Giving the French capital a miss, Fiona McCannfinds a taste of the real France in Aveyron, a picturesque area tucked away in the south
WE'LL ALWAYS have Paris, as Bogart famously intoned. Which is why it's worth checking out the rest of what France has to offer and, given that it's the second largest country in Europe in terms of sheer land mass, there's ample scope for wandering beyond the celebrated capital.
Take Aveyron, for example, tucked modestly down towards the south east of country without even a sliver of coastline, a fact that has helped to keep it off the tourist radar and left its pretty hamlets and hills to their own devices for centuries. The third biggest départment in the country, it's also one of the least populated, though the scarcity of people is more than compensated for by the ubiquity of sheep and cows that crowd the rolling fields and stare down any hapless motorist who dares disturb their bucolic idyll.
Situated at the foothills of the Massif Central, with Montpellier to the south and Toulouse to southwest, Aveyron is about as far from the studied ennui of Paris as it is possible to get - any ennui experienced around this slow-paced and slightly self-satisfied neck of the woods is entirely unforced. Tant pis. Aveyron shrugs Frenchly and cultivates its myriad treasures, too proud to blow its trumpet but smugly certain that the tourists who have been taking their custom to the crowded beach resorts along the coast will eventually come crawling.
It's easy to see why they might. Aveyron boasts the kind of French countryside that is so prettily typical, it smacks of a Hollywood recreation, all rolling green valleys flecked with impossibly picturesque hamlets, their red-roofed houses clustered against lush green hillsides. Many, like Sainte-Eulalie d'Olt and Belcastel, have been listed among the country's 139 "Plus Beaux Villages de France", which considering how many Beaux Villages France has to offer, is no mean feat. Others, like Salles de Sources, might as well be, with its low limestone dwellings clustered along winding cobbled streets, while roses climb around the old stone walls and a waterfall serendipitously cascades into the village. Castles, quite frankly, are commonplace, while every hamlet hides an ancient ornate church or picture-perfect 12th century abbey in its tidy recesses.
Even the capital, Rodez, is more like an outsized village than anything that might approximate the swirling chaos of a city. The streets are narrow and curved, and strewn with 15th-century mansions accessed through cobbled courtyards and heavy, hobbit-like wooden doors that have been keeping commoners out for centuries. A farmers' market sets up twice weekly, offering fresh local produce and regional specialities, and locals greet each other by name under a skyline of mansard roofs.
Despite its diminutive size, however, Rodez has plenty to be puffed up about, including an excellent museum in the Musée Fenaille, situated in a restored Jouery mansion, which houses an impressive collection of menhirs - upright statues that date from 5,000 years ago - along with other historical artefacts from the region. Also worth a look around is its Notre Dame cathedral, constructed over a 300-year stretch which finally ended in the 16th century with a decidedly Gothic flourish. Intriguingly, the original stained glass windows have been replaced with newly-designed, modern versions of the original, to questionable effect.
This co-location of the ancient and the new, though, is what marks out the best of Aveyron. Driving along the ultra-modern A75 takes you through the Larzac Plateau, former domain of the Knights of the Templar, whose legacy remains intact in the perfectly preserved burgs just off the motorway that testify to their medieval dominance. This is also the road that leads to the Millau Viaduct, the tallest vehicular bridge in the world. Designed, controversially enough, by an Englishman, Norman Foster, its masts reach 340m in height, with its 2,460m in length curving over the Tarn valley and lobbing hours off journeys south from the capital.
In contrast, hours, and even entire days, can be lost on a winding drive through the Lot valley in the north of the départment, where pit stops at towns like Conques can rob you of any sense of time. Located on the Santiago de Compostela trail, Conques is another "most beautiful" village of such quaint stony streets and houses it verges on the twee, with any semblance of modernity expressly barred from entering. Except, that is, when it comes to its Abbey-Church, home to what is perhaps Aveyron's most breathtaking secret - the stained glass windows of Rodez-born artist Pierre Solages, who grew up in the region and specifically requested the commission to design new windows for this ancient place of worship 20 years ago. Without them, the church would have its charms - the Last Judgment tympanum over the door is overlooked by a delightful gaggle of carved faces, known as "les curieux", or the curious ones - yet the addition of Solange's simple, bichromatic patterns draws a light across the ancient stone that lift it somewhere closer to the sacred.
Conques is also home to the Majesty of Sainte Foy, the relics of a martyred young girl "acquired" somewhat controversially by the village in the ninth century. Pilgrims who arrived to pay homage over the years kindly left donations in gold, which went towards beautifying the beatified. The result is a glitteringly disproportionate statue which now encases the relics, as well as a horde of medieval gold considered one of the finest of its kind.
The treasures of Conques may be unique to Aveyron, but what this region has in common with the rest of the country is its passion for food. With Roquefort produced in the départment, in labyrinthine caves carved into the mountainside, there are plenty of local specialities enlivened by the pungent flavours of this king of cheeses.
Yet even the lower orders ate well in these parts, with local specialities like Aligot - an elastic mash of cheese and potato that will stick to your guts as you shovel it down - originally fodder for pilgrims as they passed through the region on the Santiago de Compostela trail.
Foie Gras reigns supreme in this neck of the woods, with one local farmer, Jaques Carles, so convinced of its merits that he has opened up the pate-producing process to scrutiny by sceptical visitors. Fine food is available all over, but the favoured child of Aveyron is still its own Michel Bras, who eschewed the gastronomic temptations of Paris when he chose instead to build his own restaurant in a hillside in Lagouile, a restaurant which now boasts three Michelin stars. Despite all this, Aveyron remains surprisingly uncrowded by either tourists or locals, in part because its charms are of the pastoral variety, and in part because it gives them up almost grudgingly, unlike its coastal rivals who divulge their delights to all comers.
It may not boast the sporting seduction of Aquitaine, with its golf courses and surf spots, nor the Mediterranean pleasures of Provence, yet there is a particular kind of peace to be garnered from a sojourn in a restored castle dining on foie gras and Roquefort that, given a little time and a lot of decent reading material, could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Go there
Ryanair flies directly from Dublin to Rodez, Aveyron twice a week
Roquefort - out of the blue
Just as you'd expect of a French cheese, Roquefort began in romance, when a young shepherd went lolloping after a pretty maiden and left his lunch of bread and ewe's milk cheese behind him in a cave.
As it happens, the caves in this particular part of the country are ventilated by natural cracks in the rock which, together with the cool temperatures and moisture, are a perfect breeding ground for the kind of fungus Roquefort requires.
When said shepherd finally returned weeks later, he discovered that the mould from the bread had turned his cheese into a delicious blue-veined variety. This, according to local legend, is how the first Roquefort blue cheese was made.
Whatever the purported origins, what can be verified is that this world-renowned blue cheese has been delighting the most sophisticated of palates since the 11th century and before. King Charles VI gave a monopoly on its production to the local people of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon in the 15th century, though it was a mere subject, the philosopher Diderot, who first called it the King of Cheeses.
Nowadays, thousands and thousands of loaves of Roquefort roll out of the same caves on an annual basis, after some careful production and plenty of patience. One of the town's seven cheese producers, Société des Caves, does daily tours of the cavernous cellars, taking you through every stage of traditional cheese production right through to the all-important tasting at the end.
For more information, go to www.roquefort-societe.com
Look sharp
Heston Blumenthal uses them, and Philip Stark designs a range - frankly, there's no cutting the mustard without a Lagouile blade these days. Yet these signature knives, forged in the northeast of Aveyron, have a history longer than the tasting menu at the Fat Duck.
First created in 1829 by a local innkeeper's son, the curved blades evolved over time and by the end of the 19th century, every self-respecting Aveyronnais was packing a Lagouile knife.
Though production was interrupted by wars and depopulation, an interest in the historical product was reawakened in the 1980s, and the forge fired up again.
The knives are now exported to some 50 countries. Many of the local forges and factories offer workshops and guided visits, which include opportunities to watch some celebrated craftsmen at work, as well as a chance to purchase the kind of cutlery approved by celebrity chefs.