Open air markets dot the French countryside, but few are able to shut down a whole town. The Foire de Rouillac, held each month on the 27th day, is just such a market. A mixture of community, commerce, and just a hint of chaos, the vendors and their stalls line streets and alleys, parks and parking lots. Nearly every element of life in France is represented or on sale. Not only are there butchers, fish mongers, and sellers of produce seasonal to the time, but also available are an array of live animals to stock or restock a property: dozens of types of fowl, several varieties of rabbit, more chicken breeds than thought existed, dogs, goats, even donkeys. That is just the beginning. Tables of local artisans are loaded with cheeses, breads, wine, olives, numerous types of saucisson, and jambon cru. Snaking through the narrow streets there are hawkers of knives, kitchenwares, aprons, housecoats, socks, underwear, leather goods, music, and oil clothes for the table. If you need some chairs caned? Done. Looking to buy any type of garden/farming tool, right down to a tractor? Done. It is a true celebration of country life in it's most simple and humble form.
Arriving in the early morning with guests who had trained down from Paris the previous afternoon (A few days well spent acclimating to the jet lag.), we dove right in. A light meal of roasted quail, and a good night's rest, and they were more than game. After initially making the rounds together, some then broke off to adventure on their own. For a few hours we wandered and explored, stopping to collect things that would be used the next day spent playing in the kitchen. We eventually reconvened at a designated café, driven by the smells of food in the air: a wall of rotisserie chickens roasting above a fire of hard wood, grills covered in different types of sausage, fresh water eel tossed in an enormous pan with garlic, olive oil, herbs, and lemon. It was time to eat!
We slid into the waiting arms of Auberge de Fin Bois, where we had reserved spots in the dinning room striped in long communal tables. Never known to before, they did not disappoint. A soup of roasted pumpkin and chestnuts got us started, and was followed by filets of salmon in tomato, capers, and white wine. Next came a succulent pork cheek braised in red Bordeaux until it fell apart to the fork, set upon lentils to add an earthy richness. Salad and cheese of course followed, a runny cow's milk version from a farm a few villages away proved to be my favorite of the five or so offered. Nervous laughter passed across the table, and perhaps a belt notch or two was loosened, when the pear tartes started to arrive. We wisely passed on cognac with coffee, the heat of the afternoon along with full bellies calling out for the cool water of the pool waiting for us back home.
http://www.chez-gautier.com
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