IT’S BEEN 7000 YEARS!

The humble olive! A fruit (yes, my friend, it's a fruit, not a vegetable) as mysterious and complicated as your recently divorced friend’s relationship status on Zuckerberg’s evil Facething. The olive's history is so entwined with human civilization it's practically writing its own book of never-ending history.

First off, the olive tree's origin: a tale as convoluted as an overcooked French ratatouille. Some say olives first graced the earth in the Eastern Mediterranean (Greece) around 7,000 years ago. Others argue its ancestors were gallivanting around Asia Minor. What's certain is that the olive tree has seen more history than the kitchen walls of my favorite falafel shop in the Muslim quarter of old Jerusalem.

Let's travel to ancient Greece, shall we? They used olive oil like it was going out of style (or, more accurately, coming into style). A hot bath with olive oil? Check. A dollop of oil in their food? Of course! Anointing themselves to look all shiny and godlike? You bet! Even their athletes were slathered in it, making them glisten like greased lightning.

Oh, but we're not done! Let's not overlook the brilliant Italians who used the olive as an opportunity to create something to serve with bread. The audacity! Who would've thought that pressing the life out of an olive could result in a culinary masterpiece? "Extra Virgin" and nothing else.

We can’t ignore the Spanish, who took one look at olives and thought, "Let's put this in everything!" They've cultivated an art form out of olive growing and turned their countryside into an olive oasis. A landscape dotted with olive trees as far as the eye can see.

Now, if you thought the olive's talents were restricted to food and skincare, brace yourself for its foray into home décor. Yes, that rustic-looking charcuterie board you just bought for an obscene amount of money? “Probably” made from olive wood. Those kitchen utensils that have a certain je ne sais quoi? Olive wood again! That fancy pipe you're using to smoke whatever with? We Canadians have a government that now encourages our “best and brightest” stoners to get in on a piece of their very own olive wood action. Yep, olive wood; it's as if these trees are begging us to use every part of them.

Think of an olive as a compact little universe of flavor. Each one is like a plot twist in your favorite TV show. Will it be bitter? Will it be sweet? Will it be stuffed with something inexplicable, like blue cheese or garlic? The suspense is real!

But alas, dear olive, what's the use of all this fame and fortune if you end up pitted and jammed into a jar, only to be retrieved during cocktail hour? The irony is palpable. A fruit with such a rich history reduced to a mere hors d'oeuvre. It's like finding the Mona Lisa on a postage stamp.

But wait, there’s more (Shamwow reference time) I've neglected the pièce de résistance of our olive odyssey: the Provençal olive market vendors! Oh, these marvelous men, masters of the olive, orchestrators of oil, tantalizers of tapenades. Dressed in their rustic ensembles (or jeans and t-shirts), they lure you into their stalls with smiles as oily as their wares and charm that could melt a pat of French butter on a freezing winter’s day.

In the bustling markets of Provence, you'll find an extravaganza of olive delights. Want an olive mix that combines the best of both worlds (or, in this case, the best of all worlds)? They've got you covered. From the sweet Picholine to the robust Tanche, each blend plays with your senses. The tapenades? Oh, don't get me started! These are not mere spreads; these are symphonies in a bowl. Whether it's a mixture of olives with capers, anchovies, and herbs or a delightful concoction of sundried tomatoes, garlic, and perhaps a whisper of truffle oil, each taste is an escape to the sunny hills of Southern France. It's a love affair between your taste buds and a Mediterranean breeze, prepared for your trip home in a “safety-first” plastic container guaranteed to prevent spillage 83% of the time.

So, the next time you visit your local supermarket, spare a thought for the olives in aisle three. Behind those glass jars lies a world of intrigue, passion, and culinary excellence. Embrace the contradictions, the unexpected surprises, and the unmistakable taste of the olive. After all, isn't that what life's all about?

Raise a glass to olives, dear readers. Or better yet, raise a martini adorned with one. It's the least we can do for a fruit that's been with us through thick and thin, through salads and sandwiches, through victories and defeats.

(Note: All images were captured with the self-confidence of someone who “thinks” he knows something about olives and his Leica Q2.)

Feel free to comment below if you, like me, find yourself inexplicably drawn to the world of olives. Or if you just like martinis. Either way, your thoughts are welcome and very much appreciated!

Live well!

Cheers…

M.

A LUBERON LUNCH.

I have been back in the south of France for nearly a week now. Uncharacteristically, at no time since I arrived have I even thought about taking a camera out from my bag. This trip has been different. This trip has been more about regular meetings with our interior designer and driving from nearby village to nearby village to tour and consider some of her most recent commissions. 

A wonderful byproduct of these little adventures has been the opportunity to sample some of the most wonderful local lunchtime cuisine. Each meal has been clearly prepared by a highly skilled and experienced gastronomic professional.  As with every Provençal restaurant, the experience begins when you are greeted at the door by the front of house staff. Their smiles, courteousness and impecable manners are exactly what you hope for every time you dine out, no matter where or when.  It’s always best to choose your meal by what is suggested by table staff. It seems only a fool (and I have been a fool many times in the past) would fail to accept a suggestion that ensures only the freshest and most in season choices find their way to your table. I hope to find time for my camera later in the week, but for now I leave you with the memories of a late lunch or two. 

Going forward, we have a couple of lovely day trips planned. Then on Thursday we take our leave from Bonnieux and travel north from Avignon by train for 36 hours of jam packed fun in Paris. Until then, I wish for your week to be as full and enjoyable as ours hopes to be.
Please leave a short comment if you get a chance. I am very happy to hear from people far and wide!

Live well!

Mark.

LUNCH AT LA PETITE HISTOIRE.

Gargas brings the location, and the two-man band in front and back of the house provides the experience. Today's visit was my second to La Petite Histoire. The first occasion was a couple of years ago with Dale on the heels of our Turkey and Isreal trip. That was for dinner, and I was presented with a tomahawk steak bigger than my arm. Dale had a similarly sized octopus tentacle.

Today was for lunch, as the title indicates, and there were several option combinations that you can see on the menu in the photograph above. My meal was tremendous, and I am already looking forward to my next visit as a result. You will notice a chocolate number at the end. I had to. My face was so sore from yesterday. I had a cheeky beer and an incredible espresso to round out the 2 hours I spent with the happy, professional staff who double as co-owners. I would recommend a visit without any hesitation.

Live well!

Mark

p.s. All the images below were captured with the Leica Q2.

Ravioli

Beef with chorizo risotto and red wine demi glaze.

Chocolate Tarte

TODAY’S LUNCH IN GOULT.

I used to ask myself why it is easier to find rocking horse poo than fast food in France. More on that later. Yesterday in a moment of madness I wrongly assumed that I could saunter in to a well reviewed local restaurant and get a seat. Not a chance.

However, being persistent in combination with a fleeting moment of brilliance, I made a reservation to return today. I arrived at 11:45 and just before the rush at La Terrasse in Goult.

Today’s formule consisted of two choices for each course. For the entree, I decided on the Salmon Tartare. My plat du jour was Chicken Roti and for afters a dark chocolate concoction that nearly caused me to tear up. I rarely eat a meal where every ingredient is distinguishable. From refreshing tartare in lime juice to rich and hearty jus with perfectly prepared chicken and roast vegetables.

This is a bold statement, but this was one of the most memorable meals of my life. I am seriously more interested in finding rocking horse poo now, no matter how long I have for lunch. Truly outstanding. I will be back on Saturday.

Please leave a comment if you have time. 

Live well!

Mark

All images captured with an Iphone XR (Old School)!

I finally did it! A two hour lunch. I am officially Provencal…