1950s Archive

An Epicurean Tour of the French Provinces

Auvergne

Originally Published June 1951
Volcanic hills, Romanesque churches and fortified towns overshadow the elemental, pork scented cookery of this noble and dramatic province.

If you are motoring through France this summer and have no particular allergies to mountain roads, less than-immaculate village Streets, and Romanesque churches, the dramatic province of Average should provide one of the most memorable episodes of your trip. It is a magnificently picturesque part of France, one whose rugged landscape keeps you wide-eyed. hut it has its softer side, too. Its luxurious spas and watering places welcome countless visitors, ailing and otherwise, to the gentle pursuit of taking a cure or merely playing boule in the casino.

The strict boundaries of Auvergne contain only the two départements of the Puy-de-Dôme and the Haute-Loire, but our map, out of kindness, has included the neighboring Cantal and Lozère, two distinctly forlorn regions for the epicure. This month I will attenuate the flamboyant adjectives which cluttered up the stories on Savoy and Dauphiny, for the cooking of Auvergne, while hearty and good, belongs in the middle category.

A range of volcanic mountains runs through Auvergne, and they are the highest in central France. The earth's crust has always been restive here, and there is a chain of colossal carbuncles to prove it. Some seem to have healed only yesterday. Others, after a few million years, have flattened into plateaux. If you arc in the mood, you can climb an extinct volcano in your car. It is called the Puy-de-Dôme, and its conical stupe is nearly perfect. The road winds around it effortlessly, and your radiator shows only a slight rise in temperature. But don't think you are a pioneer. At the top are the remains of a temple of Mercury built by the Romans!

The native of Auvergne is supposed to be a rather dour individual, avaricious and taciturn. We looked for such overcas characters during our recent trip but must confess that almost everyone was bedecked in smiles whenever we asked a question. Of course, it could have been my frayed nylon shirt or my wife's hat. The prize Auvergnat of all, from the American point of view at least, was anything but a long-faced materialist. He was Marie-Joseph-Paul-Roch-Yves-Gilbert Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, and he was born in the Chateau de Chavagnac, in the Haute-Loire, in 1757. The generous, gallant, Utopian Lafayette was a complete contradiction of the reputed Auvergnat character.

The Auvergnat farmer is accustomed to rude toil. Beasts rather than tractors are his agricultural helpmates. As a result, his village streets and barns, in the words of my favorite guidebook, “recall but dimly Flemish spo'.lessness or the (lowered gaiety of the Touraine. This sturdy toiler ignores coquetry.” As you travel over the hillsides, you will see his practical approach to farm problems. Scattered over the slopes are fenced enclosures where the cattle are corralled nightly during the warm months. This enclosed parking space, cal.ed la fumade, is moved regularly after the area is well fertilized. Any belter ideas?

But Auvergne is not all picturesuresqueness and hommy-handedtoil. It has its reposeful side and is well endowed with thermal stations where one may take a cure or just luxuriate. You will recognize these towns by one phenomenon—a shuffling figure in a bathrobe and sandals en route to la source. He is about to drink some of that health-giving water, or to gargle or inhale it or perhaps to bathe in it. He will be in Vichy, Royat, Châtel-Guyon, Le Mont Dore, La Bourboule, or SaintNectaire, respectively, depending upon whether he has trouble with his liver, heart and arteries, intestines, respiratory tracts, asthma, or kidneys, also respectively. All these are familiar names in your travel (or ailment) folder. Architecturally, these towns may produce shudders, but the comfort of their hotels is unquestioned. Some of them, happily for the visiting gourmet with unimpaired innards, think of him as well as of the man with the wan look and the strict diet. A few of the hotels which cater to the hateful, hearty sybarite are listed on a later page, their gastronomic rewards making one forgetful of the lesser blessed.

Romanesque churches are a difficult diet for some travelers, a pure delight for others. Like beer, bouillabaisse, and bridge, they are an acquired taste. Auvergne provides the best possible first sampling of this subtle twelfth-century delicacy. The sober beauty of these serene, round-arched masterpieces in stone seems to awe the most casual visitor. Six of the most significant churches are spaced in a rough rectangle: Issoire, La Chaise Dieu, Brioude, Saint-Nectaire, Orcival, and the church of Notre-Dame-du-Port in industrial Clermont-Ferrand, and it is an unforgettable experience to visit them.

If six are too many, two stand out as particularly gratifying. One is La Chaise Dieu, whose massive abbey, founded by Pope Clement VI of Avignon, is a thing of towering splendor and whose cloisters and tapestries are incomparable. The other church is at Saint-Neetaire, a hilltop Romanesque lour de force which is a legend with architects. Visit these two, and Le Puy, and you have touched the architectural peak of Auvergne. The greatest curiosity of them all, of course, is the astonishing Le Puy. considered by many a critic to be the most picturesque place in Prance.

A summary of the epicurean resources of Auvergne sounds rather routine. Its somber forests yield game in quantity, and its rivers are well stocked with trout. The salmon of Brioude has earned a certain reputation. Cattle graze on the plateaux of Auvergne, but it is the fundamental pig which leaves the major imprint on its regional cookery.

The cheeses of Auvergne make up a more original contribution to the well-being of French gourmets. Cantal is substantial, and Bleu d'Auvergne is a worthy emulator of Roquefort, though made with milk from the cow. not the ewe. Finally there is Saint-Nectaire, a round, flat, well ripened cheese which seems to be the star of the lot. Its quantity is limited, and the best way to taste it is to buy a whole one, right there in Saint-Nectaire.

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