Perigord Floyd on France

What do they see in that kind of activity?

We have the beauty of the Dordogne, a freshly-chilled bottle of wine,

waters full of fish which we'll catch and cook -

and they hurtle up and down like motor mechanics!

They're probably going home for hamburger and chips.

I'm happy with my quiet, contemplative sort of life.

None of my business how the French run their rivers,

but they should confine this motorboat stuff to St Tropez

and let us more gentlefolk get on with doing what's important in life,

which is cooking and paddling by the river.

I'm going to cook for you... Trawlers, planes, anything you like,

flat-bottom punts - we can do it.

I'm going to cook a salad typical to this region.

Come in close, Clive, to see what we've got here.

It uses some pre-prepared goose giblets.

You can buy them in a tin from delicatessens in England,

and you can buy them anywhere around here.

You have to follow me around on this rocky flat-bottomed punt.

Into the hot walnut oil you put a few of these giblets.

OK.

Then - stay with me, Clive - you add a few croutons,

already slightly fried. Warm them through.

Add a few fresh walnuts. Particularly nice here -

this is a walnut-producing region.

And they're fresh, not like three-months-after-Christmas taste,

that many of ours are like.

Stir that around. Close-up on the salad here, please.

It's spitting and burning me.

We won't worry too much about that.

At the final moment we put in a little wine vinegar...

..into that. Let it bubble.

You can smell the vinegar mixing with the walnut oil.

Tip it over the top, like that.

Grab a fork...

Stir it round a little bit.

And have a little mouthful. It's quite delicious and very simple.

ENGINE RUMBLES Here comes another one.

I thought we'd got away from them.

Look. A menace, they are.

# Up the lazy river in an open boat

# Everything is perfect for ze lunch afloat

# Then these things from hell Come and break the spell

# Crazy lazy river Mon Dieu. #

The River Dordogne gives the Perigord fertile land

and a pleasant leafy atmosphere so beloved of the British.

They've been here for centuries because this was the frontline

of the Hundred Years War. But they were so busy building castles,

they didn't have time to learn to cook.

Of many specialities, foie gras is probably the most famous,

but also the most controversial.

I mean, the stories the farmers tell about geese happily queuing up

to be force-fed seem to gloss over the quite barbaric process.

Still, I'm not here to moralise.

Bergerac is a bustling, prosperous, seemingly typically French

market town at first sight, but then you discover

they're fiercely proud of its English heritage.

It's Saturday morning, their most important market of the week.

Too busy to stop, even for death.

CHURCH BELL CHIMES

When you arrive in a strange country, like the Perigord -

I've never been here before - the first thing you do

is go into a good bar, find somebody who's chatting really well,

ask him to tell you who runs the best restaurant in the region.

Then go to the best restaurant and make friends with the proprietor,

which is what I've done. A chap called Bernard.

Then you get him to take you around the market,

where all life is at. This is the essence of the whole place.

We'll go wandering - when he's stopped chatting up the women,

cos he's one of those sort of fellows -

we'll do some shopping and explore this wonderful area.

You might think

that once you've seen one French market, you've seen them all,

but you couldn't be more wrong.

'It's BY the marketplace, by the little old ladies

'and men who come to sell the produce from their farms -

'it's THERE where you find out the real specialities.'

It's there where people haggle and talk,

worry about their change, smell the fruit,

meet each other, discuss what they'll have for lunch.

'It's also where you pick up tips, like what to do with ducks' feet.

'We'd throw them away, but not in the Perigord.

'They save them to use to enrich soups,

'and afterwards grill them with melted garlic butter.'

Something the Chinese are fond of, duck feet.

And, for the most exquisitely prepared parking meter,

this gets the Floyd Award.

Quel style!

HE SPEAKS FRENCH

Ah, this is pure pig fat. OK.

Just pig fat.

THEY CONVERSE IN FRENCH

Here's another remarkable thing, very peculiar to this region,

this is a chicken blood pancake.

When they kill the chickens, they let the blood run onto a plate

until it coagulates.

Then they chop bits of garlic into it, put it in a frying pan

and make an omelette or pancake out of it, and it's now cooked and cold.

You might ask what you do with it.

Well, to enrich an otherwise boring dish of just fried potatoes,

you chop this into little pieces, add parsley,

toss the pieces of this with some pork fat,

into your potatoes,

and you have a fabulous meal which hasn't cost much money.

Again, a poor country that uses everything.

'The marketplace isn't just for buying lunch,

'it's for a quick check on what's been happening last week,

'for checking out little deals that can be done,

'for seeing and, of course, being seen.'

We have the Chief of Police with us.

He's in disguise so I think we'll be quite safe.

He's the guy with the sunglasses on his head.

Bernard is a kind of a godfather in this town.

He knows everybody, and you couldn't have a better guide.

Where are they now?

People are always asking me how we choose our locations.

Usually, it's because the director likes the architecture.

He chose this village because HIS hero, film director Claude Chabrol,

shot his macabre masterpiece "Le Boucher" here.

Also, he liked this sign. Kindred spirits, I can tell you!

Let's do some cooking now.

Cooking needs a kitchen, and the tourist office found us this.

I want to show you a typical Perigord meal,

the sort an ordinary family has on feast days and so on.

By tripping around the place we ran into Madame Moulin

and her husband Monsieur Moulin.

They open their house to visitors to sample the local country food.

She's a bit of a tartar and doesn't like film crews interrupting her work which she takes seriously.

So I'm sitting having a slight glass of wine.

When she's in a better mood we'll see exactly what she's doing.

Husbands, please note the happy, acquiescent mood of Monsieur Moulin,

pretending to help make the soup.

She made us this amazing soup -

just bacon, cabbage, water, onions, thickened with egg yolk.

Looks appalling! But poured over stale bread, it tastes delicious.

# It does not take an age to make this "grand potage"

# With onions, oeufs et pain, et beaucoup de cabbage, la la la... #

Mrs Beaton calls this "soup for the poor and needy".

However, it is very good.

Much less good was this dreadful dish of stewed gizzards.

It was FOUL - pardon the pun!

Particularly good was this confit de canard -

duck preserved in its own fat,

reheated in the oven until it's golden and crispy.

We're making a simple Perigord omelette of ceps - wild mushrooms.

Clive, have a close look at these ceps

which have been preserved in their own juices.

Ca chauffe, ca chauffe! Sorry about that. Look...

Right, we'll start again, OK?

I've had a row with the crew,

I'm speaking in two languages for five people who understand NOTHING,

and the fat's getting too hot.

Clive, stay with me nicely.

These are ceps, preserved over the winter in their own juices.

We've just warmed them through in the oven with some goose fat.

We've chopped into that some fresh garlic, some fresh parsley,

and, using the typical local fat,

with the old dragon peering over my shoulder - goose fat.

Ca va comme ca? Ca va, ca va.

Alors, il faut battre. If you didn't know how to make an omelette...!

"Il faut battre" means you must beat the eggs. We all know that!

Ils sont sales et poivres? Oui.

Alors, vous versez un peu, et avec la spatule, vous... Oui.

Clive, this is very important.

This is how to make an omelette! Pas tout d'un seul coup. Voila!

Allez-y par la. Here we go, making a fine, fluffy omelette.

Free-range eggs, by the way.

Pour the liquid over the edge. Voila, voila! Ca va? Ca va, ca va.

Alors, il faudra peut-etre... quelques cepes.

That means some ceps. Pas tous, hein?

I'm not allowed to put them all in

because she wants to keep the rest for her own lunch!

And... Un peu plus? Un peu plus.

Et apres vous prenez une assiette pour la retourner. D'accord.

We must leave the omelette a tiny bit runny in the middle,

otherwise it won't be good enough.

We then fold it... Oh, je n'aurais pas fait comme ca, moi!

Oh, ca va. Ce n'est pas mal.

I'd like HER to cook roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with my mother

standing over her shoulder!

Ca peut aller? La presentation est bonne. The presentation is good.

Mais ca manque quoi, alors?

Moi, j'aurais fait un peu differemment, mais...

Mais, montre-mois! Allez-y!

If you're so good at it, lady, YOU cook it(!) OK? Bon!

We'll now see a REAL omelette aux cepes,

faite par la maitresse de cette superbe maison, Madame Moulin!

Ladies and gentlemen...

omelette aux cepes, cooked by Madame Moulin!

The essential difference is that she cooked HERS on both sides.

But that is a peasant way of cooking an omelette. It's tougher,

and can be carried into the fields.

Mine was more for a dinner party,

with a softer interior. Good ingredients, two different ways.

Sorry about this, but this is the bit where Clive tries to win prizes for evocative photography,

and the director does the travelogue-y bit.

People in the Dordogne reckon this was the birthplace of man.

Just down the road are caves with prehistoric drawings.

Happily, they were shut when we were filming.

Seriously, this river IS important.

This old boy, Monsieur le Pelican,

claims he's been fishing on it since the time of Jesus Christ!

For him, the Dordogne is the river of life.

He fishes not for fun, but for his very livelihood.

HE SPEAKS IN FRENCH

Right on, Monsieur le Pelican.

Brilliant philosophy. Brilliant bloke for that matter.

Trouble is, after 8.30am he has to share his beloved river.

He lives off this river, he's been doing it for years.

His parents have fished since the birth of Jesus, he said earlier!

Like all fisherman, he's a good fibber.

THEY SPEAK IN FRENCH

They call that the partridge of the river.

HE SPEAKS FRENCH

The partridge of the river - he does go on a bit, this chap!

They catch the lot here - tench,

roach, bream, pike, perch, dace, chub, wop-bop-a-loo-bam!

Sorry - got carried away!

It would give any self-respecting secretary of a British angling club

apoplexy to see that lot netted.

This is strange! 30 years ago,

I caught my first-ever perch. And I forgot my sandwiches.

I was forced to cook my perch myself.

I cooked it over a wood fire, and got hooked on cooking and eating!

'Now here I am, having a wonderful time,

'grown-up, rich and terribly famous!'

J'espere que vous aimerez la petite perche

que j'ai cuite pour vous. Goutez-la. Avec plaisir.

You won't get fish any fresher than that.

These guys know a thing or two about it, so we shall see!

I expect 10 out of 10 for this.

Ca peut aller? Excellent, excellent!

Bien cuit! Ca va? Tres bon!

Et Monsieur le Pelican? Je vais voir.

Pour moi, un poisson est sacre. Il faut aller doucement.

It's a sacred thing for him. You don't just rush into it.

C'est la meilleure que j'ai mangee.

# If you want fish sur la table

# Roach if you are able Check that you have cast your net

# Then you pull them out ze river See what they deliver

# Chub or pike or bream Pas mal, ce stream! #

These are freshwater fish, very popular here.

They've been cleaned by squeezing out the insides.

Soak them in milk for a few moments like that.

That enables the flour that I'll dredge them in to stick to them.

A quick test for the hot fat -

bung a little piece of bread in,

and if it turns golden immediately the fat is ready for frying.

That's ready, so all I need to do is to shake off...

I won't cook them all. I haven't enough fat.

Shake off the excess milk, dredge them in flour,

then shake off the flour, like that.

I'll do that by putting them into here. Shake off all the flour.

Salt and pepper them, quickly.

Shake it around again and drop it in.

While those are frying... Clive, back to me!

A favourite way of serving them is with a persillade -

a piece of garlic, finely chopped, and some parsley.

Chop it as fine as you can, using a knife with a rounded edge.

There we are! I like showing off, but do be careful of your fingers.

I should think they're ready. I'll test one to see.

Absolutely fabulous!

Um...ah...!

Only one person can tell me if it's any good - Monsieur le Pelican.

Pas assez cuits. Pas assez cuits?

We'll keep them in a bit longer. They're not golden-brown enough.

Monsieur le Pelican also adds a good dollop of duck oil, or goose fat,

to enrich it even more. And he says always to use fresh oil.

Ca va? Oui. Bon!

I'll put them on there, like that. Voila - parfait! He says "perfect".

Put the persillade over them. Voila! OK? Un peu de sel.

Vous aimez beaucoup le poivre? Oui!

Lots of pepper. Pas trop, quand meme! Ca va comme ca? Voila!

Goutez-le!

OK?

C'est l'or de la Dordogne. The gold of the Dordogne.

That is the best of the catch. It's what everyone around here loves.

Ah, good, here's another one of me and Bernard -

this time getting in with the in-crowd.

These chaps in gold robes are celebrating Bergerac Wine Festival.

It's the place to appreciate wine.

Tractor driver or vineyard owner, your opinion is respected.

Wine is a serious business,

but knows no social boundaries. And Bernard's been fixing again.

I'm to get one of the medals these guys are wearing!

These honours aren't bestowed on any-old-body.

So I went on a crash course of Bordeaux and Bergerac wines.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Turn a few pages from Hugh Johnson's "Pocket Guide"...

..here we are - "Bergerac. Dordogne.

"R or W, SW or DR, two stars, '82, '83, '84 - W, '85.

"Lightweight Bordeaux-style wine.

"Drink young, the white very young." Got all that?

C'est grand, et c'est riche. Oui.

Ce sont des vins qui vont tenir un nombre d'annees. Oui.

All this tasting... You don't get any. It's a bit grim.

I was invited here to be enthroned by knights in robes, in chapels.

I've got to pass an exam first! I'll have a quick snifter here.

It's local, a very good wine!

They asked all these questions, and I don't know the answers.

I'm going back to fill in Part 2 in my own time and my own writing.

# Chevaliers de Bergerac

# With your robes upon your back

# Hat, do not fit

# Make me feel a proper twit!

# Chevaliers... #

RECITING RITUAL

'These guys really know how to lay on a ceremony!

'I'm trembling in honour, more so than when I got commissioned,

'or selected for the Second XV.'

Look at that! The final result of hours of intense study(!)

There's my name!

It proves that I slipped a couple down while I was over there.

'More people ought to get medals.

'Mend the gas meter - get a medal. Drive a bus - get a medal.

'I'm not too sure about THAT bit!'

We've had fun showing you Perigord and its simple peasant dishes.

I thought we ought to have a really good sequence

where an exotic dish like chicken stewed with freshwater crayfish

is prepared by a master.

David, you're the director. How do I do the commentary?

Say what he's doing. He's chopping onions.

This is a difficult bit

because you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

The director didn't like the cook,

the cook resented the film crew interrupting his work.

He first of all takes the shells off some preboiled crayfishes.

He was miserable. Very unhappy!

He's saved the tails for later on.

What do I do now? Talk about him moving the chicken breasts

into that little bowl.

The pictures are self-explanatory. What did he put in there?

He's put shallots into the pan in which he fried the chicken.

Now he's got to add some tomato,

finely chopped, and the ecrevisse shells, already crushed.

We can see the tomato there.

Then the shells go in. Then he's got to add a bit of saffron -

very expensive, saffron!

He'll do that in a minute...

You can see he's miserable, can't you? Yes.

That's the saffron going in.

Why did he get so upset? We were quite polite. Very!

Chicken back in now,

so it gets the flavour of saffron and crayfish,

and the bits of onion and tomato.

This is an important bit here.

This is the fumee de volaille, a very reduced chicken stock.

Don't use gravy ganules... Ganules?! Sorry - GRANULES!

It's bubbling up quite nicely again.

It now simmers for ten minutes or so.

Into the oven for the chicken to absorb the flavours.

# Here we sit for a bit. Magnifique! C'est si bon!

# Hey, how long is this song? Well, they reckon 60 seconds.

# Killing time with this rhyme Now it's back where we belong. #

The chicken has been stewed in the stock and the shellfish.

He's got to reduce that sauce,

strain it to get rid of the shells,

thicken it with butter... I'm sure he's deliberately going slow!

The lighting man nearly bopped him. I know! THEY LAUGH

He's strained the sauce and will now thicken it with butter.

You should whisk it in, but this guy is so laid-back,

he just sort of shakes it on the stove.

First, he's decorating the dish with the crayfish.

Bit of butter going in, there.

Bit of sweat going in, there. He looks SO unhappy!

Funny, but he's a brilliant cook! That's the whole point.

I'm glad this sequence is coming to an end. It goes on a bit!

Difficult to write a commentary!

Well, you haven't, have you?! No!

Anyway, this bit coming up is the hotel owner,

being quite philosophical about Perigord.

Le Perigord, c'est le berceau de l'humanite. C'est incroyable!

Ici, le premier homme est ne.

Moi, quelquefois je vais voir ailleurs ce qui c'est passe.

Je suis condamne a revenir en Perigord. J'ai tout en Perigord -

la douceur de vivre, le climat, la qualite des produits; je suis heureux!

He's a happy man. He says, "Why do I love Perigord?

"It's the birthplace of humanity, it's the birthplace of western art.

"I'm condemned to stay in this wonderful place," he says,

"the birthplace of humanity!"

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