A Little Piece of Heaven

A sojourn in the south of France. Cheese-tasting in Paris. A truly startling vintage menu. And a delightful addition to the spice rack.

“But what did you do while you were away?” my family asked.

I could have told them about the night we danced until the sun came up. Or that we ate the most gorgeous food I’ve ever seen and drank oceans of wine. I might have mentioned waking to birdsong and the soft scent of lavender, wandering green hills and strolling ancient stone streets. About languorous days of reading, writing, floating in the pool. Or I could simply have said that we talked. And talked. And talked.

The invitation arrived, out of the blue, from people I did not know. Would I like to spend a week at La Gonette, an artist’s retreat in the French countryside?

They sent romantic photographs of a sun-baked chateau, still lives of beautiful food - and the enticing prospect of a writer’s workshop led by Michael Cunningham.

“Take the train to Avignon,” they texted. “Someone will meet you at the station.” But as I packed my bag I had absolutely no idea what I would find when I got to Saint Simiane-la-Rotunde.

To be honest, I’m still not sure.

As far as I can tell novelist Alice Nelson and her husband, psychiatrist Danny Shub, thought about the world they wanted their infant son to grow up in. Then they set out to create it. They bought La Gonette, a 17^th century chateau in the Luberon that belonged to King Charles’ favorite designer Robert Kime. Then they filled it with beautiful objects, mountains of books and an ever-changing cast of creative people. At La Gonette there is always someone in the kitchen conjuring up fragrant food, always someone on the terrace deep in conversation, always someone heading off to collect yet an even more interesting person from the station.

I don’t think there is another place in the world quite like it.

Here's an Alice story. One day last summer she was driving into town on a broiling hot day when she passed an old man in a corduroy suit walking down the road. Being Alice she pulled over to see if she could help him in some way. Did he need a ride? In the end she simply took him home to La Gonette and with characteristic generosity installed him in the cottage on the property. Eventually the old man wandered off. If he has any sense, he’ll be back.

Why wouldn’t he? On the week I was there, in addition to Michael Cunningham (and eventually his husband, the writer and psychoanalyst Ken Corbett), there were Australian novelists Stephanie Bishop and Catherine Therese, Australian journalist Alice Cavanagh, Australian bookseller Lou Ryan, French writer Christophe Lebold, American journalist Lindsey Tramuta, Irish photographer Doreen Kilfeather and the director and chair of the Vermont Studio Center, Hope Sullivan and Kate Rebernak. They are all, believe me, people you want to know.

One Day
That first morning I wandered groggily downstairs to be greeted by this:

Not to mention an antique white linen napkin embroidered with my initials. It was just the beginning: each meal was more enticing than the one before and delicious scents came wafting from the kitchen at all hours. Once I woke at 3 a.m. to the scent of strawberries.

For our first session Michael asked us to read ‘Apollo’ by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, ‘It Had Wings’ by Alan Gurganus and ‘Sticks’ by George Saunders to focus on how each employed details in their writing. Michael is an extraordinary teacher and the conversation went spinning off in surprising directions. It was also, I should note, a relief to be with opinionated people discussing ideas that had nothing to do with politics.

Lunch was an assortment of savory tarts and a gorgeous salad.

Followed by an afternoon visit to a goat farm to procure just-made cheeses…..

…and return in time to help Harriet bake madeleines. She served them warm, urging us to dip them into the oil from a neighbor’s olive trees.

Then Charlie Gurd, who has a home nearby, came by to discuss his old friend Leonard Cohen with Christophe, who has just published a biography of the singer, The Man Who Saw the Angels Fall.

And another fantastic meal.

Night fell, we drank more wine, watched the stars wink into the sky. And then, somehow, it was midnight, and we were still talking, still drinking wine - and the extraordinary photographer Doreen Kilfeather was still taking pictures.

As one day followed another the real world retreated and we vanished into this wonderful place where every minute was filled with quiet beauty. The endless surprise of breakfast, enlightening discussions about writing, jaunts into town, visits to local artists and wineries, a morning at Le Bleuet in the tiny village of Banon, which is, improbably, the second largest bookstore in France. Before long we had become not just friends, but a community.

A few favorite moments:

Harriet Davidson and Jeni Glasgow don’t call themselves cooks or chefs: they call themselves “food creatives” and the term is certainly apt. Their joy in producing gorgeous food is palpable and their contribution to this enterprise enormous. They are proof that great food encourages conversation… and that there is no place most of us would rather be than at the table.

A picnic high in the hills

Arie Teerink, a Dutch chef and wine expert who lives nearby, talking about his latest wine discovery. Arie’s acquainted with every farmer, every baker, every winemaker for miles around, and his love of the region is infectious.

The orangerie where we gathered for Michael’s sessions and many meals.

A quiet kitchen moment.

The night we all read a favorite poem at dinner.

Just around midnight.

This is not my favorite moment….

…but leaving was bearable because I feel so much richer knowing that a place like this actually exists. Now, when I fall into despair over the state of the world, I remember La Gonette, and the endless generosity of the people who live there. And it restores my faith in the future.

Leaving paradise was very sad, but as I traveled north I began thinking about what awaited me in Paris. Scrolling through my computer I found these old notes from a morning Nancy Silverton and I spent with Meg Zimbeck of Paris by Mouth.

May 2012
I’d recommend these tours to anyone; in a very intense two hours we worked our way through Androuet and Barthelemy, and discovered a few cheeses that were completely new to me. We also, I might add, indulged in the single best Brie (de Meaux)I’ve ever had; it was creamy with those lingering hints of forest and mushroooms. Afterward, Meg emailed me these notes.

(If you’re looking for Paris tours, I’d also recommend Lindsay Tramuta, who became a friend at La Gonette. She’s warm, funny, bilingual and extremely knowledgeable. Among her many books, Lindsay has just published The Eater Guide to Paris. )

Goat

• Le Bambois (Bambois is the name of the farm): a ten day-old chèvre frais with a wet, ricotta-like texture (Alsace)

• Rove de Garrigues (Rove is the breed of goat with very low production): the smaller button with a clay-like texture and citrusy nose, 2 weeks old (Provence)

• Saint-Nicolas: the small bar-shaped chèvre which Nancy described as "nutty" and which can also taste of lavender or thyme depending on the goat's diet. Produced in an orthodox abbey in Languedoc, and just under three weeks old (Languedoc-Roussillon).

• Bethmale du chèvre: an eight-month goat which is created in the Pyrenees and then transferred at three months to a special aging cellar in the Auvergne (central) region inside an old train tunnel (Pyrenees). Bethmale is usually a cow's milk cheese, so this one is unusual.

• Reblochon du chèvre: similar to the AOC Reblochon which is made from cow's milk, this one is made with goat. We tasted it last and it wasn't our favorite (Savoie, near lake Geneva).

Sheep

• Ossau-Iraty at 17 months (purchased at Androuet) produced by the laiterie (milk cooperative) Agour, awarded the title "meilleur fromage du monde" last month in the World Cheese Awards against 2700 competing cheeses (Basque Pyrenees)

• Ossau Iraty at 30 months (purchased at Barthélémy) - very rare to find one at this age. The Trader Joe's version (they sell one) is 4 months old and most Parisian fromageries sell it at 12-14 months (Basque Pyrenees).

• Roquefort from Monsieur Carles, producer, aged for 3 months in the Cambalou caves beneath the village of Roquefort (southwest France).

• Fleur du Maquis aux Herbes aged for three months with a covering of herbs and chili (Corsica)

Cow

• Brie de Meaux: can taste of buttered mushrooms and oysters; uses rennet to separate curds and whey, aged 6-8 weeks (Ile-de-France, near Paris)

• Brie de Melun: tastes sharper, more metallic & salty than the Brie de Meaux (which is made 15km away); uses lactic fermentation (slower separation over time in controlled conditions) to separate curds and whey, then aged 8-10 weeks. (Ile-de-France, near Paris)

• Saint-Marcellin: the runny, sour, and floral cow's milk cheese. It's not always quite so liquid - the woman at Barthelemy described it as "à cuillèur" - to be eaten with a spoon. It's normally 2-6 weeks old and this would be closer to six weeks. (Rhône-Alps, near Lyon)

• Comté at 12 & 36 months - the younger cheese is good for grating/cooking or fondue, the older one is more crystallized and concentrated, better for tasting on its own (Jura, eastern France).

• Bleu d'Auvergne: the much more affordable and milder flavored blue that's often used here in salads, aged 2-3 months (Auvergne, central France)

Pastries tasted today (from Hugo & Victor, Pierre Hermé)

• Tarte aux fruits de passion, éclair au chocolat (H&V)

• Baba au rhum infiniment vanille et macaron Ispahan (PH)

Other addresses discussed

• Du Pain et des Idées - Christophe Vasseur's adorable bakery near the Canal Saint-Martin, selling the "pain des amis" that they serve at Frenchie

• Le Bonbon au Palais - a candy store with hundreds of artisanal confections from every region

• 134 RdT - (The bakery changed its name to Tout autour du Pain about ten years ago). One of my favorite baguettes in the northern Marais, across the street from Jacques Genin chocolate/pastry.

The food on my flight home (American Airlines) was so sad that I remembered what Clementine Paddleford wrote about her meal on an Air France flight to Paris. This is from the August 1951 issue of Gourmet Magazine; read it and weep.

I came home to discover that my latest order from Burlap and Barrel had arrived. I’d ordered the Hatch Green Chili powder from Burlap & Barrel (don’t miss it), and they sent along this entire wardrobe of sugars. It’s an incredible collection of hard-to-find-ingredients, and I can’t think of a better gift for a passionate baker.