French Pastries Are Almost Too Pretty to Eat
Even though we didn’t go to bed until 2am, we set our alarms for 7:30am, because we wanted to have some time to enjoy the Maison Pic while awake. Its understated elegance is as charming as charming gets.
Neither of us were really hungry, but Dan didn’t want to pass up the chance to see what Anne-Sophie could offer for petite déjeuner (breakfast). It was served in the salon. There was a spread of breads and pastries and we sat down and a moment later, a friendly woman came to greet us and see what else she could bring us. I ordered some hot tea. She brought us each a little platter, similar to the mignardises at dinner. Two of the things were too sweet for me, but the yogurt was rich and creamy and amazing, and I ate Dan’s too.
Anne-Sophie Puts Out Quite the Petite Déjuener Spread
We walked to Scook, Anne-Sophie’s cooking school, perhaps a quarter of a mile down the street and were ushered back to the area where classes were taught. I counted ten other people. The teacher asked a question and went around the room and people answered. I don’t know what he asked or what anyone said, but the woman next to me let me know he is asking if we have been in cooking school at home. He seemed to be speaking rather quickly, even in French. Dan said we are from États-Unis (United States) and the teacher responded that he will speak more slowly and then continued to speak at the speed of lightning.
Scook
We were handed printed sheets that explained what we were going to be making Le demi-coquelet contise au beurre de noix, poêlée de champignons de saisons et la tarte de poires au caramet beurre – chicken stuffed (contiser) with walnut butter, fried seasonal mushrooms, and pear tart. I am going to skip the intricacies (sorry foodies) and touch on some observations and high points.
The teacher said the phrase “Très Importante”(sounds like Tray ZEE-import-tant) 80 times, give or take. This means every two to three minutes something he was showing us, he stressed that it was something very important. Dan commented to the man next to him, who was very helpful supplementing Dan’s French comprehension, and the man took the French point of view, that it is all important, because it’s about “zee details.”
I learned some new tricks in the class, like how to butcher a chicken properly – I had only done butchering and deboning of meat one other time before. I also learned how to properly make a demi-glace, which involved sautéing the meat first in vegetable oil, not butter or olive oil. The teacher made sure to skim the foam off when the demi-glace was getting reduced, as the foam had some sort of impurity that got released by the chemical reaction of the oil and water mixing with the meat when being boiled. There was quite a bit of conversation regarding where the impurities came from, but Dan and I never understood the source for sure. Also, we added cold water to deglaze the hot pan.
I Am Watching the Chef Do Something Très Importante
When the dough was prepared for the tart, it needed to get rolled and folded and refrigerated for 45 minutes for six times (we did a couple rollings, but he had the finished product, already in the fridge). To keep track, he made depressions with his fingers to indicate what round of preparation he was on – this was Très Importante. I loved learning the new technique, contiser, which is to put fat underneath the skin of the animal before cooking it. For our chicken dish, we slid walnut butter under the chicken skin.
The chef was also very particular about when salt was added. For the demi-glace, he never added salt or spices, as that is Anne-Sophie’s preference to not, although other chefs do otherwise. For the chicken, he only added salt, once the chicken was already brown. He said adding it at that point preserved the color – Très Importante. For the tart dough, he added salt at the beginning, for the sole purpose of preserving color – Très Importante. I asked about when he adds it to vegetables and he said it must be added at the beginning, or else the color is not preserved – Très Importante. I would have explored the salt conversation more, but with the language barrier, I left it as is.
After the class we ate our creations. I had a bite of the cooked pear, but didn’t partake in the rest of the tart. The chicken was awesome. We created a round bed with the mushrooms and then arranged the chicken thigh and breast just so and drizzled the demi-glace on top. Wonderful!! Even while it was still morning, they served wine to everyone. I believe wine is like water in France!
Contise (Contise Chicken)
We wanted to browse Scook and planned on returning after we checked out of the hotel. I was still irritated by the taxi debacle from the day before and I wanted to take advantage of every moment we could before checking out of Maison Pic. There was a lovely balcony outside our room, overlooking the dainty gardens. We sat outside and soaked up the beauty for as long as possible, sunlight bringing everything to life. Très élégante.
Enjoying the Sunshine Filled Balcony at Maison Pic
We went back to Scook and it was closed for a two hour lunch break with one hour left. However, we surprised even ourselves and were able to negotiate our way inside. Although we were admitted with a welcome, it was very un-French to violate protocol – probably just reflects the classy operation that Anne-Sophie has. Once inside, we picked up some goodies that we had eyed earlier in the morning. I was particularly interested in the tonka beans used in the pear tart. I had never heard of them and loved the smell. It was sort of like vanilla, but more pungent and complex. I wasn’t sure what I would do with them back home, but I knew I could do some research and come up with something interesting.
Deliciousness Abounds at Scook
Deliciousness Abounds at Scook
Valance didn’t have much to offer us, and honestly, we were looking forward to relaxing in Gordes, a little village in Provence. On the highway, there were signs for historical sights. One looks up at any given time, and can see a chateau off in the distance this way and an 11th century fortress up on a hill that way. On the other hand, passing a nuclear reactor was not part of my idea of the bucolic French countryside experience. It’s rather a frightening sight, I must admit. But based on percentage of citizens using nuclear power, France is the most dependent country in the world on it. I guess all cultures experience idiosyncrasies, France being no exception. Yet, trying to reconcile how they are so earth based about food (the average citizen still shops at farmers markets and cooks from scratch) and dependent on nuclear power, is a bit puzzling.
We were considering stopping in Orange, which has a rich collection of Roman ruins, on route to Gordes, but when we got close to it, we decided — let’s keep moving. While we were on the topic of dropping things from our itinerary, I mentioned possibly dropping Parc du Verdon from the schedule for Monday. Vercors and Verdon were pretty high on my list of places to visit when we were in trip planning mode, but in the moment, driving three to four hours round trip for a day trip was feeling overwhelming. There was so much to do in the Luberon and zipping around at breakneck speed from one laid back village to another laid back village, made no sense. We wanted to immerse ourselves in the rural Provencal way, which is often ambling through villages and being open to whatever distractions one may encounter.
After we left the main highway and headed east to the Luberon and Gordes, we stopped at a produce stand, which stated it was in its last weekend for the season (not sure if that was accurate) and picked up some melon, which Provence is famous for, as well as some veggies for dinner.
We Wanted to See if Provencal Melons Are as Superior as Reputed (YES!!)
We arrived at our Airbnb around 4pm, and entered the gate with the code given. We were told that morning we were unit #11. We parked the car and couldn’t find #11. We found 10 and 12 and 13 and 8 – but not #11. We followed signs for a receptionist office and when we got there, walked in and nobody was there. Very annoying! We read the signs directing us to units 1-20, so we knew we were in the zone, but still, no #11. Dan and I separated and continued the search. I bushwhacked through some olive trees and found a trail that led to a few additional homes and therein lay #11. I called Dan’s name and eventually I found him on a path still looking. Joining his search team was an overly helpful British couple and their gay son.
We called Aileen, our host, to figure out how to get inside. No answer. She got back to us later on and told us where the key is. We discovered the key wouldn’t come out of the door (at least to the best of our ability);the door couldn’t be locked from inside or outside; and the stove didn’t work (or at least we didn’t know how to work this type of stove, as it is not found in the states). We could have researched these things online, but the internet sucked donkey balls and kept farting out, after the time it took to send one email. In the spirit of destressing, we headed to the pool.
Now I need to mention that this Airbnb was advertised as a small home with a pool. I was thinking that it might have other units on the large piece of rural property, but she had completely neglected to mention that it was one of 46 units. It still had Provencal charm, the limestone bricks and grapes and olives growing. But at the end of the day, we had chosen this property over our own private cave in Rousillion because of the pool and what she made it out to be. I would not steer people away from staying here, but would highly suggest she advertise it correctly, so people can make an educated choice. She is a realtor in Gordes and between her lack of organization and response, as well as her willingness to deceive customers, I would recommend not using her as a realtor, should you come to Provence, fall in love with it, and start searching for some property to call home.
Gordes Is on Fire at Sunset
Although it was too chilly to jump in the pool, it was rather lovely to hang out by it and unwind. Later on, we walked to Gordes and watched the sun light up the hilltop village an orange hue, as the sun set. It was stunning and is one of many reasons Gordes has been awarded the “Les Plus Beaux Villages” status from the French government. We walked into the village, strolled around, got some pesto for dinner and eventually ended up back home. Having a simple, ;home-cooked dinner of roasted vegetables drizzled with Provencal olive oil and lobster rillettes and Camembert cheese, outside in our super cute sunny patio area, was perfection. Provence truly is as charming as the books and pictures make it out to be. I think I have fallen in love.
Anne-Sophie Is Both Eclectic and Very Tasteful