Lost in Provence

Fête du Melon

Restaurant Prevot

Our internet service is up and running, and just in time for me to tell you about last week's excursion to Cavaillon for the annual melon festival. For those of you imagining this event has something to do with France's policy regarding toplessness on its beaches (they are pro), those aren't the kind of melons I mean. Perv.

This festival, held in the Provençal village known for having the best melon in all of France, features tastings, cooking competitions, open air meals and stands selling every type of melon-based product imaginable. Also on the schedule was the honor of "best melon" being bestowed upon some lucky cucurbitaceae (yes, people here take it seriously enough to know the fruit's family name) by the honorable Chevaliers of the Order of the Melon of Cavaillon (no kidding).

Melon cocktail with choux pastries, mushrooms

Unfortunately, however, we got some faulty information and arrived a full day before the real festivities were scheduled to begin. So we missed all of that stuff. We did have an unforgettable lunch at the spectacularly famous Restaurant Prevot, though. Jean-Jacques Prevot is known throughout France (further, even, as I've seen articles about his restaurant in English magazines as well) for his haute cuisine approach to the humble melon.

 

Deep-fried melon and melon crumble

He first began experimenting with different ways to prepare melon thirty years ago, and it took twenty-five before his ideas really caught on, an anecdote he shared with us when he came out to our table to say hello and even pose for a picture with us. People in Cavaillon thought he was crazy for suggesting that a melon might be baked or fried or served in any fashion other than sliced into wedges. He stuck with his vision, though, and his lifetime devotion to the melon is evident in every corner of the restaurant, where his sketches and paintings of melons hang on every wall and melon-shaped knick-knacks cover the surface of every shelf and sideboard.

 

Lobster and melon soup

The real attraction, though, was the meal itself, to which I can only hope that my description will do justice. Even the rolls were in the shape of melons! Photos of each course of the meal can be found under "Photos" at right.

We started with a melon-flavored cocktail called Mélanis (buy a bottle to take home!), served on ice with a melon ball floating on the top. This came with mushrooms sautéed in garlic and olive oil and tiny choux pastries with thick-cut smoked ham skewered on top of them.  

Next arrived a savory melon crumble topped with minced guinea hen and a deep-fried melon accompanied by a tiny snifter of caramel sauce. Then we enjoyed cold melon soup with a melon ball and black sesame seed salad, which tasted as though a splash of the aforementioned melon alcohol had been added.

Jean-Jacques Prevot and Johann

Then came the big guns: melon and sea bass layered and served upon a hot stone with a melon seed sauce and a side of steamed green and yellow zucchini with ginger. And in case you thought you had seen it all, lobster and melon soup baked inside a Cavaillon melon with a flaky crust on top.

 

Dessert was a trio of melon delights, including a slice of melon sautéed in vanilla and rum, fresh melon slices surrounded by raspberry mascarpone and a melon macaroon surrounding a scoop of homemade melon sorbet.

Needless to say, Restaurant Prevot lived up to its well-deserved reputation for serving fresh, delicious, totally original dishes. Bravo, Jean-Jacques. On behalf of these two diners, thanks for sticking with it. We can't think of a better way to celebrate the virtues of melon and after this lunch, we didn't feel bad about missing the festivities at all.

 

Letter to a Nation

Dear France,

Listen, we have to talk. I think that we both know that lately, things haven’t been going so well. Now, don’t freak out. We’re not breaking up or anything.

 

I still love your gourmet cooking, your affordable but delicious wines, your fine weather, your enchanting scenery, the sound of your beautiful language… And it’s the little things, too: the straw baskets women bring to the open markets to carry home their produce, your perfectly buttery croissants, the way you refuse to embrace Crocs (which, let’s be honest, are the ugly bastard shoe children of those 80s jelly sandals and the clog)...

 

But there is a problem, here, so I suppose I should get to the point. I just don’t feel like you’re making an effort in some pretty sizable aspects of our relationship. Internet service, for example. Now I’m sure you are aware of the importance of the internet in our daily lives, unless you haven’t picked up a magazine or read a newspaper since the day before the internet was invented. And, as you know, we haven’t had internet service for THREE WEEKS now.

 

Yes, I admit that upon calling Wanadoo for service, a technician did, in fact, turn up at our house and attempt to diagnose the problem. And having lived here for nearly five years and being familiar with the Wanadoo way of doing things, I didn’t really expect that his visit would result in our service being restored. So don’t accuse me of having unrealistic expectations. But here’s the thing: after he left the house, not only did the internet not work, but our phone was out of service, too. So the Wanadoo guy not only didn’t fix anything, things were actually MORE BROKEN when he left.

 

A week later, my phone rang and on the other end was a man from Wanadoo who said he was calling to ask if my home phone was working. DUDE, YOU'RE CALLING ME ON MY HOME PHONE!!! "Yes, it's working," I said politely, adding under my breath, "Idiot." 

 

Now, can you blame me if I “wanna do” something drastic like burn down their corporate headquarters?

 

Yes, yes, I realize that the fact that I’ve blogged this to you means that I have access to the internet at this very moment, but that is only because I am sitting in the only establishment within 30 miles of my house to offer free Wifi service. And it’s a McDonald’s. MCDONALD’S!!! That’s the best you can do? In fact, I’m not even going to give you credit for that, since it’s an American company and all.

 

And you call yourself the birthplace of the Age of Reason? Shame on you.

 

So here's the deal. You need to get it together. I know how you hate ultimatums, but if I don’t see you make more of an effort, here, I’m going to think about seeing other countries. Modern countries. Technologically advanced countries. Countries like Japan or Germany. 

 

The ball's in your court, France.