Thanks for resting your eyeballs here for a moment.(They are resting, right?) If you rest them a little longer, you may learn some interesting,(hopefully)entertaining, and, yes, ocassionally BIZARRE things about FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE (more…)
Bicycle Gourmet | January 27th, 2017 | Continued
French Travel Secret Revealed is where I reveal the down side of being DA BG. Yes, Virginia, there IS a negative smiley face in my otherwise blissful existence. A subtle frown that creases the face of carefree revelry.
Like a wine that is almost perfect, My French Life has a touch of tannin. The bitter flavor of (ugh) responsibility. Which means that the French Cycling Gourmet is NEVER on a carefree holiday. Because dear reader, he’s always thinking of you. Thinking of how much you would enjoy what he is enjoying. And is therefore obliged to hip you to whatever trip he happens to be on.
This one is to a region of la Belle France that doesn’t get a lot of press. And for me, and the folks who dwell therein, that’s just fine.
It’s above the too famed Provence and borders the Haute Alps and the Alps Maritime. Folks, meet la Drome Provencal. The southernmost part of la Drome proper.
Like it’s southern neighbour, la Drome Provencal has an equally agreeable climate. Allowing it to produce wine, fruits and herbs in massive quantities. Sharing a big slice of Mt. Ventoux, means that it’s some serious sport candy for cyclists of the lycra clad “speed thrills” variety. (My cycling opposites, as you are no doubt well aware.)
Other than the ubiquitous tourism, Lavender and herbs are La Drome Provencal’s main exports.
What floats my boat about this region is that it’s “the road less travelled.” (With virtually the same climate as the road too often travelled) There’s NO industry, (so, no pollution) and, with more villages than cities, plus mountains all around, you can get lost here.
With your camera, bien sur.
THROW ME A BONE HERE, PEOPLE!
What are ya thinkin’?
There is a place in France that marches to the beat of a different drummer. A way different drummer. A drummer with only one stick. The French call this place – “La France Profunde.” Deep France. France the way it used to be. In the good ole’ days. (you remember them, don’t you?)
No Boutique – No Swingin’ Hot Spot
Deep France is France in the slow lane. No stress. No pressure. No worries. Rural. Bucolic. (not a cow disease, but a ten dollar word for “booty-ful”) It’s a place where the wide open spaces are wider. The air fresher. And freeways are a crazy urban circus you only see on TV.
The location of this magical place where time runs on two speeds – dead slow and stop – is subjective. Because there is more than one region that qualifies. But the name most associated with “La France Profunde” is “The Cantal.”
Geography 101
The Cantal is a region of France within the department of Auvergne. It’s at the bottom left on the map, bounded by the Haute Loire region on the right. While it’s impossible to say which city/town is the “big smoke” in the Cantal, the administrative centre, and most prominent on the map, is Aurillac. (iaurillac.com) That said, the Cantal is “choc-a-block” with medieval villages. Extremely well preserved. And functioning today with very few changes. Other than the obvious “Mod Cons.”
Medieval Beef
This is because the Cantal is quintessentially a rural environment. Way rural. The locals describe it as :” 10,000 people, 100,000 cows.” And so, you will truly find that the hills are alive with the sound of “moo –sick.” The beef the Cantal is famous throughout Europe for, comes from the Salers cow. From the city of the same name. Ok, unless your in the breeding/selling biz….a cow is a cow is a cow, right? But the medieval village of Salers, is very much more than your standard“can’t believe it’s so old” collection of crumbling ruins. Put it high on your list. (salers.fr and salers-tourism.fr)
Da BG’s other medieval Cantal recommendations are Laroguebrou(chateau perched on a hill above the gorge du Ceres – info from : chataignerie-cantal.com), and Marcoles. (marcoles.fr)
Who Loves ya Baby?
But wait – There’s more! (three “mores” actually) The first being FOOD! And, as you might expect in a cow filled land, beef figures in the menus big time. The centre of “gastronomy”(fancy eatin’) in the Cantal is the tiny(pop. – 1500) of Laguoile.(Curiously pronounced “la-ge-ol” by the locals, and “la –yol” by the rest of France.) THE place to chow down there is the Hotel/Restaurant Augy. Jean-Pierre and Isabelle Augy(she’s the chef) will take good care o’ you and yer stomach.
A Cheese runs through it
A huge contribution to France gastronomy are the cheeses of the Auvergne. Particularly the Cantal cheese. This is a semi-hard frommage(think consistency of cheddar)coming from the aforementioned Saler’s cows, that’s aged up to 18 months. Here, I promise you, more than any other region, you’ll chow down on an incredible variety of exceptional cheeses. (and the wines not too bad either!)
The second more, is, ……a knife. The Laguoile knife. Internationally renowned for the quality of materials, and workmanship. Virtually ever self-respecting Froggie Male has one on his belt And, of course, there are steak knives, dinner sets, knives for every occasion, yada,yada,yada. The handmade versions can put a serious dent in yer wallet.(2000 euro plus) Naturally, they’re a “must have” souvenir for touring Texan cattlemen!
The third more, is “Le Nature.” The landscape. Miles and miles, of miles and miles.
A paradise for walkers. And, for most o’ the rest, jus’ a paradise. Especially if QUIET is at the top o’ yer paradise list. And, happily, there is an association of country inns that specialize in quiet. They’re : relaisdusilence.com Locations all over France. And that includes the Cantal.
Enough ta get ya started?
THROW ME A BONE HERE PEOPLE!
What are ya thinkin’?
French History is the World’s greatest(and longest running)action adventure movie. Chock full of everything you could want in a Hollywood blockbuster.(expect the SFX, bien sur.) Love, Intrigue, Betrayal, Murder, Assassination, Torture, War,Plagues. And, ocassionally, a few brief periods of peace, happiniess and justice for all.
Although I am, as you are well aware, a “dyed in the wine” Francophile my interest in things Historical here in the land of gastronomy is not massive. However, from time to time, a slice of ancient froogie-dom freezes on my screen. Such an event is the story that I’ve entitled : “The Tears Of Chenonceau.”
Our tale begins during the reign of King Francois 1. Our interest however, is in the King-to-be, his son. Young (future)Henry 2, like all nobles of his day, had a variety of tutors. And not just the readin’, writin’, ‘rithmatic variety. World history, knowledge of other languages and cultures, knowing which fork to use for the salad were also on the educational menu.
One of young Henry’s tutors was a cultured lady of her day by the name of Diane de Poitiers. A Noblewoman of considerable power and influence in the court of Francois 1, it was Diane who gave young Henry his farewell kiss when he was sent to Spain.(Owing to the fact that his Mother was dead) That kiss would blossom into a relationship so intense that some future royal documents were signed : “HenriDiane.”
This understandably did not go down well with the Queen. She being Catherine de Medici, of the infamous Italian dynasty, who Henri married in 1533. Although the Italians did introduce that revolutionary eating instrument – the fork – to the French table, they, and the Medicis’ in particular, were’nt on anyone’s quick-dail in Henri’s court.
So, yet another negative for Catherine to deal with. In addition to the fact that, as a coronation present, Henri had given Diane the magnificent Chateau of Chenonceau – which Catherine had been drooling over.
But wait – there’s more! Catherine was not having success with producing a Royal heir. Which, as you well know, is the primary function of the Queen. Enter an entourage of snake oil salesman/potion peddlers (predictably Italian) each claiming to possess the magic elixir that would enable Catherine to finally have “a bun in the oven.”
To Diane’s credit, she did see to it that Henri paid frequent visits to his wife’s bedroom. And eventually (with or without the Italian fertilizer magicians) 10 children were produced.
And, of course, the rivalry continued. Curiously, Diane and Catherine were actually related. Both being descendants of the La Tour d’Auvergne family.
As Shrewd as she was beautiful, Diane realized that her power and influence could not be challenged by Catherine while Henri was alive. Ok – time now to get out your hankies.
When Henri was mortally wounded in a jousting accident(in which the ribbon he won was Diane’s, not Catherine’s – OOPS!)Catherine asserted her Queenly powers. First refusing to allow Diane access to Henri. (although he’s alleged to have called out for her. And why would he not?)
Next, when Henri died, Catherine, obviously humming a few bars of “revenge is sweet”, barred Diane from the funeral.
Tout de suite apres, Catherine de’ Medici banished Diane from Chenonceau to the Château de Chaumont. She stayed there briefly. Living out her remaining years in her chateau in Anet, Eure-et-Loir, where she died at age 66.
And so, dear reader, if you should visit Chenonceau, looking right to see Diane’s garden, and left to view Catherine’s, and if, treading the stones of it’s ancient interior you should feel a certain “tristesse” that you can’t quite describe, you will let me know, won’t you?
THROW ME A BONE HERE, PEOPLE!
What are ya thinkin’?
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