CHATEAUNEUF DE MAZENC, DAY 1 (4 JULY 2010)

Stores and bakeries being open Sunday morning but not beyond noon is incentive to rise earlyish and walk the 1 km down to La Begude de Mazenc in time to stock up on food to get through Sunday and Monday. Local advice is that Monday markets are to be avoided, and the local stores are closed. A beautiful sunny day, and it is downhill to the village. A group of 20 or so “hogs” and the Hell’s Accountants who ride them in France as in Canada are moored by the local bar/coffee shop. Starting at the butchers, we were 4th in line behind 2 matriarchs of the village. Not tracking too carefully, I missed how they got involved a heated exchange with the clerk (something about a telephone order gone bad), but eventually the man who clearly is a butcher came out to serve us. We started by ordering a chicken: un poulet rouge. He holds it up, black feet at the ends of the drumsticks, and it’s still feathered head dangling from the neck. Do we want it prepared? Huh? Oui, bien sur! That was the right answer. Not only had the bird’s appendages not been severed, it hadn’t yet been gutted. I was relieved to see the cleaning taken care of, and interested to see it done in full view of the shop. Some wonderful “jambon cru” – raw ham, Italian style, sliced to go with the seasonal melons, and on to the vegetable and fruit store. This is a little local establishment, and we’ve been told the proprietor grows as much of the produce herself as practical. We were bent on ratatouille since the ingredients are in season, and found the zucchini so fresh it couldn’t have been cut more than a couple of hours earlier. Local cheese is available in many varieties, so we picked up a picodon or 2 and some others never before seen to see how those go on toast. Apricots, peaches and baby artichokes are in season. July is a wonderful time to be here. Even the tomatoes are vine ripened, and from France, though I’ve no idea how that’s accomplished. And wine – a good time to begin a survey of Côtes du Rhone rosé. Amusingly, as she prepared our bill, the proprietor asked if we had come on foot from Châteauneuf-de-Mazenc (i.e., 1 km up the hill). On hearing “yes” she looked at us in disbelief for carrying so much stuff such a distance, and counseled stopping frequently to rest on the return.