He Ate Well

Provence: Harris Heaven

"We're about to enter Harris Heaven," Mary tells me as we walk into Le Jardin des Alpilles, the local fruit and vegetable shop in Maussane, a tiny hamlet in Provence. Indeed.

In wooden crates that line shelves and tables, the bounty of summertime South of France: craggy heirloom tomatoes; bundles of small artichokes the size of jumbo eggs, violet colored, with stems and leaves attached; garlic that reeked freshness; red onions shaped like baby bananas. Apricots, four kinds of peaches, nectarines, red plums, green plums, ruby-colored cherries and fraise des bois, fiercely sweet wild strawberries half an inch long.

Provence: Ingredients Heaven

All cliches apply about Provence. The astonishing quality and variety of ingredients here is rivaled, in my experience, only by what I've found in Japan. We're in Les Alpilles, the "other" Provence, the one Peter Mayle didn't write about. Traditional food culture lives in the villages and towns that dot this mountainous area.

Provence: Mary Makes a Little Lamb

Mary's tour-de-force - at least as far as I'm concerned (Alfredo are you with me?) - is fried chicken, down-home Southern style. But we're in Provence, so let's stick to French grub: a nice leg of lamb, smartly dressed by Mr. Charles the butcher.

Provence: Alfredo Fricassees Rabbit

He may be married to the amazing Mary, but Alfredo's no slouch behind the stove. Not only cooking; Alfredo knows wine. A Parisian friend of his once told me, hyperventilating slightly and shaking his head in amazement: "Alfredo knows more about wine than the French!" Alfredo's the guy who opened me up to wine, actually, but that's fodder for another blog entry.

Back to cooking. Tonight Alfredo's walking me through fricassee of rabbit (this dish works well with chicken, too, if you're bunny shy).