La Festa de Païs

Being introduced as an Australian in a small town in France is a cheap ticket to celebrity: plenty of ‘Ah, bah, dis donc, vous êtes australienne! Bah, kangourouh! Oauis? Comment ça que vous parlez le français aussi bien? I’d add that the accent du sud, particularly in rural, mountainous areas like Cantal, lies somewhere between the strong and the indecipherable. The accent draws its particularities from the dialect spoken all over the south, l’Occitaine. It is extremely nasal, vowels are squashed flat and unexpectedly harsh consonants are added onto the ends of words: bien becomes being, pain becomes paing, and the g in vingt is loudly enunciated, for starters. Country folks speak slower than their city counterparts, but the difference between a broad Cantal accent and a Parisian one is tantamount to the difference between a British public school accent and a thick Scots brogue. I had ample opportunity to grapple with the Occitaine accent at the Foire de St. Flour, a fair in a town about an hour away from Thiezac.

As should be the case at any country fair, delights and attractions abounded. Many mini-tractors were on display. A tough looking man was sculpting decidedly un-tough mushrooms and fairies and birds out of blocks of wood with a chainsaw to great acclaim. I was very taken with the prize-winning cows and bulls. None of your Jerseys and Herefords here, only the best Limousins, Aubracs and Salers. Here’s a family of prize-winning Aubracs.

Of course, for me, the stalls devoted to local produce and regional food – most of them organic and all of them small scale – were the main event. I love the distinct gastronomic identities of different regions of France, all based on ingredients produced locally. Local snails, local berries, local lentils...

I’m not sure why I find the concept of la lentille blonde de St. Flour so deeply amusing. The delectable Puy lentils also hail from this part of France and are the basis of many good meals. Auvergnat food relies heavily on potatoes, cheese, and meat in all forms: sausage, terrine, hunks, chunks, joints. Hefty slow-cooked dishes which are split before serving into a soup and the melting meat and veggies are popular. Lard, butter, salt, garlic and olive oil seem to be added to all savoury dishes. Trout and local crayfish figure seasonally, as do berries, cabbage, honey, pumpkin, frogs, mushrooms, chestnuts, snails, rabbit and wild ingredients like dandelion leaves and nettles. Green vegetables are conspicuous by their absence as are what in other parts of the world are termed light meals. I’m not sure if the Auvergne is a great place for vegetarians, although I did meet a nice man who ran an organic vego retreat in the hills.

Loads of huge, pungent, delicious cheeses – that’s some nice old Tome above – were on show but no camembert or brie or Roquefort or other exotics. Instead, I tried Salers, a hard cheese made from the milk of the Salers cows; two blues, Fourme D’Ambert and Bleu d’Auvergne; lots of St. Nectaire; and Tome and Cantal aged from 3 days (ie fraîche) to two months old. Many variations on the theme of chèvre also brought me happiness. Myriam was on good terms with most of the organicos which meant plenty of tasting for me. I sampled until my belly was full and my heart was warm.

I note with approval this uninhibited display of saucisson sec at a stall selling only the charcuterie of the region, including an outrageously good terrine d’Auvergne which I ate for dinner. I wonder when the day will come that the onerous restrictions on Australian butchers and cheesemakers are lifted. Ya Basta! Raw milk cheeses! Slowly aged charcuterie! Now!