Perhaps it is the weather or the hunt for a bargain that drives literally thousands of people to visit a brocante (second-hand markets) especially in the summer. Well-known places such as Isle-sur-la Sorgue seamlessly blend antiques with second hand goods. I have never known what is a bargain and what …

This main dish is a recipe from Hilda it is easy to prepare and a perfect savoury pairing with duck and figs.

I cannot claim to be an art critic however I know what I like and this summer I was invited to a vernissage (from the French verb to varnish which is an interesting choice!). This preview event is usually by invitation and what better setting than Crillon-le-Brave? Nestling into the …

My good friend Carola has the most amazing fig trees in her garden. Twice a year they are laden with fruit and she has become something of an expert in creating new ways of eating this healthy crop. No matter how much you like a fresh fig after a while …

I can’t help it – I’m a sucker for a local Festival in France – so you can imagine I was delighted when, on a planned bike ride last week, we arrived in Saint Didier and noticed a sign for the Fig Festival taking place in Caromb that day. Continue …

Hilda visited Forcalquier with some friends in the fall and stayed at a charming B&B. The cool temperatures in Haute Provence allowed for some local exploring and a bit of eating. Keep reading to learn about tomato jam: Breakfast in France is so very different to home, and this was …

Back in 2006, I got to know a family living on the outskirts of the village via my mum. The family were very kind to me during her short illness and made a special point of keeping in touch thereafter. In 2007, we received an invitation to a wedding in …

“Would you like some figs for dessert?” I was asked following a lovely meal one summer’s evening in Caromb. For someone who had only ever eaten figs in yoghurt this was an opportunity not to be missed! My fellow diners rose from the table and headed outside. This intrigued me …

Hilda Stearn entertains us with her story about how a made-in-Italy, Spanish-registered car from London meets Provence’s paperasse.

When my widowed mum announced that she was moving to France we all assumed that she would settle in Brittany or Normandy – places she had visited many times with my father. Within easy reach of the UK and her beloved granddaughter the north of France seemed sensible. My strong-willed …