We allow ourselves to sleep in a bit today, as the workshop starts tomorrow. We enjoy breakfast, chatting across the table to another couple who arrived last night.

Once breakfast is cleaned up, Françoise dons a hat and takes out her bicycle. We have arranged to photograph her going to the local stand for fruits and vegatables. Arnie and I hop into our car so we can keep ahead of her. Also, we can help by bringing back the lettuces and other garden produce. Françoise looks quite charming on her bike. It is windy, so at times she has to hold on to it so it won’t blow away. We make some photographs on the way to le Charreton du Maraîcher. It is a tidy smallish building with a large parking area. Kathy and her maman greet us warmly. We drool over all the fresh produce. There is something about the French. They really know how to present fruits and vegetables. It is hard to resist buying everything. These days, Cathy and her husband, Franck, use biodegradable sacs, but they don’t have the same feeling as a nice basket. Cathy has those, too, as she prepared beautiful baskets of produce for clients in Paris.

Françoise asks Franck if there is a local man who makes his own chevre (goat cheese). “Oui,” and it is easy to get there. He calls, makes introductions, and Françoise makes the arrangements. 4:00 or 4:30 will be fine.

On the way back, we stop at the local vineyard, Domaine de la Royere. They make medal-winning batches that we have enjoyed at Mas les Capelans. Anne Hughes, the vigneron, greets us. We chat about how we love her wines, and she brings out a few for us to taste. We buy a couple of really nice bottles of a gold-medal winner. It is not expensive compared to US prices.

We head back for some work and lunch. Another yummy salad. We invite Françoise to join us. Her herbs are wonderful. The olive oils are so much better than the ones at home. You can add as many “extras virgins” to the virgin olive oils at home, and the oil still is not as good as here.

Arnie and I finish up some work and head outside to relax by the pool. We have been on the go so much, it feels good to relax for a bit. Both of us doze, but we have made arrangements for this afternoon, so we cannot be too lazy.

Françoise is armed with directions. We get into our car, and the ladies chat in front, while Arnie is chauffered and contributes from the back seat.

Franck has told us it is only a short way. We go through this little village and that little hamlet and down various roads and lanes. No ferme (farm). We start to giggle, because clearly, this is not going to be as easy to find as Franck led us to believe. We stop where a farmer is mowing between the rows of grape vines.

“Just a bit further on and turn.” We do, yet see nothing. Françoise gets out of the car at a small village and talks to the Tourism Office. They know nothing either. Here is Françoise who has been a tour guide world wide, and the locals don’t even know of someone local who has made prize-winning cheeses. We laugh as she tells of the ludicrous conversation. She calls Franck who sort of gets us back on the right road.

We head down a narrow road that gets narrower and bumpier by the minute. There is a lady on a machine. We ask again.

“Are you lost?” she asks of Françoise. “Just head back down the road and turn right under the bridge.”

“There is no way we are going to fit through there,” says Arnie.

“Pfff,” I respond, “Piece of cake.” Indeed, it is just wide enough for us to fit through without having to pull in our side-view mirrors.

We find the farm, Canta Cabra on the outskirts of the medieval town of Goult. It has been an adventure getting there, full of wrong turns and laughter. We know it has taken us far longer than it should have. Over three-quarters of an hour.

We admire the goats. François (a man without the “e” on the end) Grégoire comes out and says he’ll be just five minutes. We have the feeling we have interrupted something.

Eventually, he comes downstairs and is most gracious. He learned about making chevre from his grandfather and has been in the business for ten years, the last year and a half of which has been on his own place. He has been to university and knows about green/organic farming. He grows all the feed for his goats who are very clean.

We are invited inside to see the operation. We don those blue shoe covers so we will not contaminate anything. There are shelves of curing cheese, and in another room, cheese that is in an earlier stage of production.

He speaks quickly and passionately about his craft, the care that goes into it, the learning from his grandfather. He looks very Gallic as he speaks. He is involved in encouraging other young people to take up farming. It is an honorable profession. He is wise for his 27 years, and we think his grandfather has taught him well.

The goats are all so friendly and gentle. They’re like puppies clammoring for attention. François is very gentle with them, proud of how they look. We go into the milking room where the goats munch away as the machines pump away. Everything is very clean. We are impressed.

We have enjoyed ourselves, and we tell Gertrude to guide us back to Mas les Capelans. It takes just a bit over ten minutes, and we laugh. Over three-quarters of an hour to get to the farm, a mere ten or so minutes for the return! When Françoise talks to Pierre (her husband, for those new to this blog) later, he also has a good laugh.

Dinner is terrific as always. Delicate, little pieces of pork for me with a confitte of vegetables, a tomato salad for Arnie with some of the goat cheese we were given today. Delicious!

It has been a good day. The workshop starts tomorrow, and we will have no time for side excursions such as these. We are grateful for the opportuity today to do something like this.

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