The Coucougnettes of Henry IV

As you might imagine, I’m not that up on my French history. I had a brief encounter with Versailles when I was 16 and I’ve seen the odd château or two over the years. And being a chef I did learn that good old Henry IV was the originator of the classic poule au pot or chicken in a pot – a hearty stew of bird, broth and garden veg that Henry proclaimed should be eaten by all his subjects each Sunday. It’s a dish that he grew up with in a remote south-west corner of France in the town of Pau.

It seems though, that the lowly poule wasn’t the only sort of bird that Henri liked to savour. Between his marriage to the Reine Margot, his 54 mistresses and the odd one night stand, Henry managed to sire 24 children. And so to honour his most proficient sex drive, a candy maker near Pau has come out with what they call France’s best sweet: les Coucougnettes du Vert Galant. Yup, you guessed right – life-size imitations of Henry IV’s balls! I have a hard time imagining a comparable honour being bestowed on more modern leaders, although Silvio Berlusconni might prove to be the exception.

So what do Henry IV’s balls taste like, you ask? Bof. If you’re a fan of marzipan you might find these chocolate covered almonds rolled in pink almond paste to your liking. I liked the story way more than the actual sweet. But who knows, perhaps they’re laced with Henry’s secret ingredient and well the rest I’ll leave to your imagination…

I say cheese, ewes say cheese!

Lunch time!

From afar I am sure I’ve made a mistake. Row upon row of plastic covered greenhouses, like giant silvery worms, appear out of the fog and not a sheep in sight. It’s only when I approach a long, greenish tunnel and my ears are filled with a symphony of BAAAAAA’s that I know I’ve found the right place.

Les Bergers de Belvezet is a small, artisan ewe’s milk cheese company run by Jean-Michel Reymond and Christelle Houy. They greet me with warm smiles and the relaxed assurance of people who are totally happy with the choices they’ve made. Both have worked around sheep for years. Jean-Michel grew up on a farm in the Crau to the south of Arlès and found he enjoyed working  with sheep over the summer vacation.  Christelle has always worked on farms but the day she discovered shepherding she knew it was for her. Soon afterwards she earned a diploma from the only shepherding school in France near Salon de Provence in 1999.

Jean-Michel

Christelle at work

So when a good friend decided to get out of the sheep rearing business four years ago and asked Jean-Michel and Christelle to take over what was left, they jumped at the chance. And right from the start the couple decided that they wanted to make cheese. The fact that neither had a clue about where to start says volumes about their courage and tenacity. Before long they contacted an experienced fromagier, Alain Perret in the Pyrenees mountains and arranged to work with him for a time. He gave them all the technics they needed to produce the classic Tomme style of cheese.

Christelle remembers it as an intense, exciting time.  “We started with only 40 sheep and a handful of baby lambs, no barn, no land and very little equipment. Now we milk 100 sheep twice a day and have plans to build a new fromagerie and milking barn on a small piece of land close by within a year or so. It was hard in the beginning, getting up at 5:30 a.m. to bottle feed the baby lambs or sometimes we had to wrap them in warm blankets to protect them from the cold.” The work is still hard but now the couple are equipped and experienced. For Christelle nothing beats a spring morning spent walking through the lush garrigue with her troupe of sheep and the huge sheep dogs she uses to keep them in line. The air is fresh and the only sounds are those of her dogs and the bababa of the herd.

Back at the tunnel the noise is deafening and I wonder to myself how anyone of sane mind could manage to work with these wooly, four-footed milk machines for longer than a few days. When I pose the question to  Jean-Michel and Christelle, they tell me that after a while it isn’t that bad! I guess one could resort to earplugs or an Ipod. But then you might miss something, for it seems sheep talk. And I guess if you’re around them as much as Jean-Michel and Christelle you start to understand. Before long the daily milking is over and three large jugs are transferred to the adjacent fromagerie.

While Christelle tends to the sheep, Jean-Michel makes the cheese. The building resembles a large fibreglass Lego block house and looks totally alien amongst the typical old stone buildings of the Uzège countryside. Jean-Michel explains that this odd-looking portable fromagerie hails from the Pyrenees mountains where they’re used to make cheese in high altitude alpine pastures after being brought in by helicopter. For Jean-Michel and Christelle the structures provided an inexpensive way to produce their cheese under  modern, hygienic conditions.

Jean-Michel heats the milk to 30˚C

Everything must be spotless

He makes his cheese in the same manner as the Pyrenean Tomme. The milk is heated slowly to 30˚C with  rennet that causes the milk to separate into curds and whey. The curds are removed, cut up a bit and ladled into moulds where they spend about a day to take on their final shape. Then they’re dry salted once a day and rubbed with a cloth to remove any black mould. The rounds, which weigh about four kilo each, mature slowly for a minimum of two months ending up with an orange-tan  rind and a creamy, ivory coloured heart. The taste is typical of ewe’s milk cheeses, mild and fruity but with a funky kick. Jean-Michel explains that the flavours get quite strong after five or six months maturation but the production sells so quickly he seldom has rounds that get to that ripe old age.

Helper Nicolas Cabello washes the rind daily with sea salt

The cheese along with ewe’s milk yoghurt and fresh ewes ricotta are available at the Wednesday farmers market in Uzès and at the Friday market in St. Quentin la Poterie. During the summer you can also run into Christelle and Jean-Michel at a small Friday evening market in Belvezet that usually includes some live music at the café municipale. A great local tradition that’s worth checking out.

The bottom line? Even though the two young entrepreneurs were both quite ill just before my visit – a result of four long, hard years of constant effort – I get the feeling they wouldn’t give up this lifestyle for anything. And each Friday when I head to the St. Quentin market Christelle backs up my intuition in the form of a lovely, contented smile.

Bottles of wine and the mail’s on time!

One of the little details that I love about living where  I do is the “beep-beep” of a small yellow scooter in front of my house every day around 1 pm. I know that Serge le facteur–my postman is at the door. From time to time, if he’s got a special delivery or just needs a drink,  he’ll open up and shout at the top of his lungs “MCLEEEONN”. Normally though, the mail just drops into the box and he’s on his way.

But the month of September is not a normal month. Serge’s got a sparkle in his eye. And he can’t stop talking  about some very un-postman like stuff; bung holes, leaf thinning, maturity checks, pumping over and so on. No, believe me, he’s fine;  in fact he’s a great postman – always helpful and never short of a good story. He’s just excited about his other job. For you see, Serge is the only full time postman/wine maker in France.

Serge pumping over this years red. The cellar is modern and well equipped.

Serge Scherrer is a droll, wiry 48-year-old who grew up a stones throw from the great vineyards of Alsace in the north-east of France.  In his teens he dreamed of making his own wine and even took a viticulture course at a local college. The problem though, was that vineyard land in Alsace was scarce and very expensive and Serge had neither the right connections nor loads of money. So when a job came up at the local post office, Serge applied and got in.  And before long he had a wife and two small boys. The wine making dream started to look more and more like the pipe variety.

Fast forward to 2000; Serge and his young family are transferred to Uzès, a small town in the Gard department of southern France,  in the midst of the biggest viticultural region in the world – a more or less uninterrupted sea of vines that covers the mediterranean coast of France like a giant green belt. The region used to be the source for an endless supply of cheap, undistinguished table wines that nourished thirsty workers in France and northern Europe for decades. But those easy markets started to fall away in the late ’90′s and within a few years co-ops were closing and thousands of hectares of vines were grubbed up. Land prices fell dramatically and Serge saw an opportunity.

Low yielding, old vine grenache and cinsault vines; Serge's first vineyard.

Starting in 2003 he began the hunt for a small parcel of top quality vines. By 2007 he found what he was after: a prime, half hectare plot of old vine Grenache and Cinsault not far from Uzes. After a tense period of negotiation, the deal closed in mid-August, just in time for harvest. The dream was back on track.

Agarrus, the name Serge chose for his domain, comes from the Provençal word for the small kermes oaks that grow all over the dry hillsides of southern France. The first two vintages produced a small amount of concentrated, intense wine. But wanting to paint with a bigger palate, Serge added three more parcels of Syrah, Carignan and Grenache to the mix in 2009. Today, with 4.5 hectares that’s all farmed organically, Serge has his hands very full indeed. It’s amazing to see how far passion, determination and vision can carry a man. And he readily admits he couldn’t make it all work without his wife Lucile’s full support.

Quality starts in the vineyard

Quality grapes-soon to be fine wine.

This year he figures he’ll make almost 15,000 bottles, most of it red. The wines are uniformly good to very good and have a real sense of terroir (see tasting notes). And since he’s not in a prestigious appellation, the prices are reasonable. He sells a quarter of his production locally and expects to be distributed in Germany and Switzerland soon.

The high point each year for Serge has to be les vendanges-the harvest. His many friends (the warrior included) offer to help and in spite of the hard work and the long hours everyone has a great time.

The harvest lunch; a well deserved break for hungry pickers.

Defenses and stress fall away, laughter is king and everyone seems to get along. Around 1 pm each day the loud call, à table, summons the team to lunch, a time to unwind, drink a bit of wine or beer and kibbutz with your co-workers. Lucile prepares the delicious home-cooked food and we rise an hour later refreshed and energized. I feel lucky to be sharing the moment, for this traditional part of French culture is slowly dying off, a victim of harvesting machines and the increased costs involved. Here in the south only the smaller, quality oriented domains harvest by hand. For Serge, who has to make it on the excellence of his wines, it’s an essential ingredient.

Les Vendanges - a really festive time for all.

Son Pierre-Louis cleans up; he also designed the Agarrus label.

This same attention to detail carries over to the winery where Serge invested last year in a nearly new pneumatic press and seven stainless steel tanks with full temperature control. He admits though that he is still learning and dealing with the odd moment of panic–like the terrible grinding his pump made, until someone realized it had to be primed with water to work–but they’re becoming rare.

Teamwork saves the day.

As a guy who makes top rate hand made wines Serge qualifies as a true garragiste. The fact his winery is located in the back-end of a real garage makes him doubly worthy of the name.

By the end of a week of harvesting, Serge seems pleased. The grapes are perfectly ripe, he says, with good deep colour. The potential is there to make some great wines. The team or core of pickers are a bit sore and tired but everyone feels proud to have contributed a small bit to Serge’s amazing adventure and can’t wait to start all over again next year. Long may he run.

Learning about wine from the ground up

Lets face it. Most people I know like wine and drink the stuff in varying amounts. Eventually some even get passionate enough about wine to want to learn the ins and outs. The road to fulfillment on the education front can be intimidating at best. And along the way one runs into more than a few wine snobs who don’t really get the point. You know. That wine is mostly just a humble beverage that brings people together and offers some small pleasures.

So you can imagine my excitement when I was invited to spend an amazing day learning about wine amongst the rolling hills of parasol pine,  old gnarly vines and a deep blue sky at Domaine Clavel in the Côteaux du Languedoc.  The day was organized by a young French company called mesvignes.com. They’re betting on the down to earth (literally) trend that brings together professionals from all walks of life to worship the golden grape.

An organic vineyard is full of life

Mes Vignes has partnered with 15 top wineries throughout France to offer their customers a hands-on way to learn about wine. People sign up for one to three workshops that take place at the winery of their choice and initially harvest the grapes that are destined for the cuvée Mes Vignes.  After a year of more of periodic workshops and lots of online updates, these web vignerons receive a couple of cases of “their” wine.

The participants, myself and 15 couples from all over the south of France are greeted by Stephen, Mes Vignes enologist/host for the day, Pierre Clavel and his wife Estelle. Over coffee and croissants we’re briefed on the day’s events.

Off to the vineyard

Before long, with shears in hand, it’s time to head out to the vineyard and pick grapes. The group is relaxed but excited at the same time. The steep, rocky vineyard is not the easiest of terrain but who cares  when the senses are teased by the stunning views of  nearby Pic Saint Loup and the intense scents of savoury herbs and parasol pine.

The “work” part of the day only lasts for an hour or so and then we’re off to learn about  tanks, vats, barrels and all the other hardware that help turn those ripe, succulent grapes into great wine. The information is precise without being overly technical and the crowd laps it up.

Pierre Clavel explains the primary fermentation

...under the watchful eye of Bacchus.

By noon our hosts sense our brains are full and in need of serious refreshment. The Domaine Clavel 2009 rosé is lovely, fresh and full of ripe, strawberry scented fruit. Soon we sit down to an excellent four-course meal and get to taste the domain’s best wines. By the time dessert is served almost two hours later, I and likely several others,  feel like a wee siesta, but duty calls so we all gather round the modern press where Pierre explains the intricacies of pressing grapes.

Stephen explains the art of using barrels to age wine.

Then it’s off to the barrel chai where some of the domain’s wines are matured in 228 l. oak casks. Stephen explains the reasons behind oak ageing and by the end of his talk we’re all fascinated by this complex and mysterious part of fine wine making.   Finally, our very satisfied albeit slightly tired group, heads to the tasting room, where those who want to can purchase additional wine.

My verdict? A great hands-on way to learn about wine from the people who make it their life’s work. And you’ll get a feel for the life of a vigneron to boot. The amazing vistas, the warm welcome and the knowledge one picks up,  make for an unforgettable experience, one that you’ll be reminded of each time you open a bottle of “your” wine.

More information can be had at; www.mesvignes.com (French only; a new site in English will be online by mid October) http://www.vins-clavel.fr/

Local heroes – Organic style, part 1

Succulent heritage tomatoes

One of the best things about living in this corner of our little planet in space is the great produce one can find locally. Farmer’s markets abound and I was thrilled we arrived home to learn that our village has, in addition to the regular Friday market,  a producers only Tuesday morning version.

Three years ago when we packed our bags to head back to Canada the only local farmer’s market was up the hill in Uzes and there was only one organic producer.Now both the Tuesday and Friday market here are teeming with dedicated, young farmers who care about what they grow and sell.

Hedwige and Loic Martin

Take Loic and Hedwige Martin for example. In their thirties, the couple farm about 2/3 of a hectare of prime land near St. Siffret. They were originally certified organic but to differentiate themselves from other organic farmers, they’re now using a relatively new technic called Ramial Chipped Wood (RCW). This revolutionary method was developed in the mid 80′s  by a team of researchers at Laval University in Québec. They discovered that the best way to regenerate a spent, dead soil was to cover it with a thin layer of chipped hardwood branches. But not just any branch will do. Loic explains to me that only young wood of 7cm diameter or less have the proper balance of carbon and living cells. He sources his wood from local landscaping firms then roughly chops them up and spreads them over his soil. Over time this thin layer of wood decomposes through the action of a white mould, basidiomycota. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basidiomycete. The result is a moist, dark, living soil that Loic claims is 500 times more nourishing than a standard agricultural soil. Although his vegetables don’t look as perfect as those from traditional producers, they are full of complex, intense flavours.

The very strange, mediterranean plant, Ficoide Glaciale.

As an added calling card, the couple grow some very distinct plants – ficoide glaciale, a furry leafed lemon flavoured salad green and something called Para watercress that leaves me with a stinging, tingling sensation in the mouth. An acquired taste I think.

A few stands away I run into another not so young organic producer named Luc Descoins. After many years in the insurance business he decided at 50 that the best way to do something meaningful for the planet, his community and his family was to go into organic farming.

Luc Descoins

Luc’s wife, Azra, took a year-long, hands on class at a local agricultural school to learn how to make it all work and the couple took the plunge in 2008. Today he grows salad, zucchini, aubergine, green beans, tomatoes, peppers and other vegetables on a hectare of excellent, certified organic land that he leases from two local landowners.

Luc finds more and more people are buying organic, even though a recent study pegged organic fruits and vegetable prices  a whopping 70% higher than conventionally grown produce. Luc’s prices, however seem mostly in line with the other traditional producers at the market and he explains to me that buying direct from the farmer as opposed to a distributor keeps the price down. As if on cue, a Parisian woman wanders over to his stand and is amazed by his low prices.

As for the future of organic farming in the south of France, Luc is optimistic. The key, he feels is to get the consumer out of the supermarket and back to local farmer’s markets where one is guaranteed the most nutritional, healthy produce available. The reward for Luc is the direct contact he has with his growing base of satisfied customers. The wide smiles on their faces makes it all worthwhile. www.lesjardinsbiodeluc.fr

Market mania in St. Quentin

One of my favourite pastimes during the long, cold winter months of our three-year stay in the interior of British Columbia consisted of dreaming about the amazing farmers markets I’d left behind in France. Our thrice weekly forays to the local supermarket were always an adventure — at least until we traded our bikes in for a car. The thrill of navigating through slush and snow on two wheels wore off quickly once the shopping began. Greeted by row upon row of uniformly tired, sad-looking fruits and vegetables, my mind wandered often to the warm, colourful, scented markets I’d known in France and I felt instantly soothed.

And now that we are finally home in our very special village, I can confirm that the reality is even better than my reminiscing. The local market has almost doubled in size and attracts huge summer crowds every Friday morning.

Amazing tapenade

Delicious unfiltered grape juice

But it’s not full of the gawking tourists who frequent the more trendy Saturday Uzes market. There are some to be sure but the core users are villagers who want to support local farmers and at the same time catch up with friends. On Tuesdays there’s a more intimate producers only market with several excellent organic growers.

This morning I was up by 7 am to get to the market early. The sky was a deep, clean blue and the air crisp. Many merchants were still setting up their stalls, all the while joking or sharing a coffee with their colleagues. An air of lively anticipation of big crowds and good sales seemed to float about effortlessly. Another good day to be sure. The only customers this early were older, retired locals who get their shopping done before the crowds and the heat arrive.

Always time to chat

The whole scene took me instantly back to all those early mornings several years ago when I sold wine five times a week at markets throughout the region: the routine of packing the truck the night before; the piecing pain of those 5 a.m. alarms followed by a lonely drive in pre-dawn half darkness.  But the hard part was quickly forgotten once I got set up and that same anticipation kicked in. A kind of perpetual optimism that kept us coming back for more regardless of the days outcome.

So what makes my market and any good market so much better from a sterile North American supermarket? Well you buy your veggies from a farmer who picked them just hours earlier and your meat from a butcher who greets you by your first name. Christian, the honey guy always has a good story or two. 

Solange, lets me taste her wines and at the same time she brings me up to date on the latest news in the wine business. The recession has brought about a lot of closures, lower prices and slack sales but she is optimistic about the future. With this years harvest her Mas Mouries will be an official organic wine. Crises come and go but these tough, resilient people always find a way to make things work.  I can’t wait till next Friday.

Slap me again, it’s not a dream

I’ve had several bouts the last few weeks of a strange disorder I’ll call lost in transititis. You know, it’s that displaced person sensation. Everything looks so familiar but it sometimes doesn’t register that I really am back in my charming village in the south of France. I haven’t done so much moving around since I was a restless twenty-something. I think I remember that it was pretty easy to adapt to new locals way back then– more brain cells without a doubt.

The good news is I try to put what I’ve got left to much better use. Seriously, though, my condition is improving and I am no longer tongue-tied each time I stroll about the village. It feels so good to run into all my old friends and get into the way of life here again.

Michel, king of the Accra

Today I cycled into Uzes, the large Medieval town just up the hill. Saturday is market day and to avoid the huge summer crowds I arrived a bit after 9 am. I could feel the energy and excitement building. The calm before the storm of Dutch, German, British, American and French tourists arrived in late morning. It felt so familiar, normal I guess since I sold wine at this same market for several years. Not much had changed; my good friend Michel was still at his habitual stand, slaving away like a madman dropping tiny teaspoons of salt-cod accras into hot oil all the while chatting with me. Elsa, his smiling young assistant was selling the golden morsels as fast as he could  make em. Michel’s stand, Les Accras de Marius, is known throughout Provence as the king of accras and falafel. His brandade, a salt cod and olive oil paste, is legendary. As luck would have it,  today was his 50th birthday. I couldn’t leave the market without doing something special so a bit later I passed by a second time with a nice bottle of red. Come September when the hordes of tourists have mostly gone home, we’ll get together and catch up, minus the smoking hot oil and the crowds of other displaced persons.