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Points northeast...
Jun. 24th, 2011 07:48 pmWe got on the road headed roughly northeast this morning, with the intention of stopping at Ménerbes, an old fortress village and a Huguenot stronghold. I was also particularly interested in visiting a museum there dedicated to truffles and wine.
The town is old and sleepy and like most small towns we've seen so far, there are no franchise operations in town hawking fast food or anything else. One gift shop we passed also served light refreshments as part of its business model. And smack in the middle of town, we ran into the town's lord of all he surveyed, who was, um, "hanging out."
Of course, I don't know if it was the middle of town, either. I do know that the road led us ever upward, until we got to the top of the mountain.
The scenery did not quite have the majesty of a Grand Canyon, but any such comparison would be unfair both to Ménerbes and to the Grand Canyon. The view from Ménerbes was overwhelmingly green, with only the straight lines of the vineyards and the occasional neat patches of lavender blue to betray a human presence (that, and the zig-zag pattern of the verticals and horizontals cut into the mountain at the quarry on the other side of the valley).
We visited the truffle and wine museum, and although there really wasn't all that much going on, I happened to catch one of the staff members with two plastic boxes filled with summer truffles, which were on sale for €20 per 100 g, or about $135 per pound, which is a pretty good price compared with, say, the Central Market in Houston (though it should be kept in mind we're talking about summer truffles in an industry that looks to December–January as the "main" season for these fungi). As I passed the town hall later, I caught sight of a notice reminding all prospective truffle-hunters to make sure they procured the requisite permit to do so, which costs €300.
The town, like many that we've seen, is a warren of narrow streets that have a definite three-dimensional aspect to them. At the very, very top of the town is a large private house, guarded by a pair of stone lions, equipped with a stone well, and festooned with a concrete rooster in place of a gargoyle along one of its rampart-like walls. Here's a shot of one of the comfortable shaded corners.
Ménerbes was a very pleasant town to visit. Very relaxing.
The countryside is dotted with signs directing the automotive traveler to any one of a number of domaines vinicoles, or vineyards, where one can taste some wine (and, naturally, buy some). When we passed a sign for the Château de Mille, which advertised "Le grand vin du Luberon" ("The great wine of the Luberon region") and claimed an existence that reached back to the 12th century, I turned in to see what we could see. I am glad we did.
The entrance road was, like most roads we've seen, narrow enough to make me glad we didn't encounter anyone leaving as we were arriving, but once we arrived and got out of the car, I was struck by the tranquility of the place and how good it felt just to look around. We turned a corner and saw a giant elliptical barrel that must've measured a good dozen feet along the major axis (in response to a question of mine, the proprietress told me it was called a "foudre," as in the French word for "lightning," and was at least a century old).
The family that runs the vineyard has been in the business for five generations, and some of the buildings of the complex apparently do date back to the 12th century, when the château was the summer residence of the Avignon popes.
Galina and I tried some of the vineyard's product and bought a few bottles of the winemaker's art for later, along with a bottle of vinegar seasoned with Provence herbs.
In fact, I'm thinking that now would not be a bad time to break out a corkscrew.
The town is old and sleepy and like most small towns we've seen so far, there are no franchise operations in town hawking fast food or anything else. One gift shop we passed also served light refreshments as part of its business model. And smack in the middle of town, we ran into the town's lord of all he surveyed, who was, um, "hanging out."
Of course, I don't know if it was the middle of town, either. I do know that the road led us ever upward, until we got to the top of the mountain.
The scenery did not quite have the majesty of a Grand Canyon, but any such comparison would be unfair both to Ménerbes and to the Grand Canyon. The view from Ménerbes was overwhelmingly green, with only the straight lines of the vineyards and the occasional neat patches of lavender blue to betray a human presence (that, and the zig-zag pattern of the verticals and horizontals cut into the mountain at the quarry on the other side of the valley).
We visited the truffle and wine museum, and although there really wasn't all that much going on, I happened to catch one of the staff members with two plastic boxes filled with summer truffles, which were on sale for €20 per 100 g, or about $135 per pound, which is a pretty good price compared with, say, the Central Market in Houston (though it should be kept in mind we're talking about summer truffles in an industry that looks to December–January as the "main" season for these fungi). As I passed the town hall later, I caught sight of a notice reminding all prospective truffle-hunters to make sure they procured the requisite permit to do so, which costs €300.
The town, like many that we've seen, is a warren of narrow streets that have a definite three-dimensional aspect to them. At the very, very top of the town is a large private house, guarded by a pair of stone lions, equipped with a stone well, and festooned with a concrete rooster in place of a gargoyle along one of its rampart-like walls. Here's a shot of one of the comfortable shaded corners.
Ménerbes was a very pleasant town to visit. Very relaxing.
The countryside is dotted with signs directing the automotive traveler to any one of a number of domaines vinicoles, or vineyards, where one can taste some wine (and, naturally, buy some). When we passed a sign for the Château de Mille, which advertised "Le grand vin du Luberon" ("The great wine of the Luberon region") and claimed an existence that reached back to the 12th century, I turned in to see what we could see. I am glad we did.
The entrance road was, like most roads we've seen, narrow enough to make me glad we didn't encounter anyone leaving as we were arriving, but once we arrived and got out of the car, I was struck by the tranquility of the place and how good it felt just to look around. We turned a corner and saw a giant elliptical barrel that must've measured a good dozen feet along the major axis (in response to a question of mine, the proprietress told me it was called a "foudre," as in the French word for "lightning," and was at least a century old).
The family that runs the vineyard has been in the business for five generations, and some of the buildings of the complex apparently do date back to the 12th century, when the château was the summer residence of the Avignon popes.
Galina and I tried some of the vineyard's product and bought a few bottles of the winemaker's art for later, along with a bottle of vinegar seasoned with Provence herbs.
In fact, I'm thinking that now would not be a bad time to break out a corkscrew.
