Here is a sweet memory from my childhood. We lived in suburban Atlanta, and in those days we still had the milk man and the ice cream truck. But we also had Mr. White, the Flower Man. Mr. White was a farmer (ancient, and toothless) who drove a battered and abused green pickup truck with plywood sides on the back. The back was brimming with buckets of cut flowers: blue bachelor buttons, bright daffodils, snow-white snap dragons and neon marigolds. No need for him to sound his horn, you could hear the truck sputtering and coughing as it came down the street. The wives and mothers all hurried out to gather bouquets for their tables, with the kids crowded around to help pick the prettiest ones.
Those days are long gone, but not in La Bourgogne, which in some ways seems frozen in a simpler time.
We were surprised early on to see, in the small town of Cluny that is ten minutes from us, a tiny appliance store. They seemed to have one, and only one, of everything: a stove, a fridge, an iron. We were puzzled—-after all, the big box stores with a multitude of chocies are 20 minutes away in Macon. Now we understand that certain French in the countryside, some of the farmers and older folks, ils ne bougent pas: they just don’t venture that far. The town of Cluny aims to serve their every need.
And so we have a bread truck that arrives twice a week in our little village; we hear the familiar honk, and the older residents line up for their baguettes and croissants. Our Chatêline, Nicole, says there used to be a boucherie truck as well, and Ali says there was once an épicerie truck that came to her village, sort of a 7-Eleven on wheels. But we were surprised to see a van in the village this week when we were out for une promenade that said “Magasin Bleu: S’habille comme TU veux” (The Blue Store: Dress the way YOU want). The back was open and packed with clothes, underwear, t-shirts. There was even a make-shift dressing room in the truck. Two ladies were there, busy organizing.
“Ron,” I said, “I think that’s a traveling clothes truck!” And so it was, as we learned from chatting up the ladies. “We are here,” they told us, because some of the French women in the countryside don’t drive. We have everything in all sizes: clothes, bras, underwear, clothes for men and for kids.”
“Do you simply knock on doors?” I asked, curious.
“Yes, but we have a list of interested women in each village. The truck has been coming since 1943.”
I saw them later making their rounds, but they didn’t seem to be having much luck. It is, I fear, a dying business model. But in these days of Amazon and Wal-Mart, one can only cheer them on. It’s one last gasp for personal, door-to-door service.
In the COMMENTS: Wow, interesting comments on French toast! First of all, though the French friends I questioned here don't make it a skillet, apparently they do in other regions–like in northern Burgundy, where Nadedge comes from (it's still true, though, that French toast did not originate in France!). Mary James, (of Mary James en Provence) I tried it your way, by sprinkling sugar in the skillet to caramelize it—delicious (had it for lunch today, pourquoi pas?). Also loved your idea of a main dish pain perdu with rye bread, prunes, and bacon. Natalia's belle mère served French toast as a savory side dish with meats, for dinner, good idea. Carol in NY serves it with maple syrup, like pancakes. And Ido, everything DOES seem sexier when you add "French" to it–think of French vanilla ice cream.
Favorite Reads: I just discovered that one of our readers, Jo Maeder, has a fun novel out called Opposites Attack: A Novel with Recipes Provencal
9 thoughts on “Comme Autrefois: Frozen in Time in Burgundy”
New for the “Menu Translation Page. In Colmar two weeks ago we ate at La Taverne and had a great meal and a great time speaking Franglish with the owners.
My particular delicacy was a salade composee featuring, among other things, “SMOCKED Duck.”
I could picture the duck in a smock with palette and brushes, wearing a beret, painting a masterpiece.
While I haven’t seen this model of retail in Dijon, I was pleasantly surprised to see when I arrived in Paris this summer, a collection of food trucks at Gare de Lyon. Couldn’t stop and try anything because we had to make the train. I think they were gathered there for some special event.
As for the appliance store, I had to make a lot of repairs in our apartment this summer and did not relish the long trip on public transportation out to the centre commercial on the edge of town. Instead I stepped into a small neighborhood hardware store. It was only a little bigger than my bedroom. I asked for one specialized tool. He had it. I went back when I needed something else. He didn’t have it, but when I managed to explained my special wishes, he located it in a catalogue and ordered it for me. I went back several times and eventually sent my husband there to see if this nice bricolage man could help us find a dishwasher repairman because we had had no luck getting anyone to come. He couldn’t find one, but at least he tried. I will start with him anytime I need something in the future. Alas, I’m sure more people are driving out to the Leroy Merlin on the edge of town, just like in the U.S. they’re skipping the neighborhood hardware stores.
Charming concept, but with the younger generation, les hypermarches, and online buying, I fear this will become obsolete 🙁
Just saw a sweet movie “Le fils de l’épicier” which is about exactly that, a small family-owned grocery that sends a van out through the countryside.
Lynn, today’s post really tugged at my heartstrings.
I grew up in Scottsdale(Arizona) and back in the 50’s and 60’s we too had the milk man and the bread man.It was so taken for granted then and now really marks the end of such ways of life.
I still love the idea,though, and find it totally charming how Magasin Bleu and the bread truck AND the flower truck still cater to their customers.Maybe this is a more personalized( predated internet) version of convenience buying? Love it being close to home.
I loved shopping when I was younger;these days I do not and much prefer ordering online or from Amazon.
I love this article, Lynn. I still get a feeling of excitement when I hear the music of the ice cream truck in my neighborhood in Louisville. I’ve never heard of a clothing truck, but am thinking how much my grandmother and great aunts, living in tiny western KY towns would have loved that; they wouldn’t have had to order their brassieres from Montgomery Ward, ha.
Your region of Bourgogne seems like my kind of place. And I’d say the residents who “ne bougent pas” sound like many older people who live “out in the state” of KY. Many mountain people, for ex., never venture into the city, and even in western KY, I had a cousin who thought for sure she’d be killed if she came to Louisville.
I love the idea of buying one’s necessities from a truck. IF, that is,
they have things one likes. We live 28 miles from the nearest little town and just do not want to drive “to town” more than is necessary.It reminds me of when I was a little girl visiting my aunt on the farm and “town” was SEVENTEEN WHOLE MILES AWAY! We only went to town on Saturday night. But…I looked forward to it because then my grandfather would give me a quarter and I would spend it on a butterscotch sundae at the drugstore soda fountain. Somehow I long for those uncomplicated days.
I do admit that I order lots of things from Amazon these days. It’s so much easier than going shopping, which I don’t like doing anyway.
Lynn, this story brought back memories of the “rolling store” when I was very young. My dad was a carpenter and he did some work on the truck, or I probably would not know about it. We also had milk delivery in our small Alabama town, plus the Fuller brush salesman. Good housewives preferred the Fuller brushes for cleaning. Very different times! During my childhood we had much more selection in town with many clothing, furniture and hardware stores. We had a good selection of grocery stores,including a few community grocers away from the main town. Now, most of those stores are gone. People are off to the big Wal-mart type stores. Thanks for the glimpse into French country life! I recommended you to http://www.pret-a-voyager.com as a great blogger for Burgundy.
In south Louisiana (cajun country) 50 or so years ago, the food trucks were called ‘the rolling store’.