Saint Vincent Take Two

As the police officer walked away from me I said, "I'll see you later, Monsieur le Gendarme." 

He gave a hearty laugh and I told him not to worry, I had taken the train to the 71st Saint Vincent Tournante festival. This year's version of the celebration of the patron saint of winemakers was held in Vougeout and Gilly-les-Citeaux, the former known for, well, one of the most famous wines in Burgundy, and the latter for being next to the former. 

We had been to the 70th version of the event last year in Saint Aubin and 365 days in Burgundy had taught us an important lesson: LEAVE THE KIDS AT HOME WHEN YOU GO TO A WINE FESTIVAL. We hired a babysitter, put on eight layers of clothing, drove to Beaune, ditched the car, and got on the 11:33 train to Vougeout. As the mass of humanity boarded, one girl already in the train said, "What's going on? I take this train every Saturday and I've never seen so many people." Burgundy wine festivals will do that.

Upon arriving, we purchased our pack de dégustation, which included a commemorative glass and its carrier, a map, and seven tickets for different tastings. Our first stop was for a grand cru red, made exclusively from Pinot noir grapes. The local winemakers had pooled their supply for this unique event, creating an assemblage of different grand cru wines that would only be available for this weekend. On Monday, it would be impossible to find this particular wine ever again. The man pouring it gestured to the falling snow and said, "Try to warm it up with your hands."

The weather had made this the opposite of the ideal tasting conditions. Instead of a controlled environment, the wind was bitingly brisk, and all the wines were served al fresco, far from their optimal temperatures. The air was crowded with odors competing for the wine's aromas: roasting hams, cigarette smoke, melted cheese, French fries, and more than enough BO to go around. We cupped our glasses in our hands, trying to warm it, but the effort was wasted. It was like defrosting a snowy windshield with your breath. And yet, that first wine...well it was magic.

Marsannay la Côte Food Festival

Just a little bit south of the city of Dijon is the wine village of Marsannay-la-Côte. For 31 years, in the heart of grand crus, the town has invited locals and tourists alike to their “Gourmet Days.” Over a March weekend, dozens of vendors congregate in the town gym to showcase food from here and from there. The mayor speaks, the local Confrérie plays host, and, of course, the wine flows.

Food and photos always bring the politicians

From the ceiling hang giant kite-like dragons, butterflies, and other colorful beasts. It is difficult to decipher if this is part of the food day or just happenstance. Regardless, on the ground, the objectives are clear as a mountain morning: Tables sag under the weight of caloric treasures. 

Two men from the Jura sell sausages as thick as a forearm and cheeses in wheels that could fit a tractor. The artisan charcutier is doling out samples of his jambon persillé three ways: original, with mustard, and with foie gras. The latter is a taste sensation, and results in more than one billfold shrinking. Back by the entry, a woman and her teenage daughter are offering slices of horsemeat sausages. 

Across the room, a team is peddling dozens of types of…lasagna? Yes, lasagna. With mushrooms, snails, scallops, sausage, vegetables, bacon, tuna, smoked ham, or salmon. You kind of shake your head, wondering how they stay in business selling nothing but lasagna, but also applaud their audacity and their passion.

Lasagna ten ways

Sweets are also front and center. Along with a chocolate fountain, there are homemade pâte de fruits (jellied fruits), macarons, colorful lollipops, and even some French attempts at classic American cookies. An artisan was dipping perfect little squares of crunchy wafers into a dark, melted pool of delicious, extracting them with tweezers before placing them on wire racks to cool. The transformation from rustic simplicity to classy elegance was breathtakingly quick.

The people were passionate about their products, dedicated to their work, and eager to share their quality with consumers. As this festival clearly has staying power, it is worth checking out if you are in the region.

What: Journées Gourmandes Food Festival

Where: Marsannay-la-Côte, Côte d’Or, Burgundy

When: March weekend

How Much: Entry is a couple/few euros

Salon du Chocolat

People will come, Ray, people will most definitely come.

There are many different kinds of love in the world. Puppy. True. Unrequited. Dangerous. Platonic. Romantic. Maternal. But few affairs are more torrid than the one between the French and their chocolate.

Gerry Cheevers or Hannibal Lecter

Dijon's inaugural Salon du Chocolat was a poem to chocolate lovers everywhere. At dozens of stands, the cocoa bean was dressed to kill. It was shaped into dolphins, owls, frogs, and cows; made into flower bouquets; sculpted into shoes; turned into edible art.

People tasted and bought it in countless shapes, colors, and textures. There was white chocolate with plump hazelnuts popping out; sublime squares scented with ginger, cinnamon, or salt; ganaches of every flavor; slabs of Ugandan, French, Swiss, and Ecuadorean goodness. It covered candied fruit and was turned into lollipops. The artisans wore rough gloves to prevent it melting as they broke, weighed, and sold it to adults and the kids who were everywhere, riding every part of the sugar wave.

A Michelin-starred chef offered free samples of pumpkin soup flavored with a chocolate cream. He rolled foie gras in cocoa powder, which he served, dusted with a little orange zest, on top of little toasts. These latter had been slathered in the grease from the foie gras, because, as the chef reminded his audience, “one should never waste anything in the kitchen, so why not use that grease? It would be a shame to throw it out!”

In addition to the chocolate, there were fine wines and liqueurs to accompany the sweets. The “World Champion of Jam” offered demos, samples, and a vast selection of products. Nougat, doughnuts, and “bretzels” all made an appearance. And, of course, there was a foie gras salesman in the middle of the chocolate show.    

 Two hours before the show ended for the weekend, the line to get in was several hundred yards long. It seems there is little more attractive than a chocolate feast on a Sunday afternoon in early spring in the heart of Burgundy’s capital city.

What: Salon du Chocolat

Where: Parc des Expositions (Tram: Auditorium), Dijon, Côte d’Or, Burgundy

When: Early spring (the first version was in late March; 2015 dates TBD)

How Much: 4 euros

Délissime

In a place where thousand-year-old churches dominate villages, where there are theme parks dedicated to Gallo-Roman history, where towers are labeled “12^th Century,” and people still discuss the Dukes of Burgundy, finding something “new” isn’t always easy.

In Dijon, however, a new food festival has taken root. Délissime marked its second year in the capital of Burgundy in March 2014. Housed in the Parc des Expositions, right off the tram line, it is a celebration of all things culinary.

Spicy

Taking place over three days, visitors can dip their toes into the warm waters of French gastronomy and viniculture. Armed with a tasting glass, the entrant can voyage around more than 80 stalls offering food delights from Burgundy and other parts of France. There are specialties of the southwest (duck legs, duck breasts, duck in duck fat, duck bolognese, the inside bits of duck, including duck hearts, duck gizzards, duck liver) and the sea (ocean beans, fish soups with their accompanying jars of bright orange rouille). A woman hawks spices from around the world, from Hawaiian black salt to smoky paprika. The Provencal vendor offers forth bites of Camargue beef.

Duck fifty ways

The assault on the palate inevitably leads to a craving for drink. Happily, event organizers have anticipated your need and invited winemakers from Provence, Alsace, the Loire Valley, and, of course, Burgundy to help slack your thirst.

The organizers have also taken a few chances. In the middle of prideful Dijon, a gastronomic city, an Italian vendor is peddling his specialties. Here is mortadella big around as a telephone pole. There is porchetta cut straight from a pig laid out on the table, golden and delicious, with a knife standing at attention in its back.

Italians love pig as much as the French do

Though obviously still getting its legs (the festival was poorly advertised and far from "crowded"), and despite some small concerns that the group managing the festival is organizing them around the country (will it become cookie-cutter? Or will it remain unique, region-by-region?), this festival is worth the price of admission. Spend the Friday morning at the best market in the Côte d’Or (perhaps all of Burgundy) under les Halles de Dijon, treat yourself to a nice lunch, and head to Délissime in the late afternoon as people begin to get off work and start their weekend. Inside, raise a glass to Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy from 1467-1477, and celebrate the new.

What: Food festival Délissime

Where: Parc des Expositions (Tram: Auditorium), Dijon, Côte d’Or, Burgundy

When: March

How Much: Entry is 5 euros but the website offers reductions to 3 euros including a wine tasting glass.

An Introduction to Food Festivals in France

In a culture where food is part of countless idioms, pet names, political aspirations, and media coverage, food fairs, festivals, and competitions naturally occur. Sometimes, they are seemingly ubiquitous. (A recent weekend saw four prominent food festivals within an hour’s drive of each other.)

So how is the traveler to decide which one to visit? What should he expect? How much will she pay? And, most importantly, what will the traveler eat?

Music and Meat, together at last

First, embrace regionality. Festivals tend to focus on the specialties of the host region. If you tell a French person that you are traveling to a part of France, the odds are excellent that his first reaction will be, “You will eat well there.” He then ticks off several regional specialties you should be sure not to miss. The more pious among them may direct you to the cathedral. The amateur art historian may steer you towards the tapestry. But food recommendations are always part of the discussion. Because this is so ingrained in the French soul, it would be awkward indeed to find a food festival that didn’t brag about its own delicacies. So, in Burgundy, expect snails, cheese, wine, hams, and honey, among other victuals.

Second, prepare for some surprises from outside the host region. As proud as the French are of their own local grub, they are, above all else, insatiably curious when it comes to food. They crave new tastes, whether the briny zing of a Brittany oyster, the delicate flavor of Basque ham, or the odeur prononcée of Munster cheese from the eastern part of the country. Because food is a marvelous way to travel without a suitcase, food festivals will invariably showcase products from other areas of the country (and sometimes beyond). Vendors from elsewhere provide new tastes, different accents, and a range of personality traits too numerous to count.

Third, know the price of admission before going. One vendor recently complained that the entry fee of 3 euros was leading to fewer visitors. Imagine a group of four, she said. Already, they are at 12 euros before tasting a thing! Generally, expect a 2-3 euro entry. Sometimes, this includes a glass for tasting wine, sometimes that is a supplement. There are many festivals that are free, so do a little homework.

Fourth, a festival and a market differ in one critical way. At the latter, one can basically grocery shop. At the former, there is a paucity of fresh produce and meats. Rightfully or not, organizers have decided that processed meats, canned goods, vacuum-sealed products, and the like should fill the festival space. If the objective is to stock a picnic basket, one has no worries. If one wants to buy fruit and vegetables for that evening’s dinner, go elsewhere.

Fifth, booze flows everywhere. Taste the winemaker’s own nectars in dainty sips from a special glass and work on different ways to say, “Damn, that’s good.” Or just chug beer at the bar. Every festival has one. Don’t be shy.

Sixth, where there is food, there will be politics. The mayor will speak at one point, guaranteed. Media will be present. It has no effect on the consumer’s enjoyment of the festival, but it is worth knowing.

Seventh, salty or sweet, one can satisfy every craving at any reasonable festival. One without the other is a bit of a national tragedy in France.

Eighth, there will be cured meats: hams, sausages, even horsemeat.

Ninth, one can easily find a meal on the premises…provided one is dining at the nationally mandated (at least is seems that way) hours of 12:00-2:00 or 7:00-10:00pm. Maybe it will be seared foie gras. Perhaps it will be frog legs. Could that be tête de veau with the famous aligot potatoes? It could be and it is.

Tenth, and finally, go with gusto. Sample everything on offer. Engage the producers directly. This is their life’s work, and they are happy to discuss their methods and their philosophy. If one tries to upsell you, go on to the next stall without giving it another thought. Life is too short for petty crooks and pressuring salesmen.

Overall, food festivals allow the traveler to explore and experience new flavors in a convivial ambiance. (Yes, that is a direct translation from the brochure…)

Burgundy in the Mouth

With its quasi-kinky title, the 15^th annual “Salon des Spécialités: Bourgogne en Bouche,” sees the town of Autun on its finest behavior. In conjunction with a commercial and agricultural fair and amusement park rides (sign from one: “Parents are solely responsible for placing their children in the ride. Parents are solely responsible for fastening the seatbelt.” Imagine that in the Land of the Lawsuit.), about 30 local and semi-local producers gather in the town’s social space to offer visitors a taste of their product. From Burgundy, wines, cheeses, beef (little cubes on a toothpick, offered hot off the grill), and crème caramel; from Alsace, foie gras and Reisling; from Champagne, well, guess.

Cheese is love

Garlic and pig...nobody loses

A bargain

It is little events like this that make being in France such a marvel. Outside of Autun, the event received no publicity, other than a small ad in the local newspaper. It is a worthwhile trip.

Get some snail slime cream...it is Burgundy

The fifth generation oil producers lighten the wallet with ease, offering tastes of pistachio, walnut, and sesame oils. Colorful macarons beg for a taste. By the sixth taste of wine, one cannot help but feel a little obligated to buy at least one bottle of crémant. The charcutier counters your suggestion that his specialty ham would be excellent with “some spicy mustard in the land of mustard” by saying, “Personnellement, when I have quality products like this, I don’t like to use something as strong as mustard. Try some salted butter.” Noted. On the "to try" list.

Five generations

There is nary a word of foreign tongue, but, happily, food competes ably with love as the international language. Go taste with gusto, stay for lunch (duck or beef?), and feel good about your little secret discovery.

Dozens of varieties of saucission

What: Food fair

Where: Autun, Saône et Loire, Burgundy

When: First weekend of March (check with the Office de Tourisme for final details)

How Much: Entry is 2 euros; tastings are free; lunch and direct purchase are supplementary

Paris Agriculture Salon

Ham: The taste of FREEDOM

Every year, hundreds of thousands of visitors descend on Paris to see one of France’s greatest passions on full display. It is the Salon International de l’Agriculture, a multi-day celebration of agriculture. This is France, however, so it is really a love letter to food.

At the Paris Expo at the Porte de Versailles in southwest Paris, chickens, pigs, cows, sheep and horses, among others, are on display. The French president makes an annual pilgrimage, along with countless other dignitaries and elected officials. Brass bands play. Talk of employment, pesticide use, European regulations, and farm technology mingle with the unmistakable smells and sights of food.

It means "pig with a black ass"

And the food expo is where the best action occurs.

On the second floor of an immense convention hall, France brags about its culinary tradition and diversity. Every region rents space, showing off their local specialties, oftentimes accompanied by cooking demonstrations. Foie gras from the Dordogne, fish from Brittany, wines from Burgundy, rosés from Provence, bananas from Guadeloupe, pork from the Basque country, apples and butter from Normandy, the Confrérie du Brie de Meaux…as is normally the case when the matter is food, the Gauls come to play.

Provence in the house

There are ample opportunities to déguster, from sips of wine to snitches of ham. Toothpicks adorned with cheeses and bread slathered in rillettes make for nice little snacks as one wanders the vast terrain. And full meals are available in every region, from Alsatian choucroute to cheese fondue from the Alps. 

The glory comes in the variety. Any Frenchman will tell you that the best thing about France is that it offers everything in such a small country: canyons, mountains, waterfalls, skiing, farmland, forests, seashore, lakes. Once these geopgraphic marvels are listed, the Frenchman finds it only too easy and too natural to recount all the different culinary delights that accompany such richness. 

Unlike anything ever seen in a wok

Snack. Snack. Snack.

Every Paris trip needs a tower

There are few greater pleasures than hearing two French women in conversation, meandering the aisles of the food expo. Suddenly, they stop short in front of a display of goat cheese. As one raises her eyebrows in obvious excitement, the other whispers reverentially, “Ah, ça c’est trop bon, ça.” She’s right. It is too good. 

Get your goat on

Go see for yourself…and be prepared for crowds unlike any you have ever seen. Nearly ¾ of a million people visit every year. It’s busy, but for good reason.

Microphone + TV + sheep butts

Women are not afraid of saucissons

What: Agriculture Expo

Where: Paris Expo Center

When: Annually in mid-winter

How Much: 2014 admission was 13 euros with discounted rates for students, groups, and children

Burgundy is Good

La Saint Vincent Tournante, January 25-26, 2014

Saint-Aubin, Cote d’Or, Burgundy, France

Everyone is thirsty

Let us begin with a simple but beautiful truth: 

France celebrates every time Food marries Wine.

The first Saturday after January 22, the calendar day dedicated to Saint Vincent, the patron saint of wine makers, a village in Burgundy hosts La Saint-Vincent Tournante. In 2014, the 70^th version of the celebration, Saint-Aubin welcomed more than 40,000 visitors from all over France, Europe, and beyond. They came for a celebratory mass, to watch men and women in robes parade through town.  Mostly, though, they came for one of the 30,000 engraved glasses and to sip from one of the 10,000 bottles prepared especially for the occasion. Local police informed tourists that they could expect increased controls to prevent any illegal driving. It was a rare sunny day in the Burgundy winter, cold but fresh, and the town was shimmering with pride.

My wife and I decided there could be no better place in all of France to take a toddler and a baby. So, en route...

On the drive to Saint Aubin, we heard the head of the decorating committee describe the efforts of the townspeople to make the festival a success. When asked how many meters of crepe paper they had used, she laughed and said, “Well, I estimate we made more than 100,000 paper flowers throughout the town.” All by volunteers. Over two years. 

We parked in a vineyard outside of town and walked two miles to the festival. Buses, shuttles, cars, and RVs lined the route on both sides, and steady traffic passed about a forearm’s length from the snaking line of pedestrians. For 15 euros each, we purchased our commemorative glasses, special carrying pouches that we put around our neck, and tickets for seven tastings at the caveaux spaced throughout the town.

Any celebration of wine tends to infect its visitors with good humor. Once food is added, life improves. Here, instead of hot dogs, pizza, and chicken wings, the organizers invited men from the Alps to dish out steaming plates of tartiflette, potatoes bathed in Reblochon cheese and dotted with bits of lardons, the ubiquitous bacon bit that infiltrates most meals in France. Its little salad added color to the plate. Up by the 1000-year-old church (that's "one thousand years-old"), the duck expert was selling rillettes sandwiches. Near one of the white wine tasting areas, oyster shells were scattered at our feet, piled on wine barrels, and stacked on plates. Several chacutiers offered artisanal plates of cheese and pig products in pure simplicity, the pink flesh of the hams and saucissons contrasting with the pale yellow cheeses. On Shakedown, a man stood behind a giant skillet, frying enormous amounts of meat to pile into sandwiches. That sure looks like steak and cheese…but that can’t be right…it’s andouillette, the chitterling sausages that are famous in the region.  Chitterling means intestine. Intestine sausages. Hundreds of them, popped out of their casings, cooking together in the enormous pan. The smell, rumored to be offensive, could make a vegetarian question her life choices. Further along, a man has been spreading swaths of fromage fort on baguette sliced lengthwise and popping them under the broiler, a sort of French grilled cheese. The aroma awakens deep longing in humankind.

Amid it all, the three year old on my back behaves well…until he starts insisting that he is thirsty. Really thirsty. 

New if rather inconvenient discovery: at a French wine festival, one drinks wine.  

Period.  

There is nothing else available to quench a thirst.  

Off we went to the ticket booth (really just a table set up in someone’s garage), and ask if the fine people there could steer me towards some water for my son. 

Perhaps Monsieur could wait one minute?  Bien sûr. 

The hostess shuffled to her own kitchen, returning triumphantly with a glass of water, which the son grabbed and sipped aggressively. It is a scene repeated throughout the day, local residents welcoming this family of Americans, far from home, with grace, kindness, and warmth in the midst of the largest friendly invasion the town will ever experience. 

Despite driving rain, frosty mornings, and a sun that refuses to rise before 8:00am, it turns out that January in Burgundy is a place to warm your hands and heart by the fire of France.

The wines were exceptional. The white, featuring “beeswax and cinnamon” on the nose and harmonizing “finesse and elegance;” the reds offering a “discreet acidity” and an evolution that makes them “tender.” 

For the record, we did not hear a word of English the entire day.

In 2015, the festival is in Gilly-les-Citeaux and Vougeot. See you there. I’ll be the one with a two year old on my back, glass in pouch, clinging to the hand of my four-year-old, looking for water in between bites of intestine.

What:  Wine and food festival

Where:  Rotates among winemaking villages of Burgundy; 2015 in Gilly-les-Citeaux and Vougeot

When:  The first Saturday and Sunday of January after the 22nd (January 24-25, 2015)

How Much:  15 euros bought a commemorative glass, a carrying pouch, and seven (7!) tasting tickets