By Richard Harvey
Back in the dawn of time (1976), I hitchhiked from Calais to the Mediterranean coast of France on my first solo European voyage. Distant times, not just in temporal terms, but myriad other ways as well and I was heading with great determination to the South, craving my first chance to see The Med.
Lost more than once, I found myself accidentally struggling up the pilgrim steps at Rocamadour, learning to drink my café au lait from huge bowls, blushingly schooled in French over my mis- use of terms for two very different sanitary products, and delighted to be able to buy intriguing sounding wines to go with my (very frequent) dinners of cheese and charcuterie. My main goal however was maritime, and after many gruelling hours baking in the summer sun of the roadside, I arrived at the port city of Sète, located on a stony outcrop overlooking sandy beaches stretching away into the distance alongside a crazy blue Mediterranean Sea.
It was here my diet took a significant, life-changing turn. Just outside of town, a little fishing village, Bouzigues, lies on the frontier between extensive oyster beds on the coast, and the grapevines of the village of Pinet just inland. Food was generally cheap then, even for a poor traveller, but I was shocked to see the oysters that I had seen going for what seemed to be astronomical prices outside Parisian brasseries, were here being sold for a pittance.
An hospitable and engaging waiter (sadly a rare commodity in France at the time) told me it was de rigueur to have some of the delicious local white wine, Picpoul de Pinet, along with les huitres de Bouzigues, so I willingly complied with what seemed to be a splendid suggestion. The stunningly delicious freshness of the oysters harvested from waters mere metres from my table was echoed perfectly in the tangy, almost saline (certainly mouthwatering) nature of the Picpoul wine. My solicitous new best mate, the waiter, approved when I ordered a second dozen (and more wine of course) but later admonished me that, as a young man, I could do better next time and perhaps have a third dozen.
Some folk in my industry sniff at the obvious and no-brainer choice of a vin du pays; local wine served with local products. And while there are many other possibilities for oyster pairing (some saké are exquisite partners), I am a firm believer in enjoying the beverages and foods found locally. It’s a bit like learning what an icon is before graduating to being an iconoclast. Oysters and Picpoul de Pinet have remained favourite table mates for me ever since, and in the heat of summer, I will often switch to the good ol’ peel n’ eat shrimp (with a more mediterranean aioli or rouille alongside in lieu of cocktail sauce) and a flagon of nicely chilled Picpoul.
The beautiful Bow river is extremely far from the Mare Nostrum of The Med, and my sips by her side are quite different. But in current times, I travel in my mind (astral travel - sign me up! ) and the moment in time is as much a taste as it is a place, anchored by oysters and Picpoul wine…
