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Then it’s another relatively short bus ride to Marseille, the second largest city in France.

Our apartment, only a stroll from the Vieux Port, is on the sixth floor. The decor is modern with smart furnishings and looks out over the city roofline. Each morning we watch as a large seagull regurgitates fish for her obese chick nesting just outside the window.

Marseille chick waiting for fishy petit dejeuner

(The apartment is in fact the best accommodation we had on the trip. See details here.)

Nearby is the main commercial thoroughfare, Rue Canebiere, popularly known by English speakers as ‘Can o’ Beer’. The name is derived from long-disappeared hemp farms that provided cordage for sailing ships in the olden days. Read the rest of this entry

Waiting for the bus to Aix en Provence on a gloomy platform. In the middle of the day, it is a vast dark space like a set in search of a horror movie. The waiting room looks slummy, is graffitied and smells like a pissoir. Spooky.

Waiting for a bus

First stop in Aix is for a refreshing drink at a sidewalk bar. Among the thronging crowds in the Cours Mirabeau, we sip a milky, pungent pastis.

Cocktails with Cézanne

That evening, as we take a stroll past the Musee Granet, a departing guest hands us his invitation to cocktails for the opening of the Cézanne exhibition two days later (Collection Planque).

As if we own the place, we walk in among the dignitaries and culturati, me in my cocktail outfit of Dunlop Volleys and frayed Nepalese cut off shorts. Luckily, we have missed the speeches and immediately join the guests tucking in to huge plates of food and generous glasses of red.

Lucy asks what we should say if one of the many security people ask who we are. “I’ll tell them, ‘I’m the cultural attaché from the Orstrylian Ministry of the Yartz!’” I reply. Read the rest of this entry

Sous le pont d’Avignon

The train from Dijon to Avignon takes us through vineyard country. Signs for M.Chapoutieradorn the hillsides. As you enjoy the scenic vignettes, you pass an ominous brooding nuclear reactor, no doubt waiting for the Rhone to flood and irradiate the already powerful reds.

Rhone reactor

A first impression of Avignon is that it is noticeably more touristy than Dijon and more English language friendly. For example, unlike Dijon, many of the restaurant menus here feature English translations.

Half a bridge too far

A must-see here is the Pont d’Avignon, originating from the 12^thcentury and the basis of the famous song. It’s actually less than half a bridge as only four of the original 22 arches remain, so it stops disappointingly half way across the river. They have had many centuries to fix this but so far no action.

Incomplete bridge

And I have it on good authority that the song we learned in execrable French at school is wrong – they didn’t dance “sur la pont”, they actually danced under it, that is, “sous le pont”, in a long gone café. Should I be called upon to sing this song in future it is the correct “sous” version I shall offer.

We have a good look round at the Palais des Papes in the heart of the city. A bunch of popes who battled with Rome for control of the Catholic empire lived here and ruled in the 14^th century. Read the rest of this entry

Recommended dining

On another Dijon evening we dine at Restaurant Le Verdi, Place Emile Zola. We share a Salade Chevre Chaud – squares of grilled chevre topped with pine nuts, set on crusty bread over a dressed green salad. Also, a perfectly al dente tortellini filled with ricotta and fresh asparagus sitting on a bed of creamy sauce dotted with petit pois. All washed down with a 500 ml pichet of Pays du Gard Rouge.

Food Observations Nowadays in France you can’t help but notice a significant amount of “biologique” (organic) food and wine in the shops. Organic wine apparently accounts for 10% of the French market, with consumption growing rapidly.

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Sparkling Burgundy

Early June, it’s springtime in France and we’re on the fast train to Dijon, capital of Burgundy. After Dijon, we’ll head towards Avignon, Aix en Provence and Marseille.

Asparagus - Les Halles

No rental cars or rural retreats this trip. It’s all train and bus from Paris to Marseille, staying at pre-booked, self-catering apartments in the heart of each town.

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A dark and stormy moussaka

One evening, many decades ago, the good Greek ship Ellinis was under full sail (poetic ain’t I?), somewhere in the North Atlantic. Most of the souls aboard were young Australians, en route to England to gain a bit of kulcher.

The sea was angry that night my friends – as George Costanza might have said. Storms were creating massive waves, and as the ship had no stabilisers we were rocking and rolling as we sat down to late dinner in the dining saloon. Read the rest of this entry

by Annie Field

Last Wednesday we were hosted by the Illuminati wine family. We stayed an extra couple of nights in the wintery Le Marche region, just to attend the work organised appointment. We met up with Stefano Illuminati around midday for a tour of their facilities, a tasting and what was described as a lunch that was to be “nothing special” in the organising pre-emails.

The winery and vines are actually in the Abruzzo region which borders Le Marche to the south. Stefano shepherded us into his Porsche for a tour of their expansive vineyards, pointing out the different vineyards (Montepulciano being the star, the white Pecorino an up and comer), trellising techniques (they use both espalier and canopy styles) and described with ardour how the business has grown since his great grandfather established it over one hundred years earlier. Read the rest of this entry

Ian Hongell - Winemaker at Peter Lehmann Wines

Peter Lehmann Wines

Since its inception in 1979, Peter Lehmann Wines has been a Barossa Valley mainstay. The wines, especially the shiraz and riesling have been – in my little black book – synonymous with the Barossa style. So much so that when overseas guests have asked me to recommend typical Barossa wines, Peter Lehmann always come to mind.

The winery and cellar door are set in leafy, park-like gardens and guests can wander around, taste a good selection of wines and if peckish, enjoy lunch on a sunny verandah – as we did. Read the rest of this entry

Henschke

Stepping into the venerable cellars at the Henschke winery in Keyneton is a real trip into the past. The marks of generations of Henschkes having been hewn into the stony structures since the mid-nineteenth century.

In the winery are rows of open concrete fermenters still in use after numerous vintages, and the visitor may picture how winemakers in earlier days used gravity rather than motorised pumps to process young wines.

Henschke Winery - old concrete vats

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Seppelt Family Mausoleum

Seppeltsfield

The drive to Seppeltsfield is memorable – avenues of numerous stately date palms and on a hill the brooding Seppelt family mausoleum. As you arrive you are confronted by a complex of aged stone buildings that seem to have “just growed” since the winery’s beginnings in the mid-1800s.

In the old cellars the visitor is shown rows of casks still containing tawny port styles from 130 vintages. In the tasting room, ancient and modern fortifieds, brandies and table wines are there for an indulgent sip or two. Read the rest of this entry