The Emotional Epicurean: Provencal

A gastronomic journey into the heart of France. As the crow flies Provence is not far from Paris. And yet the subways and trains to change left us bewildered. With four locomotives (two of them in the middle of the train) and railroad tracks precision-engineered with the same attention to detail as a French chef, TGV is so much faster than Amtrak! All settled in the TGV and the beautiful landscapes begin.

Green rolling fields with pine and olive trees, all moving fast,
Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle,
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
(From a railway carriage by R.L Stevenson)

We reach Avignon and the heat is sweltering. A little Chevrolet spark and very dysfunctional GPS and an hour later we reach the Auberge in Raphael, 10km outside of Arles. The Auberge is the garden of Eden with geraniums, pansies, evergreens and even banana trees. No proverbial apple tree though. The room is a little gem that smells of fresh lavender.
Fish paste, green olive tapenade, black olive tapenade, anchovy sauce, artichoke paste, sun dried tomato paste were there. Some creamy, some salty, some spicy and others tangy. The next day starts bright and early with a trip to the Avignon market. Every sauce, paste, cream, oil and cheese and wine that makes the Provence the gastronomic heart of France is here, in this market.
The wine is the blessing of the sun; dry whites and light fruity reds. The vegetables and fruits so delicate and diaphanous; from plant, creeper or ground to the table in less than ten minutes it seemed.
We gathered a picnic of the artichoke paste and fish paste, couscous, chick pea salad, julienned sautéed carrots and peppers and apricots, cherries and a large baguette and a light fruity red wine. The picnic was three hours of marvelously slow eating ending the day in a mighty crescendo.
The mistral struck the next day. The wind pushed, pulled, heaved, lifted and crushed and then the whole cycle started again. Through the mistral we made our way to Arles. Arles is the center of Van Gogh's inspiration. His colors and vibrant strokes makes Arles come alive even today. He painted 70 paintings in the last 70 days of his life before his inner demons took over and he shot himself. His colors and his passion however still live on all over the world. In his sunflowers, in his Provencal fields and his starry night sky.

My Provençal meal that included a Provencal salad, anchovies, olive and tomato salad, artichoke paste, white bean salad with charmoula, and artichoke and shrimp with Romesco sauce is inspired by his colors and his passion.

I bought an all-purpose salad mix from the Avignon market which I now throw into everything except my morning coffee. It is a mixture of dried parsley, marjoram, oregano, chives, red peppers and cardamom. To go with salad mix I combined spicy dandelion greens and arugula with diced celery, cucumber, tomatoes, peppers and radish that evoke summer's riotous colors and perhaps Van Gogh's too.

Colors of summer

The dressing is olive oil, a light sweet vinegar such as Trader Joe's champagne Muscat vinaigrette, Dijon mustard, and honey whisked together. The end result is crunchy and sweet summer salad with a dash of spice from the dried herbs and peppers.