If you live in Vaison, you know that on Tuesdays from around 7:30-2:30 normal life grinds to a startling halt. I dare you to try and convince the Colismo delivery guy to please, pretty, pretty please wait on the Roman bridge, telling him you will run out to fetch the package and see how that turns out for you. I'd say about 99% of the time when I make it down all of the steps and out of the riverside door, he is long gone, seeing the incredible wave of people coming at him from every direction and not wanting to get further stuck in the mess that is market day. Contractors are another group that refuse to visit the home all together during that time slot, but that story is for another time. Despite the headaches and chaos that the market can bring in terms receiving any goods or services to the house, the overall charm and allure of the market and its vendors is something we now know we couldn't ever live without. Vaison's market dates back to the late 1400's (1483 to be exact) when a papal bull from Pope Sixtus IV approved the town to begin hosting a market, but it wasn't until Pope Clement VII set the decision in motion in 1532 and assigned Tuesday as Vaison's official market day. There are anywhere between 450-500 stalls that visit Vaison any given Tuesday. So, how did we pick our favorites out of literally hundreds? It wasn't the easiest of tasks, that's for sure! The stalls hold a variety of things, from our favorites being the food stalls, to bolts of fabrics, pottery, clothes, kitchen utensils, bags, art, and soaps. Just focusing on the food, we've already eliminated about 300 stalls, making it a little less daunting. My threpicks are in no exact order and all have a special place in my heart, so, without further ado... I don't think that there is ever a time that I go to the market, that I don't stop and pick something up from our olive and tapenade people. I almost feel like it should be a law that you can't live in Provence without having some kind of olive product in your fridge at all times. Also, when you are as into the apèro as I am, you always need a few of these items on hand to finagle into some new and innovated snack. Le Bandolaise have an array of dips and different mixes of olives, along with confit lemons and sun-dried tomatoes, and other specialty seasonal items that change throughout the year. When I'm abroad, I love trying to cook with regional items. On one of our last market days, I asked Ikram about the confit lemons and her and Bastian excitedly started rattling off ingredients for their favorite tagine. Adding their suggestions to my shopping list, this prompted me to hit up my other two favorites on this list, but more on that later. African, and more specifically Moroccan food is a bit of a mystery to me. I've made eggplant dips with Moroccan origins, but this would be my first ever stab at a tagine. I was intrigued, excited and a little nervous. "I don't have a..." making the shape with my hands... "tagine," I added. Wondering why the dish and the pot were called the exact thing. "Pas un problème," she reassured, continuing on to tell me that any bake wear will do in a pinch. The relationship between the two, Ikram and Bastian, is quite sweet. She is vibrant and bubbly, stopping to chat with absolutely anyone who wants to engage. Ripping off pieces of bread, she excitedly dips them into the beautifully crafted dips, handing it over the counter as she explains all of the ingredients and asking about each person's week. Bastian is more quiet, methodically weighing bulging sacks of olives and tallying up orders. As the line grows longer and longer, he grows more impatient with Ikram, exasperated by her chattiness. The dynamic is charming and completely why we fell in love with their table out of all of the other olive stands in Vaison. The amount of passion and kindness they put into not only their products, but their interactions with guests are what make them so special. The relationships are what make our trips to the market unforgettable. I was thinking about this the other day, when I was at the fish counter at Whole Foods, an American bio grocery store, ordering fish from the same guy I have ordered from for the past three years. Despite me ordering the same items every two weeks from the same guy those three years, no pleasantries were exchanged or even acknowledgment that I had ever been there before. Having these brief moments with the market stall owners makes our experience so much more than just a shopping trip. Pro tip: Last year, we were obsessed with their eggplant tapenade (Caviar d'Aubergine ) which is wonderful, but this year, I found myself always buying the tomato tapenade (which was so incredibly handy to make a plethora of different apèro treats.) Andy, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of the houmous piquant (spicy humus). Andy's spice tolerance isn't super high, but we find that things labeled spicy in France usually means pretty mild for our American tastebuds. These three dips are our favorites, though, and always fabulous! My second pick is Le Potager de Mistral, a family run produce stand that I chose on my first market day in Vaison and never went anywhere else after. There were a handful of other produce stalls at the market, but something about this one really drew me in. All of the produce was laid out perfectly and showcased a lot of pride in their product. Stacks of squash, mounds of lettuce, and bundles of carrots, were all displayed to resemble works of art. My first market day was a little nerve wracking. I had arrived in Vaison the day after Andy had left for an unexpected work event in Cannes. Feeling a bit jet lagged, a little lonely and very overwhelmed, I walked through the stalls in a bit of a fog. I've read enough books about expats in France to know that interacting with market or shop owners could be (or at least the books made it sound) a bit intimidating. After being drawn in by all of the bright, fresh colors of the Le Potager de Mistral stand, I stood back from the stall and watched what others were doing. The last thing I wanted was to make a faux pas on my first ever market trip! I watched as locals grabbed a small green or red basket, filling it up with their choices, and then handing the brimming baskets over to one of the guys behind the stand to weigh and bag. Seemed easy enough. I followed suit and when I was ready to check out, I had my first interaction with Stéphane. I think he could tell I was a fish out of water, and was kind and patient, as I stumbled through basic phrases, chopped up by the anxiety and nerves of the situation. The interaction, though brief, really made me feel comfortable and confident and so I returned the next week. Each week, a few more questions were exchanged. Where are you from? How long are you here for? Why do you buy so many lemons? Side note: I make a mean lavender lemonade with their lemons and lavender found at my next stop! Not only do they have beautiful products, but they do something that I've never experienced here at any of the farmer's markets in the U.S. When we wanted to buy a melon, his son, Hugo, had asked when we plan to eat it. He wanted to pick out a melon based off of when we had planned on eating it, so he could pick the one that would be ripe at the perfect time. For fresh, beautiful food from a family that really cares about their products and the customers, stopping at Le Potager de Mistral is a must! Pro tip: There are a few family members that work at the stand and though I don't usually get a chance to interact with them, they are all VERY nice! If you aren't so sure about which item is the best for when you plan to eat it, don't feel anxious; just ask! They are so helpful and will answer any question you may have. And make sure to say hi to Stéphane and Hugo for me! I wanted to make sure I gave very different suggestions for my top three favorites and I've unintentionally written this in the order I visit each of these stalls every Tuesday. After I gather my vegetables and fruit for the week, we usually head over to Senteurs de Vaison. This is a great stop for thés, tisanes and épices. Since Ikram and Bastian had suggested certain spices for my tagine, I knew I had to pay her a visit to get what was required. This is also where I get all of my lavender for my lemonade, and my dried hibiscus and mint for my infused iced tea that I make each week. This stand has a lot of bio (organic) choices along with incredible handmade blends of teas for all tastes. She also has one of my favorite products, (and something I brought home to everyone last year as a gift). A blend of spices to mull your own vin chaud or vin été depending on the season you are infusing your wine. It was so comforting sitting at home during the freezing winter months of January and setting a sachet of the spices to slowly boil in a saucepan of red wine. The whole house was engulfed in the spiced scent of vin chaud and brought us back to Vaison, despite it being so far away. Pro tip: Getting little packets of the mulling spices for vin chaud or vin été is such an easy gift to bring home and it's something that I personally have never seen back here in Pittsburgh. She also includes instructions on how to infuse the wine, giving measurements and cooking time, leaving little guess work for the recipients. Have you ever been to the Vaison market?? If so, did any stalls stick out to you? Which are your favorites?
If you haven't been to Vaison, but have a favorite market around your town, where are you from and what are you "go to" stalls?? Happy shopping! -R
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When Andy and I decided to buy the house, we had only walked down the main street of the town and up to the medieval church in the haut ville. Truth be told, we may have spent a grand total of 45 minutes in the town, and that included the home tour. We look back now and think how lucky we are that we adore Vaison so, so much! It could have very easily went the other way. Last summer was our first summer spent here and, since we didn't really do our due diligence and scope out the town the first time we came, we had a bit of catching up to do. We started by trekking up to old town and letting ourselves wander around, taking in all of the absolutely charming homes that lined the cobbled streets. As we wound our way deeper into the haut ville, we started noticing homes with unusual door knockers adorning their elaborately carved doors. A woman's hand, clutching a ball, sometimes black, sometimes silver and, every once in a while, in copper. Each were worn from age, weather and day-to-day usage. Some were more elaborate than others, having the hand sticking out of a highly detailed lace sleeve. Others were more basic, with less intricate sleeve work. All, however, had one, if not two rings on the hand's finger(s). This intrigued us. They weren't like anything we had ever seen before and we wanted to know more of their backstory. Sometimes when Andy and I wander the brocantes and antique stores, we find items so unusual, we ask the shop owners to tell us anything about the items. Since it's impossible to follow an item's history after 100's of years have past, they usually can only give us a round about date of an item's age and, if it isn't clear to us, the items original purpose. Either way, we are fascinated by the stories these old items hold and the many lives they've lived. As we descended from the haut ville, Andy decided that it was his summer's mission to find our house a Fatima's hand for the door. Back at home, in front of our computer screens, we discovered the knocker had two different names. The first, and most prevalent on the internet, called the knocker the hand of Fatima; Fatima being the daughter of the Prophet Mohammed in the Muslim faith. In the other, it was called the hand of Mirjam; Mirjam being the sister of Moses in the Jewish faith. No matter what backstory you follow, though, each believe the hand represents protection. By having the knocker on your front door, you are warding off evil and keeping the home safe. Andy was raised Jewish and I Catholic, but neither of us are practicing now, so the religious aspect didn't sway us either way. We knew we just liked the look of the knocker and set out to find our own. Our first search led us to Etsy, where they had a few for sale, but they were mostly reproductions and on the more expensive side. "We can do better than this," I said, looking up at Andy from the computer screen. When we are on the hunt for a particular treasure and finally come across it we usually discuss the likelihood of finding the particular item again. I don't, however, want to just buy something for the sake of buying it, so, if I think we are buying an item more because we've found it than because we love it, I'll usually say, "we can do better than this," signaling that this isn't our sought after treasure and we need to keep hunting. Our second stop was to Gary, our brocante friend. I have mentioned Gary before in the "Things to do in Provence" section of my site. We stumbled across him at the Carpentras brocante and bought our old French school poster from him (as seen in our dining room). He is always posting his finds on Instagram, so if you are looking for any unique/quirky items, you can find him @Gary_la_brocante. He explained that these knockers were pretty rare to stumble across, but he'd keep an eye out for us. And so, for the rest of our first summer it became some what of a little game. Each time we'd head to a brocante, we'd head straight for the usual boxes filled with brass hinges, old door nobs and other rusty metal items, digging to the bottom, hoping to find a hand clutching a ball within the contents, always coming up empty handed (pun intended). Many times we'd find a stall or two at the brocantes that had a guy who was selling tables upon tables of old metal items; tools, keys, locks. Thinking this would be the place to find it, we'd go back and forth with the seller for a few minutes, trying to describe the item we were searching for. Each time the guys would scrunch their foreheads, trying to figure out what it was exactly we were looking for. Hmmm, maybe this knocker was more elusive than we thought? As our first summer came to a close we decided the search would have to continue next year (this summer). As the days began trickling away this year, we were getting nervous that perhaps we'd never find our knocker, stopping at all of our usual haunts, but also pulling off any time we'd see a worn brocante sign pointing to an old garage or barn on the side of the road. Sitting an apèro, discussing our hunt for the knocker, a friend once asked, "how do you know the antiques you are buying are real and you are not getting fakes?" We explained that we aren't buying antiques as collectors and so the authenticity is less of a focus for us. We were more invested in the emotional aspect that the items held for us and the story about how we came to acquire them. There are many times sitting in our living room in Pittsburgh where we will point out a particular item and talk about the back story of how and where we found it. The pieces bring value to our space, not our bank account. As we packed up our little house for the summer we began to come to the realization that we would close our second summer without finding our door knocker. In between tidying up and heading into town to pick up all of our can't-live-without treats (that post to come soon!), we decided to head to the Carpentras brocante one last time. Even if we didn't find any of our sought after treasures, at least we could see Gary and wish him well for the coming months. The Carpentras brocante is located in a long parking lot with two rows of sellers who face each other, lining one side of the parking lot and curving around at the end to line the other side, making a big U shape. We started down one side, ping ponging back and forth between sellers as we made our way down the long, narrow path. Usually, it is so stifling hot that we quickly eye up the items and scurry off to find refuge in the shade of a close by plane tree. There we can discuss if anything caught our eye enough to go back and take a second look. Today, however, it was unseasonably cool, allowing us to linger at each stall and really take in our last brocante of the season. We were almost to the end of the first line of stalls when we stopped to eye up all of the items displayed on a blanket lining the pavement. The blanket was covered with the usual brocante finds, old boule balls, mismatched stemware, some boxes filled with old post cards, but tucked into the corner, between a few dulled copper pots and some wine jugs, was a Fatima's hand. I bent down, so surprised at what I was looking at that I wanted to make sure. My mouth dropped! It was her! I turned around and caught Andy as he was about to head across the isle to another table. "Hey.... isn't that your hand?" He turned back around, crouching down next to me. He picked up the hand as if he had found the most precious treasure. Seeing our interest, the owner came up to us, pointing a chubby, calloused finger towards the knocker. "It's very old," he said, in French. I translated to Andy what the man had said. "They say that about everything," he said, a bit skeptical. "It's a complete set," the man added, again in French. I relayed this to Andy. "What do you think?" he said. He had waited so long to find this, he clearly wanted to make sure he was making the best choice. I took the knocker out of his hand and my hand dipped a bit. "Wow, this thing is heavy!" "It's iron," the seller said, watching me bob the knocker up and down to evaluate the weight. Andy turned back to me. "Do you like the color? Do you think it's actually old? Do you think it would match the door?" Clearly he was on the fence, but after taking so long to find her, I surely didn't want to be the one who made this decision for him. We asked the price and the man informed us she was a deal for her rarity. He wasn't kidding! He was asking half the price of what they wanted on Etsy for the fake ones! Wrought with such a big decision, I decided to jump in and offer Andy some help. "We can't do better than this," I said, with a firm shake of the head, confirming this was our long sought after treasure. Andy nodded, taking out the asked for sum and quickly handing it to the man before he could change his mind. The rest of the brocante Andy literally cradled the hand, staring down at it in a mix of disbelief and absolute infatuation. At one point I looked over at him, saying, "if you ever looked at me as lovingly as you are that hand, who knows where we'd be right now!" This was very much a joke, as Andy is a very loving soul, but I'm not sure I've ever seen him so taken with one of our finds. It was actually quite sweet to see. I'm not someone who believes in superstition or that a hand could protect a home from the trials or tribulations of the outside world. I do, however, believe that things happen for a reason and that we were pulled away from household chores to end our summer with such a special moment. We've found a lot of really interesting items at the brocantes, but this may be the most special. In my research of Fatima's hand, there wasn't really much out there to discover. I did, however, read that they are found around the south of France. This intrigues me and, of course I want to know more. If you have seen these in your town or in your travels around France, please tell me in the comments below. Tell me where you were. Does your town in France have any of these on the doors? I can't wait to hear your feedback! À bientôt! -R I have to say that one of my favorite things about my time in France is hosting my friends for a weekly apèro. For the people who aren't sure what an apèro is, it is a sort of, kind of (but not quite... you'll see) like going out for happy hour after work back in the States, but MUCH, MUCH better! For starters, there is always some sort of alcoholic drink. Since we are in Provence and are usually hosting in the summer, we normally offer a glass of rosé or a spritz; something light and refreshing. These are accompanied by small nibbles such as olives, nuts, crudité or different fruit. Just something light before you head to dinner, which happens much later here than back at home. Sidenote for Americans who have been invited to an apèro... don't show up on time! If guests are late to a get together in the U.S., we'd be sending out a search party, trying to figure out where they were. In France, however, it is customary to be NOT be on time. When I host, my guests come about 10-15 minutes late. I remember my first apèro at a French friend's home. She and I had met while working at the same middle school. Agnès was an English teacher and I was her T.A.P.I.F (teaching assistant program in France) assistant. We instantly hit it off and kept in touch and visiting each other when we were in our respective countries. Andy and I had come to France to do a small tour of the North (where I taught and where she lived) and were invited over to Agnès along with the other English teachers I had worked with at the school. Not sure exactly what we were about to partake in, Andy and I sat down at the long patio table along with the other teachers, each with a glass of wine in hand. On the table were small bowls filled with fresh cherries from Agnès' garden, a mix of nuts, cherry tomatoes, chips (or crisps as she called them, using the English translation), and a few other nibbles and bites. We grazed lightly, since we did our research and knew this was essentially like the appetizer course before dinner. The light grew dimmer and bottles were emptied and we waited and waited a little more, but no one mentioned dinner. Slowly guests started to leave and empty bowls and glasses were removed from the table. We both sat for a moment, unsure if we had missed something and, in fact, we had! Without fully knowing it, we had attended our first apèro dînatoire, though we wouldn't realize this until much, much later. I'm not sure if it is the heat in Provence or the *sometimes* excruciatingly slow pace of things here, but I have only been invited to this type of apèro, which can be considered the uber relaxed, incredibly casual cousin of the traditional apèro (which is already pretty laid back!) The apèro dînatoire is essentially a meal that is more than a snack but less than dinner and is used in place of a full, large scale dinner. The apèro dînatoires I have been invited to have had homemade tomato tarts and quiches, small portions of chilled soups, and savory palmiers, along with the usual suspects of the olives, crudité, nuts and fruits. But it wasn't until I started hosting our French neighbors to our home for apèros that I realized how they had unintentionally become the talk of our small town. When chatting with a local artisan ice cream maker and an art gallery owner, the gallery owner mentioned an apèro he had attended at my house days ago. Without missing a beat, the ice cream maker said, "I know, I heard all about it." I gave him a playful, skeptical look. Hmmm...word was getting around. Not wanting to serve my guests the exact same things they had experienced at every other apèro, I decided to hit my over laden Pinterest page to see what inspired me from my saved pins. There, I found a lot of recipes that had their roots within the dusty pages of old school French cookbooks, but with a twist. From that deep dive, I've tried (with much success) the following three American/French inspired apèro recipes. Try one of these for your next apèro to spice things up and see if anyone around town mentions it randomly. If so, I think we're on to something! For my most recent apèro, I served a caramelized onion baked brie in a bread bowl. These were all ingredients that were very easy to find in France, but the bread bowl really threw my guests, which I found charming. The bowl itself can be absolutely any time of round bread. My local baker only had a multi-seed bread, so that is what I used. It's typical to find some dips in the U.S. served in a round loaf of bread that has had the middle carved out and all of the goodies placed inside. The sides are cut into strips so that pieces of bread can be easily torn away. This is placed in the oven until the cheese has melted and everything is gooey and browned. The photo below is provided by BakerbyNature.com to show you how delightful this recipe really is! For the full recipe, click the photo! The next recipe I tried was so incredibly easy and happened to be the star of the show! Stuffed Endive with blue cheese, pecans and cranberries wouldn't be something that I think people would be fighting over, but my guests literally were arguing who was going to get the last one! In the recipe, the three ingredients are just sprinkled in the endive leaves. In my rendition, I creamed all of the ingredients together lightly and then spread them on the leaves. Everyones top comment was the textures are so perfect together! This recipe is from fullbellysisters. I fully recommend clicking the photo for the full recipe and trying this out! And lastly, I made a round of peach skewers with prosciutto, basil and mozzarella. Ok, so this one is perhaps more Italian than American or French, but I could easily find all of the ingredients (which can sometimes be a feat when trying to recreate a recipe abroad) and it created a fun way to eat fruit, meat and cheese! They're easy to eat and add a light component to the dînatoire. Also, they are very bright, colorful and fresh. It also has a light citrus dressing that adds a little tang to the savory and sweet. This photo is provided by foodnessgracious.com. Click the photo above to be taken to the full recipe! I'm interested to see how these go over with other people here in France. If you end up trying any of these at your next apèro, please let me know below how it goes! Bon appétit! -R |
AuthorBonjour, Ciao, Salut! My name is Rachel and I am a part-time resident of Provence that splits my time between Pittsburgh, Pa and Vaison la Romaine. Come take a deep dive with me into Provençal culture, food, history, villages, markets and all of the quirks that come along with them! ArchivesCategories |