Seasons in the Southwest: Early Fall

After six blazingly hot canicules this summer, early fall slides in like a dream of what summer used to be — crisp mornings, warm afternoons, and just the right temperature for lingering outside with friends. More than once, I’d had to cancel plans because of the heat — 100°F (38°C) at 8 pm! I shake off the angst of unexpectedly being sequestered inside for weeks.

Now it’s time to lean into whatever remnants of summer are still available to us. Fortunately, the marché gourmand in Sainte-Terre that we all look forward to has been rescheduled until the end of September. For such a small town, this festival is a delightful surprise. Food trucks, fireworks, and a band will keep us entertained as we sit at long tables and laugh with friends well into the evening, occasionally swatting at mosquitoes while yelling “merde!” But that’s what you get when you spend time by the river.

As October approaches, the riverfront guinguettes wind down for the season, too. Though with the way climate change is going, I can’t help wondering if that schedule will shift as summer stretches into further into fall each year.

Speaking of fall, the rentrée energy is palpable. Friends have returned from their holidays, refreshed, re-energized and ready to check in. And I’m back after a short break from writing, having decided to test out the magic of la pause for myself. Now I can say with authority that it was a good idea, and the irony is that I didn’t even realize I needed it until I’d slowed down enough to pay attention.

This general feeling of well-being is timely because in the Bordeaux region, it’s also harvest season. The merlots, cabernet francs and cabernet sauvignons are ready to be picked. If you get lucky, you can literally smell the soon-to-be-wine in the air around here. Remind yourself to leave a few extra minutes when driving anywhere, because you’re almost guaranteed to get stuck behind a slow-moving harvester on its way to the next field. Not everything happens mechanically, though — I’ve been out in the vines twice this season. I tell myself the low squats I’m doing while hand-harvesting the grapes count as that day’s workout. And my thighs are sore, but the celebratory lunches afterward balance out any calories burned!

It feels like a time for renewal and reinvention, way more than it ever does in January. Coincidentally, our little town has also been undergoing reconstruction. I frequently wander through the town center to check on the progress. The work started in earnest in June, shortly after the results of the mayoral election. For months, the diggers and construction workers have been plugging away. There is dust and rubble everywhere, and each day, the fences that cordon off the walkways shift and change. Beautifying the town’s center was high on the list of the mayor’s priorities, and while there will be many benefits, the impact of the construction has been the cause of much groaning. Sadly, my favorite fromagerie (the only one in town, and we were lucky to have it) is in the process of shutting down. The disrupted traffic patterns certainly took a toll, and I’m mourning the loss like the loss of a dream.

It won’t be long before the road reopens...

But as this phase of the project comes to an end, it’s easier to imagine what le centre-ville of Castillon-la-Bataille will be like. Finally, I can make out the parking spots, the areas which will be landscaped, and even terraces for restaurants. Speaking of restaurants, new spots are popping up. We are eagerly anticipating the opening of a pizzeria in October. And one of my new go-tos is a traiteur called Mara, run by a young couple (who I’ve heard have worked in a Michelin-starred restaurant!). Their elegant takeaway dishes frequently grace our table. Things like eggplant parmesan with smoked mozzarella. Roasted pork with a creamy mushroom sauce. Clafoutis with whatever fruit is in season — now, it’s mirabelle or pear.

P.S. Did I mention we have a new bar in town, too? Dozens of people turned up for the soft launch, many from nearby villages.

This season feels like a reminder that even as some chapters come to a close, others open. “Après la pluie, le beau temps” — even when the “rain” is a cloud of construction dust.

À bientôt,

Valérie

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