Until Tuesday, Lalbenque was only known to me as the direction you head for a shortcut through the countryside to reach the A-20 to Toulouse. Little did I know that it is the capital of the Marche aux Truffes, where people come from all over France to purchase this mushroom-like black gold. Before moving here with Dali, I used to tease about her running through the woods in her beret, finding truffles with that big nose of hers that would support our life in France. (Of course, it didn't happen quite that way.) Tuesday was the first time I actually saw a truffle in the flesh. Evelyn had mentioned last week that she wanted to go, so I asked if I could tag along. She knows way more about all of this than I do. She shares a lot of the details, information, and photos over at: www.melangedmagic.blogspot.com
For me, it was about an afternoon with a friend, impressions, people, and loving this life in the French countryside. We drove over way in advance of the 2:30 sharp
start time, arriving around 1pm. We'd been warned that it could all be over in a flash. Many of the sellers were already set up, hoping to get a primo spot. After a few shots, Evelyn and I took to the café on the sunny
side of the street. In between a couple of bierre pressions and a plate of frites with mayo and Heinz, (that stayed remarkably hot till they disappeared), one of us would "hold down the fort" while the other wandered off to take a few more shots as the market filled up. We were out in time for the rope to drop at 2:30 on the dot.
I was struck by the diversity of sellers, buyers, and between sellers and buyers. There was a reverence in the folded hands that hung above the truffle baskets with their mostly red-checked clothes. Discreet photos of people and pets were not always easy, but fun to try no matter what. And so, I leave you with two shots that scream what I've come to love about this life in the Lot.
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