Tuesday 13 February 2007
Herbs ..../.... A Fragrant Bouquet
By David Pitt, Tuesday 13 February 2007 - 20:04 :: Best
Now we are in heaven. The French use herbs like a magic wand. Not just the common ones – basil & bay leaves, cumin & curry – but the more exotic sounding gingembre moulu, pesce, estragon coupe and a few hundred others. Forgive me ladies if some of these are also ordinary because when I get past pepper and salt I am in a foreign land. But I can taste and I can smell and, well, I never remember tasting or smelling such majestic fare or exalted aromas before. Paradise.
Original appearance May 16, 2005, © 2005 / CIP 011, OO 16, RD 13, YP 30/8-13
It took the movie Titanic to dethrone the 1966 film ‘La Grande Voudrille’ as the most popular film ever in France. 17 million tickets sold! It attests to the star power of Louis de Funes who was voted France’s favorite actor in a 1968 poll. His nickname was Fufu and he was the voice of Toto as befits this comic actor, writer and director. Before he died in 1983 of a heart attack, he received an Honorary César in 1980, something akin to a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Oscars. His manic gestures were amply displayed in almost 150 different films between 1946 and 1982. Burlesque comedy was his early forte and he often played the accident prone gendarme. Most Americans were unfamiliar with him as he never earned international recognition though he probably deserved a kinder fate.
He once said “Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.” The Little Prince (1943) was perfect. Antoine de Saint Exupéry, aviator extraordinaire, wrote another five or six books, one of which, Wind Sand and Stars (1939), was close but not quite perfect. It was the song of flight, the lyric beauty of the early days of aviation. But then he was gone. Literally. Disappeared on a wartime reconnaissance flight (1944). Like Amelia, gone. In 1998 a fisherman found his silver bracelet, in 2003 they recovered the plane. But let’s go back to 1945. Consuelo, his Salvadoran wife, writes a book. Theirs was a tempestuous marriage, turns out she was the barbed and difficult rose in The Little Prince. Then it’s gone. Her book, Tale of the Rose is gone. In a trunk, in an attic, gone. Not found till 1979, not published till 2000. Best seller in France, and now available in English. The other side of the story. You might need a grain of salt, and it’s far from perfect, but women will love it, and believe.
Yes, it is way off the beaten track. Yes, there is nothing to do but enjoy le Crestet. From the main road D938 through a Provence valley you can barely see it perched high in the Dentelles de Montmirail, across from Mont Ventoux. Take the little D76 and wind up the hill. Find a truly picturesque medieval village overlooking the vineyards of Vaucluse. This is a tiny 11th to 12th century hamlet with a population, in season, of maybe 450 (we visited in October 2004 and the count was closer to 50). It is quiet, it is beautiful, the views are captivating, and it is real. There is a bonny little church, St Sauver, and the Stahly Foundation Contemporary Art Center. Wander the small cobblestoned byways. There is nothing else there, but I bet you can’t leave without a dozen photos.
There are basically three railroad systems in France: RER (short haul), SNCF (long haul), and TGV (fast haul). I love the TGV though the SNCF isn’t bad either. The TGV is very modern, fast and comfortable with sleek aerodynamic design and trademark blue the length of the train. There are six major railroad stations in Paris each, in its own way, an architectural delight and each serving specific destinations. They are quite well organized except for the beggars. Mostly though it is riding the TGV that is so pleasurable: quiet, fast, comfortable and with almost endlessly interesting vistas passing right before your eyes. Once past the immediate environs of the stations (which tend to be a little less visually delighting) you come upon panoramas of ever changing mosaics – each a picture postcard.
A château was originally a castle or a fortress in France. The Louvre and Versailles started as chateaux (the x ending pluralizes many things in French). The grander ones became palaces, and the lesser ones mansions or manor houses. Many actually started as hunting lodges for the kings and nobles. With the nobility they often became largely self sufficient family seats with their own lands and peasants. The Loire valley boasts over 300 château. While many of them are private, on occasion, the few that are open to the public, are worth visiting. Perhaps the most preeminent architect associated with them is François Mansart. Of course not every chateau is a mansion – in Bordeaux, if there is a vine associated with it, even a shack can be a chateau.