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‘Very well so far. Thank you for having me here at such short notice.’
‘Of course. As it happened, weneededsomeone at short notice, didn’t we Xavier?’
Xavier looked uncomfortable and gave a half-nod as Luca ran down the stairs, hair like velvet, brown eyes shining. ‘It’s not Xavier’s fault Rose left us in the lurch,’ he said. ‘Don’t make such a big deal of it, Genevieve. She tried her best and it didn’t work out.’
‘Fern, Rose, now Holly… we’re building quite the bouquet,’ Genevieve remarked, as Luca rolled his eyes, his muscles visible through his jacket.
‘Ah Xavier,bonne matinmy friend,’ Luca said, clasping Xavier’s hand.
‘Bonjour,’ he replied, zipping up his jacket and heading for the door. ‘Holly and I are off to the farmers’ market to buy ingredients for this evening.’
‘Ooh la la, enjoy!’ Genevieve called after us. ‘Don’t let them tempt you with too many tasters. The cheese stall is dangerous.’
Xavier and I headed out into the frosty air, my white pumps immediately proving themselves unfit for purpose, exposing each of my toes to the cold. My jeans were also unfit for purpose. And so were my knickers. Not a good start to the day.
‘Luca’s cellar is unbelievable, isn’t it?’ I said, as we walked towards the village. ‘I think the challenge will be less about the wine pairing and more about finding the right bottle in time to serve it. There must be a trick to it?’
‘Oh yes, it’s very simple. Didn’t Luca mention the app?’ Xavier said. ‘It’s all in there.’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘Ah thank God, that issucha relief!’
Xavier laughed. ‘Sadly,non. I have no idea, I’m afraid. It’s a total maze to me too.’
‘You had me going then. I was imagining typing B4 into the app and an enormous robot hand picking out the right bottle for me.’
We trudged up the hill to the market, my socks already soaked through. I needed to get better at dressing. This was a disaster.
‘Are you not cold?’ Xavier asked, looking me up and down. ‘No snood?’
‘A little bit, yes,’ I said miserably. The layers were working but what I really needed was a sheepskin and some wellies. And a balaclava.
‘Take this,’ he said, unwinding the red knotted wool from his neck and wrapping it around mine. I felt instantly warmer and comforted by the musky smell of his aftershave.
‘Thanks,’ I said, shuddering as the heat hit my body.
The farmers’ market loomed large as we reached the top of the hill, beckoning us in with its colours and smells. The happy hustle and bustle of market traders selling their wares was music to my ears and a treat for my nose. Ripe, juicy fruits, apples, pears, grapes and kiwis, each one polished and perfect. An ice-cream van had been transformed into a wheel of Edam with ‘Le Grand Fromage’ emblazoned on the side. You could smell the cheesy deliciousness wafting through the crowds and a short, round man in a red apron and matching hat was surrounded by clutching hands as he offered free samples. Rachael’s cake stall stood proudly in the centre of the market in all its sugary glory, alongside the butcher, the fish man, the baker and there was probably a candlestick maker in there somewhere too. Shopping was going to be an absolute treat and just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, a whole other section of the market appeared, dedicated to cooked dishes. An enormous tartiflette bubbled on an outdoor barbeque, where slices of potato and chunks of slow-cooked gammon were rigorously flipped by a strong-armed man in a chef’s hat. Next to him, a cauldron of French onion soup gave off a deliciously sweet smell, as the ribbons of onion simmered in scalding liquid. Queues of people criss-crossed around the market, and I wasbeside myself. I had officially arrived in foodie heaven.
‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Xavier said softly. ‘It’s here every Wednesday and Saturday, and there are a couple of people I want to introduce you to. Rachael has quite a lot of sway, so she makes sure we get what we want.’
‘She has a market stall as well as that ridiculously busypâtisserie?’
‘I know. She never stops. She knows everyone and everything.’
‘I don’t know what to do first. Can we spend the day here, eating?’ I asked, shiny-eyed.
Xavier laughed. ‘Sadly not, we’ve got food to cook.’
‘Maybe we can do both? Buy food, eat half of it, and serve up the other half?’
‘Hmm, maybe,’ Xavier smiled. ‘I’ve decided to serve our terrines as starters tonight, as they turned out so well, followed by a traditional Bouillabaisse.’
‘And for dessert?’ My favourite part.
‘Caramel profiteroles with whipped cream,’ Xavier said.
‘That sounds amazing! OK, so I need a couple of nice whites and a cheeky dessert wine up my sleeve, in case they want to triple it up. I should go and introduce myself to the wine man, on theVin, Vine, Wine, Everything’s Fine, stall over there.’
‘We don’t have a budget for more wine. Every wine you can possibly imagine is already in Luca’s cellar,’ Xavier said, spoiling my fun. I wouldn’t get any freebies with that attitude.
