Population
157 600
Area 5217 km²
On
St Thomas' Day, if you have a pig, kill it. Whoever hasn't
got one just go and steal one, St Thomas will forgive you.
Old Quercy saying
Le
Quercy est un pays ou la pierre pousse
(The Quercy is a country where stones sprout spontaneously)
Lou
Moussur : 'Sir' = the pig
The
Quercy/Perigord is a unique part of France. The traditions
brought about by history and our basic need to survive have
seeped into the very rock that acts as bones to this land
only to be thrown back as the rock relentlessly resurfaces
like a blazing defiance. These traditions will never disappear
and in a world where tradition is losing grip as 'unified'
Europe tries to sweep it into oblivion, we remain in awe and
enjoy the quality of, and the love for, life that the Quercy
gives us.
The
Quercy Blanc
It
is a land where Cro-Magnon man dwelled in caves measureless
to man creating masterpieces some twenty five thousand years
ago. A land where many a bloody battle has passed over. Where
Caesar eventually conquered Gaul at Uxellodunum. Where Simon
de Montfort (father of the better known English version) slaughtered
the Cathars in the name of God. Where the Lombards settled
to make Cahors a den of dirty dealing so renowned that Dante
assimilates Cahors to Sodom in his 'Inferno'. Where the sons
of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine bloodied the soil for
personal gain the one against the other. Where Catholics and
Protestants enjoyed the word 'massacre' to an awesome degree
resulting in the Bartholomew's Day frenzy in Cahors. Where
the Ducs and Seigneurs abandoned their lands and their workers
for the pleasures of the new 'drawing room of Europe' at Versailles.
Where the Revolution (in this area centred in Montauban) stemming
from this abandonment, struck terror in the hearts of all
as did the Gestapo and the 'collabos' (collaborators) a hundred
and fifty odd years later.
A
truffle pig
It
is a land where the pig is king. It is said that the best
ornament in the house is the pig hanging from the beams. One
good pig (250 kilos normally, sometimes 300 kilos) was one
family's meat intake for the year. Not force-fed like the
goose, but stuffed with as much as possible. The higher quality
the feed the longer the longevity of the cured hams and the
better quality the meat. The three important festivals of
the year have been known as 'The Ascension, The Assumption
and the Fête du Cochon'. Killing the pig was as important
to the French paysan as mummifying the Pharoah was to the
Egyptians. Each organ had its pot almost, and all was preserved
to last the year. Everything was eaten. It is interesting
to note that the french devote one shop to the pig, being
the charcuterie.
It
is a land of the Peasant Farmer. The term peasant in the French
language is by no means derogatory as in English. It has always
been a term of respect. In the old days it meant worker of
the land (pays = land …. paysan = peasant) as opposed
to Baron. Someone who would work on and live off his farm.
Here we are in the heart of peasant farming land. Not only
does the subsistence farming maintain a beauty of landscape
but it now represents a mark of unadulterated goodness versus
the idea of plastic globalisation. The market places on market
day in the Quercy Blanc are teeming with fresh produce bursting
with flavour. Sights may not be appealing to the eyes of animal
lovers as young fowl are stuffed into baskets for a couple
of hours waiting for prospective buyers but these are practices
that go back centuries and these are birds that, if not sold,
will be running and scratching around the farmyard 'til the
following week.
It
is a land of truffle, of confit, of snails, of foie gras ……
many of the practices in French cuisine renowned today have
come from the south west of France. Traditions of cuisine
that have been brought about by a basic necessity to survive;
the art of preserving meat by slow cooking the marinated pieces
in their own fat and allowing the meat to last by letting
the fat solidify around it creating an air-impregnable seal;
it keeps the meat for months. Smothering the pieces in coarse
salt and ashes in vast stone or stoneware vessels has the
same success in preservations. Every morsel that could last
was made to last. In the old days, the farms were so poor
in this area that the cows were made to work the fields. Oxen
were too expensive … a cow would at least give a calf
…. Snails were eaten not because someone had the idea
they might be fantastic to eat. A snail was free meat. The
art of the cuisine of the southwest was how to make it appealing
to the palate!
Lastly
it is a land where the accent sings. The syllables are pronounced
as if the Lotois enjoy every bit of the word. Wine is 'vang'.
Twenty is 'vang'. Tomorrow is 'demang'. Always hitting the
G with pride. Bread 'pang'.
It
is a land that we enjoy and live and we hope you enjoy it
and live it as we walk the week away.
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