“It is an indirect path, of course, strewn with trivial information and accidental, insignificant discoveries. How does this French stove work? Which days is the butcher open and what is the word for tenderloin? Is there a good bakery within walking distance? Where in the world do you park on the day of the farmers’ market, when there is no parking to be had? All of these questions and many more will be answered in time, as the days go by, as total immersion in a place takes on a pleasurable rhythm, knowledge is accrued, and you become, in some small but not insignificant way, at least for a little while, a local.”

“…There was no pleasure greater than the dawning sense of routine, the glimmer of expertise, however narrow, the smallest nod of recognition at the boulangerie.”

These pictures, along with the one from last Saturday, are from my new market discovery. I’ve recently realized that some of the markets in town are tagged in Google maps, so I’m going to try to visit them all during my time here (there are only six or seven that I’ve found so far).

The text above is taken from an article I read recently, called A Kitchen in Provence by Luke Barr, published in the November 2013 issue of Travel + Leisure. I read that first passage and it immediately struck a chord in me, it describes so well how I feel food and travel define experiences in and understanding a city.

Luke Barr’s book, Provence, 1970: M.F.K. Fisher, Julia Child, James Beard, and the Reinvention of American Taste, is lined up next on my reading list. (I’m currently reading A House in the Sky, which is a memoir about a world traveler turned young aspiring journalist who gets kidnapped in Somalia and held hostage for 15 months. I read an excerpt awhile ago somewhere, and it was incredible.)