Peter Mayle: “That evening my wife and I ate at all of England”

Peter Mayla we love long and full. He, in particular, is devoted to one of my previous posts, where you can see a list of his books and the history of their basis for Ridley Scott’s movie “Good year”.

And generally Mayle prominently on our shelves – in our “wine library fiction” (and this happens). His books about Provence wine – it is easily and naturally, very funny, sometimes just hilarious lyrics in the style of diary entries. Non somehow too logical story, so you can open anywhere – and are guaranteed to receive a dose of good mood. How, indeed, do all those millions of readers, who sweep the circulation of his books, translated into dozens of languages.


For example, an excerpt of the gastronomic traditions of Provence. Terrific and wonderful list of dishes, situations that have been to dinner at one of the houses, where Mayle and his wife were invited to meet with the local community. Vegetarians, fans of a starvation diet, as well as defenders of thrushes – reading is not recommended.

So, Peter Mayle. Year in Provence (1989), Russian language edition – Amphora, 2008, p.22-25:

“The owner brought a tray of beverages: pastis for men and cooled sweet muscat for the ladies …
… Followed a meal quantity and quality superior to anything that has happened to us before.

To begin with homemade pizza – not one, but three, with anchovies, mushrooms and cheese – and we were forced to take a slice of each. Then our Messmates carefully wiped plate slices bread, torn from the five-foot long loaves, and the hostess made the following dish – pate of rabbit, boar, and thrushes. Then flavored terrine of pork, flavored with marc. Then saucissons with grains of black pepper. Then the tiny, sweet onions, marinated in fresh tomato juice.

Then the plates and wiped again, and in the dining room made a duck. Of course, this dish had nothing to do with three thin slices the breast, which in elegant restaurants in a fan spread on the plate and getting polluted graceful stroke of the sauce. Here we were treated to entire breast and legs intact, generously watered by a thick spicy sauce, garnished with wild mushrooms.

Not without difficulty, we have eaten duck and wearily leaned back, thankful that our unaccustomed stomachs were able to accommodate all this abundance, but she saw with horror that the rest of the guests, once again wiping plates, a madam puts on the table, a huge steaming pot of his crowning dish – a thick civet (stew – fr.) rabbit magnificent chocolate color.

Our tentative pleas for smaller portions were met incredulous smile, and strongly rejected. We ate civet. And the green salad with garlic croutons, fried in olive oil. And another round, plump crottins (kruglyash – fr.) Goat cheese and gateau (cake – fr.) Cream and almonds, made her daughter owners. That evening my wife and I ate at all of England.

The coffee master exhibited on a table with a collection of curves bottles with local digestifs. At the sight of them I probably would have dropped the heart, but I was so tightly packed with food, that he simply had no place to fall …

… I rescued a cat. From his vantage point above the old canteen, she noticed the moth, and rushed after her, landed directly on the table in the middle of coffee cups and bottles. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion owners, my wife and I hurried farewells and fled.

We walked along the path, with difficulty bearing in front of bulging stomachs, unable to talk and not feeling quite cold, and houses collapsed into bed and slept all night like the dead. “