Tha aubergine seller in the little farmer's market at the foot of the Mont Ventoux thinks that markets here are 'condamnés'; that a new generation are growing up wanting everything now baby now from supermarkets and that the humble cheese seller is finished. When I was in the idyllic English village of Garsington, I was told that the only place to shop (for rocket grown in Portugal it turned out) was an immense Tesco in a concrete nightmare of an industrial 'park' to which I had to drive. I googled and googled and, in the last of my seven weeks (too late for all the exquisite picnics I had to make for the extended opera intervals) found two fantastic farm shops.

Meanwhile, my friends' kids seem to care deeply about organic, local and slow food....

Sometimes I feel confused. Mostly I feel hopeful, but perhaps that's because I am living in a bubble of little farmers markets selling cute aubergines and white truffles.



I don't care, I have several pots of aubergines flowering in the wonky greenhouse and a beautiful painting of Breton onions, garlic, a scallop shell, herbs and two glorious aubergines painted by your clever husband. Not to mention the four little postcards.

Wow, are those the truffles? I thought they were more a January/February kind of thing (the white ones anyway). Mmmmmmm, sssscrambled eggs. Otherwise it is kind of quiet on the ol' eggplant (what some of us refer to aubergines as) front (those of us Yanks of a certain age might remember ,"The Eggplant That Ate Chicago").

Nice one Peter!!! (en plus I owe you an email...) The winter truffles are the black variety called the Black Diamond of Provence. These are the white summer truffles, not as strong but very delicate. They go very well with Julian's home made pasta.....

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