Encore Provence by Peter Mayle Read Free Book Online Page A

Reichl’s world. She prefers places that, in her words, are not quaint and not “touristed.” Tourists, of course, are always other people; never us. We are different. We are
travelers
—intelligent, well-mannered, cultured, a blessing on our chosen destinations, a delight to have around. It’s a common attitude, and one that I have always found condescending and offensive, as well as inaccurate. If you travel away from home for pleasure, you’re a tourist, no matter how you like to dress it up. I consider myself a permanent tourist. Some of my best friends are tourists. Tourism makes an important contribution to the local economy and provides a living for many talented people—several cooks among them—whomight otherwise have to look elsewhere to make ends meet.
    Let’s take, for example, the only two good restaurants Reichl was able to find in the whole of Provence: the Auberge de Noves and the Bistrot du Paradou. Both are excellent, as she says, and both are deservedly popular with tourists. Would they be able to sustain their standards if they had to depend on a purely local clientele? I very much doubt it.
    There is a final note of disappointment even when describing the favored Bistrot du Paradou. The food was good, the ambience charming, and yet: “I sensed that there was something unreal about all this, an artful attempt to resurrect the spirit of Marcel Pagnol.” Good grief! What could have provoked that? An outbreak of hat-kicking in the parking lot? The arrival of Charles Aznavour for lunch? Or the fact that the bistrot had only been in business for fifteen years and not fifteen generations? Whatever it was, it provided useful support for the theory of a nonexistent Provence.
    The next Reichl vacation, so we’re told, will be taken in Italy, that golden land of dreams, and I hope for her sake they all come true: waiters singing snatches of Puccini, lusty peasants treading the grapes with purple feet, glorious meals of hand-knitted pasta.
Buon appetito, signora!
    But now, for the benefit of my correspondent Mr. Simpson and any other brave souls who may still be considering a visit to Provence, here are a few good addresses—proof, I hope, that all is not lost. The addresses cover a fairly wide area, and so may involve your spending some time in the car with a map. But the countryside is beautiful, and what you find will be worth the trip. I should add that these are personal choices that have been made in myusual haphazard fashion over the years. They are in no way intended to be a complete and organized listing. One last warning: Addresses have a habit of changing, so it would be wise to check in the phone book or at the local Syndicat d’Initiative before you set off.
Markets
    I have never found a more pleasant way to go shopping than to spend two or three hours in a Provençal market. The color, the abundance, the noise, the sometimes eccentric stall-holders, the mingling of smells, the offer of a sliver of cheese here and a mouthful of toast and
tapenade
there—all of these help to turn what began as an errand into a morning’s entertainment.
    An addict could visit a different market every day for several weeks, and this selection, which is best read with map to hand, is far from comprehensive. But I think it’s enough to show that there is no such thing as a nonmarket day in Provence.
    Monday:
Bédarrides, Cadenet, Cavaillon, Forcalquier
    Tuesday:
Banon, Cucuron, Gordes, St. Saturnin-d’Apt, Vaison-la-Romaine
    Wednesday:
Cassis, Rognes, St. Rémy-de-Provence, Sault
    Thursday:
Cairanne, Nyons, Orange
    Friday:
Carpentras, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Lourmarin, Pertuis
    Saturday:
Apt, Arles, Manosque, St.-Tropez
    Sunday:
Coustellet, L’Isle-sur-Sorgue, Mane
Wine
    Here we are on delicate ground. One of the changes that has taken place in the Luberon over the past few years has been an enormous improvement in the quality of the
petits vins
. Small local vineyards are producing better and better wine;