Welcome to The Aix-Files

Thanks for checking out The Aix-Files, my

blog postings inspired by my time in and around

Aix-en-Provence and the Vaucluse. The spot includes travel tips,

discoveries of local food and wine, recipes,

cultural events, interviews and historical

tidbits about Southern France. Enjoy!








Showing posts with label spelt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spelt. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Provençal Portraits: The Wood-Burning Heart of Pernes-les-Fontaines

As I enter the boulangerie of Jean-François Gimenes he is in the process of rolling out a pâte feuiletté, a puff pastry, folding it seven times. The next day he will cut it into long loaves, and put it into his wood-fired oven on a long paddle to bake.


He has been here since 2:00 in the morning. He fired up his oven just after 3:00. His day will end at 12:30 p.m. when he sweeps up the last bit of flour.
“That’s the way it is, I have to get everything done,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
Meganne and Jean-François Gimenes in front of the
wood-burning oven
Jean-François Gimenes was born in Pernes-les-Fontaines  back when it was still a small town.
After years of working in a variety of fields, he woke up one morning and had the crazy idea to do something completely different. He packed up his knapsack, toured all of France, and returned to the south with a passion for baking bread, but à l’ancienne, in the old style of baking in a wood-fired oven, a time-honoured tradition, specifically with levain, or sourdough.
After some years in Carpentras, the bakery in his home town came for sale, he snapped it up, and has been baking up a storm for the last ten years.
It is the oldest shop in Pernes still in existence, he says proudly. He used to stop by this very bakery as a boy to buy bread baked in the very same ancient oven.
And it remains the heart of the community, a meeting place. Pernes is now a city, but maintains the spirit of a village.
“That’s what I love about it, this spirit. And in the context of this bakery it’s got a friendly atmosphere and it’s close to everyone, it’s in the centre of Pernes, that’s something I really love.”
The entrance to his tiny shop is modest, nondescript, nearly unchanged since its founding in 1890.
As I open the door the next day, a chilly Saturday morning, his daughter Meganne at the till, I am welcomed by a burst of warm air and a crowd of convivial people chatting. Many of them are friends, who wait in line patiently for their bread, most of the loaves set to the side, as locals know to reserve their loaf in advance. Otherwise, the shelves are normally bare by noon.
Meanwhile, Jean-François deftly manoeuvres his long paddle in the vast, hot oven, pulling out crusty loaves, rearranging others, trying not to poke customers filing into the shop.
That magnificent ancient oven is the centrepiece of the bakery. For him the wood oven evokes everything that his ancestors used to do.
“I’m doing the same thing. I’m reproducing what the past generations did.
“It’s the love of the craft. I have no desire to work with an electric oven or with yeast, not at all. It’s the choice I made and I love it. It’s hard work, but I like that.
Jean- François loads the wood into the lower portion of the oven. The wood heats the stone slab above where the loaves will be placed. After two hours, it’s ready.
The wood stove is what gives his bread its unique texture, which I adore: the crust much thicker and chewier than industrial bread made with yeast. I’m also interested to learn that the shape of a bread affects its taste. For example a baguette and a miche (a round ball) could be made with the same dough, but the baguette will cook quicker, at higher heat, the larger loaves will cook slower, over the dying embers. The flavour with be completely different.

“That changes the taste and it’s something that you can only achieve with a wood-fired oven,” he says.
I tear off a piece of that feuiletté loaf which he was rolling out the day before and the crust shatters into a magnificent shower of flaky, light layers.
It’s just one of at least a dozen types of bread and specialty bread Jean-François bakes each day. He is best known for his humourously-named Pernoise, a slim loaf which he bakes every day, and the heftier Pernois, which he only bakes on Saturdays.
But the work has begun much earlier. As he uses only sourdough, the mixture starts fermenting two days in advance and is then baked on the third.
Creativity is essential to his craft. He loves experimenting with different types of flour, mixing and matching until it’s just right. For example, petite épautre de Sault, an ancient grain of the region (similar to spelt) will form the basis of an enormous square loaf that customers will buy by the slice, which could be a six- or 12-cm slice, or more! He also uses rye, whole wheat, buckwheat and various other organic flours.
“I’ve always loved to create different varieties, to work with new types of flour. After that, well, it’s humour. It’ something I love, to experiment.”
And evidently, lots of ideas emerge if you work all alone in the middle of the night!
He accepts the solitary nature of his work. “I like working all alone, it’s a choice. I do my research, I am the only one responsible for the quality, and I pull my very own bread out of the oven.
Jean-François once contemplated packing up and moving to Canada. But his roots are here and he’s committed to the community.
And the citizens of Pernes-les-Fontaines – and visitors - are all the happier to be able to order their loaf of Pernoise on a weekday and Pernois on a Saturday.
 
Boulangerie Gimenes Jean-François
51 Rue de la République
84210 Pernes-les-Fontaines
04 90 60 00 74


*This article first appeared in Le Sun Languedoc & Provence

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Les Randonneurs

Following the blue marker to the top of Montagne Ste-Victoire

Hiking around the Gorges du Verdon

“WHERE ARE YOUR HIKING BOOTS?” asked Jean-François. We were in a parking lot on the edge of town at 7:45 a.m. on a Sunday morning. I was wearing my trusty runners that have served me well for all of the hikes I have ever done. “I don’t have hiking boots, “ I replied. “Well, those will be okay for today’s hike in the Gorges du Verdon, but they will not be good enough for Les Alpilles next week.”

This was back in November, my first day-long hike with my AVF group, all French people, all very sportif and fit-looking. “When will Andrea be back?” Jim asked (he couldn’t join us because of his bad knee). “Around 8 p.m.,” Jean- François replied. “Oh,” I gulped.

Just as we began our hike, Jean-François started pointing out various bushes and shrubs and flowers. I recognized the juniper bush. He furiously noted everything in his notebook. But had I misunderstood? Were we ever going to start hiking? We did. And Jean-François, a font of knowledge concerning flora and fauna, didn’t hesitate to point out every plant and bird along the way. It was truly impressive. He even carried a bird book under his arm. At one point he discovered a large mushroom. “In order to identify it, I have to sacrifice it,” he declared, sadly. He cut it off at the base, examined the gills, took a photo, made notes, then carefully placed the cap back where it belonged, so that a mushroom would grow there again next year. I then decided this was perhaps not the right company in which to hack off and fill my knapsack with loads of rosemary and thyme that was growing profusely all around us.

The hike was challenging. We capped it off with a little tour of the pretty village of Moustiers-Ste Marie, where they make lovely faience pottery, and I enjoyed my first panaché (beer mixed with lemonade). During the long car-ride home, I tried to keep up the banter and practice my French by asking interesting questions like “Do you live in the centre of town?”

Les Antiques

Les Alpilles


Les Alpilles

Mom, don't look




I opted out of this extra leg of the journey

THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY we met early in the same parking lot. I proudly showed off my new hiking boots. Claudie said “No, they are not high enough. They will be okay for Les Alpilles today, but they won’t do for a hike along the Calanques.” Sigh.

Our hike, led by Claudie’s husband Jo, began innocently enough with a tour of Les Antiques and Glanum, a Roman mausoleum and arch, as well as an area of Celtic, Greek and Roman remains. We also walked past the asylum where Van Gogh stayed. Copies of his “Olive Groves” and “Starry Night” are displayed along the walkway.
After our picnic lunch, however, the hike got really serious. I announced I would perhaps opt out of the ascent up the ladder along the precipitous cliff, but, as, it turned out, it was a circle route and we would not be coming back via the same route, so the ladder was “obligatoire”. The hike was topped off by one more very steep ladder placed inside a tunnel on top of a pool of water which made everything very wet. My legs were rather wobbly by this time, but I survived.

Manon's Grotto, Garlaban, in Pagnol Country
where Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources were filmed



Picnic time on the summit of Garlaban

A visit to the monastery of Ganagobie topped off another day-long hike


The beautiful cloisters at Ganagobie

Annie organizes some afternoon AVF hikes




A Roman Bridge along the Caramy River






Les Nanas de Lundi on Mont Ventoux

“EVERYONE WANTS TO KNOW HOW OLD YOU ARE.” I was with Danielle and her women’s group who go hiking each Monday. They call themselves “Les Nanas de lundi.” People frequently ask me this question and my answer is always “I am older than seven.” Because my level of French is that of a seven-year-old. So I feel I have to verify that I am indeed older than seven.

We were on a 10 km hike half-way up Mont Ventoux, the biggest mountain in the Vaucluse. The Nanas are a very friendly group of women who love getting together to chat and catch up on things, get some exercise, but don’t take it too seriously. But the conversations get intense. After a few minutes, their arms start flailing, they slow down, and then, when they have something important to say, they stop dead in their tracks to make their point. They also stop frequently to pick wild rosemary, thyme, even wild baby daffodils. Yes, this is my kind of hiking group.
Climbing Mont Ventoux, Les Dentelles in the distance

Le Barroux

Danielle, receiving energy from a tree


THEY CALL HIM "LE CHEVRE," THE GOAT.  That's because every time Jacques and Monique  took us for a hike,  at the foot of a steep hill , Jacques would charge up from behind and say, "Race you to the top."  He always won.  “Where are you leading us?” Monique would ask Jacques, uncertain about the direction we were taking. Our neighbours in La Roque sur Pernes took us for interesting hikes several times a week during the winter. Jacques always carried a detailed map, but it’s still not always easy to find the way. Our goal one day was to do a circle tour, passing through the hilltop village of Saumane. They disagreed the whole way, one suggesting we go up, the other suggesting we go down. But all the while, they regaled us with stories about the region and about their fascinating lives. We never did get to Saumane that day, but we never really got totally lost, either, and we didn’t get eaten by wolves. And we’re all the richer for it.


Monique didn't mind wearing a pretty dress
while we hiked through the lavender  around the Abbey of Sénanque,
but you can be sure she wore proper hiking boots (not shown)
PICNIC RITUALS:
I always think a typical picnic in France consists of bread and cheese, plus other accompaniments, like a roasted chicken, perhaps, a tomato, some olives. I was surprised to notice that my hiking buddies rarely do that. Their typical picnic consists of a container of something they have prepared, like couscous, lentils, chickpeas or a pasta salad. Only those who are pressed for time bring a sandwich.

Also, most people bring something to share with the crowd, for example, dried apricots or dates, thin slices of salami, cherries from the tree in the back yard, chocolate, even coffee (yes, people actually bring coffee on a hike!). On my first hike I duly noticed this tradition for the next time.
Visitors Martin and Nan, on they way up Ste-Victoire. 
In order to reach the top from the Bimont dam (the lake down below)
you must walk along the ridge.

Proof that Jim made it to the top of  Ste-Victoire, his year-long goal. 
Pictured with Martin.



Yes, we just climbed that.
Now, where is that nice tap with cold water?

RECIPE OF THE WEEK: PETITE ÉPEAUTRE SALAD
This salad is perfect for a picnic on a hike or a pot-luck dinner.  You can make a little or make a lot, as it keeps well for several days.
Petite épeautre is an ancient grain from northern Provence which is making a big comeback. It has a very pleasing chewy texture. Our equivalent in Canada is either spelt or wheatberries.
Begin by rinsing a cup of either spelt or wheatberries under cold running water. Then simmer it in about three cups of chicken broth until tender but not mushy, around 20 – 30 minutes. Add salt part way through. Check frequently to be sure there is always some liquid, adding hot water if necessary. When it is ready, drain it if there is still some liquid remaining.
Put it in a medium bowl. Add a couple of chopped green onions, a large tomato, chopped (or some halved cherry tomatoes), a handful of sliced mint, and a dressing of lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper. Stir well. Keep in the fridge until serving time.

VARIATIONS:
You can add any number of other ingredients to vary it a bit. For example, black olives, marinated artichokes, chopped red bell pepper, basil, parsley or chives.

Petite épeautre salad


Bon appétit,
Andrea