Lost In Limoges

From the sheep-dotted pastures of France's underpopulated Southwest, Limoges rises in all its grey glory. The city's claim to fame: fine porcelain. The half-timbered houses of the Medieval center are surrounded by strip malls and McDo. Land-hungry Brits descend with flailing pocketbooks (thanks, RyanAir). The weather is remarkably cool year-round. Sure, I live on rue de Nice, but this is NOT the Cote d'Azur. Welcome to Limoges, "the middle of nowhere"-- or as Pierre says "everywhere"-- France.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Périgueux and the Marché de Gras


Before winter's end, I was obsessed with checking out the truffle market in the city of Périgueux, the capital of the Dordogne. The region is known for its marvelous confits, foie gras, and enormous black truffles, and the place to go for all these tasty treats is the Marché de Gras. (Somehow the English translation-- fat market-- doesn't quite sound so appealing.) One fine Saturday morning in February, we set out from Limoges and arrived on the place St-Louis just in time to wander through the market, eying the strange goose parts (and tasting the artisanal walnut oil). I watched a pretty vendor attend to her customers one-handed, as she hugged a little toy dog with her other arm. I was so mesmerized, in fact, that I missed the glorious bounty of truffles that she had carefully arranged next to her jars of homemade paté on the table. Alas, I missed my chance to see the last precious mushrooms of the season.

(The market pictured in the photo is just as fun to explore. Located on place de la Clautre, the fruit and vegetable market sprawls across the square beneath the beautiful domed cathedral.)

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