France takes a holiday


Every church bell in Vence pealed for 30 minutes Friday morning starting at 10:35, presumably in a call to Mass on All Saints' Day. Most businesses are closed while families spruce up their ancestors' gravesites or, more likely, Netflix the day away. The analagous observance in Latin America and the American Southwest would be Dia de los Muertos, though my sense is that the latter is more celebratory (death is just as beautiful as life, etc.)

Anyway, the bedrock tenet of touristing in France is unchanged: First thing in the morning, before you brush your teeth, hie thee to the nearest boulangerie and get a baguette or two, because when you get home at 6 p.m., they will all be gone and you will be stuck with some gross multigrain brick at the supermarket that no one wants.

Boulangerie baguette prices in Vence currently hover at 1.10e ― unchanged since this tourist last visited France six years ago. Boulangerie du Peyra was open today and its baguettes have the cratered, irregular little air pockets one dreams about. Any worries about southern France not being able to deliver on this promise were unwarranted. They have the same super-hot but humid ovens that Paris does.


Skinny (but still quite acceptable) loafs can be had at most grocery stores for about 0.70e. French law dictates that baguettes contain only four ingredients (flour, water, salt, yeast), but there are no price controls.

Might as well pick up a sweet while you're at it. This little lemon and blackcurrant cream cake (cassis citron) will linger in the memory bank for years to come. I haven't had a citric-induced sweat like this since Adelaide was making lemon pies. The bottom crust is graham-cracker-adjacent, but firmer ― biscuity but still crispy-chewy. What a balancing act. Make the chef a MacArthur fellow already.



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