I knew that food would be delicious in Provence, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how much more incredible it would all be. The cheeses, fruits, milk, butter, wine — it was all like a slightly electrified, more saturated version of itself. Dorade stuffed with wild fennel. Strawberries macerated with fresh mint. French cheeses. French wine. Tomatoes stuffed with parsley and garlic.
Of course, these things taste magnificent here at home, too, but it does feel like some of that local magic gets lost along the way, dissippates just slightly during the long flight over the ocean. That’s a big part of why I love traveling so much — it’s a intimate opportunity to experience food in its proper home, in its unique context and climate, surrounded by the swirling, dry coastal winds and the heady sweeps of rosemary.
I love his hands!
i do, too! i love this description of him:
“Alain Pascal could be a character pulled right out of a Marcel Pagnol novel—a kind of Provençal Hercules. Like his father, Honoré, for whom the domaine is named, Alain is a strong, husky man with hands the size of bear claws. That he is a former boxer and an avid hunter should be no surprise, yet his physique matches both his spirit and his wine—this gentle giant and his cuvées are all heart.”
http://kermitlynch.com/our_wines/domaine-du-gros-nore/
instant salivation.
my thoughts exactly : )