Walnut Wine and Truffle Groves

It should be known that a key characteristic of living Périgourdine and even of the culinary customs is people's casual attitude toward time, and perhaps more important, their willingness to take the time to live and enjoy all that the region has to offer. To some extent even forgetting time and its constraints and just letting oneself go is the real rhythm of the region. So even though it annoyed me somewhat that Laura and Kimberley were so strict with their time, they were also very serious about their work, which for me was a favorable point. When I spoke with Kimberley on the phone, her voice was compelling to me, so I agreed to a visit on a day that I had also invited a California journalist and his family to my home at the Borderie, to thank him for hosting me on his radio show.

Laura and Kimberley, along with their photographer, Lou, arrived on time and decided to quickly jump into questions and answers. What struck me was how intelligent, qualified, and passionately interested they were in my culture and the cuisine of the Périgord. Kimberley was eager to know everything, and I asked them to stay a while longer, promising that we'd get to all the questions in time. It was a very pleasant moment for me, answering their questions while preparing lunch for my guests. In the Périgord, one does not let visitors leave at mealtime, so when my guests arrived, I quickly added three additional plates to the table, and Kimberley, Laura, and Lou accepted my invitation to sit down and spend an afternoon around my table. Time slipped by, and all work was forgotten to enjoy this meal among friends.

It was one of those summer days when life was beautiful. There was sun, but not too much. The birds were singing, but not too loudly. The air was soft, but just enough to comfort us. And the company? Ah, the company!

Humor, good moods, laughter, exchanges of culture and, of course, hearty appetites. We spent one exquisite day around my table, and while I know well that I did not answer all of Kimberley's questions, I am most certain that by the end of that day, she and her friends knew the Dordogne and its treasures.

After spending that time with them, I know that this book will be a success. I am honored to be a part of it and am impatient to read it myself. Thank you, Kimberley and Laura, for taking the time to visit—and to understand the beauty and wonder of the Périgord.

Return to see me again soon.

Steve and I have been traveling to the Dordogne for over fifteen years now. With books, maps, magnifying glass, and a positive attitude, we have scoured the region from top to bottom, inside out. Along our aimless path we discovered a land of unspoiled beauty that has spoiled us rotten. Nothing can replicate the awe of seeing for the first time a five-hundred-year-old castle looming over the Dordogne River; neither could I be more inspired than by five generations of family working side by side on their ancestral winery. Every nook and cranny of the Dordogne revealed diverse landscapes and regional history. We passed scene after scene of farmlands with vast fields of corn, sunflowers, and trees dripping with cherries, walnuts, and plums; mountains and rolling hills; dense forests and open meadows; storybook villages and immense châteaux. Our camera was put into overdrive, but our pictures could never quite capture the essence of what we saw. How do you photograph the footsteps of prehistoric man, the grottoes, and the cliffside caves where traces of humanity date back five hundred thousand years? The fortified towns, called bastides, heavily concentrated in the Dordogne, intrigued, as did other medieval villages, like Sarlat, which rest preserved in time. The more than one thousand castles of the region range from Renaissance opulence to feudal fortresses built during eras ravaged by war, of which there have been many in the Dordogne. Even the smallest hamlets revealed memorials to those who gave their lives during past conflicts.

While we easily succumbed to the fairy-tale scenery, we soon realized it was merely a two-dimensional facade without the personalities behind the ancient doors. After years of frequenting the same hotels, restaurants, farms, shops, and daily markets, Steve and I slowly got to know the families, and we were invited into their homes and kitchens. From those with deeply seeded roots in the Périgord to those planting new foreign life in the region, there is a common thread among them—passion. Sitting down at the table with these bon vivants revealed more in one dinner than all the wrinkled maps and glossy guide-books ever told me. I found the people of the Dordogne delightful and eager to share their stories and secrets. It was here at the table that our story really began.

When Steve and I first officially launched our culinary tour company in 2003, the Dordogne was a natural choice for us. A writer from a local magazine was sent along to cover the events of our inaugural journey. This writer, Kimberley Lovato, had insatiable wanderlust and possessed a zeal for France, its people, its good food, and most important, a gift for imploring others to feel as passionately as she did. Over the years, she has joined us on many of our culinary voyages and traveled with us around Europe, meeting our friends and sharing in our memories. Like us, Kimberley fell instantly in love with the Dordogne. She conceived the idea for this book, and we eagerly signed on. As an added bonus, she speaks French and lives full-time in Europe, which helped push us along a little faster. Little did we know our meeting all those years ago in a small village in the Dordogne would be the preamble to such a great journey.

Kimberley conducted most of our interviews in French (or at least she tried her best). A smile accompanied by a genuine hello (bonjour), please (s'il vous plait), and thank you (merci) go a long way in any language, and her willingness to speak French uncovered a reciprocal graciousness and desire to be understood. Nothing surprised us more than meeting a truffle farmer in the middle of nowhere who spoke to us enthusiastically in perfect English. We had more communication difficulties in our own car with me trying to say juillet (July), pronounced jwee-ay in French, but instead saying joo-lee-et, as in Romeo and Juliet. Kimberley, looking confused as she flipped through our packed agenda, finally asked, "Who is Juliet? She is not on our agenda today." We needed a translator from backseat English to front-seat English.

Like language, food is culturally significant in France. Days are planned around meals, shops are closed from noon to 2 p.m. for lunch, and expressions related to food are pervasive. During the research for our book, Kimberley and I documented a few of our favorites, but perhaps the one that resonated the most was "Vous avez du pain sur la planche," (you have some bread on the plank) meaning, "You have your work cut out for you." The Dordogne is world famous for its cuisine, thanks to truffles and foie gras, and traditional cooking is the best glimpse into a culture and culinary history steeped, quite literally, in duck fat. We ate potatoes, cèpes (porcini mushrooms), and omelettes all cooked in this magic elixir, which is a staple in the Périgord pantry. We enjoyed locally grown products and the prolific ovens at the affordable and traditional fermes auberges (farmhouse inns) that flourish in the Dordogne and offer a glimpse into regional cooking. There are also four Michelin-star restaurants in the region, and two more in nearby Lot-et-Garonne, confirming that Périgord cuisine is reaching new heights of appreciation. Surprising to us was the amount of seafood and international cuisine making its way onto restaurant menus. Fish and eel pulled from the Dordogne River and scallops and mussels from the seaside were an unexpected addition to many of the menus, and the blending of Asian and African spices with local products tempted our taste buds. The region's menus are not all duck, contrary to popular misconceptions. Game, beef, lamb, and hearty stews combine with the fresh produce of the region to make eating a more enjoyable experience replete with choice.

Cooking and dining is the glue of social life in the Dordogne, and as we bounced (or perhaps rolled) from table to table, we imagined the decades of decisions, arguments, trysts, and revelations that transpired inside these French kitchens. Recipes, we realized, are as cherished an heirloom as old photos and wedding china. They are passed down (rarely, if ever, on paper) between generations, subtly refined according to new tastes and traditions, but at the core remains fresh local products and a rich pedigree.

Together Kimberley and I invite you to loosen your belt buckles and join us on our edible journey down roads less traveled and into the homes and hearts of some remarkable people. Pull up a chair as we venture down the back roads to navigate the menus and markets with an insatiable appetite for discovery, and a fork and knife at the ready! Through these tales from the table, recipes, and photos, the best of the Dordogne will reveal itself to be more than just a glossy picture on the front of a postcard, but also a living and breathing tapestry woven with the thread of tradition and the colorful dye of eclectic people.

By the way, Steve and I found the image on the postcard that tempted us all those years ago. We were driving along the D703, when suddenly there it was, in black and white: a sign that read La Roque-Gageac. Right before us, the fairy-tale village hewn was real, and there was even a worn rowboat slapping against the shore. We knew then we had found a very special place. After all these years, our own postcard has become creased and yellowed with age, yet the image before us was untouched by time.

Enjoy the journey and bon appétit!

The Dordogne is easily accessible by train, plane, and automobile. We should know—we have driven in, flown in, high-speed trained in, hot air ballooned over, and canoed around the Dordogne. As remarkably easy as it is to get here, the Dordogne is relatively less trod upon than other parts of France, giving it an undiscovered and unblemished appeal. No doubt July and August have their share of clogged intersections and parking problems, but compared to Provence or the Côte d'Azur during the same period, the Dordogne is undiscovered territory. Once in the region, a car is essential. The two-lane roads are well marked, but signs can be miniscule, especially the hand-painted ones directing you to local farms, or marked with single words like miel (honey). Be warned: some signs lure you around like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs, only to completely disappear altogether. It didn't take long to adjust to getting lost, and we learned to regard it as part of the adventure. In fact, it was on a quest for a walnut farm (which we never found) that we discovered the unfinished bastide of Molières, a decidedly undeveloped village that is eerily empty at all times of the day, any day, and gives the impression of being unchanged by time.