Birthday in Provence

Fall Colours in a Provencal Vineyard

My Father first met Michel at a Resilience Alliance conference in Tofino and Gabriola Island two years ago.  They spent many hours talking about environmental issues, politics, family history, and ecology.  While on Gabriola, my father told Michel that it, and the other Gulf Islands, are Canada’s equivalent to a Mediterranean ecosystem.  Michel, a Mediterranean ecologist, was aghast and promised that he would show my father a real Mediterranean ecosystem if he ever came to Provence.  Our main purpose in traveling to Provence was for us to meet Michel—and to see and learn about a “real” Mediterranean ecosystem. 

Unfortunately, Provence was experiencing unseasonal “Scottish weather” and our tour of the Mediterranean forests was very Vancouver-esque.  We learned that in France, regional parks are not just put aside as park land.  They are also managed for development, conservation, tourism, and hunting.  The pine forests burn regularly and each tree bears fire scars—charred and blackened bark around the lower portion of the trunk.  There are several types of native pines in France and some introduced species of pines.  However, every sixty or seventy years there is one winter that is fifteen degrees colder than normal and all the introduced species die.  The last time this happened, all the introduced pines died and left whole mountainsides barren.  The understory of the native pine forests is made up of a thick carpet of oak bushes.  This same type of plant is an actual tree in Greece, but in France it somehow evolved into a bush with 90% of its biomass below ground. 

Les Bulots et Crevettes

After our tour of Provence’s forests, we were invited to a traditionally-sized dinner at Michel and Sarah’s house.  The first dish, the entrée, was an amazing pile of prawns and bulots—sea snails.  The process for extracting the snail from its shell with the skewer was quite exact; it required a sort of twist and flick motion with your wrist. When done properly, the digestive system stays in the shell and only the edible parts pop out.  I, however, was having extreme difficulties and kept pulling the whole snail out.  When I finally got to taste one, it wasn’t what I had expected, the bulots tasted similar to a giant clam but with a more intense and complex flavour. 

The “plat principal” was cod, cheese, and potatoes baked together in manner that kind of resembled a soufflé—except much better.  This cod dish is a specialty of Nimes, a completely landlocked city about an hour from Avignon.  When the east-coast cod fishery was booming in the 1800’s, Canadian cod was shipped all over Europe.  Nimes was one of the recipients of this fishy bounty.  However, the ships that brought their loads of fish to Nimes couldn’t return to Canada empty, so they filled their holds with a hardy fabric made in Nimes: denim (de Nimes).

After the cod, we ate the salad, and then the dessert, which was a cheese selection.  My father and I tried to guess whether the cheese was goat, sheep, or cow, and whether it was made with pasteurized milk or not.  We were right only some of the time. 

They are just about to flower...

Michel has an amazing cacti and Lithops collection.  Lithops means “living stone” and are so called because they camouflage so perfectly in their native South African stoney deserts.  They are succulents that are perfectly adapted to extreme drought and life in the desert.  Lithops germinate in two weeks and then spend the next three years of their life as tiny green buds.  A mature Lithops has two leaves with deep pores on the top that are for catching sunlight.  In the fall, a flower grows between the two leaves.  After flowering, two new leaves are formed between the old and the water in the old leaves is completely absorbed into the new leaves.  The plant needs no water from the time it is done flowering in the Fall to the Spring when the old leaves are completely desiccated and dry. 

On our last night with Michel, he gave me one of his Lithops.  My Lithops has two parts to the plant – four leaves – which I now know means it is very old.  The plant, which Michel grew from seed, is—FIFTEEN years old!  A plant the area of two pennies is older than my brother.  I now have this immense responsibility to care for this fascinating plant and to observe its rigorous lifecycle. 

The Traditional Birthday Cookie

As my brother pointed out yesterday, we have had one birthday in each country we have visited—and his was in France.  We spent November 4^th according to his wishes, exploring the Provence countryside trying to find caves.  Unfortunately, all the caves were closed because of the unseasonal torrential downpours but we still visited some medieval ruins and raging rivers.  Also, Georgie was allowed to buy anything he wanted at any boulangerie we saw.  I have never seen meringues so big! 

Georgie’s party really started in the evening.  The four of us traipsed over to Michel and Sarah’s to delight in some celebratory crepes (actually a specialty of Normandy and Brittany).  Then the six of us went out for a birthday dinner at a place that redefined chic. The food was spectacular; each plate was arranged as an artistic masterpiece and they tasted the way the looked.  Ahhh.