Making the best of food holidays

 Provence is blessed with some of the best ingredients in the world and it certainly felt like it. Shopping in the markets, where every stallholder took pride in his/her produce and where displays were artistic delights in themselves, was pure joy. Everything was on offer – from piles of winter vegetables to fresh seafood including oysters in wicker baskets trucked in overnight from the not so distant coast and fresh birds –  turkeys, pheasants, chickens – sold still with their feathers on (just like home!).
One stall was dedicated only to olives – huge green ones, small dry black ones, olives marinaded in brine, prepared with chillies, soaking in oil and herbs, stuffed with peppers. Another offered home made cheeses  – France famously boasts well over 200 cheeses with regional specialities in every tiny town. One could go home after a Saturday morning shop with a feast – hot roasted chicken with garlic, onions and tomato, ready prepared meats, bread baked that morning and all sorts of special treats. 
Wine was literally on tap. My father still talks about pulling into the wine store with a few 5 litre containers and getting them filled up from a pump – just like petrol!
Visiting Nyanga over the Easter weekend we had lunch with a friend who was hoping the Eastern Highlands could become the equivalent food heaven in Zimbabwe.  She raved about the sweet strawberries grown by the communal farmers in the Valley, the apples and soft          fruit from private and public orchards. She felt the pure air, clean water, and sweet grass on the hillsides was the ideal environment for producing tasty lamb and goat meat, free range chickens and yellow yolked eggs.
So we went to the Home Industries Fair on Easter Saturday with high expectations. It was packed – but not with the variety of produce we had hoped for. A highlight was fresh trout from the National Parks who were doing a roaring trade at US$10 for a pack of six fish. Good news that the trout hatchery is functional once more.
But trout was all we bought. No wild honey nor homemade cheese.  No piles of pumpkins or potatoes.  A local farmer who keeps a couple of dairy cows and produces beautiful yoghurt, butter, cream and cheese hadn’t brought anything to the fair – too busy making ends meet getting her eggs and chickens to town. I have tasted the best feta outside of Greece on her verandah but I guess without a regular market of the French type it is easier to sell from home to whoever turns up.
So we resorted to driving around to our favourite places.  Froggy Farm for fig and raspberry jam; a farmer on the Bonda Road where we make an annual harvest time pilgrimage for pumpkins, potatoes and delicious butter beans. Outside London Store are plenty of late apples and we bought what must be the final orange mushrooms of the season from children at the roadside.
How to get all these things together? My friend was herself staying on a nut farm producing macadamias, pecans and almonds – almost entirely for export. I never saw them on sale locally.
In the meantime, the bar at the Claremont Golf course has a magnificent view over the hills – though some of the patrons look like they’ve been settled in drinking beer since 1980!
Along with the view they offer trout and chips for US$6. Really local, real value and well worth a visit next time you’re passing through.
– g.jeke@yahoo.com