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Some people base their whole stay in Provence on the calendar of markets. Peter Mayle (“A Year in Provence”) claimed that there are enough little markets in the region to go to a different one every day of a whole year! Every day of each week there is a market in one of the well-known towns - some are artisan and craft, some bric-a-brac, but all of them have food. If you time it right it is possible to shop for most of your fresh food at markets, and you can be sure the food miles are minimal and the produce fresh. We had grabbed some staples at the Super U a few kilometres from our village, but were hanging out for market days for the real food of the region.
Then we had two days in a row! We went to Roussillon on market day, and the next day was our very own Lourmarin. The Roussillon market fills up the whole square at the centre of the town and is a blaze of colour. Because we were parked so far from the centre, it wasn’t easy to buy and carry too much, so it was just a browsing day.
For me, there was a sense of déjà vu, as I had been to the same market in 2007. Peter wanted to visit a few more art galleries than I could sustain, so I booked myself a mini van tour of the area while we were staying in Avignon, and had spent an hour in Roussillon. Then I saw it this time in 2018: the very same stall selling the same hand woven scarves where I had bought one eleven years before! I felt as though I was tapping into some tradition with this return visit. It was possibly the same lady who owned the stall.
We drifted past fish and deli stalls and the huge selection of cheeses, tasted several kinds of honey (and chose a jar of chestnut tree honey) and delighted in the vibrancy of the fresh fruit and vegetables. Big, thick white asparagus seems to be in season, every shape, size and colour of tomatoes and explosive spirals of the soft green lettuce so popular here. We were disappointed to see faux aboriginal dot art stalls, and there was the usual range of beads and jewellery. A woman grabbed me and told me that her
stall had my “taille” or size and waved some very brightly coloured and voluminous dresses at me.
The next morning we tried to get organised early enough to find a parking space at our local Lourmarin market, but it was already chaotic when we got there, as the centre of the village was all closed off and crowded with stalls. The stall holders are up at some unearthly hour to get their produce and goods ready for an 8 o'clock start, so some had been trading for hours when we got there. We were low on cash and Peter's had his credit card rejected at the two ATMs in Lourmarin so we couldn’t start shopping. I had seen our host walk by, so Peter went to find him and ask if he could borrow some cash. Meanwhile I lined up and spoke sternly to the ATM which surprised me by allowing me to withdraw. With what Loic had lent Peter as well, we were armed for shopping.
Lourmarin market is the largest in the Vaucluse department and takes over the boulevard area lined with plane trees (could be the reason for the sudden onset of sneezing and coughing!).
Set against the background of the chateau across the green fields, with a few grazing donkeys for interest, it is incredibly picturesque and inviting. It is not just the colour that draws me in, nor the freshness of the produce, but the pungent aromas of the herb and spice stalls and freshly baked artisan loaves. As a tomato lover, I swoon over the huge variety of heritage tomatoes, many of which I have seen in the Diggers' Club catalogues (like Marmande). Sparkling red strawberries are piled into large basket weave punnets, contrasting with huge apricots and piles of mini rock melons.
We tried hard to do our little transactions in French with varying degrees of success. Peter bought cheese and fruit and glistening olives, and I found tomatoes, some quiches and braved the line for bread, which is sawed off and sold by weight. I was amused when the same lady who had accosted me in Roussillon the day before grabbed me again, promising that she had dresses to fit me! She is a serial market seller. I added to our collection of tiny bowls that we have bought in all sorts of places and started to feel hot
and crowded in as people kept arriving. Every cafe on the square was full, and the noise level was amazing. People come to market not just to buy, but to connect - with friends, and with stall holders with whom they have longtime relationships. It doesn’t matter how many people are waiting, long conversations are held and there is a great deal of kissing!
Now we felt like locals! Our tiny stone cottage is overflowing with goodies and we just might go no further for a picnic than the table in the sun at the front door. The produce of Provence is delicious eaten anywhere.
By the way, when we returned to withdraw more cash while my credit card was functioning, we found that both ATMs were closed and completely out of money! The market had cleaned out the whole town of cash.
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