David Downie and Alison Harris
For many visitors the decision for an excursion is easy: Burgundy—with its outstanding, world-famous wines, renowned culinary specialties, rivers, Romanesque architecture, and towns like Dijon, Beaune, and Vézelay—is tops on the side-trip list. As if additional reasons were needed, I like to refer to a special issue of Saveur (Issue 30), devoted to Burgundy. There the editors encourage a visit because “it hasn’t yet been discovered by the Eurochic or the mavens of the Mediterranean. Because its food is hearty, honest, and linked to the earth and its wines are delicate and elusive. Because it remains true, even today, to its ancient reputation for good living. Because it’s not Provence.”
By happy coincidence, the Little Bookroom published another volume in its Terroir series as I was completing this book. Food Wine: Burgundy by David Downie and Alison Harris (see this page) is an absolutely essential companion to this region—don’t even think about going to La Bourgogne without it. The book covers all the towns and villages of the region and includes superb recommendations—for places to eat, wineries to visit, charming places to stay, interesting shops and food artisans—as well as brief notes on a number of museums and historic sites and a very good overview of Burgundy wines. Downie also provides a list of market days in Burgundy, a food and wine glossary, and a few pages of practical information. Here’s one nugget worth repeating: “Nine in ten businesses are closed Sunday afternoons and a half day or full day once a week, usually Monday, sometimes Wednesday”; wineries are also often closed in July and/or August. As for restaurants, Downie focuses on those places whose chefs still work from scratch, “using fresh, locally sourced, high-quality ingredients, serving traditional or updated regional fare and cuisine bourgeoise that captures the spirit—if not always the letter—of terroir.” The word terroir, referring literally to the land, describes the proud sense of place expressed in locally grown and produced food, found in abundance in this region.
I have had the great pleasure of meeting Downie on several occasions, along with his kind and talented wife, the photographer Alison Harris. Most recently, I met them both for lunch at one of my Parisian favorites, Ma Bourgogne, on the Place des Vosges, just steps from their apartment.
Q: What are some general words of advice you would give to travelers going to Burgundy?
A: First of all, give yourself enough time—enough time to slow down and really enjoy discovering and exploring the small roads of Burgundy. At least ten days is great, which is enough time to get lost and find yourself again, and our book will take you to many different places, and certainly many off the beaten track. One of the things we enjoy doing most in Burgundy is hiking. There are a great number of marked trails, and when you hike, you see much more than from a car window: you’re actually in it—in the landscape, we mean.
Q: When did you first start exploring Burgundy?
A: We started going to Burgundy about twenty years ago thanks to some good friends we knew in Paris—they’re English and American—who were at that time going back and forth to Italy, and they found that this was becoming too time-consuming. They then bought a little place in southern Burgundy—from which their forays to Italy took less time—and when we visited them we discovered this uncluttered, wonderful, beautiful place in France … and we’ve continued to go back over the years. Though we’re referring specifically to southern Burgundy, make no mistake: all of Burgundy is great. There are parts of the region that are very well known, of course—everyone roars up and down the wine route, everybody wants to go to Beaune. These are wonderful, and you should see them, but hardly anyone gets off that wine road and goes out into the hinterland of southern Burgundy. The wines of southern Burgundy, by the way, are not as well known, and for a long time everyone thought they were all lousy wines owned by a big cooperative. Actually there are many, many really good wines that are being made here, at prices that aren’t crazy. So we got to know this part of Burgundy well and we began exploring the rest of the region.
Q: For visitors who are looking for pursuits other than wine, what else does Burgundy offer?
A: Vineyards cover about 2 percent of the land area in Burgundy, and there are about four thousand wineries in the region, which is about the size of Delaware, so it’s easy to see how everyone thinks Burgundy is nothing but wine country. But Burgundy is much more: it has one of the largest forests in France (and in fact forests occupy 34 percent of the land area); it’s the heartland of ancient Gaul; it’s home to dozens of Michelin-starred restaurants and hundreds of simple auberges devoted to terroir cuisine; and there are dozens and dozens of undiscovered rural areas with one-lane roads and about a thousand Romanesque churches, which were spun off from Cluny, which was the largest and most powerful medieval monastic complex outside Rome. Even people who don’t really care much for architecture and art love to see these Romanesque gems on the horizon. Burgundy is almost entirely rural—60 percent of the land area is devoted to farmland—so for this reason alone it is worth visiting and is the perfect side trip from Paris. All you have to do is get off that main road and go up into the hills and you’ll find all this wonderful stuff.
Q: Do visitors need appointments in advance to visit wineries?
A: Yes, usually in France—wherever you are—it’s better to make an appointment if you can.
Q: What specifically about your Burgundy Terroir guide do you feel is especially useful for visitors?
A: I’ve worked on so many guidebooks over the years and I know their flaws. Sometimes the writer doesn’t have time, or he or she really isn’t suited to the assignment, or the editor wants the writer to create the perfect guide but is prevented from giving the writer the proper resources. So as I started working on this Burgundy guide I decided I was going to make the perfect guidebook for my friends. This is the book I would want them to have because they would get to a town and they would have a little sense of its history, they would have a sense of what its unique foods and wines are, they would know of some worthwhile sites to see. Yes, the Burgundy guide is obviously about discovering famous wineries, famous chefs, and famous sites, but it’s also about all these hidden places and wonderful little pockets of charm and beauty. All the Terroir guides are insider’s guides, for curious, intelligent people, but we don’t want that to sound snobby. We can’t stand the tone of some guidebooks that assume because the reader is American and perhaps not well traveled, the text is dumbed down. We assume that even though readers may not yet be well traveled, they picked up our book because they’re interested to learn, and we respect that. The Terroir guides are not about the mindless pursuit of hedonism. They’re about making it possible for someone who loves culture, great food, and great wine to go out and find the authentic food artisans and winemakers. And they’re about preserving traditions that should be preserved. The guides are also not just for tourists—they’re also for people who already know the area. We noticed with our Rome guide that a lot of copies were purchased by people who live there.
Q: Can you share just a few of your favorite aspects of Burgundy?
A: An afternoon visit to Cluny, which once housed ten thousand monks, and seeing where the abbey once stood. All you see now is the transept and a reconstruction, but it’s well worth it. An autumnal walk in the woods, or perhaps a springtime walk, when you look out over a countryside which is made up of hedgerows and flowering fruit trees and wildflowers and a Romanesque steeple in the distance. A visit to Bibracte, the lost city of the ancient Gauls. There’s a museum there, not a very great one but still with some interesting stuff. Walk up to the top of the hill where Caesar dictated the conquest of Gaul and read Julius Caesar’s classic The Conquest of Gaul, which, believe it or not, is a real page-turner. It describes the only military campaign of the ancient world for which we have a record. Truly, it’s incredible to read this when you’re in ancient Gaul, in the heart of Burgundy.
And after you’ve looked at all the Charolais cattle everywhere—cattle actually outnumber humans in Burgundy—go and eat a really good dry-aged Charolais steak in a traditional restaurant. You’ll find many listed in our book.
Billing itself as the “world’s premier active travel company,” Butterfield & Robinson (butterfield.com) has had a long-standing relationship with Burgundy. B&R offers trips to sixty destinations worldwide, with four different journeys that include Burgundy: biking, self-guided biking, walking, and a wine “grand journey” that also includes Bordeaux and the Piemonte region of Italy. Though its most popular walking trip in 2010 was along the Amalfi Coast, its most popular biking trip was to Burgundy. (Additionally, B&R has at least nine other trip options in other parts of France.)
Founded in 1966, Butterfield & Robinson refers to George Butterfield, his high school roommate Sidney Robinson, and Sidney’s sister Martha Robinson, who together coordinated a trip to Europe for forty-three students. (Martha later married George, thus becoming the only true Butterfield & Robinson.) Early B&R trips were only for students, who biked from youth hostel to youth hostel. But at some point along the way the trips were crafted to be more distinctive and more comfortable, and B&R is now known to have pioneered the concept of luxury biking tours in Europe. The three founders, who use the motto “Slow Down to See the World,” also have a reputation for providing once-in-a-lifetime experiences and unique access to events, people, and places that are very difficult or impossible for travelers to arrange on their own. All three are still involved with the operation of the company, and in 2009 they welcomed Erik Blachford, former CEO of Expedia and onetime B&R guide, as a new partner.
In an interview with the Globe and Mail, George was asked to give some advice specific to running a high-end business. “It’s pretty simple,” he said. “Just get it right. People don’t want to be treated like they’re just one of thousands and thousands. You want everything to be special. And an awful lot of group travel is pretty routine, pretty predictable.” His remarks really appealed to me, so I sent him a query asking if he would share some of his favorite things about Burgundy. Assuming he wouldn’t have time to share more than a few sentences, I was thrilled to receive his reply, “Two Perfect Days in Beaune,” reprinted here.
In 1986 we moved the B&R office from Paris to Beaune. Centrally located, with arguably the world’s best wine and biking, our offices in Beaune are B&R’s European headquarters and home to twelve hundred bicycles.
Start your first day with a buttery croissant from Pâtisserie Bouché before a morning visit to the Hospices Civils de Beaune. Head over to the patio at Le Conty for a light lunch. After lunch, drive to Gevrey-Chambertin along the Route des Grands Crus, passing through some of the most famous grands crus of the Côte-de-Nuits. Or bike up into the Côte-de-Beaune via Aloxe-Corton and Pernand-Vergelesses. Dinner tonight could be on the terrace of the lovely Le Jardin des Remparts, or for a more casual option, Les Caves Madeleine, a charming wine store and restaurant. For an evening nightcap try Le Bout du Monde.
If you are in Beaune on a Saturday, head over early to Le Grand Café on Place Carnot and watch the farmers set up for the spectacular morning market. Pick up some local Epoisses, a baguette, and a bottle of wine for later. Stroll around the cobblestone streets and the rampart walls of Beaune. In the afternoon you can head south by car or by bike to Meursault through the villages of Chassagne-Montrachet and Puligny-Montrachet. If you haven’t had lunch already, you could stop at a great local restaurant, Le Montrachet, in Puligny-Montrachet, or if it is later in the day, just enjoy a glass of wine at the wine bar. Tonight a great bistro meal is right downstairs at the hotel restaurant, Le Bistro de l’Hôtel.
Pâtisserie Bouché (1 place Monge / +33 03 80 22 10 35). This is the best shop in town for cakes, pastries, and chocolate. Madame Bouché—the very impressive-looking woman behind the counter—makes fabulous-quality goods and prices them as generously as the portions of butter on her croissants. (The top-notch Hôtel Le Cep gets its breakfast croissants from her, and they really are the best!) Some of her chocolate recipes are patented, and she ships them to shops in Paris as well as doing a hopping business here in Beaune. You’ll find her at the opposite end of the pedestrian zone, in Place Monge.
Le Conty (5 rue Ziem / +33 03 80 22 63 94 / leconty.fr). A nice little restaurant with good food and friendly, quality service. In case of fair weather, the terrace is one of the best in town. Their menus are always a good choice and changed seasonally. Laurent Parra, a young chef from a local gourmet family, cooks some excellent local goodies! Closed Sundays and Mondays.
Le Jardin des Remparts (10 rue de l’Hôtel-Dieu / +33 03 80 24 79 41 / le-jardin-des-remparts.com). This restaurant has a fantastic terrace, some great innovative food, and a charming atmosphere. The service is not a speedy American-style affair; this is meant to be a longer meal that you linger over with great company. Closed on Sundays and Mondays.
Les Caves Madeleine (8 rue du Faubourg-Madeleine / +33 03 80 22 93 30). Friendly, intimate, and casual atmosphere. Featuring long tables with shared seating, this is a great spot for regional specialties and has both good, inexpensive set menus and a wide choice of à la carte options. It also boasts an excellent selection of wines sold in cooperation with the winemakers, and as such are not marked up like in other restaurants—some excellent deals are to be had here! Closed Sundays, Thursdays, and Friday lunch.
Le Bout du Monde (7 rue du Faubourg-Madeleine / +33 03 80 24 04 52 / leboutdumonde.net). The team welcomes you into the warm lounge bar for a simple beer or a more exotic drink. Nice, quiet terrace in spring and summer. Right across from Les Caves Madeleine.
Le Grand Café (36 place Carnot / +33 03 80 22 23 00). If you head here at the end of the day for a pastis, kir, or cold beer, you may very likely be sharing the terrace with some of our B&R Beaune staff who’ve just finished their day at the office! This is the grand classic of French cafés, and not only do they have one of the best people-watching terraces in town, but the service is impeccable as well. You can also eat lightly here; they have a small menu of sandwiches and salads.
Le Bistro de l’Hôtel (5 rue Samuel Legay / +33 03 80 25 94 14 / lhoteldebeaune.com). Le Bistro concentrates on serving simple food, using only the freshest high-quality produce from local suppliers, including fish, seafood, beef, poulet de Bresse, and Charolais veal. Truffles and wild mushrooms are featured cuisine du marché! This is simply one of the best tables in Beaune, with an amazing wine list. Open every day for lunch and dinner except for Sunday lunch.
Bistrot Bourguignon (8 rue Monge / +33 03 80 22 23 24 / restaurant-lebistrotbourguignon.com). A relaxed bistro atmosphere, great for those who need a quick, simple meal. Wonderful wines by the glass with a few tables out front. On the weekends, they often have live jazz music playing—you can even just go by for a glass of wine to take in the music! Closed Mondays.
Le Gourmandin (8 place Carnot / +33 03 80 24 07 88 / hotellegourmandin.com). This is an excellent bistro that has a real Parisian atmosphere. Excellent boeuf bourguignon as well as creative and light dishes and lots of unknown little wines available by the glass. They do have some weird things on the wine list that seem overpriced, but there are also some good finds. The maître d’ can always suggest something delicious and not too pricey to drink, but the service can be at French speed. Open every day.
La Part des Anges (24 rue d’Alsace / +33 03 80 22 07 68). This wine bar offers a cozy ambience and great food. Run by young guys, La Part has a large selection of local dishes and some amazing wines on their wine list that can be enjoyed by the glass. Closed Sundays and Mondays.
L’Hôtel de Beaune (5 rue Samuel Legay / +33 03 80 25 94 14 / lhoteldebeaune.com). This mansion is the gem of Beaune. With only seven rooms, it oozes grace and charm, and is now considered the top property in the town. The spacious rooms are furnished with fine linens, mahogany furniture, and interesting artwork. Since the hotel is located right in the center of Beaune, the town awaits just outside your doorstep.
Bastion Ste. Anne (bastionsteanne.com). For a longer stay, you may want to rent our home in Beaune, Bastion Ste. Anne. Forming part of the centuries-old walls of the town of Beaune, this combination of secret garden and lovely cottage is a totally unique experience.
“In Burgundy, Picking Up the Pace,” Alexander Lobrano (Gourmet, September 2006). Inspired by Samuel Chamberlain’s “Bur- gundy at a Snail’s Pace,” which appeared in the first issue of Gourmet, January 1941.
“Burgundy I: Parsleyed Ham, Two Burgundian Cheeses, and Spice Bread,” Edward Behr (Art of Eating, Number 59, 2001).
“Burgundy II: Chablis,” Edward Behr (Art of Eating, Number 81, 2009).
“Beaujolais: The Goal of a Gulpable Wine,” Edward Behr (Art of Eating, Number 67, 2004).
Puligny-Montrachet: Journal of a Village in Burgundy, Simon Loftus (Knopf, 1993). This fascinating book is de rigueur reading for anyone with an interest in wine, Burgundy wine in particular. Perhaps the most interesting detail about it is the front endpapers, a color reproduction of Le Terrier de la Seigneurie de Puligny et Mypon, preserved in the mairie (town hall) in Puligny “for the delight of anyone with an inquisitive nose.” This remarkable land register, compiled between 1741 and 1747 in three enormous leather-bound volumes, is “one of the earliest, most detailed and most complete surveys of any of the classic vineyard regions of France.” It indicates the name of every landholder, every tree, and every house in the village, the boundaries of each field and the subdivisions of every vineyard. What the wine enthusiast discovers, with Loftus’s curiosity and expertise, is that a mere seven and a half acres of terre became the “most precious agricultural land on earth, producing the grandest of all white wines: Puligny-Montrachet.” Three appendices—appellations, vintages, and tastings—complete this eye-opening and memorable work.
An Hour from Paris
Several years ago, writer Annabel Simms found herself in the middle of the woods, as completely lost as if she were in Africa instead of nineteen kilometers from Paris. There were three paths in front of her with no indication of where any of them led, so on impulse she chose the one on the left. She soon came upon some houses and knocked on the door of the nearest one. After following the owner’s directions, five minutes later she was in front of a magnificent sixteenth-century château. It turned out to be the Musée National de la Renaissance in Ecouen, twenty-three minutes from Paris by train (and it happens to be one of my favorite museums in northern France). It was this experience that alerted Simms to how accessible the countryside around Paris really is, and how few foreigners—and the French themselves—are aware of this. (Those paths, by the way, are now signposted.)
More excursions (with much note taking) into the old pays de France—the fertile plain surrounded by rivers to the north of Paris—led Simms to conclude that the Île-de-France has escaped the effects of mass tourism and is one of the least visited parts of France. She also realized she had the makings of a unique book geared entirely to foreign visitors arriving by train. These visitors, she envisioned, would be “curious about everything, rather than with a specialist interest in walking, architecture, gastronomy, or whatever,” and they would be equally as interested in the present as in the past. Her readers would appreciate cafés and humble restaurants, and above all would be those “who avoided crowds and prepackaged experience wherever possible and were happiest when exploring off the beaten track.” And thus An Hour from Paris (Pallas Athene, 2008, revised edition) was born.
Simms has really done her homework, and not for nothing has her book been referred to as a “groundbreaking work” (Sunday Times) and “a kind of Île-de-France profonde” (Independent). I urge anyone with even the vaguest thoughts of setting out for the Île-de-France to go with this book in hand—it’s a slender paperback. Simms has thoughtfully provided updates on her Web site (anhourfromparis.com).
Only twenty-two miles north of Paris and easily reached by train from the Gare Saint-Lazare, Auvers-sur-Oise is a small village known not only as where Vincent van Gogh spent the last weeks of his life (having arrived by train, in 1890), but also as the home, from 1862 to 1878, of Charles-François Daubigny, a painter considered a forerunner of Impressionism. Other Impressionists and landscape artists were drawn to Auvers as well, including Paul Cézanne, Camille Pissarro, and Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot.
At the village’s Auberge Ravoux, Van Gogh rented room number 5, with full board, for three and a half francs per day. Van Gogh painted more than seventy masterpieces in Auvers in fewer than eight weeks, but his room there was his last: he shot himself in a nearby field and died at the auberge shortly thereafter. According to Alexandra Leaf and Fred Leeman, authors of Van Gogh’s Table at the Auberge Ravoux (Artisan, 2001)—a book you must read if you go to Auvers—Van Gogh lived in at least thirty-eight places in four countries, all in his life of thirty-seven years. Due to French superstitions about suicide, it’s unlikely that the room was ever rented again after his death. Both Van Gogh’s room and the Auberge Ravoux were declared historical landmarks.
In 1926 the auberge was officially renamed Maison de Van Gogh, and in 1952 Roger and Micheline Tagliana bought it and lovingly revitalized it. Four years later, when Vincente Minnelli was filming Lust for Life with Kirk Douglas as Van Gogh, he shot on location at the auberge, finally correcting the misconception that Van Gogh had died in Provence. In 1985, Belgian businessman Dominique-Charles Janssens was hit by a drunk driver a few yards from the former Auberge Ravoux. While he was convalescing, he read Van Gogh’s letters and became quite passionate about the artist’s work and life. He also learned at this time that the auberge was for sale, and he decided to buy it. He writes in his foreword to Van Gogh’s Table that he wanted to create a spiritual refuge where people could connect with Van Gogh’s art and feelings, a place where they could really step back in time: “There, they would find Van Gogh’s room, a small intimate space, empty except for memories. Visitors could furnish it with their own feelings or experiences. No mass tourism would trample through the tranquility of the place. It would be preserved as a refuge of silence from the frenzy of the external world.” The Maison de Van Gogh (maisondevangogh.fr) also has a worthy restaurant; note that neither the restaurant nor the museum is open year-round.
Other attractions in Auvers-sur-Oise include the home of Dr. Gachet, the cemetery where Van Gogh and his brother Theo are buried, the Romanesque Gothic church immortalized in Van Gogh’s Church at Auvers-sur-Oise, the Château d’Auvers-sur-Oise (also known as Château de Léry), and the Musée Daubigny.
In addition to works by Charles-François Daubigny, the Musée Daubigny (musee-daubigny.com) features the works of other nineteenth- and twentieth-century artists, including some of Daubigny’s own students (among them Hippolyte-Camille Delpy and Alexandre-René Véron), plus Jean-François Millet, Dr. Gachet, and Cézanne. I’ve been a fan of Daubigny’s works since I first discovered them as a student in Paris. Daubigny had a boat he often used as a kind of floating studio, from which he painted landscapes outdoors, without reworking them later. (Among his works in the Musée d’Orsay is Sunset Over the Oise.) A few other works I particularly like in the Musée Daubigny are Le Port de Rotterdam by Norbert Goeneutte, Bateaux au coucher du soleil by Maxime Maufra, and Le Travail champêtre by Émile Boulard, all terrific Impressionist works by painters with whom I had been unfamiliar.
A good article to read before heading to Auvers is “Impressionist Visions near Paris” by Dana Micucci (New York Times, July 7, 2002). Micucci writes “I left Auvers-sur-Oise feeling that I had discovered the quintessential French village, overflowing with authentic rural charm and richly layered with culture and history.”
A visit to the town and cathedral of Chartres is an easy half- or full-day trip from Paris. “There is nothing comparable to the brilliance of Chartres’ windows—not even the mosaics of Byzantium,” notes Joseph Barry in The People of Paris. “Even without knowing the difference between Gothic architecture and the more earth-bound Romanesque from which it sprang, one can still sense the spiritual life of its vaults.” Barry, “an architectural traveler with a pair of powerful field glasses rather than a pilgrim with a prayer book,” recommends that travelers visit at twilight, when “all is calm and timeless. The gray of the sky merges with the warm gray of the stones.… Softly, dramatically, the night-lighting of the great cathedral commences.”
I’ve been to Chartres only once, and unfortunately it wasn’t at twilight; rather, it was on a gray, overcast day, but what was remarkable to me was that the famous blue in the stained-glass windows was still really blue, a shade completely unlike any other, as if light were shining through it. Robert Payne, in The Splendor of France, comments that throughout French history there has been an intense devotion to light, which for the French was “the purest joy, and they celebrated their joy in stained-glass windows, in brilliantly colored books and dresses, in Impressionist painting, in a continuing debate on the nature of light, in endless speculations on its strange and exhilarating behavior, as though it were a living thing. Because the light was feminine, and desired to please and to be seen, they opened up the walls of their cathedrals to let it in, and because the light was self-conscious and determined to be shown in its utmost splendor, they filled the windows with those thousands of pieces of colored glass, as thin as wafers, which are the great glory of medieval France.”
Chartres definitely vaut le détour, and three worthy resources are:
“Seeing the Light in Chartres,” Joan Gould (New York Times, December 18, 1988).
Chartres Cathedral, Malcolm Miller with color photographs by Sonia Halliday and Laura Lushington (Riverside, 1997). Miller has been leading tours to the cathedral for many decades almost every day without exception. Inquire at the office de tourisme (Place de la Cathédrale) or contact him directly (millerchartres@aol.com / +33 02 37 28 15 58).
Universe of Stone, Philip Ball (Harper, 2008). In this thorough book, Ball admits that it’s somewhat foolhardy to talk about “why” Chartres Cathedral was built, but that is what he attempts to do. Only by confronting that question, he believes, can we fully experience all this cathedral has to offer. “There seems to be little point,” he notes, “in knowing that you are standing in the south transept or looking at St. Lubin in the stained glass or gazing at a vault boss a hundred feet above your head unless you have some conception of what was in the minds of the people who created all of this.” (And a “boss,” by the way, is an architectural term that refers to a generally round, carved element located at the central crossing point of the ribs in Gothic vaults.)
Fontainebleau Postcard
My friend Ruth Homberg recently moved to Fontainebleau with her husband, Peter, so I asked her for some suggestions for a memorable Fontainebleau journey. Her detailed notes follow:
Located forty minutes outside of Paris by train, the ville of Fontainebleau is nestled in the midst of a forest three times the size of Manhattan. The two main draws of the small French city are the campus of INSEAD, one of the world’s leading business schools, and the Château de Fontainebleau, which has housed countless notables, including Napoléon and Marie Antoinette. The château sprawls across several acres of land and is adjoined by a park with carefully landscaped ponds and canals, which are also home to massive carp. On sunny days you can feed the ducks alongside French children and families enjoying pique-niques.
The best days of the week to make the journey to Fontainebleau are Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, when the heart of the town is converted into a lively farmers’ market. Be on the lookout for souvenirs, including hand-woven baskets, jewelry, quilts, and clothing, as well as country-fresh produce and fruit, cheeses, and charcuterie. Sundays promise the most vibrant market, but be warned: after noon the entire town shuts down until Tuesday. (One of our favorite days here has been a Sunday morning at the market gathering food for a picnic in the park behind the château).
For an authentic and moderately priced French lunch or dinner, try Bistrot 9 (9 rue Montebello / +33 01 64 22 87 84 / lebistrot9.com) for a salad with chèvre chaud, or the delicious sole meunière. For another bistro option, also try Bouchon de Bleau (32 rue de France / +33 01 64 22 30 99). (Note that both are often fully booked.) My other favorite in-town restaurant is Ty-Koz, a crêperie on a cobbled side street (18 rue de la Cloche / +33 01 64 22 00 55). With a glass of French wine or a pitcher of traditional cider from Bretagne, any dish tastes delicious.
If you’re traveling by car, don’t fail to make your way to the neighboring towns of Barbizon and Moret-sur-Loing. Both are sleepy, picturesque villages that boast long histories. The old city of Moret-sur-Loing is bookended by two arches that lead to a bridge over the river Loing. Between these arches lies the medieval town, parts of which are in their original state. It’s fun to grab an ice cream cone on a cobbled side street and stroll through the ancient streets or down to the beautiful river. On a hot day, you may see campers kayaking over the small locks or children wading in the shallow parts of the river.
Barbizon once housed many painters and writers. As it borders the paths of the Fontainebleau forest, it’s easy to see what brought them here. With only one main street lined with a few shops and hotels, it has a history steeped in the arts. Beginning in the mid-1800s, it became a popular vacation spot for Parisians. In addition to tourists, the town attracted quite a few painters, who would later be dubbed the Barbizon School. Among others, this group included Théodore Rousseau, Jean-François Millet, Narcisse-Virgile Diaz, and Charles-François Daubigny, and much of their work is on display at Musée de l’École de Barbizon at the Auberge Ganne. Later, the town also lured the younger Impressionist painters like Monet and Renoir. Writers were drawn to the area as well, and well-known French poets, like Paul Verlaine, Baudelaire, and Guillaume Apollinaire all made the trek to the town and spent time writing there. At the end of the main strip in Barbizon are trails that run throughout the Forêt de Fontaine-bleau, which is full of hiking paths and huge boulders that many use for rock climbing. Be sure to get a map, and beware of the wild boars that are in abundance!
P.S. Peter and I recently checked out the town of Troyes, which is about an hour from Fontainebleau. It’s also really cool. Have you been?
Note: I haven’t yet been to Troyes, but an interesting article to read about its culinary specialty, andouillette sausage, is “The Andouillete of Troyes” by Edward Behr (Art of Eating, Number 78, 2008).
In addition to your guidebook of choice (my own favorites include Knopf Guides: The Loire Valley and Michelin: Châteaux of the Loire), and perhaps an illustrated book, such as The Châteaux of the Loire by Pierre Miquel and with photographs by Jean-Baptiste Leroux (Penguin Studio, 1999), the very best, hands-down-number-one resource you need is A Wine and Food Guide to the Loire by Jacqueline Friedrich (Henry Holt, 1996). Honored with Julia Child and James Beard awards, as well as being named Veuve-Clicquot Wine Book of the Year, you need this encyclopedic book if you’re going anywhere at all in the Loire Valley. American journalist and former lawyer Friedrich moved to France in 1989 and stayed, and she now divides her time between Paris and a small village in the Loire near Chinon. She spent two years researching this book, a practical, interesting, and mouthwatering guide, and she’s working on the second edition (to be published by University of California Press). But don’t think this first edition won’t be helpful: I can attest to its usefulness even now, more than a decade later. The first part of the book is about the river, wine history, climate, soil, and grapes, followed by a section focusing on food and a wine route that takes travelers through the Nantais, Anjou and Saumur, Touraine, Sancerrois, and Auvergne. At the end of the book are four useful appendices: listings of bonnes adresses and recommended itineraries, a glossary, wine-serving tips, and conversion charts.
I’m a huge fan of Friedrich’s writing—I have all of the “Choice Tables” articles she’s contributed to the travel section of the New York Times, and her Wines of France book is also indispensable. And I’m not alone in praising her: noted wine authority Jancis Robinson endorsed Friedrich’s Loire book by saying, “I’ve waited twenty years for this book. I am truly impressed by it and so grateful for its existence. I didn’t know who would find the energy to write it, but for decades we will be grateful that it was someone of Jacqueline Friedrich’s talent and passion.” I also love that Friedrich’s favorite word is “delicious.” Readers may keep up with her at Jacquelinefriedrich.com.
I have long been fascinated by the signing of the armistice that ended World War I, which took place at a spot in the Forest of Compiègne, about seventy-five kilometers from Paris in the Picardy region. At five thirty a.m. on November 11, 1918, a German delegation signed the truce with the Allies. The two sides met in a clearing in the forest on railroad tracks: in one railcar was the German delegation, including imperial secretary of state Matthias Erzberger, and in the other were Allied commander in chief General Ferdinand Foch and First Sea Lord Admiral Sir Rosslyn Wemyss, the leading British delegate on the Allied side. The armistice terms had already been prepared by the British and French governments and were not open to further discussion. The thirty-four clauses were read aloud to the Germans, and “hearing these conditions, one of the Germans wept openly,” notes the Australian Department of Veterans’ Affairs World War I memorial Web site (ww1westernfront.gov.au). All the Germans reportedly had tears in their eyes, and according to A Stillness Heard Round the World: The End of the Great War, Erzberger, whose son had recently died in a military hospital, said, “The German people, which held off a world of enemies for fifty months, will preserve their liberty and their unity despite every kind of violence. A nation of 70 millions of peoples suffers, but it does not die.” Foch, whose son had been killed in action in 1914, ended the event by saying, “Eh bien, messieurs, c’est fini, allez” (Very well, gentlemen, it’s over, go), and he ordered a cease-fire for eleven a.m. that morning. The German delegates signed the armistice after it was referred to Berlin, and Kaiser Wilhelm II abdicated the throne and went into exile in Holland.
The Glade of the Armistice (Clairière de l’Armistice) was established shortly after, and it “remains a shrine to those who perished in World War I,” as Catharine Reynolds puts it in her Gourmet article “A Weekend Interlude: Imperial Pleasures North of Paris” (November 1996). A stone plaque there bears the inscription, loosely translated into English, “Here, on 11 November 1918, the criminal pride of the German Empire was brought low, vanquished by the free peoples it sought to enslave.” The Paris newspaper Le Matin raised funds to erect a memorial to the liberators of Alsace and Lorraine, and the Glade was officially dedicated on Armistice Day 1922. Ferdinard Foch’s railroad car—Wagon-Lits car #2419D—was once again a dining car after the war, and it was brought back to the Glade on Armistice Day 1927. A statue of Foch was also installed in the Glade in 1937, after his death.
On June 21, 1940, six weeks after Germany began its renewed attack on France, the Germans moved Foch’s railroad car back onto the track where it had stood in 1918. Hitler had chosen this place for France’s de facto surrender “to efface once and for all by an act of reparative justice a memory which was resented by the German people as the greatest shame of all time,” according to William Shirer in The Collapse of the Third Republic. After the agreement was signed, the stone plaque was broken up and sent back to Germany, as well as the Alsace-Lorraine memorial. Foch’s railroad car was sent to Berlin, where it was placed on display until 1943. Curiously, the statue of Foch was not taken down or defaced. It’s not likely that this was an act of soldierly courtesy, but rather, as the World War I memorial Web site explains, “another bit of petty revenge on the part of the Führer; the victor of 1918 left in solitude to contemplate the annihilation of his work.”
Compiègne was liberated in 1944, and German POWs restored the Glade on September 1. After the aerial bombardment of Berlin in 1943, the Nazis had moved Foch’s railroad car to the Thuringia Forest for safekeeping. But in April 1945, with the Allies moving in, the Nazis set fire to the car. After the war was over, the pieces of the stone plaque and the Alsace-Lorraine monument were found in Berlin and returned to the Glade. Another railroad car, #2439D, crafted in 1913 like the original, was brought to the Glade; because the original furnishings and documents from Foch’s car had been saved before war broke out, the full restoration of the Glade’s pre-1940 appearance was possible.
In addition to the Glade and the Musée de l’Armistice, Compiègne offers other diversions for visitors, including the forest itself with hiking trails and bike paths. The Château de Compiègne, designed for Louis XV but more noted for the reign of Napoléon III and Empress Eugénie, is also worth a trip; in addition to the historic apartments there, the château also houses the Museum of the Second Empire and the Museum of the Automobile and Tourism. (Reservations are required; see the Web site, musee-chateau-compiegne.fr, for more information. The American Friends of the Château de Compiègne, at afcdc.org, is also dedicated to increasing awareness of the château’s history). Also check out the sixteenth-century High Gothic–style hôtel de ville, which has one of the oldest city clocks in France, featuring a bancloque in the belfry with three Picantins—wooden figures in sixteenth-century attire representing the three enemies of France at that time: Flandrin the Fleming, Langlois the Englishman, and Lansquenet the German—that strike bells with their mallets every quarter hour. The regional cuisine is noted for its chocolate and gâteau de Compiègne, also known as Napoléon’s dessert, made with cherries. The Compiègne town Web site (mairie-compiegne.fr) is in French only but still useful.
A great book to read that is not only about the bubbly drink but also about the Champagne region is The Widow Clicquot: The Story of a Champagne Empire and the Woman Who Ruled It by Tilar Mazzeo (Harper Perennial, 2008). I had no idea how fascinating the world of Champagne was until I read this book. Though I adore Champagne—if I were asked that desert island question, bien sûr Champagne would be the one drink I would request—and I really like Veuve Clicquot, I had no idea what a remarkable woman la veuve (the widow) Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin was. Mazzeo does an excellent job of piecing together Barbe-Nicole’s life, even with relatively few resources available (the Veuve Clicquot archives hold many detailed account books but no personal documents). Interestingly, as Mazzeo points out, in the nineteenth century, when the story of Champagne begins, the history books rarely included the lives of entrepreneurs or commercial innovators, especially if they happened to be female. It’s not difficult to find letters and diaries of royalty or notable statesmen, “but few librarians thought to collect personal records of businesspeople, even businesspeople who did exceptional things.” This is still true today, but it was particularly true in the nineteenth century for a woman, unless she was either royalty or the sister, wife, or mother of a notable man. Nicole-Barbe wasn’t any of these, but she was formidable, independent, and determined. As Mazzeo writes, “Her success was not in bucking the system, but neither did she slavishly follow convention.… She had a talent for seeing the opportunities that existed in moments of cultural and economic instability.” Her triumphs and failures make for interesting reading, and a few myths are busted along the way: Dom Pérignon did not discover sparkling wine, for instance, and some wine historians now claim that a Champagne-like beverage was first invented in Great Britain, where there had been a small market for sparkling wine by the 1660s.
I like that Mazzeo gives us good descriptions of the city at the center of the Champagne region, Reims (pronounced as “Rans,” she tells us) both at the time of the ancien régime and today. She also reminds us that, like the other great widow of her day, Great Britain’s Queen Victoria, the widow Clicquot helped to define a century. “For decade after decade, her name was heard on the lips of soldiers, princes, and poets as far away as Russia. Before long, tourists came looking for a glimpse of the woman whom the writer Prosper Mérimée once called the uncrowned queen of Reims.” She was known locally simply as la grande dame—the great lady—and rare Veuve Clicquot vintages are still named La Grande Dame today. Nicole-Barbe is revealed in these pages as a woman of contradictions: a generous philanthropist but also a hard-hearted business owner, “a small, gruff, and decidedly plain woman with a sharp tongue who sold the world an exquisitely beautiful wine and an ethereal fantasy.”
Mireille on Champagne
“With the recent addition of a Paris–Reims TGV, one can easily visit the Champagne region for a day, but ideally an overnight or even two to three days make a winning difference. Especially if staying at Les Crayères (64 boulevard Henry-Vasnier / lescrayeres.com), a top hotel and restaurant located in a huge park in Reims with three restaurants, from haute gastronomy to more casual to a super brasserie. Visiting the city and region in May or June or early fall is ideal. The weather and vineyards are superb. Driving across the quaint, grape-growing hillside villages with their manicured vineyards, and stopping for dinner at my favorite country restaurant, Le Grand Cerf in Montchenot (50 Route Nationale 51 / le-grand-cerf.fr), is my idea of a weekend in the country. Experiencing a few Champagne houses is, of course, a must to discover the complexities around each bubbly: my favorite cellars belong to Ruinart (small), Taittinger or Pommery (medium), and Veuve Clicquot (larger but discreet). One should not neglect the center of Reims for its famous cathedral, whether you go for the rosace (rose window), the stained-glass windows by Chagall, the viticultural panels, or the grisailles (monochrome paintings in shades of gray typically painted on the outside panels of altarpieces). And don’t leave Reims without stocking up on the famous biscuits de Reims—pink cookies that are a little crunchy on the outside and soft inside that were originally meant for dipping in Champagne—available in pâtisseries near the cathedral, notably at Maison Fossier (fossier.fr), founded in 1756.”
—Mireille Guiliano, author of French Women Don’t Get Fat and former president and CEO of Veuve Clicquot, a subsidiary of LVMH
Visitors to Paris can easily visit the region of Brittany for a more extended excursion. Trains leave from the Gare Montparnasse; most require changing at Rennes or Vannes, the biggest cities in the region. Those cities are 250–300 miles from Paris, so even with high-speed train service, plan for a couple of days at least. Brittany is quite different from the other regions near Paris because its history is predominantly Celtic, and its unique architecture, culture, geography, and Breton language are distinct from any other region of France. Within Brittany, my husband and I have thoroughly enjoyed visiting lovely Pont-Aven, with its water mills and the Musée des Beaux-Arts, which features works by Paul Gauguin, Paul Sérusier, Meyer de Haan, Émile Schuffenecker, Maurice Denis, and other members of the Pont-Aven School. Though Gauguin was a central figure of the Pont-Aven School, his works do not dominate the museum’s collection, which is rather refreshing, as it allows visitors to discover lesser-known but wonderful artists; for example, it was at Pont-Aven that Sérusier, under the guidance of Gauguin, painted his famed The Talisman (now in the Musée d’Orsay), launching the group known as the Nabis (Hebrew for “prophets”). Not far from Pont-Aven is Quimper, the very same town that the charming ceramics come from, where fans can buy not only brand-new pieces but also deuxième choix (“seconds”) at good prices. At Carnac, check out the mysterious alignements, megalithic stone monuments which date back to the Neolithic period, and throughout the region enjoy eating (too many) of the delicious butter-filled specialties—my favorites are the delicate galettes de Pont-Aven and the thicker traou mad (“good things” in Breton).
When I learned of a new book entitled I’ll Never Be French (No Matter What I Do): Living in a Small Village in Brittany by Mark Greenside (Free Press, 2008), I wasn’t sure I would like it because the title seemed a little too cute; plus, some reviewers said it was “laugh-out-loud funny,” an accolade about which I am always suspicious. But the praise was enough that I broke down and read it, and I’m so glad I did. Greenside has written a positively wonderful book that now joins the pantheon of similar books treating other parts of France.
Not only is the book great, but Greenside is, too. I met him for a café in New York when he was en route to France, at the beginning of the summer. After only a few minutes, it was clear that, despite the cutesy book title, he is genuinely respectful of his Breton friends and neighbors. Greenside currently spends summers and some holidays in Brittany, though he ponders a possible permanent move to France. In his book he notes that after living in the hills of Oakland, California, for nearly twenty years he didn’t know any of his neighbors, but in Brittany, in less than a month, he already knew two families—one that didn’t even speak English—and his social life was fuller than in the States. After more time spent in Brittany, he’s concluded, “This is what I love about France, the small things are large: a bonjour, ça va, a flower, a glass of water. It’s a good way to live.”
When his book was published in French in June 2010, Greenside was a little worried about how it would be received in his village. He decided he really needed to tell everyone, since he couldn’t be sure how people would respond to what he’d written about them. The first person he went to was the insurance guy—when you read the book you will understand why Greenside told me, “He was the one I was most worried about, because of all the characters he was the most exaggerated. I walked in without an appointment, I gave him a book, and I walked him through the chapters that he appears in. At first, I don’t tell him it’s coming out in French, and I explain that obviously I’m giving him this book because I don’t mean anyone any harm, and that I’ve only had good intentions. As I’m leaving his office, he says, ‘You know, my wife reads and speaks perfect English.’ And I thought to myself, Well, I’ve now lived my last day.” (Postscript: At Christmastime he received a letter from the insurance guy’s wife—she loved the book!)
I asked Greenside to share some of what he loves most about Brittany, and what follows is his short list:
• The light. The light is just extraordinary here. It’s that famous, northern, shimmering, glittering light, and even when it’s overcast it’s illuminating. It’s truly why all the Impressionist painters, every single one of them, came to Brittany. Along the whole coast the light is just magnificent. In the summertime, you have a long dusk because it doesn’t get fully dark until midnight. Brittany is known for its horrible weather, which is one reason why there aren’t a lot of tourists. But the weather changes dramatically all the time.
• The coastline, which is fantastic and is a lot like the coast of Mendocino, California. Some of the largest tides in the world are right here, and every year you hear about people drowning at Mont-Saint-Michel. The difference betweeen high tide and low tide is 1,500 meters. At low tide the beaches are endless.
• A crêpe. My first crêpe was the simplest of all crêpes, with just butter and sugar, and every time I think of it my mouth waters.
• Oysters. The Belon huîtres (oysters) are among the best in the world and I can get them an hour and a half south from my house. They’re best in the winter. One afternoon I got sixty oysters and went over to a friend’s house and we just shucked and ate them. The price is very affordable. There is oyster farming all around southern Brittany and there’s a fresh catch every day.
• Cochon grillé (grilled pig). Every village has its own summer fête—it can be a religious day or a civil day and there is dancing, food, and music. As Brittany was home to several Celtic tribes by the time Caesar came to Gaul, you’ll see more Irish flags than you will French flags. And there will always be a huge meal. In my village the fête is known for salmon, but in other villages it’s cochon grillé. It’s delicious. I always look forward to my first cochon grillé of the season.
• The strawberries of Plougastel. These are the sweetest, juiciest strawberries I’ve ever tasted. They are unbelievable and this village has adopted the strawberry as its mascot. There’s even a strawberry museum! At the Fête des Fraises (Strawberry Festival) everyone wears costumes and all these kids run around dressed as strawberries.
• Three generations of entire families, often hand in hand. I’m constantly amazed at seeing families together and enjoying one another. Even the teenagers are enjoying themselves, and not just on fête days. Sunday family dinner is still a tradition, and the basic social unit is still the family. It’s just amazing.
• Time, and everyone’s relationship to time. In the States, I’m very much of a control freak, type double-A: I control my life and I control my environment, I get from point A to point B, if I need help I know where to get it, and I know how to accomplish things. In France I am 100 percent dependent—there I am used to standing in line and used to understanding that this is the way you do it, this is how it works. My American friends don’t even recognize me when they come and visit and see how I am in France. In America I want everything quick, fast, direct, and to the point, and I want to do everything I can for myself. In my village, it’s okay if you spend a few minutes chatting with the proprietor of the boulangerie when there’s ten people behind you.
• War monuments. Brittany was occupied during both world wars, so every village has its World War I memorial—it’s staggering—and you’ll also find De Gaulle monuments for World War II. Plaques with De Gaulle’s famous speech imprinted on them are mounted on many of the Breton ports, and from what I understand, more people from Brittany joined up with the Free French and the Resistance than anyone else in France. There’s a war presence in every town, especially because the German fortifications are still there along the entire coast. Every bay you go to you see the triangular formation of the machine guns—they can’t get rid of them.
• The churches. In Brittany, it’s very Catholic, as the Bretons supported the Church over the monarchy. But the churches are Gothic scare-the-hell-out-of-you churches, with pictorials explaining to illiterate people the stories of the Bible. Bretons are Gaelic and they’re very fatalistic. Stuff happens; what are you going to do about it? They’re not a depressing people despite all of this. They’re extremely curious about everything. It’s not like the States where when someone asks you how you’re doing they don’t really want to know. Bretons really want to know. They want to know about my geraniums, my car, and my wife, who is Japanese.
• The granite stone for the houses and the bridges. It’s all schist, and the colors just have a solidity to them; this is where they belong. You might think that with all this stone everything would be harsh, but it’s very soft and welcoming, and it looks really nice with my door—I painted my door a bright blue color and I love it. It’s typically Breton style and I just like looking at it. With all the stone around, everything feels like it has a solidity to it, a permanence to it, a history to it that is very, very real and tangible. Nothing about Brittany feels ephemeral—and that’s also part of what I love about it.
It seemed to me that Parisians had taken care to ensure that even the smallest details of life were beautiful.
—BARBARA WILDE,
OWNER, L’ATELIER VERT
