Serving up History: Cooking School Adventures in Ancient Arles

Southwest Florida is blessed with many fine restaurants, and like many serious foodies in our cosmopolitan community, Joel and I particularly relish plates that evoke the South of France. Ummmm, this is good, we say, as we mop up every trace of olive oil and try to analyze the chef's herbs and methods. During one of these "wonder how" episodes, we decide that the next time we go to France, we will take a cooking class in Provence and find out why it all tastes so deliciously Provencal. All we have to do is find a cooperative chef. Our quest leads us to the Internet, where we discover myriad cooking schools in France.

Choosing is difficult because they all sound enlightening, fun and yummy. Being close enough to observe secrets and practice under the chef's scrutiny is important, so that rules out a large class. We want to examine produce and talk to the farmer who grows it, and a good place for that is Provence's largest outdoor market, held on Saturdays and Wednesdays in Arles, located beside the Rhone River near Marseilles.

This lucky combination of circumstances leads us to master Chef Erick Vedel, an Arles native, and Madeleine, his American-born wife. The couple share our passions for French history and food. Erick is known in the region for his research and reconstruction of more than 1,000 authentic Provencal recipes dating from the ancient Romans to the 19th century, as well as for his unique olive tapenade.

Madeleine's e-mailed instructions tell us to meet about 9 am at their home ("Look for the blue door on rue Piere Euzeby") for quick introductions before heading to the market. Introductions are made by Madeleine, who is fluent in English, French, and Japanese. She simultaneously translates for us and Erick, who speaks just a smattering of English. This is how they conduct the class, and considering our extremely limited command of the French language, it concerned us a bit at first. Then we thought, hey, we want an authentic French lesson, right?

It's a good choice, as it turns out. The couple's French-English partnership gives us the best of both worlds.

After a peek at salted cod soaking in fresh water in a blue bowl, we walk a few short blocks to the market to select the food for our day's lesson and meal.

This is one of the most enjoyable aspects of a cooking class in France -- going to the market with a chef and watching how and why he selects the produce, seafood and fromage. Even though our chef knows exactly what he wants, he sometimes changes the class menu on the spot if some appealing fresh item catches his eye. Beautiful oysters and mackerel came in from the Mediterranean this morning, but Erick goes for the mussels, moules de Bouzigue, which have arrived from the close-by estuary in which they are raised. Our eyebrows raise when Erick drops wings of ray into the straw basket. "You'll love it," Madeleine promises, laughing at our skeptical faces.

Huge beans, fèves, and peas, petits pois, are the days' offerings by the Vedels' friend, Jean-Denis. This college-educated farmer moved back home to his family mas in St. Rémy to grow produce in season, in the open field and without pesticides. We munch the raw beans without fear, meandering behind Erick and soaking up the musical lilt of the French accents along with the Provençal sun.

Rows and rows of vendors of all types display their goods... A family stand sells sheep cheese made fresh from the first milk of yesterday morning, called the gardian, a specialty of the Arles region. Soon the basket is topped off with fresh strawberries, carrots and tomatoes, all still on the vine. Erick is satisfied, our appetites are stoked, and we are ready to start cooking. On our way back, we get a history lesson from Madeleine.

Arles (the name means' "in the midst of the marshes" in Celtic) is one of the oldest cities in France. The city is famous for its ancient Roman amphitheater built in 46 BC. People have lived here for thousands of years. Before the Romans, there were Greeks, and before them the Celtics, and before them the Ligurians. In the late 19th century, Vincent van Gogh produced some of his most famous works--and cut off his ear--in Arles.

Passionate about preserving his native food tradition, Erick spices our cooking class with anecdotes about the Latin or medieval sources of ingredients, and he traces the herbs we are using to their regions and time periods.

We're in the kitchen with Erick, and we're feeling pretty official in our blue-and-white chef's aprons. Our teacher has lined up the bounty from the market beside pots and pans, and he signals that we're to follow his example.

My fearless husband puts down his camera and jumps right in, eager to chop, peel and sauté happy for a chance to work with the spectacular produce. At first, I feel clumsy and self-conscious beside our accomplished host, but a lot of laughter accompanies this lesson, and Erick's gentle nature builds confidence.

One of our dishes today is Moules Marinières Provençale from a recipe that was already noted as "ancient" in the 19th-century record, where it was discovered by Erick. For the sauce, I learn to skin a tomato by holding it with a fork over a grill and turning it so it's evenly charred. The thin outer peel falls off, leaving intact the nutritious-rich layer immediately beneath it.

Pouring olive oil into a sauce pan, Erick talks about the health-promoting difference between the Mediterranean diet, which cooks with olive oil, and that of Paris, where butter still reigns.

Coming up is an important step, the sweating of an onion. The heat is kept low and sort of melts the onion. Erick is careful not to brown it so as not to caramelize it.