Of course, I was expecting to eat well in France on my trip there this summer, but perhaps I wasn’t expecting to eat quite as well as I did. Not only was there the stupendous vegetarian cuisine at the singing course that I helped out on, but there were also plenty of other meals and foodie experiences that raised the bar too. The photograph above is from a rather memorable lunch with my mother in Capdenac-en-Haut in the Lot, but what I really got excited about on this trip was the food of the Hautes-Pyrenees.

I went there to visit my old friend Eva, who lives in the regional capital Tarbes. It was my first time in the area, and like across the whole of France, the area has its own unique culinary tradition. Food in France is almost as localised as it is in China – Eva told me that cheese from the region she grew up in, only about a 4 hour drive away, is difficult to find in Tarbes and expensive to boot. Though I sadly wasn’t there on a Thursday to witness the huge weekly market, I did get to try a few local delicacies via a small, road-side produce shop that we passed while Eva took me on a mini-tour of the nearby countryside.

This was the scene that greeted us upon jumping out of Eva’s van: row upon row of different flavours of saucisson – air-dried sausage.

Though I’m not that much of a carnivore, I was soon salivating as I read the names of the flavours – duck, wild boar, at least five mixtures of pork and various different cheeses, and all made on-site. Though Eva told me that the same saucisson are sold for almost half the price elsewhere, I couldn’t resist buying one, and after a lengthy process of umming-and-ahhing, I finally decided on the pork and hazelnut variety. It was fantastic – richly meaty, studded with nuts, and so peppery it was almost spicy.

At the same shop I also bought what is known locally as Gateau a la Broche – or in English, rather less glamorously, Spit Cake.

This is how it is described on the packet label:

‘Gateau a la Broche, patiently cooked on a spit, layer by layer, before a wood fire; our company continues the tradition of these valleys, where neither baptism nor marriage nor convivial meeting would be a day of celebration without this authentic recipe of our region.’

And here is the ingredients list:

Butter, 25% (!!!)
Sugar
Flour
Eggs
Rum
Vanilla
Ground almonds

How can something so simple be so delicious? Believe me, dear reader, it can, and is mainly down, I would guess, to the unique cooking method. As the label so eloquently describes, the cake mixture is poured over a metal spit, about 5 centimetres in diameter, which is rotated over a wood fire. Here’s a photo of the illustration on the label to give you a better idea.

So, once each layer is cooked to golden perfection, another layer is poured on top, meaning that the finished product, when broken open, not only has pretty swirls of light brown running through it, but also, with its drip-induced spikes, looks rather a medieval weapon. I have a theory that this cake is inspired by the local architecture, which has its own characteristic spiky edges.

We drove back to Tarbes that evening laden with these goodies, and I suppose it's no surprise that said goodies didn't last beyond said evening.

Oh dear. Writing this now and looking at the photos, I’m itching to go back there. Ah well, at least I have the wonderful world of Chinese cuisine to comfort myself with, and as a man who I met in Tarbes told me, there are really only two important schools of cuisine in this world – Chinese, and French.