Flavours of Provence

The waiter in the pink shirt served the tea, lifting the pot a foot above the little green glass and pouring with artistic precision. I glanced across at my husband, still trying to banish feelings of guilt about eating Moroccan in the heart of Provence, but he was lolling in his chair in satiated contentment, apparently harbouring no such qualms.

The evening before, I had discovered with pleasant surprise, that despite my previous misgivings, Cavaillon, possessed a lively night life and a good selection of restaurants. My Dad had slipped us a few euros on the way out the door telling us to treat ourselves, so we chose something that was upmarket and Provencal, hoping to get a flavour of the local countryside that had held us so captivated during the first part of our visit.

The plates were large, triangular and modern and when the starter arrived, it was a treat for the palate and the eyes. Chilled courgette mousse and caviar of aubergine with a sprinkling of alfalfa, was presented with flair. Unfortunately, I belatedly noticed that a strange culinary law seemed to be in play: the dimensions of the tableware were directly proportionate to the size of the servings. The larger the dish, the more diminutive the portion. My entrée would probably have fitted onto a dessert spoon.

By the end of the main course I had begun chewing unabashedly on the decorative sprig of coriander, swallowing it with large mouthfuls of homemade bread. The long wait between courses, imposed I imagine to encourage a gentle digestion, meant that I had time to work up an appetite. I reflected ironically, that the meal was a lot like Provence itself: inspiring, colourful, expensive, and leaving you hungry for more.

Of course, this wasn’t the reason that we chose to dine on specialities from Marrakech in St. Rémy de Provence, but I must admit to a small pang of relief when I saw that the plates were small and round.

I stepped heavily out of the restaurant and was instantly hit by sunshine and great gusts of Mistral. All traces of the torrential rain that had plagued our journey out of the Alps had been blown away. Getting into the car, I studied the map with enthusiasm. Stuffed to the gunnels with couscous, I now felt capable of doing justice to the last halt on our whistle-stop tour; navigating the sun-kissed walls of Le Château des Baux.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Family Stuff. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Flavours of Provence

  1. tut-tut says:

    Too bad about the proportions of the first meal, but it’s taste that counts (although one would like more of a good thing).

  2. Your descriptions are wonderful. Makes me feel like I was there.

  3. angela says:

    Sounds like a great break from routine.
    By the way, I totally agree with you, the more expensive the restaurant the smaller the portions…weird, isn’t it?
    Angela

  4. Hexe says:

    Sounds like even with the lacking portions you are enjoying the time away. A welcome break!

  5. meredith says:

    Ha! We too once had an expensive unsatisfying meal in St. Remy…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s