Conjuring up a Treat in Carcassonne by Rebecca Ford
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From a distance Carcassonne looks like a fantasy fortress – the sugar-spun creation of some inspired medieval magician. Rub your eyes and you feel it might disappear. Up close, the fairytale feel intensifies: a maze of ancient streets, picture-book towers and shops brimming with gourmet foods. As we make our way to our hotel, I congratulate myself on my choice. I had brought my Mum to Carcassonne for a birthday treat and, as it was a special birthday - let’s just say one with an ‘0’ in it - magic was exactly what I wanted.
Tucked away in the Languedoc, in south-west France, Carcassonne has two parts. There’s the impossibly picturesque walled citè perched on a hilltop (Walt Disney’s inspiration for Sleeping Beauty’s castle), and the 13th-century lower town, the Bastide Saint-Louis. They’re separated by the River Aude and surrounded by deliciously wild countryside.
Most people come to Carcassonne for its history. It was once a powerbase of the Cathars, an heretical Christian sect brutally suppressed in the early 13th-century by Pope Innocent III. But few realise that it’s also a great base for a food trail. In the citè itself there are excellent restaurants – notably the hotel’s Michelin-starred La Barbacane, and shops selling everything from tins of cassoulet (the regional stew of beans, fatty pork, duck and sausages) to artisan ice-cream (honey and lavender-delicious); and there’s a fabulous food market down in the Bastide. Venture into the surrounding countryside, and you’ll also find specialist producers offering informative tours and tastings. We set off next morning for an insight into Languedoc life.
Our first stop is with Colette Poite, whose family have a smallholding beside the Canal du Midi (Confiturerie Domaine de l’Ecluse, Trebes). We arrive to find the morning baguette still in its bag outside the door (the local equivalent of milk on the doorstep) and the family hard at work in the fields. Colette’s parents grow fruits and herbs, which she turns into delicious preserves. We taste herb jellies; jams made from water-melons, cherries, quinces and even green tomatoes; and wicked wine jellies that pack a surprising punch.
Further along the canal and past acres of vineyards is L’Oulibo (Bize Minervois, daily) a co-operative olive producer. The Romans, who founded the first fortified town at Carcassone, introduced olives to the Languedoc and the region now specialises in growing Lucques, a variety so highly prized that connoisseurs call them ‘green diamonds’. I always thought olives were just black or green, but after a tour of the mill and a tutored tasting, I realise my ignorance. Different oils turn out to be as distinctive as fine wines, and Mum and I are rapidly converted to the delicate, sweet flavour of unpasteurised Lucques. As you can’t get them in the UK, it looks as if we’re developing expensive tastes.
We lunch at Le Comptoir Nature (Le Somail), a converted lock keeper’s house idyllically situated on the canal. The restaurant offers delicious ‘assiettes de Pays’ – local tasting platters. We sit outside in crisp sunshine, which has magically appeared for Mum’s birthday, and eat creamy goats’ cheeses, Languedoc rice and salad – then find we’ve not left room for their gorgeous apricot and rosemary tart.
We leave reluctantly and drive on, passing the Abbey of Fontfroide. It was the murder of one of its friars that gave Pope Innocent III the excuse to launch his crusade against the Cathars. But the abbey was also noted for its fine wine and honey; still Languedoc specialities. Near Fontfroide we find La Miellerie (Montseret, daily), a honey farm which produces honeys from wild aromatic herbs like rosemary and thyme, as well as from sunflowers, Pyrenean pines and chestnut trees. The variety of flavours is extraordinary.
The people at the honey farm, like the others we meet, are not just enthusiastic about their food, but also the Languedoc itself. At our last stop, Chateau de Villemagne winery (nr Lagrasse), the cheery owner Roger Carbonneau shows us archaeological finds he’s dug up in his fields (including a perfectly preserved amphora), while giving us tastings of his excellent wines – and charming Mum by exclaiming that he can’t believe how old she is.
It’s dark when we return and Carcassonne is floodlit, looking even more magical than usual. We change (smart not casual, it’s that sort of place), then stroll down to La Barbacane. Dinner is an event: gentle piano music, seamless service, and a leisurely procession of delicious dishes and ambrosial amuse-bouches, all made with produce from the Languedoc. Culinary wizardry.