An American Provence

6. Signatures

124 F o o d Regarding this last item, we had passed by the stalls while they were setting up and scoffed at their silly hopes of getting anyone to buy an item that seemed as though it should be advertised on late-night television or some boring infomercial. We came back about ten minutes later, and people were packed six or seven deep awaiting a demonstration and the opportunity to buy these things that looked like colorful dead squirrels. Where do all the people who buy items at these markets come from? Parking in French villages is always nearly impossible , but the markets take up whatever parking spaces exist. Of course many of the people of the village walk to the market— most villages are very compact and easily walked. But to attract the crowds we saw, there had to be more than just the locals shopping. There must have been a large contingent of people from the rural areas around the village and maybe people from other villages in the area as well. When someone is called gullible, it is often considered pejorative . Gullibility is seen as a weakness of a naïve mind that lacks sophistication. This may well be so, but gullibility is sometimes openly used with no guile, just wise marketing. One evening, while we were visiting Forcalquier just east of the valley, is a case in point. My wife, son, daughter-in-law, and I made reservations at a local “forked” restaurant—arguably the best in town. That evening when we went into the village for dinner, we parked some distance away from the restaurant so we could enjoy a stroll through the busy streets and the festive atmosphere in the plaza. One particular restaurant on the plaza had a very brisk business, with many locals eating, drinking, and communing. 125 F o o d We noticed that the wait staff was somewhat overdressed but thought little of it. Our restaurant was just around the corner from the plaza and up the alley, a little secretive and elite. We ordered a grand meal with great wine and a wonderful dessert. The bill was not insignificant but not out of line for a gourmet experience in France. When we left we went back around to the plaza and, just out of curiosity, went over to look at the posted menu for the “non-forked” restaurant we had seen earlier. As it turned out, the menu was exactly the same as the one from which we had ordered at the high-end place in the alley. We also noticed that the wait staffs in the two restaurants were either a collection of twins, or we had had the same ones in the establishment where we ate our gourmet meal. When we looked closely at the back of the plaza restaurant, we could see the seating for our restaurant through the long corridor. The only real differences were that the plaza was somewhat noisy and the prices were about half those in the alley. It slowly dawned on us that we touristes américains had not paid close enough attention to the lay of the land. It was a great joke on the relatively clueless visitors and a good lesson in being misled by appearances. We chose the ornate decor and hushed tones of the forked place when we could have had the less pretentious plaza experience for much less. Who could complain? We got what we wanted at a price we were willing to pay—c’est la vie. Obviously, we had learned not to expect very good food at the sidewalk cafés of Provence. But we finally discovered a halfway house between them and the more expensive restaurants— the salon de thé. These small, cozy, usually women-run establishments are a combination of coffee/tea house, breakfast/lunch counter, and pastry café. They often have great lunches if you do 126 F o o d not mind having little or no choice in what to eat; they usually have just one or maybe two choices on the menu. We often tried to find a salon de thé for lunch if we were not out hiking or seeking a big meal at a starred restaurant. One day when we were visiting the ochre capital of the Vaucluse,Roussillon,wefoundasalondethéownedbyaGerman woman who was probably married to a Frenchman. We were the only guests...