Provence Floyd on France

You know, making TV programmes isn't all beer and skittles. Sometimes it's champagne and roses.

Like this dream BBC mini-break. Me in the BBC Batmobile, grinding up the mountainsides of Provence

with the intention of telling you about "Floyd en France".

It's such a wonderful experience driving along. Your nose is assaulted by lavender and thyme,

your eyes are drawn though I daren't lest I tumble overboard

by wonderful views of sunflowers, cherry orchards, and stuff like that.

Years ago, you know, I used to live here. This is my first time back in, what, I dunno, ten years.

And yet I feel, even though I'm a foreigner, that I'm coming home

coming home to the heart, for me, of civilisation and gastronomy.

And I'd like you to share this wonderful time with me.

Now then, my little gastronauts,

if you're feeling off-colour, a bit jaded, the next half-hour will put you back into the pink.

To quote the great Ford Madox Ford:

"Below Lyons on the Rhone The sun is shining There, there is no more any evil

"For the apple will not flourish And the Brussels sprout will not grow at all."

Anyway, it's time for breakfast

at this remote auberge on the slopes of Mont Ventoux:

where trucks never die they become chicken shacks.

Mme and M. Dover quit Paris for the country

to grow their own food.

After 8 years under the big yellow sun, they have nearly achieved their dream. Powerful script, eh?

There's nothing smug about these people nor their ambition.

My director, who thinks I'm right of Vlad the Impaler, was surprised I liked Christian Dover.

He's no drop-out. He's acquired all the skills of a mountain farmer,

winning his neighbours' respect.

Bonne sante!

Like nectar! A dusty drive, he's been farming all morning, and we're having a well-deserved breakfast.

Come and look at this breakfast, which you lot don't deserve because you haven't done the work we have.

Home-produced stuff. Really a Vermeer painting.

You've got home-cured ham, home-grown onions, lovely tomatoes,

apricot jam, fruit from the fields, home-made pork terrine, olives,

delight of delights: real truffles, not nasty things in tins,

goats' cheeses in various stages an old one, a fresh one...

That's a fresh one with sarriette a kind of wild rosemary.

Come up, Clive, because I want to say this is such a beautiful feast,

that I have to have a little slice to make me feel happy, before I involve Christian. Christian...

Explique-moi comment tu trouves les truffes. He's going to tell us how he finds the truffles.

En anglais si tu peux. Si je peux. Truffle I find with a dog, yes? A little dog.

And, eh...the dog smells... smells the truffles.

And with his leg make a little hole and I take a little...un outil... Comment "outil"? A little tool.

And I make a hole about 20 centimetres

and I find a truffle. What would happen... What would happen...

if your little dog ate a truffle?

Oh, it's not possible. Because I prefer a little dog... Because a LITTLE dog...

has little legs, hein? And he cannot make a big hole.

And I can take the truffle before...before him. OK ? By the way, this particular one...

It's what we call a white truffle. I know it's black but it's white, OK ? It's worth about ten quid.

The black ones cost up to ?250 a kilo. That's why they're called black diamonds of Provence.

Some people slice ounces of truffles into a thick omelette and eat it cold. It's great!

Christian puts truffles and eggs into an air-tight box for 48 hours.

The eggs absorb the flavour and his omelette tastes of truffle but leaves them to be used again.

^ Can you explain what's in the soup? What? Explain what's in the soup.

Ah. Viewers, this is what we do when we're not making movies.

Good, isn't it? Provence, sunshine, and soup a remarkable soup.

COUGHING

Stop coughing when I'm speaking. He's the lighting man.

Anyway, this is soupe au pistou.

The essental thing is lots of fresh vegetables like carrots, beans and haricot beans, these white ones...

It's just water, there's no meat stock.

And it's flavoured with fresh basil and garlic and olive oil.

Alright? Yeah, it was quite good. OK. End board.

Yes, I know. I'm posing.

But it's MY show and if you don't get a buzz out of being here, you're on the way out.

You can't HELP being carried away by the scents and the colours! The atmosphere is heady, magical...

The Romans got here 2,000 years ago

and this ancient land has turned the hearts of man ever since.

Van Gogh knew there was a better place for a painter to live than the north, so he came south.

Who says he was mad? At least his adopted home stopped him from painting tulips from Amsterdam.

# I go to parties Sometimes until four

# It's hard to leave When you can't find the door

# It's tough to handle This fortune and fame

# Everybody's so different I have been changed... #

That's enough self-indulgence. Now for a short burst of architecture, the director's favourite bit.

This says, "The buildings grow organically, taking in influences of landscape and climate.

"Villages cling to the sides of the mountain like raspberry coulis to a vacherin." Etc etc.

I've had a long, wonderful lunch and all good lunches must end with the eau de vie water of life.

You may think "eau de vie water of life" is a bit corny,

but it WAS a source of inspiration, living here in L'Isle-s-La-Sorgue,

a town of canals and waterwheels, once famous for silk-spinning.

Anyway, it's Sunday morning

and Sunday is so different in Provence.

In England, we get up late, read the papers, have a quick half in the pub, watch TV and go to bed.

Here, on Sundays, everybody gathers.

The farmers come to sell. People trade, they touch, they sniff...

They get really carried away by the food.

And the food comes from so many influences:

Romans, Phoenicians, Arabs, Greeks, Moors...

all contributed to Provence's style. Even the Italians!

And I don't mean pizza and pasta.

The Italians taught the French to cook. Heresy? No, it's true!

Anyway, that's enough "let's look at Provence" commentary.

I never intended to buy fish, and here's a whole row of fish auditioning for my next series.

Pour huit personnes, les deux kilos.

For 34 francs, about three quid, and the price of a few vegetables you can buy a kilo of these fish

and make a superb soupe de poisson for 8 people. I'll show you how, and it's brilliant!

I'm going to make a vegetable rainbow. How do you get rainbows?

You need lots and lots of sunshine. That's why these vegetables are so colourful and succulent.

Not bitter and hard, they're gentle and soft like this whole area is.

Peppers, courgettes... You get them at home, but these are different. They're misshapen.

That's because they're grown organically and naturally.

Fabulous. Purple aubergines for a ratatouille I'm making later on.

Superb green peppers along with the red ones.

In England, you're petrified to pick up fruit and vegetables because they're all in cling-wrap.

Here, if you don't touch and smell, they think you're mad because you don't trust our own judgement.

Anyway, I must get on. Monsieur...?

And this is what it's all about down here. Garlic.

Not those miserable little ones in boxes, but fat, violet cloves

which enhance and enrich the superb cuisine of this area.

Here they make their mayonnaise with olive oil and crush garlic into it to make an aioli

a pungent, yellow ochre thing a sunshine-wobbly jelly.

And with aioli I'm putting these down, Clive you eat this superb salted cod.

The English consider it a poor man's dish,

but here it's soaked for 24 hours then poached gently in plain water,

served with boiled carrots, potatoes and a bowl of aioli.

And another thing that is very important to this region is olives.

You eat these while you're cooking, while you're sipping your aperitif:

which might be white wine with creme de cassis, or it might just be chilled red wine.

There isn't much white wine here, so you drink cold rose or red wine.

There's about 50 varieties. Little, hard, bitter ones...

or mixed with vegetables in brine or vinegar.

These have red peppers in them.

Here, they're just dry and hard.

These have spices like paprika, and olive oil.

Delicious, nutty, green ones...

Slightly purply ones... In fact, a whole range of beautiful olives.

MILITARY MUSIC ON TAPE RECORDER

The star of 1,000 holiday snaps the town crier.

If we filmed him later in the day, it could be difficult. He gets a bit..."wobbly".

Anyway, it's time for lunch and cooking sketch number one.

I've got myself into such a mess!

Driving, shopping... And it's about 100 degrees outside!

I promised some very old friends... Excuse me, while I...

I promised them a mind-blowing Provencal lunch. Great (!)

But the crew went one way, I went another, the director went sky high because he couldn't find anybody...

Anyway, here I am in the kitchen to cook some marvellous things.

I didn't plan it, but the director really wanted some fish soup,

so I went to the market and bought some fish.

Look at this wonderful selection. That's a miniature whiting.

Poisson de roche a rock fish. Conger eel. Red mullet.

And miniature gurnard, which they use for lobster bait in Cornwall.

You buy fish as "soupe de poisson". You don't buy a kilo of assorted fish. It's sold by the dish.

The other ingredients you need are some finely chopped leeks,

some finely crushed garlic,

some very expensive saffron but the French don't mind expense

and some really good olive oil.

And because I've driven a long way, and the shopping and excitement, I need a slight drink.

Anyway, come over with me, Clive, please. Over to the pan.

I put a drop of olive oil in here. The pan is already hot, OK ?

It's not my kitchen. As usual we've begged, borrowed, and conned our way in.

Excuse me, Clive, I'll go get the garlic, which I forgot.

In goes the garlic. And the saffron goes in much later.

It's what we call to "mijoter" to cook gently over a hot flame.

We let that sweat down... You've learnt some French! Come over here and help me carry over this fish...

The sound man will go bananas. I just crashed a pan. But you can't help that.

I promised my friends lunch at 12, and it's now 3 o'clock French time.

But you're watching in winter, so...you won't worry about it.

In they go. Stay on there, please.

Where's the salt? It's not my kitchen. I don't know where I am...

Sea salt is best for this. Try not to use the refined stuff.

Then to speed up the cooking process... You add some water.

To speed it up, I'm using boiling water.

Like that. Now, that's all we do for the moment. While that simmers away, have a good look at that.

That epitomises the beauty of French cookery. The colours, the oil floating on top...

And we shall add more oil. When we put it through a mouli, that will make it more wonderful.

These people are hungry people. They work in the fields and offices and eat huge meals.

Which reminds me how thirsty I am.

So I've prepared a classic French dish. A poulet de fermier a handreared, maize-fed chicken

roasted with cloves of garlic.

While I was preparing this, I heard Madame, my host, say: "Ca ne se fait pas comme ca."

"That's not how they do it." They put salt all over it and a crust of flour to seal in the garlic flavour.

But I don't know everything about French cooking. Here's what I did.

Good, free-range chickens, 30 or 40 cloves of garlic,

fresh thyme, fresh rosemary, olive oil and into the oven.

I think they know what an oven is, Clive (!)

Right. One very important thing here is the ratatouille.

This is a stew of aubergines, peppers, courgettes and tomatoes.

In England it's often made very badly because it all goes into one big pot and gets boiled up.

The way to make ratatouille is to cook the ingredients separately.

We start with this blue pot "bleu" en francais

and in there I've got aubergines and courgettes and fresh thyme gently sweating away in olive oil.

Separately, I've cored the tomatoes and sauteed them in olive oil.

I'm now going to add them to those other vegetables there.

And, equally, I've prepared some green and red peppers.

I took out the pulpy bit inside, sliced them and sweated them in olive oil. And they go in.

And these lovely sweet white onions also part-cooked in olive oil.

Van Gogh couldn't have painted a better picture. That's why he moved here, for these colours.

The cuisine de Midi and the colours that go with it.

I reckon that was a brilliant take. I need a little rest.

When I lived here I painted a masterpiece. You have a look at that and I'll see you later.

For those of you who can't afford a cook-book

and who insist on knowing how long things take to cook, that was about 30 minutes.

The fish has broken away from the bones, which is what we want.

We whack in our saffron,

and, to enrich it, stir it round and whack in some more olive oil.

Look at the beautiful ochre colour, the colour of the mountains of Apt, one of the regions around here.

Now all I have to do is to lift this great pot over...

and we have to do the business of putting it through the mouli so we get rid of all the bones.

But I can't do that on my own so... Monique! This is my friend Monique. We've been friends for 100 years.

She'll help me finish the soup. This is actually her house.

Lovely lady. Merci. Mm-hm.

Moi, je passe la soupe la-dedans.

Clive, watch this very carefully. First, to make this soup you need a beautiful lady with blue eyes.

I need a spoon to lift it in there. Tu veux que je t'aides? Oui.

We've never worked together before so it's always a bit difficult.

You need beautiful blue eyes, you need sunshine, good friends, and four pairs of hands.

Vas-y, vas-y, vas-y. OK ? Et comme ca...

You get really attractive ladies to do the turning, and stand back with a glass of wine.

You see, it's a pays d'homme. Un peu de jus. No, it isn't really a male-dominated country,

because they start ordering you around. A bit of juice. Merci.

And you grind and grind and grind. Meanwhile, you show the punters... oh, he's just passed me a note.

I forgot to mention the aioli, which is a wonderful mayonnaise flavoured with saffron.

You spread it on bread which you eventually will float in the soup.

You've seen enough grinding, enough aioli.

I've made some other dishes and we'll rejoin you in a second.

# Ooh, Boston beans, soy beans...

# Green beans,

# Cabbage and greens, Home cooking!

# I'm not eatin' a butter bean

# Unless it is a giri-giri-bean, boy

# I love coffee, I love tea,

# I love the java-jive and it loves me!

# Coffee and tea,

# The java and me! A cuppa-cuppa-cuppa-cuppa-cup! #

I've cooked them a meal. I hope they'll eat it.

It was roast chicken with garlic, fish soup, ratatouille,

apricots stuffed with goat's cheese

and a salad of basil, tomato and cheese tossed in olive oil.

I know you read the Sunday Times and the Guardian so you won't need a translation when I ask them:

C'est mangeable ou pas? Magnifique! Tres bien! Vraiment? Oui!

Well, c'etait la preuve. The proof of the pudding is in the eating.

We're wonderful, they're wonderful, and I'm really tired.

I'm off to the jacuzzi in my luxurious hotel room.

# I love coffee, I love tea

# I love the java-jive and it loves me

# Coffee and tea

# The java and me A cuppa-cuppa-cuppa-cuppa

# Gone! #

The classical views of Provence. Classical music. The air brilliant and clear.

The bright sun. The architecture.

He wanted lots of culture. I'm not very good at that and Frank Bough couldn't do it. He's on holiday.

There's a church. Think of something meaningful to say.

Look, those belfries. That's very Provencal.

Little villages and stuff like that...

and vines, you see...

Ah. And here's one of me again dressed as a custard tart. I'm on a pilgrimage, actually.

I'm coming back to the Restaurant St Hubert after more years than I care to remember.

That is a shellfish soup. You break the crust,

and you smell the aroma of fresh langoustines. Heaven!

Some of you like my programmes, some have never seen me before.

Some think I'm an arrogant twit. Well, I'll tell you a secret.

The only reason I'm here is that about 20 years ago I met a man who profoundly influenced my life.

He was a local lad. A simple chap. Left school at 15. Took over a cafe he couldn't really afford.

It was full of rough drunks bursting in with shotguns

while he served up bowls of steaming soup.

20 years later,

he's cooking some of the finest food. You won't find him in the Michelin Guide.

He's Claude Arnot, a simple man who cooks brilliant food. He's my hero. That's why I'm here in Provence.

You know, there's nothing magic about cooking.

It takes years of learning.

I'd have given my right arm to train under a man like Claude.

He's very strict, but he's a perfectionist and he fills these blokes with enthusiasm.

Look at this guy folding up his envelope for fish en papillote.

Those of you who write about me putting my fingers in food better stop when you've seen this!

I'm not too sure about that... but the cooking will get rid of anything nasty he's blown in.

Cut it open, and the aroma comes wafting out.

Fresh courgettes, tomatoes, onions, lemon juice, fresh bream and herbs.

Cooking under this guy makes me nervous,

plus the canaries twittering, as is the director.

So, we've already started making this wonderful dish of Claude's.

It's a very white chicken breast fried very gently in butter

and then served with a curious beetroot sauce.

We've already cooked that for about 4 minutes on each side very gently so it hasn't dried up.

And I put it on there. Qu'est-ce que je fais? Le couvercle...

I cover that so it doesn't dry. A little bit of grease...

And we'll lift off a bit of the grease.

It takes two to tango! We've never worked together before. I've always been a customer here.

Take away a little bit of the fat. Add a little bit of shallots...

Which I let just soften... Is that right? C'est vrai? Yes.

Quand elles sont transparentes, c'est bon.

OK. I leave them there for about 30 seconds so they soften.

I put nearly a glass of white wine in. OK ?

And let that, eh...I think... reduce a little.

C'est plus chaud. Oui? You can see, I don't even know where the hot part of the stove is.

Working with these really good people makes you a bit nervous.

We'll have to let that bubble down for a second. We might as well have a glass while it's reducing.

You know I really enjoy wittering, chatting, drinking. Having to do this is, em, a bit worrying.

Right. That's nearly ready now. C'est bon? Non, non. Oh, I have to leave it a bit longer.

I'll ask the director what to do while I'm waiting for it to reduce.

Walk out of shot would be an idea. I'll do that.

Some years ago, a Parisian painter came here and fell in love with the place and stayed and painted.

But he was broke, so he gave the hotel these pictures which are now worth a fortune!

Who said cooks are daft?

So, we've reduced the shallots and the white wine

and then we put in fresh cream and just let it reduce a tiny bit.

Salt and pepper, I forgot that.

Little bit of salt, a grind or two of pepper.

It's about 102 degrees outside in the shade. It really is.

This is July in the middle of Provence. It's damned hot and it's unbelievable in here!

For any of you making cream sauces, as soon as it sticks to the spoon like that, it's ready. OK ?

CONSTANT STREAM OF FRENCH He's a bit hard, this guy!

Un petite cuillere. Like that? Oui. This is cooked beetroot mashed up with butter.

And look how lovely it turns it. Lovely purple sauce.

I'm not the man to take this pace, you know. Il ne faut pas bouillir. I was cooking it too fast there.

So that's ready. Et maintenant? Tu passes sur l'assiette. Oui.

God! I'm glad I'm a television presenter, not an apprentice!

The little bit of juice that is left from covering it is added just to enrich the dish.

That's the sort of... Yes, I see... That's just the sort of detail that we don't do in England.

Et la passoire... And now I sieve this through, because we're going to put the chicken on top.

Like this... Non, non, non! No? A table! I put this over here. You have to follow me, Clive.

I'm actually getting a proper lesson here, OK ? You see?

Tu mets l'escalope la... Ah, bon!

Oh... NOW what have I got to do?

Essaie de reconstituer...

I see. I've got to slice it like this and then put it back together.

Notice we're both wearing plasters today, Claude and I. That's how close we are.

But culinary-wise, he's streets ahead of me. I've never admitted that on any of my programmes.

La garniture. Et les tomates... I shall put the garniture on... the garnish on.

Very thin slice of tomatoes and courgettes,

baked in olive oil, onions and herbes de Provence.

A few julienne carrots, lightly cooked...

and little haricots verts, little green beans...

Ca peut aller? C'est bon. He said it's bon. It's OK.

I found it a bit difficult. He's a bit exigant, as we say. MORE FRENCH

I could have put a little julienne of...thin strips of beetroot to make it really superb,

but he says what do you expect of someone who makes TV programmes!

Claude, merci beaucoup. Chin chin. Chin chin.

BAND PLAYS "LA MARSEILLAISE"

The river's flowing by and time is running out.

It's the end of the most fantastic programme I ever made in my life.

I lived here years ago and I came back. It was a gift from the gods to make a film about this country,

with colours, scents, fireworks celebrating Bastille Day...

They're still a crazy lot, getting drunk, dancing in the streets...

I'm sitting here, stuck inside Memphis with the mobile blues again. But there's a bright side

a huge barbecue like you've never seen.

And on this night of explosions, fanfares and fireworks,

I'm going to cook a brilliant barbecue for all my new friends.

We don't get catering vans.

We had to beg, borrow or steal our way in and actually made friends!

And I've invited them tonight to say, "Au revoir, Provence!"

This might look amazingly luxurious to you, as you sit around your ?4.25 hibachi barbecue,

watching this extravaganza of Floyd on fire.

But it's not extraordinary for these people. They LIVE outdoors.

These are merguez spicy sausages. You just need a plane ticket and three and six a pound.

These are chitling sausages. You can buy chitlings in butchershops all over the place.

More merguez spicy Arab-style sausages.

Here, a little tray of sardines sizzling merrily away.

And a little bit of luxury some quail.

Lamb kebabs marinated in lemon juice, herbes de Provence and olive oil.

And what I'm going to do before I feed my friends, and we promised we'd feed them at 7.30

right now it's five past eleven, they're all very happy, very, very you-know-what-I-mean.

But any minute, they'll erupt like fireworks, like the visions of this ancient, erotic country.

And the piece de resistance...

is going to be this bass, flamed in cognac and fennel which I picked in the hedgerow.

Mesdames, messieurs, je regrette que vous avez attendu... Voila! Bravo!

Ca fait une belle image. C'est ca qui compte!

I said it's bound to be disgusting but the pictures will be fabulous.

Clive and I are back in business. I say goodnight to them.

Cheerio, Provence. We'll be back.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

I'm Nigel Slater, a cook. And I'm Adam Henson, a farmer.

We're joining forces to get us

all back in touch with where our food really comes from.

You asked me to grow some durum wheat to produce your pasta.