It begins and ends here at the Gathering Table at Camont
Finding France at home, where ever you live.
Conclusion. My Own Table. The Gathering Place…
The tables of Camont always rest at the right height—between heaven and earth, between the farm field and the hanging orchard fruit. Over the years, the wooden boards, some smooth and varnished, others weathered and greyed by summer sun and winter rains, have been the perfect rustic backdrops for food photography for magazines, newspapers, and television programs. Generous servings of braised French chickens and garden vegetables are heaped in the center of hand-thrown clay pottery or vintage ironstone decorated with flowers and fruit and passed around. Platters of all sizes make their way down and around the table, poised with large silver serving spoons and antique cutlery—an asparagus slice or a pea spoon. Each guest holds the platter for the next or dishes up from the center of a too-hot cassole bubbling straight from the oven. The table is animated and not posed; the styling is merely a product of the many different dishes, glasses, and folded napkins I own. Somehow, they all go together in beautiful chaos because I have picked them all out and kept them together like a family over the years.
Multiple tables are in the many spaces that make up Camont—two kitchens, an informal dining room/gallery, and three outside terrace areas with tables that can be set for between six and 20. I often take my morning coffee alone at a little round cherry wood table I had on the barge years ago. It snugs in between the baking area and the kitchen sink in the teaching kitchen, and in nice weather, I open the windows to smell the quince blossoms or let the cooler summer air in to refresh the space before the heat takes over. Each space owns its drama as the seasons continue to rotate. I sit outside by the potager if the mosquitos are in check in the summer or as the winter morning sun hits the east side of the house in February when a faux spring announces tulips and orchard blossoms soon.
And while the arc of this memoir has been on learning to cook, those French lessons in the kitchen, at the market, on the farms, and in the restaurants, the true tell of a lifetime of cooking well has been the satisfying hum of conversations and connections made at these tables. Hundreds, actually thousands, have eaten my food at my tables at Camont over these many years. I have not run a restaurant, but I have cooked and served. I have taught and guided, coached and demonstrated following my simple approach to buying the best food and making the most delicious meals.
This memoir contains stories of people and places and the lessons I learned from them. Over 50 recipes, trucs, and techniques mirror the time I spent growing from a young to an older woman in a country not my own. It will never be complete, and I trust that my students and friends will continue to cook long into the Gascon night as I hang like a faint constellation, the Ladle, overhead. “Don’t stir so much.” “Listen to the heat in the pan.”
The legacy of this lifetime of sharing the food of Gascony is like that famous French pastry, a millefeuille or Napoléon, made of layers of memories of sitting at these tables, forking platters of grilled meat, spoons ladles of hot soup, and passing the fruit tarts and tubs of homemade ice cream around and around until it all gone. And starting with a chorus from every meal, that simple and grateful toast—“To those who showed up!”
Thank you, my dear Paid Subscribers! Without you this wouldn’t have been possible!
Coming Soon.
While I have come to the end of the stories and recipes compiled as “Finding France: a Memoir in Small Bites,” I ask that you consider how we all learn to cook, or write, or share our most private thoughts on canvas or in song. It’s a lifelong journey, isn’t?
There is no retiring from learning or teaching. And I have not served my last supper nor shared my last recipe here. Instead, I look forward to starting new chapters documenting the daily rural life activities in France called “Champêtre: A French Field Guide to Country Life.” The Camont Journals takes on a rustic aire of old French ways, from preserving and cooking from the markets and gardens to exploring those old stone buildings we call home.
Paid subscribers will continue to have an all-access pass to the archives, including books and recipes. Starting the first of next month, you will receive the newest words, stories, and photographs of living in the French countryside at Camont under the new heading “Champêtre.” Follow along and see where we go!
Relais de Camont News— Food Writing Residencies and Workshop Retreats!
I am also adjusting my seasonal schedule with a finer focus to infuse the Relais de Camont’s creative residency sessions with a focus on food writing, photography, research, and cooking. It makes sense, doesn’t it?
In 2025, guest lecturers and mentors offer new retreats, workshops, and masterclasses for small groups of 4-8 throughout the year. All information is posted on the Relais de Camont website, which will be updated with new self-guided sessions, retreats, and other events. There is now an open call for independent writing and artist residencies for 2025.
View draft history
Settings
I adore your description of the mixed collection of dishes and pots and tables as a family. I have a similar blend of bowls from Morocco and plates from Zimbabwe swirled into new-ish additions of a grass green Cruset and serving trays from Deruta.
What a dreamy setting.✨