settle down in. I had visions of wonderful smells (this is where many sources for perfume extracts are grown), lavender fields, and bright, sunny colours. Thankfully, I was not disappointed. Provence is French countryside at its greatest. The prominent harvests are olive trees and grape vines. Both types of fields stretch on for as far as the eye can see. It always amazes me how much wine France produces. The amount of vineyards dwarfs those that I have seen in Canada (not surprisingly) and Italy. The next blog entry will detail our wine and olive oil sampling.

It was a little too early for the lavender fields to be in bloom, but we were lucky to see and smell a beautiful yellow bush that littered the countryside called ginestre, or scottish broom. Every time we stepped out of the car, we were greeted by a wonderful sweet and floral smell that ginestre largely contributed to. We wanted to bottle the scent and take it home with us.

We spent two nights in Arles, and three nights in Vaison la Romaine. Between these two towns, we stopped in many other villages and towns, and enjoyed some particularly scenic drives. The Romans inhabited this area 2,000 years ago, and we toured several of their remaining structures, including the Pont du Gard (aqueduct), the amphitheatre in Arles, and the theatre in Orange. We sang and danced (well, Amy and I danced) on the Pont d’Avignon, just as the song tells us to. We snuck into a poppy field to have our photo taken. We retraced Van Gogh’s footsteps in Arles, seeking the inspiration for some of his most famous paintings. And we laughed…a lot. Overall, we had a wonderful time.

Granada

After a great two days in Barcelona, the Jupps and LeBlancs hopped on a flight to Granada, in southern Spain. We were scheduled to land around 9:30 PM, so decided to wait until we reached Granada to have supper. Spaniards eat supper notoriously late, often starting after 10 PM, so we would be right on schedule. Unfortunately, we were delayed on the plane in Barcelona for over an hour before departing. We landed in Granada late and famished. We hit the pavement at midnight in search of a drink and tapas. It soon became obvious that the restaurants and bars were closing up. We ran frantically from bar to bar, asking “do have tapas?”. Finally, we found a lively late-night bar still serving food. We randomly ordered a couple of dishes, and laughed when we saw what was presented. The first dish was a plate of fries, covered with cheese, cooked jamon (cured ham), and topped with nearly raw eggs. The second dish was tiny deep-fried squid. They were about 1-2 inches long, and included everything, even the little black eyes. We were so hungry it didn’t matter what we were served; we tucked in with fervor and finished off everything.

The next day, fueled by late night fried food, we packed in a full day of sightseeing. Granada was the last Spanish Islamic town to fall to the Catholics in 1492. As a result, there are great Moorish sights in Granada, including the old silk markets and the beautiful Alhambra (Moorish palace). The Alhambra is one of the greatest sights we have seen. There are lush, fragrant gardens that surround the buildings. The palace sits atop a hill overlooking the town of Granada, and is surrounded by the Sierra Nevada mountans.

That night we stepped down into a cave to watch flamenco dancing. Flamenco is a form of dance that originates from southern Spain. It was a very intimate show: about 20 onlookers, 7 dancers, 2 singers, and 3 musicians. It is a dance accompanied by clapping, guitars, and occasional singing. Each dancer performs individually, and his or her routine is mostly spontaneous. We watched the lively and loud show for close to two hours. It was a wonderful local experience, accompanied appropriately with sangria.

The next day we parted ways. The Jupps continued on their tour of southern Spain, and we returned home. We had a great time with our friends, and were very sad to say good-bye to them. Thanks for a great trip!

Barcelona

We just returned from a trip to Spain with our latest Canadian visitors. Jen and Dave Jupp arrived in Pau last Friday after an exhausting two days of travel. They landed here on a hot and sunny spring morning and were thrilled to see the lush greenery after departing Calgary amidst spring snow. They were only here for 24 hours before we ventured further south, but we squeezed in as much of France during their short stay: steak tartare, escargots, stinky cheese, baguettes, and l’apéro.

Saturday morning, we packed up the Baby Benz and headed toward Barcelona. Thankfully, Dave was the co-pilot as I would never have succeeded in getting us through the three-tiered traffic circle that took us all by surprise. After some more stressful driving moments, we safely parked the car in a parking garage and were ready to explore the city by foot.

I have heard only good things about Barcelona. Everybody seems to love that city. But now that I have seen it for myself, I must say I was a bit disappointed, yet also pleasantly surprised. First, some of the downsides. The city was incredibly expensive; pricier than anywhere else we have visited. Every time we left a restaurant or bar, we felt robbed. The hotel and parking lots were ridiculously expensive. We were relieved to leave the city just to have some control over our money again.

Barcelona is an exhausting city. It is packed with people all hours of the day. Unlike other busy cities we have visited, we could not find anywhere to get reprieve from the crowds. These crowds were certainly packed with tourists, but the city itself is huge, and not as ‘pretty’ as most other European cities. I often felt as though I was in a large South American city rather than a European city.

Now for the good stuff. Spain has produced many great modern artists, and some of their work is on display in Barcelona. We really enjoyed the Picasso museum. But the best surprise was Gaudi’s work. If you are not familiar with him, look up a picture of the Sagrada Familia, the unfinished church that he started in 1882 and will not be completed for many, many years to come. From a distance and on photos, the church appears to have a melting, ugly façade. But a close-up view of the church reveals stunning detail carved into the odd-looking façade. It is a truly great piece of art and a wonder to see in production. I would love to see it completed, but I have a feeling I will be a very old woman when that day arrives. Our next favourite Gaudi sight is his Park Guell. This public park is situated on a hill overlooking the city of Barcelona. It is a wondrous mix of green space and colourful architecture.

Barcelona has a tireless vibrancy to it, and there is no better place to experience this than on the famous street Las Ramblas. Some of its sights include outdoor pet shops selling everything from rabbits to roosters, street mimes wearing the most amazing costumes I have ever seen, art vendors, pickpockets, and clever salesmen trying to sell single cans of beer from six-packs.

More on the second leg of our trip to come.

Canals, Red Lights, and Really Tall People

Gilles and I just returned from a great visit to Amsterdam. This city, whose motto is “live and let live”, has something for everyone. It is a beautiful and mostly peaceful city. There are as many bicycles in the Netherlands as there are people. Forty percent of the vehicles on the road in Amsterdam are bicycles. The lovely, strolling bikes with baskets (often milk crates), rust, and so tall that it is impossible to slouch. Their strong presence, and lack of cars, makes for an oddly quiet city. Unless of course, one is strolling through the infamous Red Light District or busy Damrak street.

The city is built around a meshwork of canals. Similar to Venice, but the buildings are usually set further back from the water. Low boats leisurely cruise the canals toting both tourists and locals. The winding canals make for some challenging navigation on foot. We managed to get misdirected in Amsterdam almost as much as when we were in Rome.

One thing we noted was how tall the Dutch are. Very, very tall. I felt short for the first time in my life. That feeling was particularly odd considering I tower over most women (and many men) in France. Last week, I was told that the athletic store in Pau only carries my preferred sneaker up to size 9. Not very convenient when I wear a size 10. I have a feeling I would not have the same problem shoe shopping in Amsterdam!

We are back in town for only two days before we pack up the car for a trip to Barcelona with our friends Jen and Dave who arrive Friday from Calgary. More traveling updates when we return!

French Genes

After an observant seven months in France, I now feel comfortable pointing out two physical traits that most French people exhibit. My sociological study is based purely on my own observations, yet I believe the results would stand more rigorous testing. And as with any culture assumption, there are certainly French people who do not fit this mold (although the non-conformists are few and far between).

Now that I have stated my disclaimers: most French people have the genes for skinny legs and big noses.

As for skinny legs, you may be thinking that most French people are at their ideal weight, or even skinny, so of course they have skinny legs. But there’s a difference. I am not talking about thin legs or ‘normal legs’. I mean skinny-like-twigs legs. I sometimes wonder how they support the person on top. Legs that inspired the skinny-leg jeans style. Legs that sometimes make skinny jeans look baggy! Ugh!

There is not much that I can say about the big nose, except it’s big. And it appears to increase in size with age. I also noted this characteristic on Italians, so perhaps it is a southern European trait.

Where do I fit in? I clearly possess neither skinny legs nor a big nose. Any French genes in my past have clearly been diluted. My lack of skinny legs and a big nose, along with my freckles and blond hair, clearly identify me as non-French. While I am quite fond of my cute little nose and would never wish it away, I wouldn’t have minded dipping into the skinny legs gene. After all, those genes would make it much easier to buy French jeans!

Bureaucracy and Wine

France is notoriously bureaucratic. The French may even have invented bureaucracy. Well, that’s surely an exaggeration, but the word bureaucracy does stem from the French word bureau.

We were geared up to face bureaucratic roadblocks while settling in this country. Some requirements are frustrating, yet manageable: one needs a special license to play golf and go boating. To show proof of residence in France, one must procure a bill from the electrical company. Not a water bill or telephone bill, it must be from the electrical company. Fine, we’ll play along.

There are other regulations that are absolutely infuriating. For example, France and Alberta do not have a driver’s license accord. We, after having driven for 15 years, have to attend driving school! Yet if our licenses were from Quebec or Manitoba, we would be in the clear. Strangely (insert sarcasm), an Albertan can move to Quebec or Manitoba and exchange licenses without a problem. We also would have the driving green light if we were from Norway, Scotland, Australia, Indonesia, or Gabon. Several of these countries drive on the opposite side of the road, and I am not sure there are even paved roads in Gabon (another exaggeration, but you get my point). I’ll spare the details of how challenging driving school is supposed to be here. But to give you an idea, as part of the test I will have to lift the hood and identify engine parts…in French!!

To be fair to the French system, we are also facing difficulties with Canadian regulations. We are one of the only countries (along with the US), that does not permit its residents to have two passports. This does not pose a problem for most, but Gilles is constantly working in countries that require a Visa for entry and occasionally to exit. This means his passport is frequently held up at a consulate, which is not particularly safe or convenient.

Back to French headaches. Gilles has been requesting a six-month multiple-entry Visa for Gabon from their consulate in Paris. For months the answer has been firmly, no. A multiple-entry versus a single-entry Visa would make our lives easier for a variety of reasons. Gilles explored his options, and discovered that the Gabonese consulate in Rome would provide him with a multiple-entry Visa without question. So off to Rome goes Gilles. He was away from Pau for less than 30 hours. Being the good husband that he is, he knew he could not step foot in Italy without buying his italophile wife something characteristic from the country. So, in his brief but free time in the city, he managed to purchase eight bottles of wine, a bottle of olive oil, a two-foot salami, and lugged it back to France (you gotta love open borders!). If this were always the reward for suffering through bureaucratic processes, we would have no reason to complain. I would gladly learn the French word for spark plugs!

Supporting the Team

Thanks to a technological wonder called a Slingbox and some wonderful friends in Calgary, we are able to watch and record television programmes the same as when we lived in Calgary. Now we certainly do not experience the image quality of HD programming (in fact non-HD shows stream better), and weekends often provide bad viewing due to internet traffic, but we can hardly complain. The Slingbox has allowed us to stay in-touch with home, and has warded off homesickness due to a disconnect from one’s country that other expats experience. Above all, it allows us to cheer on the Oilers during their current playoff run. Because most games take place during the early morning hours here in France, we often watch games hours after they have ended. It takes much willpower to avoid checking the results on the internet. Last Saturday, the Oilers played an early afternoon game allowing us the rare chance to cheer on our team real-time. To our delight, the Oilers won…it must have been because we wore our jerseys!

Visitor

I said good-bye to our latest visitor today. Frankie McKibbon, an old friend from home, made his way down to Pau after completing a course in England. Frankie and I go back a long way, I don't remember not knowing him. We did plenty of reminiscing and got caught up on recent events in our lives. It felt particularly apropos to reflect on our French learning days at Croft Elementary School, as we sipped on wine and practiced our second language in France.

Frankie was an adventurous guest, wanting to try all the local delicacies. His only complaint was a cheese that was on the cheese platter at a local restaurant. We named it ‘le fromage du plancher de la grange’ (cheese from the barnyard floor).

We had a wonderful picnic on the beach at St jean de Luz, pretended we were knights fighting intruders at the castle of Carcassonne, and enjoyed Basque tapas and narrowly avoided getting soaked by the powerful waves at St Sebastian. A good time was had by all!