Sunday, July 15, 2012

The Grand Aïoli

Aïoli is the marvelously garlicky mayonnaise that is wildly popular in the Luberon where it is applied liberally on all manner of food.  It is wickedly addictive stuff but be warned you will smell of garlic for at least 3 days after consuming this delicious treat.

So it was a bit of a surprise when I was in the local Pharmacy talking to Norman and his wife Sophie, the two Pharmaciens and Norman asked if I'd like to go to the Grand Aïoli? Go to the big mayonnaise? Whatever did he mean?  As it turned out Un Grand Aïoli is a fête, a party thrown by most of the villages in Provence at some time during the summer. All the village gathers just off the square to eat, drink and socialize together and then dance the night away.  I said oui.

I was advised that I needed to bring my own plate and knife and fork and so armed I nipped down to join the festivities.  The evening started with that delicious aperitif, Kir, a blend of white wine and creme de cassis. All the village seemed to have showed up and the few that I had already met introduced me to many others that I had not.  It was wonderful and very welcoming.

After an hour of socializing and listening to typical french accordion music we were advised to sit at the communal dining tables and attack!!

The Grand Aïoli had arrived.  Heaping platters of boiled vegetables such as potatoes, carrots, green beans, beets, onions etc alongside steamed mussels, shimp, de-salted salt cod and a giant bowl of the aforementioned aïoli, reeking with garlicky goodness. Freshly baked baguettes were placed on every table and the assault on the platters began in earnest.  Of course no meal in France would be complete without wine and so bottles of the local vin rouge were on hand to accompany our feast.  After laying waste to the Grand Aïoli, the platters were cleared away to be replaced by platters of cheeses and finally a variety of desserts.  It was a feast of epic proportions.

Eating is a national sport in France and I think that I acquitted my self fairly well, refilling my plate from the aïoli platters several times, consuming artery choking amounts of cheese and finally calling it quits on my second round of dessert to the modest consternation of the grand-mère in charge of the food service.

The tables were quickly cleared, wine bottles recharged and the disco lights came on as we were introduced to Jean-Pierre our DJ for the night.  Jean-Pierre was a highly energetic fellow who seemed to be capable of having a party all on his own.  Think of a cross between Jane Fonda and Muhammed Ali dressed in MC Hammer-esque pantaloons, he strutted back and forth across the stage inciting the crowd to dance.  "He is from Marseille" said Madame Carmen knowingly, which I'm sure explained everything.


Jean-Pierre was either extremely good at his trade or the wine had worked it's magic because before long the entire village was gyrating to YMCA on the dance floor, a sight to behold I can assure you.

At around 1am I made my exit and toddled back to the house having thoroughly enjoyed the fête and meeting so many new and interesting neighbours.  I smiled as I closed my windows, thinking of Norman, Sophie, Madame Carmen and Patrick boogieing away to the Gap band in the streets below.

No comments:

Post a Comment