Even french vegan food is good

So, for tonight, I got to travel outside of Foix, to stay at a local farm owned by a pair of Brits, coincidentally. It seems like there are hoards of English people forsaking their island for Southern France. They've fixed up a house tucked deep in a valley outside of town - it used to be a barn but now has become a working, vegan guesthouse. They grow their own food organically, and make jars and jars of preserves and jams themselves. The house is beautiful, all old oak beams and stones.

For dinner, they made pumpkin soup from their canned pumpkins, a croque paysanne - with potatoes and other goodies all baked, fresh zucchini coming out of the garden now, and some chocolate mousse - all vegan but you'd never know it. They both admit they must have been crazy coming to Southern France just to give up cheese and duck, but they've really made it work in a seriously conservative part of the country - where most people would rather die than buy produce from someone English.

Niether of of them had experience before coming here - just some french and a willingness to take organic farming courses. They're almost off the grid entirely (apparently, it's not for just extreme Environmental Defense members). They have a running stream at the bottom of the valley, and make their own bread and soy milk. They're extremely excited since they just bought nine more hectares of land, and are going to put in fruit trees. Personally, I love their walnut trees and two very happy dogs. Tomorrow, i get to try their jams...

My favorite Frommer's listing so far is a small shop with a very dispassionate owner. The shop has no name, it's just a tiny space in Foix that sells old antiques. And by antiques I mean piles of old french keys, clocks, iron works, and junk - heaped on two giant tables. She had piles of old french postcards from the early 1900s, which she reluctantly sold me, with Spanish-accented french, before she went back across the street for une tasse of something. Tomorrow I'm going to ask her how long the shop has been there, we'll see how it goes.

No more small b&b's for a while - a person could get used to this...

Bonjour!

Landed. Nothing like 24 hours of travel to make you feel completely not human. Two plane rides to get to Paris, 2.5 hour shuttle to the train station, almost missing the TGV on account of not reading "compostez votre billet!" Somewhere along the line I woke up in Bordeaux, saw the rows upon rows of vineyards out the window, and was grateful I'd made it that far.

From there, it was only one more train transfer to make it to Foix, a tiny medieval town underneath a large chateau on the hill. Foix is sleepy, with narrow, crooked streets and few tourists. But it's lovely here so far - like much of France everrthing closes between noon and two, to wait out the intense southern sunshine. I stayed at a small b&b, totally invisible from the street, but it turns out to be a gorgeous 3 story house owned by an incredibly kind British couple. The house is over 300 years old, with walls 3 feet thick. They were kind enough to talk me through my jitters, and do an hour-long interview about Foix. They're basically the English relatives you always wanted, who have an insanely beautiful house in the Midi-Pyrenees and feed you jam and croissants.

So far, speaking french hasn't been awful, though the real advantage of traveling alone is not really knowing how badly you're butching the conditional. The southern accent down here is a bit much - "demain" becomes "demanG" etc. But people have been patient with me, as I grill them about whether or not they take credit cards, and what the heck is that meat product behind the counter. Again, no shop really has hours down here, and half the shopkeepers seem to make them up as I ask. We'll see if Frommer's understands.

Dinner last night was forgettable - but today les halles - the farmers market - was open and i got to try some wonderful things - like Bethmale cheese - a local farvorite. Did I mention how beautiful the strawberries are here? Even the charcuteries are dead serious about food - whole chickens and ducks with the head on. My favorite one has pictures of the exact cows (alive, and standing next to their farmers) that they've bought on a poster outside.

So far, no truly outstanding croissants - but the quest continues...