On Sunday morning, we walked along the port, the fierce sun on our faces softened by a gentle breeze off the Étang. At the end of the port, towards the green light house, the Quai Antonin Gros was lined with stalls selling ceramics at the annual Marché de Potiers. I did a little light shopping – some large, grey mugs for tea, a big fruit bowl with holes in the bottom to let the air circulate, a white mug and a jug decorated with fat, red crabs. I stopped to chat with my friend Nathalie, the ceramicist who owns the shop Taupinette et Cie in Pézenas where I buy the yellow and orange tableware you often see in my photographs. We bumped into more friends, kiss-kiss-kiss, stopped for coffee on the terrace of the ice cream shop, and then we were home, retailed and relaxed, by 11am.
In the evening, as I lay fatly on the sofa in the cool gloom of the shuttered sitting room, the sounds of singing drifted up from the little square in front of the house. It was the Chorale Arpège, the local choir, kicking off this year’s Fête de la Musique. Later in the evening, there was a salsa-rock concert in the Place du 14 Juillet, and a DJ promising an “ambiance festive” at the rowing club. A few miles away in Marseillan-Plage, there was a demonstration and class with the New Line Country Dancers. Line dancing seems surprisingly popular in some small, French towns. It must be something to do with that essential aspect of small-town life: joining in. It’s pétanque in cowboy boots and white jeans.
Listening to the Chorale Arpège from the sitting room balcony
Joining in is what the Fête de la Musique all about. It began in 1982, when a survey discovered that five million French people played musical instruments but had nowhere to play them together, in public, with others. The first fête was held in Paris. Professional and amateur musicians gathered to play and sing on stages, at street corners and on balconies, in parks, and in front of bars and cafés, just doing their thing, united under the slogan “La musique partout et le concert nulle part”(music everywhere, the concert nowhere). Since then, this way of celebrating music, neighbourliness and conviviality – held on the summer solstice, the longest day – has heralded the beginning of summer, and has spread to other cities, towns and villages all over France. More than one friend has told me it’s their favourite night of the year.
In Paris, two million people crammed into the streets for this year’s Fête, undaunted by the 35C heat, and the alcohol ban the canicule brought with it. Inevitably, with its success has come criticism, that it’s changing, the sponsors are taking over, it’s too commercial now, that it’s become a victim of influencers whose viral Tiktoks encouraged people to flock to Paris from all over the world. There’s contempt for people who refer to it as FDM, for the mountains of litter, and fury in some quarters that the noise goes on far too long into the morning. Some locals feel pushed out of their own neighbourhoods, no longer part of what was once their own free, home-grown festival.
It has certainly grown from simple concerts and people playing guitars with their neighbours, to an event that sprawls the city, across parks, railway stations, museums and squares and encompasses everything from classical music, to pop, opera, techno, R&B, jazz, Afrobeats and hip hop. It’s evolved from a home-grown festival to a world-grown one.
The celebrations reached as far as the Élysée Palace. President Macron hosted a party which included a set by DJ Bens, who – in the most Frenchy-French move ever – remixed what’s become known as Macron’s For Sure speech from the Davos World Economic Forum in January. That was the one he delivered in English while wearing aviator sunglasses because of an eye infection. Anyway, I’ve been singing It needs to be reformed, for sure, for sure while washing up all week. (As an aside, I discovered that DJ Bens is not only from Marseillan, but is also the cousin of our mayor, Yves Michel. But then almost everyone seems to be his cousin. The DJ even did a show at the top of our church tower in 2021.)
This is the 30 second preview video, the full 56 minute set can be watched here.
On Sunday night when I went to bed, outside of one of the restaurants on the port a band was blasting out Dancing Queen. Having the time of our lives. Summer’s here.
With summer, comes the high season of the apéro hour, the low-stress, intensely convivial tradition of gathering your friends and neighbours together for a drink, something to eat, to share conversations, gossip, a few laughs. It’s the least demanding and often the most fun of all social occasions, especially as they’re often spontaneous. It’s all about the art of being perfectly imperfectly together. You can assemble all you need in a quick trip around the shops – drinks, some charcuterie, a few olives, maybe crisps, some cherry tomatoes (tomates cocktail in French, a case of vegetable nominative determinism) something to chop into crudités, perhaps some icy melon. I often serve just this, but more usually I make one homemade thing too, such as the recipe I’m sharing today. It’s inspired by the classic Provençal recipe, pissaladière - thin dough spread with onions cooked until soft and finished with anchovies and olives, but I flavoured the pastry with tomatoes and added aubergines to the top. You can make it ahead, so all you need to do at the last minute is cut it into squares and pour the drinks.
Aubergine Pissaladière
You can make the pastry for this up to a day ahead and keep it chilled in the fridge. You can also sauté the onions and aubergines ahead too, so you’re ready to assemble everything just before you put it in the oven.
Makes one 33x28cm Pissaladière
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