Bordeaux and Palmiers

This year’s fête in Cucugan was a bit of a disappointment, to tell the truth.

Last year, it was a medieval festival. There were tons of things to see and do: horseback riding, plays in the streets, people dressed up… it was one of the most fun things we did all of last summer.

So this year, when the best thing about the whole festival was watching a handful of kids march through the streets blowing into wind instruments at random intervals (this year’s theme was “Le Vent,” or the wind), it was a bit of a disappointment for those of us who had been to the one last year.

However, there was one good thing about the situation: because we were searching for ways to entertain the kids who had not gone up to the second Cathar château, Queribus (coming soon to a blog near you…), we ended up hiking up the the Moulin d’Omer, at the top of the town.

Last year, the Moulin had been closed to the public, so even though we bought some artisanal bread and cookies, we weren’t able to have the experience we did this year.

This time, the meunier (miller) was there, giving talks (in French, of course) to anyone who wanted to learn a bit more about the history of the Moulin. Alex and I listened for awhile, and once we realized how interesting it was, we asked the meunier if he wouldn’t mind giving a little talk to some Americans.

He was happy to oblige, and I tried my best to translate the specific vocabulary. The story he told us was very interesting. We learned about the history of mills and how the Crusaders brought back the technology from the Middle East. Apparently, the presence of a horse in every mill dates back to the Templar Knights, for whom horses were the most important thing next to the life of a man–even more important than the life of a woman.

This particular mill has parts that date back for centuries. The fact that groups of artisan bakers are bringing back these old modes of working is fascinating to me. The mill used to belong to a feudal lord, survived the French Revolution, fell into decay when the socialist ideals of sharing meant that everyone used the mill, and no one cared for it.

It’s an old mill that tells stories… and now it’s being used, once again, to make flour for bread. The contrasts are jarring: to see a mill that is so old be used again is strange. Stranger still is to hear the miller tell us that, until ten years ago, he was working in computer technology.

The miller seems so proud of his work, of the fact that every loaf is different, but every loaf is delicious. He made a point of saying that to make and eat artisanal bread is a choice: with artisanal bread, you aren’t able to guarantee similarity. Artisanal bread cannot be mass produced. It cannot be relied upon to be identical to other bread from the same bakery.

After leaving the mill, we tested some for ourselves, and I have to say, when given the choice, I know which bread I will choose.

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