I recently returned from a trip to France with the Boy Who Flies. When he invited me to travel to Bedoin, France to visit him, I will admit I had to google where in the heck it was ( Vaucluse) , and how to get there. He is an avid cyclist and Bedoin sits at the foot of Mt. Ventoux, which is one of the Tour de France climbs and as such , is a bit of a religious ride for him. Having seen him in his bike shorts, I would have been a fool not to go.
We stayed in a tiny hotel , La Garance , which is right across the street from a fantastic restaurant and a tiny vineyard. This hotel is the sort where your croissant is served with fresh jam from the neighbors fruit.
Few things are an enjoyable as an evening eating food on a patio overlooking grape vines as the sun sets. For a boy who is not too romantic, he certainly picked a great setting for our dinners. The temperamental female chef made it a game to see if the restaurant would open in the evening. Apparently it is hard enough to keep a chef in a small town, they put up with divas.
Bedoin is built upon a hill side, crazy steep car free streets that make you feel like a 1950s film star walking through town in the evening. Nice to visit, but the fact you can hear your neighbors each and every movement made me glad not to live there. Note to self, wear flats next year..
We happened to stumble upon market day there, as we were leaving, and he gamely let me wander for an hour or two. After I restrained myself from buying up everything with a price tag, I was able to get some snaps with my phone, as my beloved camera is being repaired.
I was longing for a kitchen and a set of pots and pans after spying the food, herbs and spices. It is only a farmers market where you can wax over a bag of herbes de Provence and how best to use them, or which meat is best served with which spices and vinegar marinade. You could ( and I did) make a meal of the samples they were offering.
The bottles above are infused vinegars, which were all available to taste with bread, and has papers detailing what best to prepare with them.
I could have easily bought about a dozen of these baskets, but the Barbie doll sized car we rented kept my shopping aspirations pint sized. Next year I will know to bring an empty suitcase with me.
We also stopped in Vaison-la-Romain, which has to be one of my favorite villages in France. As soon as I can pry the photos Boy Who Flies took of the place, they will be posted, along with some of Mt Ventoux.