Vide Greniers: the French Garage Sale

vide-greniers: a popular gathering at which individuals expose items that they no longer use, in order to dispose of it in the selling to visitors. Also known as garage sales, fire sales, and flea markets. 

Early on in my stay in the Gascon countryside, I heard Maurine talk of her weekend trips to the vide-greniers. She talked about all the fabulous French antiques that each one held and extended an invitation to me to join her and her party for the upcoming weekend's treasure hunt. Unfortunately, I declined due to a previously planned trip to the beach but asked for a rain check instead. In passing, I mentioned I was searching for some really cool vintage butcher’s equipment, especially cleavers, that I could use to decorate my shop. She told me she would keep her eyes peeled for me.

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That very next Sunday, on the way to the beach, I got a text from Maurine. In it, was a picture of an old mounted sharpening wheel ... $25!

That was it.  I had come down with the “Vide Grenier Fever.”

Every Sunday after that, we woke up early and headed off to whichever nearby town was hosting the vide-greniers for the weekend. It always changed and was never in the same place.

Cleavers from an antique market in Nerac.

Over the course of a month, I racked up a respectable vintage cleaver collection. I also picked up a few French hat racks for my mother, who had just designed a new hat collection.

Yes, insert shamelsess plug here.

My last “Vide-Grenier Sunday” was very special. Our hunting party consisting of Maurine, Bill, Taff, and I, traveled to the picturesque city of Lectoure. Perched atop a large hill, it provided not only a magnificent view but also a cache of vintage treasures. Sometimes, you find vide-greniers full of junk - after all, they are garage sales, but luckily this was not one of those markets. I ended up procuring two more cleavers for my collection from a booth at the train depot.

One ended up being the best to date.

The old hospital in Lectoure that was turned into a permanent antique mall.

From the depot, we headed up the hill into town with our Vide-Grenier Fever peaked. Ironically, there along the main street was a disused hospital that had been converted into an antique mall.

I can't think of a more perfect location for bargain hunters with Vide-grenier Fever than in an old, abandoned hospital.

Another good haul of cleavers.

Unfortunately, prices at the Lectoure Antique Market were a bit high and we left empty handed.

On our way back home to Nerac, Maurine wanted to take a different route so we swung through Fourcés, another small French village with a Sunday vide-grenier.  The Fourcés Antique Market had a diverse mix of items including a ton of silverware, walking canes with concealed sabers, and even a tractor pull.  Somewhere between rummaging between spoons and forks, I stumbled on my greatest find of all the vide-greniers in France – a massive refurbished German cleaver with a two-foot long handle.

This baby was built for some heavy duty splitting!

After a few minutes of haggling with the owner, I separated him from the clever for thirty Euros – an absolute steal.

Je N'ai Plus Faim

Life really does revolve around food in Gascony. Every day from noon to two, the small town of Nerac shuts down and like every other French village, goes really hard at lunchtime – five courses hard. The courses consist of:

• aperitifs and hors d’oeuvres,
• an entrée,
• a salad,
• cheese,
• and a dessert, plus wine and coffee.

Tomatoes and Coppa.

Dominique and his wife Christiane are no different. We'd usually wrap up our morning work and start cleaning the processing facility around 11:45. Once it was all scrubbed, I’d pile into Dominique’s car and we would take a short drive down the road to his house where Christiane awaited us.

Let me point something out here – Christiane worked with us in the morning, cutting carcasses, cooking pates, and making sausages. She would sneak out maybe 15 minutes ahead of us and by the time we reached the kitchen table, she always had an incredible French lunch prepared. As Dominique helped her with the final touches, I always set the table - in the French manner, of course.

Tomatoes, a staple of the French diet.

And then we would feast!

Duck breast cooked by Dominique for lunch one day.

I’ve never eaten like I have in France. Every meal, I absolutely gorged myself into a food-induced coma. Christiane was like a French mother – she kept scooping food onto my plate. I finally had to learn how to say,

'I am not hungry anymore' in French – Je n’ai plus faim.

Goat cheese from the farmer just down the road.

Luckily, there was always a pot of coffee at the end of every meal to get me back on my feet and back to the facility.

My favorite part of the Chapolard lunches was the company. All throughout the meal and an hour afterward, Dominique, Christiane, and I would talk.  We had some amazing exchanges. Their English was much better than my French, so throughout our conversations, I constantly used Google Translate and while Dominique kept his French to English dictionary close at hand. They taught me about French culture and life as well as valuable lessons and tips for my future butcher shop.

In return, I tried my best to describe the Texan way of life, my family, and our ranch. The concept of a "ranch" was very difficult for Dominique to comprehend.  We settled on the concept of a "large farm" just for cattle. He will get to see it first hand this January when he comes to visit.  I hope he brings Christiane in his suitcase!

I know Dominique and Christiane enjoyed these lunch conversations too. One of the most memorable quotes for me came from Dominique after a long discussion. He had some difficulty translating it at first, so he relayed it to Christiane and she began,

“Fifty percent of what Dominique sells is meat…”

“No, No.” Dominique interrupted.

“Twenty percent of what I sell is meat. Eighty percent is relationships.”

I'm not sure how he settled on that ratio, but he is absolutely right. Relationships are important. I will forever remember these meaningful conversations and these incredible people.

Thank you, Dom & Christiane.

Noix de Jambon

After working with Dominique and the Chapolards on the farm for a few weeks, I finally got their system down. On Monday, we would receive nine or ten pig carcasses, fresh from the abattoir. Each day of the week, we would break a couple carcasses and slowly deplete the pork supply hanging in the walk-in refrigerator.  In their place, were our conversions of traditional French charcuterie offerings such as pâtés, blood puddings, paupiettes, graton, and fricandeaux. All of these products, along with fresh cuts like chops and roasts, would be sold at one of the four weekly markets the Chapolard family attends. By the end of each week, the walk-in refrigerator would set empty and delicious charcuterie would be on French tables all across the South of France.

That’s what I call nose-to-tail!

The Chapolards offerings can be sorted into four categories:

• Dried Products:Noix de Jambon, Coppa, and Filet sec

a ham hanging in Kate's closet.

• Fermented Sausages:Saucisson, Saucisse seche, and Chorizo

French Salami before hitting the fermentation cabinet.

• Cooked Products:Pâtes, head cheese, roasts, Graton, and blood pudding

Cooked blood pudding.

• Fresh Products: various fresh sausages, roasts, ventreche roulee, and kabobs

• and of course, the breadwinner of any charcutier,  the Jambon de Bayonne.

Here’s the problem – Jambon Bayonne is incredibly hard to produce on a large scale. The hams take up a lot of space and they occupy that space for a year or more. In addition,  it's an absolute crapshoot every time you open one up. If any of the meat inside the ham, specifically next to the thighbone, is traumatized before or during slaughter, you have essentially created an 18-month-old stink bomb full of deadly bacteria. Any excess blood left in the ham can also lead to rotted flesh.

Being a charcuterie-making French family,  the Chapolards naturally made Jambon Bayonne. Dominique estimated 20% of the Jambon Bayonne his family produced was inedible by the end of the 18-month drying period. He decided this spoilage had to end. After some research and experimentation, he discovered the family should cease making Jambon Bayonne and instead use those hams to make Noix de Jambon.

Noix de Jambon before the tying and smoking stages.

To create Noix de Jambon, Dominique isolates whole muscles from the ham and dries them individually.  This reduces the hang time from 18-months to just six weeks.  It also allows him to pick out traumatized protein and other unwanteds that could potentially be hazardous to preservation.

Noix de Jambon is one of Dominique’s best selling items at the farmer's markets. Sliced thin, it is perfect for aperitifs or as a substitute for ham in your favorite recipe.

The Chapolard Family of Gascony

Round Two in Gascony was meant to give me a thorough knowledge of traditional French charcuterie and luckily I scored a two-month apprenticeship with one of the best charcutiers in the country - Dominique Chapolard.

The drive into the Chapolard's farm.

Dominique’s family owns a 50-hectare farm just between Nerac and Mézin.  His grandfather originally purchased the farm from a dying winemaker after the Great War. He and his wife began raising dairy cows on the property and added apple, peach, and prune orchards until a large storm in 1968 destroyed much of the fruit trees. By this time, Dominique’s father and uncle had taken on the bulk of the responsibility of the farm. The second generation decided to try their hand growing melons, cucumbers, and tomatoes.

Eventually, Dominique's father gave up on the fruit and vegetables and invested in Blonde Aquitaine cattle known for their delicious beef. Like most French families, he always bought two piglets every year for his family’s personal consumption. When the region’s pig farmer passed away, Dominique’s father seized the chance to move into pork – he bought two sows, built a small farm laboratory and became a pig farmer and charcutier.

As a child, Dominique worked on the farm and watched as his family labored over fruits and vegetables for such a meager living.  So when the time came, Dominique chose to pursue a life in academia instead of agriculture. He didn't stray far from the farm, though.  After he married his wife Christiane, he took a position teaching Forestry at the Université Toulouse. From there he accepted a position as headmaster at another agricultural school before finally returning to the family farm to help his three brothers, Mark, Bruno, and Jacque, with the pork operation.

Today, each brother pitches in around the farm, but each has his own specific role to play. Dominique concentrates on the walk-in cooler and turning half carcasses into various forms of charcuterie. He also mans the family stand at the Lavardac and Nérac farmer’s markets.

Jacque raises the pigs and looks after the crops. Bruno and Mark help with the crops, the butchery, and additional farmer's markets.  And then there is a wide assortment of spouses and children that fill in to help the farm turn a profit. As if grain crops, pigs, and charcuterie weren't enough, two of Jacque’s sons have started a dairy operation.

Flots Blancs is hands down the best milk and yogurt I’ve ever tasted.

The best milk I've ever had.

The Chapolard family was gracious enough to take me in and teach me their family recipes and way of life.  Under Dominique’s careful watch, I have gained a firmer grasp on this component of craft butchery. Hopefully, by the time I leave, I will be able to call myself a charcutier.

The Cowboy, the Expat, and the Englishman

I poked my head into the production room at the Chapolard’s farm.

Bonjour! Dominique?

One of the women making paupiettes at the metal table turned and yelled to Dominique, informing him a cowboy was here to see him. From out of the rear kitchen, he appeared, with a smile the size of his mustache. After catching up for a bit, he asked me if it was possible to start next Monday. A week to kill in the Gascony countryside?

C’est Bon. (it’s good) I replied.

“Also, is it possible for you to stay throughout August as well?” he asked.

Even better.

I knew Kate Hill, of the Kitchen-at-Camont, would need an extra hand that week – Tim Clinch, a well-traveled British photographer was at Camont to photograph some dishes for their upcoming book Food Stories from Gascony. Yearning to learn more about traditional French cuisine, I decided to spend the majority of my week there.

Every meal at Camont is so… French. The table is always set beforehand. More often than not, the table is laden with an array of cheeses, bread, water, wine, and charcuterie. Meals flow in the French manner:

• the starter (l’entrée),
• the main course (le plat principal),
• cheese (le fromage),
• dessert (le dessert),
• some sort of digestive, usually coffee (digestif/café),
• and of course, wine - usually Rosé

Walnut wine 

Time is taken to actually enjoy a meal and your company – you will be hard-pressed to find French people in the Gascony countryside that rush lunch.

When I arrived, Kate was putting the finishing touches on lunch. To be of use, I tried to set the table. The keyword is tried. I had yet to learn the proper French way to set a table. Luckily, Catherine was close by to teach me.

As lunch came out of the kitchen, Tim went to work with his camera and iPhone, carefully setting up his shots and paying great attention to his angles and lighting. Naturally, we started up what would be a week-long conversation about his many travels, shoots, and photography. He has some great tales and the guy has really done it all in the photography world.

Tim Clinch getting the right position.

Tim never misses a moment to take a picture.

After an exceptional lunch, we sprang into action. The three of us worked quite well together. Kate commanded the island counter slicing vegetables, simmering sauces, and producing the most enthralling aromas I have ever taken in. I took my place near the sink and dishwasher.

A great spot.

Here, I could knock out the dishes and peek over my shoulder every now and then to witness the magic taking place. Tim took his place at the small table in front of the island, editing photos and preparing for the next dish. When Kate would finish a dish, we all would converge on the predetermined propped, location to nail down a breathtaking photo – Tim wielding his two cameras, Kate styling the plate, and yours truly providing props and light via the massive reflector.

When it was time to shoot the côte de boeuf (ribeye), Kate put me in charge.

She trusts me with this?

Yes, she assured me, if I wanted to work with Francis Mallman, I would need to master the fire first.  Then she showed me how to construct an upside down fire in a metal wheel barrow.  Only then did she give me  instruction on how to best cook the steak. Once the wood had burned down to coals, I transferred the coals over to a small grille and plopped the côte de boeuf straight on the coals. It turned out marvelous!

My kind of grilling./

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Now everytime I stop by Camont for a meal, I assume my position next to the metal wheelbarrow, the adobe oven, and the grille. With Kate's guidance, I have learned to cook some really amazing dishes with fire.

Duck pâté serves with large capers and toast points.

Bacon, Kate's loyal companion, remained in the kitchen throughout the day in case any morsels fell to the ground.

Tim and Kate racked up some incredible food shots over the week. I was thrilled to lend a hand and be a part of it - even if in a small way.

Note: One part of Food Stories From Gascony will document the wide variety of people that pass through Kate's Kitchen at Camont. Tim thought a cowboy from Texas was interesting so he shot this:

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NOTE: Looking to experience France in a similar fashion? Kate hosts a variety of culinary courses at Camont from cooking to charcuterie. Check out her website and mosey on over to France for an unparalleled  gastronomic experience.