Oh My Gordes

Some French villages are real. They have prospered and struggled with the ages and the ebb and flow of humans - the traits of the inhabitants varying as much as the quantity. One century, a byroad brings trade and wealth. The next war and desolation. Children leave for the big smoke. Families return for the simple life. Epiceries and cafes open and close with the tides of population. The walls talk. The hotel de ville attends their chatter through time. The residents pass them in their daily routine without a thought, but once a day, somebody like me will stop and stroke the 800 year old mortar and tell the village it is still beautiful.
Some French villages are pretend. Like a gingerbread house, they are overtly coloured, marked in detail, unbelievably in tact, too good to be true. There are no unfashionable old folk, no weedy window boxes, no shaggy drunks lingering at the cafe de commerce. There are a profusion of cadeaux stores, ATMs and glacieres. It is possible to buy 50 varieties of caramel but none of toilet paper. Streets are smoothly cobbled and mortar stays neatly in it's place, free of lichen and slovenliness. Flags line streets. War weapons with appropriate wood distress fill nooks. Restaurants with set menus, wicker chairs and Silver cutlery take up the best views. At midnight the bell tolls and the village disappears. Nobody lives there except the night guards, and the life and soul disappears until the gates reopen at 9am.
Gordes is something in between. It's walls are too even and facilities too perfect for it to be a genuinely evolved village. But people live there, and they treasure it daily. It's reconstructed, but for love, not the tourist dollar. Much of the village was demolished during WWII, when it was an active Resistance area.  The population dropped under 1000 at this point, but after an initial period of reconstruction and then its "discovery" by artists such as Chagall and Deyrolle, others flooded to reglorify the site.

Stone walls without glue line the narrow roads to Gordes. They look like baps or rock scones, stacked carefully. They appear fragile and simultaneously ancient - how they stay in place is a mystery. Occasionally a 'borie' interrupts the fence line - a little rock-scone house, with a doorway, without a door, with a window, without glass. They were constructed only about 200-300 years ago, but look stone-age in their simplicity. Only a kilometer or so out of town, a whole village of them exists, trapped in time like art on a canvas. Useless but unique, somehow inexplicably necessary.

Gordes itself is a warren of steep cobbled paths leading off a roundabout. The center of most streets is stepped, aiding the precarious walkers and forbidding cars for the most part. As with most hilltop towns, a castle dominates, but more exciting is what can be found underneath - not only in the palace cellar, but other small private cellars open around the village. Their natural rock walls blend with man's work perfectly. Builders have retained much of the shape, and moulded the needs of their underground rooms to suit. To my dismay, they contain in the main, olive oil, not wine.
CMy wine dreams were however answered at La Bastide de Gordes, just down the hill from the roundabout. It's a hotel with a sublime wine shop next-door, specializing in local wines of course, but with a few staples like Chablis and Champagne to contrast. I discovered a Muscat de Baumes de Venise that changed my opinion on the variety there - now, I believe there are good examples. Alain Ignace, your Muscat actually tastes like muscat should - like nectar sucked from a jasmine stem. You need to put the price up - 10 Euros for a half bottle is way too cheap.
The wine store is next-door to the hotel, which has unassuming doors leading through to a terrace of insane beauty. We dined there under Mulberry trees sipping biodynamic rose and eating gazpacio de poivron avec gambas (My own tried and tested inspired recipe below). Then we swiped pieces of the kids menu (and by the way, carre d'agneau - square lamb - actually refers to backstrap). The beef tartare had a welcome twist de la maison, and came fully prepared (it is often served unmixed so the diner may add their preferred proportions of egg, capers, spice etc.) Dessert was eaten before the camera lens was off. All of this was accompanied by friendly service despite the wealthy surroundings. We left full and satisfied almost to the point of tears. Even now, thinking back, I well up with joy.

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Gazpacio of red capsicum with prawns

Ingredients:
For the soup:

• 4 ripe tomatoes, deseeded and chopped
• 2 red capsicums (peppers)
• 1 medium continental cucumber (or 2 small lebanese), peeled, deseeded and chopped
• 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
• 1 clove garlic
• 1 small salad onion, chopped
• 1 tbsp creme fraiche
• salt, pepper, brown sugar and tabasco to taste

For the topping:

• 12-16 medium prawns, peeled and deveined
• 4 slices bread, buttered (preferably baguette)
• 2 cloves garlic, sliced into discs
• salt and pepper
• fresh dill and/or parsley leaves
• squeeze of lemon juice

Instructions:

1. Grill whole capsicums until blackened, then remove skin and chop. (see note)
2. Add all ingredients to a blender and whizz until smooth, adding salt, pepper, brown sugar and tabasco to taste, then chill for at least an hour, preferably two.
3. On a high heat on the stovetop, pan-fry garlic in a dash of olive oil. When just going golden, add prawns, salt and pepper and cook for a couple of minutes until flesh is opaque. Set aside to cool, and don't clean the pan yet.
4. Plate up the soup, placing prawns and crispy garlic wedges and herbs on top, then squeezing lemon over.
5. Pan-fry the bread, and place on top of the soup.

Serves 4 
note:to grill capsicums, if you have a gas stove, simply light a large burner, and place the capsicum directly on the flame, turning with tongs as it blackens. If you have an electric stove, put the grill on high and place underneath close to the element, turning every minute or so until black. When cool, skin should peel off nicely, and particularly if you have used flame, will have a smokey flavor.
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Extra information on Gordes can be found on their website here.
I thoroughly recommend dining at the restaurant at La Bastide de Gordes, or at least having a coffee on the terrace. www.bastide-de-gordes.com They are open for lunch and dinner every day, and have an excellent Menu de Jour that changes according to what is found at market that day.
Market day is Tuesday, but is probably best avoided for those with a car - parking is limited and walks are bound to be steep.
Some of Gordes is easily accessible for those with disabilities or walking difficulties, but not all of it. Some would say the greatest attraction is in walking the streets, and many of those are paved with danger.