I Survived the Christmas Market

It may be my imagination but I get the impression that the Montpellier Marché de Noël has shrunk since last year. Despite the fact that it says on the Montpellier.fr website that more than 100 little wooden chalets are on the Place de la Comédie, the whole marché has been stuffed up the Esplanade leaving the Place free for hip hop street artists, accordionists and other entertainers around whom vast crowds gather making it tricky to circulate. Almost as tricky as having four rows of wooden chalets made it last year.

To enter the marché, stand at the entrance and take a deep breath. Then plunge. It's the only solution to successfully circulating I can advise. You will undoubtedly be mown down by a chunky pushchair bearing a sticky-fingered toddler holding a Christmas lollipop and a demented parent who is either a) regretting not buying the smallest, most manoeuvrable pushchair possible; or b) so wrapped up in Christmas panic that not one thought was spared to considering the wisdom of taking Baby Tank into a Very Crowded Area and is furious to find so many people muttering angrily at his/her attempts to kneecap them as s/he forces a passage through the throng.

You will also trip up over the lead of a dog whose owner thought it a marvellous idea to go for walkies in an area full of boots that kick walk. You will certainly walk smack into a group of people who suddenly stop to a) talk on their mobile; b) spot some friends and go through the ritual kissy kissy; c) examine something fascinating from the middle of the passageway; d) bend down to tie the shoelaces of a previously invisible child; e) decide they are going the wrong way so make an abrupt about-turn.

If you are with a partner who is muttering darkly about crowds, Christmas, the cold, and wishing he hadn't come, one's whole 'joy to the world' attitude gets a bit ragged after about five minutes (at most). Yesterday afternoon I got the one thing I went for, and will not be going back to the market. Wild horses couldn't drag me. Not with those crowds.

I did not get the two other things I went for, cue much grinding of teeth. I'll have to go back for those, but they are sold in shops not the sodding Christmas Market.

Fortuitously, I had made some mince pies that morning and put the artificial (I'm so green...) 4' tree up (on the table) with the help of my youngest, so a festive atmosphere greeted me when I stomped back into the house. I went straight to the kettle, and helped myself to a pie or two.

When I say 'festive' it goes without saying that that background music was not a CD of Michael Bublé singing his favourite Christmas hits (on his 2011 album as a gift for his 'naughty and nice fans'...! and which I don't have) but an XBox battle of soldiers or zombies killing each other with weapons that made a loud noise. Anyone who lives or has lived with boys will take that as read. They will only go so far to humour you (and Michael Bublé is definitely beyond those bounds).

I have a list of phrases I say on a (thrice) daily basis:
"Turn it down"
"Homework?"
"Turnit down"
"Clear away your plates"
"Dishwasher!"
"Yoghurt pots, bin, now"
"Turnitdown!"

Just before I headed up to the peace and tranquillity of my bedroom with my Kindle, cuppa and mince pie, I managed to yell my way down the list in quick succession over the racket. My parenting for the day was thus sorted.

TGO - Olargues

Sometimes when you arrive in a town, you wonder quite why it was you wanted to go there because there is no apparent appeal and you are not inspired to explore further. I surely cannot be speaking about Olargues, one of the 'Most Beautiful Villages in France'. No, I'm not, I'm talking about St Pons de Thomières which is 10km or so west.

In a nutshell, if you're thinking of going there, don't bother. This street, for example, is a run-down crappy old dump with abandoned houses, peeling paint, unpleasant doors and an air of being a poor relation, probably to Olargues. It is charmless and unless you had just got off the plane from somewhere really foul, you couldn't help but be disappointed.

Here, on the wall, is the market. Two stalls: one of tired looking vegetables beneath the parasol and the other charcuterie in a van. Up there is the 'Place du Marché'. The market is obviously not a big thing in St Pons...

Unlike Olargues, where we were heading for the Marché du Bio.

Wishing to forget this 'Capitale du Parc Naturel Régional du Haut Languedoc', we continued on in search of lunch. There had been some discussion about lunching on omelettes aux cèpes at a roadside café in St Pons, but although cèpes are in season, I suggested that in such a place there could be no guarantee that a more financially advantageous using of tinned cèpes wouldn't be what was on offer. Maybe a cynical thought, but don't forget that tourists are considered fair game...

On we thus went, towards Olargues, and stopped in Riols which is tiny, but had a very lovely shaded terrace next to a little restaurant called the Auberge du Jaur. On the other side of the road was a little square where tables sat beneath a series of enormous plane trees. It all looked very jolly and most promising. An elderly couple were regulars and apparently had lunch there every Sunday. Today they had found themselves next to a couple from Jacou near Montpellier and were having a lovely chat all about the history of the village. Monsieur even dashed home to fetch his book on the subject so he could show it to their new friends. Addresses and phone numbers were also swapped!

Not only was the atmosphere friendly, but the food was delightful and extremely copious. I ordered an 'Italian salad' which came with flakes of Gran Padarno, and Italian charcuterie, and was so huge it practically hung over the sides of the plate. That was the starter! Next I had ordered the magret de canard, which came with gratin dauphinoise and gratin de courgettes. Again, you were expected to have a healthy appetite in order to clean the plate. I copped out with just ice-cream for dessert. The menu was 18.50Eur, plus wine.

Feeling somewhat full, we made our way along the winding road to Olargues and parked as soon as we found a spot. The view into the village is stunning, looking over towards the bridge and the tower which dates back to the twelfth century. You walk up through well-maintained streets lined with well-restored houses; all apparent stonework and solid doors. No peeling paint or botched crépy here.

The market was down the main road, with organic producers of wine, vegetables, apple juice, cheese, biscuits and honey. There was also a stall selling some niknaks in ivoire végétale (ivory palm), another selling homespun pullovers (in this heat!), and one guy who brewed his own floral essences. Down at the bottom was an African panier stall where I bought a big reed bucket as a washing basket since my boys have wrecked my two plastic ones.

We tasted the organic wine and took part in a testing of old tomato varieties. They looked promising, but their taste was never better than bland. I filled in the form and gave, out of ten, no more than five overall. I'm pretty fussy about tomatoes and insist on a good strong taste. The only ones which vaguely make the grade are cocktail toms. Anyway, it was fun taking part and the intentions of the growers had to be applauded a) to maintain a diverse tomato stock and b) search for a really tasty tomato.

With Olargues, we were not disappointed. We met some passionate wine growers - ones who believe in producing delicious and healthy wine without chemical yeast or sulphites.

Our drive back, along the D14 which is 'green' for 'beautiful' on the map, was certainly a pleasure, following the river Orb, through Roquebrun with its beach full of people and skirting the north of Béziers to rejoin the autoroute.

So, to recapitulate: don't go to St Pons; do go to Olargues and Riols, and pop into St Chinian and Roquebrun if you have time. Fun days out!