Why Languedoc is like nowhere else in France
by KATHERINE WHEELOCK
With its sunny beaches, its wooded peaks, its 13th century castles and nearly three times as many vineyards as Bordeaux, Languedoc, still wild, unlike anywhere else in France.
Beyond a path of fallen wooden slabs in the sand, white-haired men sit on bar stools in the colors of lifeguards, their glasses as hip-chic as the twenties gathered around buckets of icy rosé. The sea breeze waves the paper menus and places the rusty hanging lamps gently swaying. We are on the coast of Languedoc, To 300 km west of the French Riviera. The jumble of driftwood tables, of school chairs and chairs in front of us gives us Biquet Plage, a cafe that looks like a raging art sale spilling out of a shipping container on the big beach. No one looks up when sand-bound kids tear up the waves to take a sip of juice. Well-stocked prawns and breaded sole are served on slate slabs, salty fries in bowls with mayo on the side.
My family and I came to Languedoc
My family and I came to Languedoc, dreaming of sitting cross-legged in the sand by the sea, at the foot of the wooded hills of the Pyrenees, eating steamed mussels under blazing pine boughs and drinking cold white wine from plastic cups. Actually, the fires of the mussel outbreak were not yet lit on the beaches of late spring. But the spirit of the dream – the forest and the sea, salty food and wine on earth background – was ubiquitous. The topography in the south of France, et Languedoc especially, changes so quickly you might miss the sea if you're busy looking for information on your phone. A verdant, mountainous interior criss-crossed by rivers and gorges lines a coastline that begins at the border with Spain and stretches east to Marseille and the start of the French Riviera. Last year, a law passed by Parliament aimed to reduce the number of regions combining Languedoc, or Languedoc-Roussillon, as it was officially called, with the Midi-Pyrénées region located to the west and called Occitanie. Map update makes little difference. Languedoc – the rough and less frequented beauty sister of neighboring pin-up Provence – is still Languedoc. Just compact enough for a satisfying long weekend, you can also spend two summer weeks adrift, in the countryside and vice versa, without having to want more. The key is to adopt the pace of the premises, avoiding the urge to cram a list of historic hits into your schedule and making a break or two between breakfast and a long seafood meal.
Vineyards near the municipality of Montreal.
Beyond a path of fallen wooden slabs in the sand, white-haired men sit on bar stools in the colors of lifeguards, their glasses as hip-chic as the twenties gathered around buckets of icy rosé. The sea breeze waves the paper menus and places the rusty hanging lamps gently swaying. We are on the coast of Languedoc, To 300 km west of the French Riviera. The jumble of driftwood tables, of school chairs and chairs in front of us gives us Biquet Plage, a cafe that looks like a raging art sale spilling out of a shipping container on the big beach. No one looks up when sand-bound kids tear up the waves to take a sip of juice. Well-stocked prawns and breaded sole are served on slate slabs, salty fries in bowls with mayo on the side.
Vineyards near the town of Carcassonne
Photo by Oddur Thorisson
Carcassonne is a medieval city perched atop a hill in the western corner of Languedoc, overlooking the Aude river. The lure is La Cité, a 10th century citadel both fairy tale and foreboding. The walls, the drawbridge and witch hat turrets are restored remnants of Cathar history. There is more of 800 ans, defectors from the Catholic Church settled in this corner of southwestern France to hide from persecution. The massacre of the Cathars is a brutal element of history that still hangs 'in the atmosphere', a resident told me. South and east of Carcassonne, ruins of Cathar castles dot the limestone hills, showcasing the view of the distant Pyrenees covered in snow and the brilliant blue sky like a chin scar makes beauty.
The city of Montreal in the Aude is twenty minutes from La Cité, a small village of one-way streets and a total absence of traffic. Behind heavy pine doors set in local stone is the Camellas-Lloret guesthouse, where a fire has just been lit in the yard. Annie Moore emerges from the kitchen with a vase of wildflowers. “He is South African”, she said curtly to her husband and co-owner, Colin. “His business is barefoot and fire.” Colin and Annie, born in new jersey, met on a train leaving Paris some time ago 35 ans, settled in Languedoc and raised three children. They dabbled in real estate and restoration, eventually finding an 18th-century house and converting it into a five-bedroom inn five years ago. The walls are pewter gray and the sheets are crisp; on the landing overlooking the courtyard, hanging chairs sway in the late afternoon breeze near the Cathar bed and breakfast The Beautiful Life of Flo.
Aperitifs of cold sparkling wine mixed with a hint of suze, a herbal liqueur, are served in bistro glasses. Annie, warm but twisted, often cooks for guests, but tonight she is ordered in cassoulet, a Languedoc classic, at his favorite butcher in Carcassonne. Creamy White Beans, pork belly and peppery Toulouse sausage fill an earthenware bowl. There is a simple salad, carafes of Languedoc wine, and finally a range of cheeses that steal the show. Colin is the overflowing man-witness, who pours wine and picks the guests. In the morning, he'll introduce me to his longtime neighbor across the street, who shows his tidy house, pointing to leftover rabbit stew in a pot on the stove and gesturing in black and white. wall of her as a girl most of a century.
Driving on vacation
Driving on vacation is either something to endure or something you wish would never end. In Languedoc, it's the latter. We slide between alleys of ash-colored plane trees, phalanges of carignane and grenache and garrigue sprinkled with Day-Glo orange poppies, which suddenly approach the sea. On the road from Cathar country to the coast, pretty villages and independent winemakers are nestled in an area called Corbières. If the characteristic flora of Provence is lavender, in Languedoc, this is the garrigue, thyme mix, juniper, rosemary and other low plants that cling to the limestone hills. Winemakers talk about its infusion powers. Tourists have a hard time defining it. In the Corbières it's everywhere. The villages here, including Limoux and Mirepoix, each have their own charm. Lagrasse, one of the prettiest, marries a meander of the Orbieu river, connected by a squat stone vault of 900 ans. The night, frogs and nightingales are whistling by the river. The 14th century covered market, a carrying specimen of medieval architecture, full of stalls on Saturday. In Languedoc, as in much of bucolic France, the farmers market lunch is a no-brainer. We build ours from chopsticks and spread the cliche.
l’accent catalan
Novices often describe Languedoc as a French Tuscany, and sometimes there is this feeling – dark cypresses on tawny hills, hectares of spindly vines – but here, it is crossed by the presence of the sea. Closer to the Mediterranean coast, the scrubland becomes rockier and the terrain flattens. The Languedoc coast stretches from the westernmost seaside towns of Banyuls-sur-Mer and Collioure, at the Spanish border, where things are more Catalan than Gallic, northeast of Montpellier, the city in full gastronomic expansion in 170 miles from the start of the Coast. of azure. Biquet Beach, the best of a string of seedy yet alluring beach spots, is an hour's drive northeast of these Catalan-accented parts and has a distinctly French vibe. The beach it is on, Leucate, is generous and gentle. It is crowded in the summer, but not with the grid of rented chairs that you will find east of the Côte d'Azur.
A short drive east of Leucate, in the small town of Peyriac-de-Mer, Paul Old pulls the cork from a bottle of white. Born in Australia, Old and his partner, Ben Adams, a British, run a modest wine estate, The Lost Clos, which has a cultured and far-flung fanbase. Just over a decade ago, most Languedoc grapes – carignane, grenache, grenache white – were intended to feed a huge table wine cooperative. The scene was the opposite of Burgundy or Bordeaux; it was the mass. The space to innovate and the intersection of mountain and sea are what attracted Old. “All the south is rough here, he said. “Nothing about hot air balloons and hunting trips.” Since Les Clos Perdus began to cultivate century-old grape varieties, other winemakers, many of which have a biodynamic orientation, settled here. “It got pretty hip, Languedoc wine», Old explains. “If you are a young child and want to make wine, there is potential here.”
At the threshold of the old town square, a short walk from silver-haired men playing bocce and sandstone buildings covered in purple bougainvillea, sits on the edge of a pond. The limits of the Narbonne Regional Natural Park include Leucate, Peyriac-de-Mer and the nearby town of Bages, gateway to the best natural spectacle in the region. In Peyriac and Bages, the walks lead over a network of lagoons which are favorite haunts for flamingos – the stars – and less renowned but equally beautiful egrets and herons that nest here too. Something about the tranquility of these villages on the edge of wetlands leaves us with the feeling that we alone have discovered something – a rare feeling when exploring pretty Mediterranean towns at the dawn of summer.
The Mediterranean
Through the wetlands of Peyriac-de-Mer, To 25 minutes south of Narbonne, is the Salin de Gruissan, where seawater slowly evaporates and from which salt is harvested. Depending on the time of year and biochemistry, saline may consist of a band of salmon pink stripes. The Mediterranean lies just beyond, as well as the foothills of La Clape, a compact mountain range, and Gruissan, a friendly fishing village wrapped around the ruins of a 12th century tower. But we come for lunch at La Cambuse du Saunier, a few steps from the saltworks. A plate of clams covered with garlic bread crumbs and glasses of cold muscatel lands on the table before the menu even arrives. Oysters, picked from beds a few hundred yards away, follow, as well as the sea bass cooked in salt alongside a Proustian ratatouille which, just like the cheese finale at Camellas, continues to haunt months later.
Going northeast along the coast, you will arrive in Sète, a bustling port town located on the largest of the Languedoc lakes, the lagoon of Thau, a paradise for flamingos and mussels, where the local specialty is tielle sétoise. It's a worthwhile detour., but we rather drift towards the north and join the Hérault, a micro-region located at the foot of the Black Mountains. We pass acres of bright green vines, olive groves and, sometimes, the sparkling waters of the Canal du Midi. The exploration of 17th century architecture extends from 141 km from Toulouse in the west to Sète, where it empties into the Mediterranean. What was once a workhorse of the wheat trade is now a winding waterway, offering herself for lazy boat rides and strolls along verdant riverbanks. Not far from a bend in the canal, is you can
hotel
Castle Les Carrasses
Château Les Carrasses emerges from the fields of Grenache Noir and Cabernet Franc, a 19th-century wine mirage with gabled roofs and pointed turrets. Les Carrasses and its newly opened sister, the Saint-Pierre de Serjac castle, To 40 minutes northeast, are collections of bed and breakfasts surrounded by vineyards, landscaped gardens, clay tennis courts and infinity pools. From this lavish camp, the pretty market towns of Languedoc, its beaches and lagoons, its oyster shacks and canal boats are all nearby. But for a moment, just hang suspended in the turquoise waters of the pool, young vines and fluffy clouds in a bright blue sky, the only things to see.
Or sleep
Guest rooms The Beautiful Life of Flo in Montreal near Carcassonne, can organize winery tours and direct you to tourist spots.