Pont du Gard

I have a love for Roman things, ever since I read the Jack Whyte's Arthurian Saga.  I thoroughly enjoyed his description of engineering techniques to drain a lake, build a road, or protect a village.  On this vacation, we spent some time looking at the Roman influences in France.  One of our favorite adventures was with Philippe, as he drove us down a Roman road constructed around 1100.  It was only wide enough for perhaps 3 horses...which made it a bit tight for our ten passenger van.   This experience made us look for other Roman roads, and some of them were plenty frightening as they got narrower and narrower while we travelled up a village road.  The houses kept encroaching on our path, and the driver...forgot to breathe.

Another thing we made a point of looking at however, was the Pont du Gard.  Built of the start of all our centuries,  it is a fascinating structure.  It was part of a 50 km aqueduct, used to move water from one place to another.  Pont du Gard is a series of arches placed in three rows.  There are six on the bottom, 11 in the middle, and 47 on the top row.  According to the site's website, it would have taken up to 1000 men working on it all, the time, for a period of 3 to 5 years.

I actually started to cry when I saw it.  The symmetry of it appeals to my sense of order, but the realization that it was built without mortar--it's held together only be careful planning and the friction of one stone against another--was one of the most fascinating discoveries.

We could see some faint engravings on the stones, numbers of the stones, mostly.  We could see how a stone from one arch would not fit exactly on another arch, though the construction is roughly the same.  The setting sun exaggerated the yellow tones of the stones, and it was just so lovely.
But, our visit there was not without problems.  We decided to be a bit touristy, and wanted to see the aqueduct lit at night.  So we went to a rather expensive restaurant at the base of it, and quite frankly, while the food was okay, we would not normally have bothered. But we wanted to linger a little longer at this amazing site.

The lights didn't come on. The arches slid away into a darkness so complete that there wasn't even a moonbeam to highlight it.  Not only that, when we finished our dinner and climbed up the stairs to the pathway, we were quite surprised to realize that it was barely lit either.  There was one light about every two hundred metres.

I'm not fond of walking in the dark.  It makes me nervous when I can't see my feet. Nervous enough that if I think about it too long, I can't move them.  So before that happened,  I took a deep breath and started out and in seconds fell so hard that I'm surprised the Pont du Gard survived it.  It seems that I was on a sidewalk that had a curb.  I didn't see it.   There was a little bit of blood.  There was a lot of swearing.  There were a fair number of tears too.

But, I have a unique souvenir from the Pont du Gard ...my knee appears to have a permanent bump. I am writing this post a month later, and it is still there.  I just have to reach down and touch the new profile of my knee and I am immediately transported back to Roman arches and Roman roads in France.

Now how many people can say that?

Cooking School

There were a few things about cooking school that I especially loved.  It was casual (and that made it stress free).  It was in a professional kitchen with a real gas stove (I'm coveting that, a little).  It had a chef who would not let us call him Chef (his name was Pascal).  And we did it together (which was cool, because usually, only one of us cooks).

There were also a few things I didn't love.  I thought there were too many people in the class (but maybe that is because we started out with three, and that was such fun).  Nine people made it crowded.  Also, I don't think everyone wanted to be there (and honestly then, I can't figure out why pay that kind of moolah?).  Ah well.  It can't be perfect all the time.

What I think I took away from it, most of all?  I'm not afraid of certain things that I thought I was.  Like butchering meat.  Deboning things.  Whipping egg whites by hand.   Cleaning artichoke.

This trip was a gift for me, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.  I enjoyed it so much that I would go back to Provence in a heartbeat to do it all over again.  And I would go to Italy and the rest of France and to Spain and to any place that I could find a casual cooking school.  Yes, it was that much fun.  Even since we've been home, I've been trying a few things that I might not have tried before.  I'm failing a little too, but not so much that I won't keep at it.

Here then, are some of the dishes that we made....

Pumpkin Cappuccino           

Quail stuffed with onion, carrot and grapes, 

with potato and foie gras tart

Raspberry tiramisu                                              

Eggplant Papeton, with a fresh tomato sauce

Sea bass stuffed with fennel, poached in wine 

Molten chocolate cake with fig ice cream  

Herb crusted rack of lamb                            

Creme brulee with a macaron cookie.  

Salmon mousse stuffed zucchini flowers  

Pork wellington with ratatouille     

Fresh fig tart with fig ice cream  

Market Day

Let's just get this out of the way.  I love market day.  I really love it.

The first one we experienced was under the guidance of Philippe our host, and at the time, there were just four of us to go.  He took us to a little village called Isle sur la Sorgue, and then patiently led us through the maze of vendors.  The route was determined in part by the many canals that characterize the village.  We went over small bridges and on one, Philippe pointed out that it is the route for an annual boat race.  However, all the people in the boats have to actually lie down to get under the bridge itself...an interesting manoeuvre because on the other side of the bridge are little rapids that they must also get safely through.  Good timing is necessary to be successful.

The German in the family was immediately drawn to the sausage vendors.  Sausage is taken very seriously in Provence, and there are hundreds of varieties.  While there are flavours added from herbs and nuts, there are no fillers. Flavour, not filler.  Don't you think that North America could learn something from that?  I on the other hand was fascinated by the huge cheese wheels and the incredible bowls of olives and tapenades.  And then, there was the awesome array of herbs and spices.

Also at the market, colours, colours and more colours.  The typical Provencal tablecloth fabrics were laid out in rows, just waiting for someone with a serger and the ability to sew a straight line (that would so not be me, by the way).  Vendors selling scarves would flirt with me (that was fun) and some of them were beautiful (and expensive....sixty euros).    There were kids clothes.  There were ceramics.  There were umbrellas and flowers.  It was vibrant and that made me feel oh so alive.

In Isles sur la Sorgue, I loved the canals.  In Aix-en-Provence, it was the art market, in Arles it was everything.  There, we bought a picnic lunch of some finger sized sausages, amazing cheese, fabulous bread and a half bottle of wine.  We sat and ate it near the coliseum and it was lovely indeed.  On the way to Colmar, we stopped at another little market, and we bought candied nuts, apple cider, and lemon drops.  I petted a goat (so cute) and did a little jig (very little) with the local band.

Market days are the best.  I wish we had them here, but maybe I wouldn't appreciate them so much if we did.