jamiemaw
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Posts posted by jamiemaw
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Frankly, I've been reading this thread but haven't looked at the article and don't really see a need to, but as the son of a noted anthropologist and someone who spent two years and part of a summer with her "in the field," I have some comments about proper anthropological procedure.
First of all, field research is based on participant observation. That means that if you want to understand the way roles are played out in a given setting, you must yourself participate by understanding and effectively playing a role. This goes directly to the question of whether Mme de La Pradelle understood the role of shopper. If she didn't, she would not have been able to do good work in this kind of study.
I too enjoyed your story, Michael, but I do see a need for you to read the book, or at least the linked excerpt, before rendering an opinion of her methodology.
Notice that I didn't actually characterize her methodology.
I don't know that the author has held herself out to be an anthropologist, but I'd be interested to understand where you think the 'participant observation' (role-playing) of the anthropologist stops and the 'neutral observation' (non role-playing) of the journalist-writer begins. Not to separate the fly shit from the pepper, but I found her shopping acumen quite acute.In that case, did she over-extrapolate? Note, again, that I'm not asserting she did but posing a question.
I did a Google search for clear definitions or discussions of participant-observation and found a lot of confusing stuff, so you're not alone in asking the question you pose above. Here's a link to a page I haven't read completely, but which seems useful as a starting point. My sense is that participant-observation means that you first of all take on the role of a researcher whose investigations take place primarily through personal relationships with one's subjects (conversations; observations of them at work; taking on of roles in their work or business, with their permission, etc.), not for example pre-cooked surveys (which is not to say that well-worded surveys, especially if they include space for further comments, don't have their uses). Secondly, I think you have to be willing to do whatever within reason some of your research subjects feel would be helpful. So for example, did this researcher help any of the sellers with their work in any way while doing her studies? Inevitably, there is a degree of subjectivity in social science research of any kind, but a good researcher has to have the ability to come to some conclusions based on good field notes and cite others' work in places near and far as relevant, by way of comparison. It simply takes a special kind of person to sincerely participate in the life of the social group s/he is studying and then maintain enough independence of thought to write something other than pure propaganda in favor of the group. There have been many notable failures. I don't know if this is one of them.
Not to let this veer wildly off-topic:
1. Strictly speaking, while not not questioning her methodology, you said:
This goes directly to the question of whether Mme de La Pradelle understood the role of shopper. If she didn't, she would not have been able to do good work in this kind of study.So as not to bias your argument you might have as easily said "If she did, she would have been able to do good work in this kind of study."
2. My impression, in following this thread, is that she has not been observed to be writing "pure propaganda for the group." More importantly though, my question was where does the journalism begin? Should a journalist feel any great compunction to be "willing to do whatever within reason some of your research subjects feel would be helpful."
Anyway, to bring this back on topic, have you ordered a copy of Market Day in Provence yet?
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So there was an arrangement that suited everybody, even though Their Lordships didn't know what was really going on. They were so remote from "ordinary people" and, shall I say, from the true nature of everyday things that they didn't even notice something was wrong. Actually, they liked it the wrong way. I couldn't help thinking of that when I read about Mme de La Pradelle and the results of her research.
" . . . that they didn't even notice something was wrong. Actually, they liked it the wrong way."
This could well be a cover quote for The University of Chicago Press edition of the book. For de la Pradelle's book (for anyone who has read it) is much less about deception (or shopping, fresh produce, cobbled markets, and bemused stallholders for that matter), as it is about that delightful and universal human condition that permits and even encourages a mutually duplicitous relationship to the frequent benefit of both parties.
For those of you who haven't had the chance to read the book yet, I think that you'll enjoy the fact that its observations (which are tempered with a good deal of humour) never decay into cynicism. But make no mistake, it isn't a Ladies Home Journal guide book either.
It's really about the suspension of disbelief whenever we make a transaction, whether it's for a basketful of fruit or an affair of the heart. But above all else, it's for the right - very humanly - to "like it the wrong way."
Or, in fact, love it.
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Frankly, I've been reading this thread but haven't looked at the article and don't really see a need to, but as the son of a noted anthropologist and someone who spent two years and part of a summer with her "in the field," I have some comments about proper anthropological procedure.
First of all, field research is based on participant observation. That means that if you want to understand the way roles are played out in a given setting, you must yourself participate by understanding and effectively playing a role. This goes directly to the question of whether Mme de La Pradelle understood the role of shopper. If she didn't, she would not have been able to do good work in this kind of study.
I too enjoyed your story, Michael, but I do see a need for you to read the book, or at least the linked excerpt, before rendering an opinion on her methodology.
Not to separate the fly shit from the pepper, but I don't know that the author has held herself out to be an anthropologist. I'd be interested to understand where you think the 'participant observation' (role-playing) of the anthropologist stops and the 'neutral observation' (non role-playing) of the journalist-writer begins.
That being said, I found her shopping acumen as acute as her sense of humour.
I'll let my remarks above speak for themselves, but I will say that I wonder sometimes whether there are some Americans who are way too quick to stereotype the French and want to take them down a peg.I think the point has been well made previously that although this book was written by a Frenchwoman (indigène, I believe) with French government support for a heretofore French audience, the symptoms are universal.
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This whole thing seems slightly off to me, I realize, because my experience at local farmers' markets is not devoted to the search for countrified goodness, whatever that is, but is instead built around the reliability of the relationships I have formed with the producers there. Since I've gotten to know a bit the folks running the CSA to which I belong and some of the farmers who sell at our local weekly markets, I don't have to worry so much about being duped by peat-covered potatoes and gingham-wrapped jams.
Knowing actual people gives the lie to the consumption of faux "authenticity" that lurks around this entire affair like a bad toupee. I'm not sure that this study takes that cliché about human relationships very seriously, perhaps because the typical shopper doesn't either. Having said that, I'd bet a franc that, like me, Lucy is at her market to buy local produce, not to buy the experience of buying local produce.
Indeed, the very relationships that you have cultivated with producers (and you are far from being alone) are very much a part of your experience of buying local produce. But, when one stops and thinks, perhaps not just for the reasons that you have ennumerated above.
Not incidentally, Market Day in Provence addresses this subject in chapter four: 'Familiar Strangers.'
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In behind the CC there's a very good pho shop if your folks are slightly more adventurous.
The pho place is actually behind Joey's - its called Huoang Gai (I think). Quite good indeed - but Pho seems so pricey in Kelowna at about $7-8 for a small about $9 for a large. Which seems about a third more than in Vancouver. When choice is limited though... what can you do but pay the price.
Went to CC and had their new apple pie which comes with a bourbon caremel sauce and ice cream. The sauce was insane and tasted like they used Tahitian vanilla - very floral and heady. Surprisingly good dessert.
Whoops, quite right Lee, it's behind Joey's, not the new CC. I have no idea how I could have confused the two.
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Potatoes are a superior binding agent for butter: they should ooze it from every molecule. I have this on good account.
Congratulations on all of your new adventures,
Jamie
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what's a melbourne floater?
Dead guy in the Yarra?
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If you're using V-Day to dump some unwanted relationship baggage, begin the festivities by giving him/her a copy of Vegan Cooking For One.
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As I read this thread, I feel a bit suspicious of the frisson of "Exposé!" that seems to be crackling about it. While I think Steven's got a good point, my thoughts are a bit different and more mundane, I think, similar to Lucy's but in a New England context.
This whole thing seems slightly off to me, I realize, because my experience at local farmers' markets is not devoted to the search for countrified goodness, whatever that is, but is instead built around the reliability of the relationships I have formed with the producers there. Since I've gotten to know a bit the folks running the CSA to which I belong and some of the farmers who sell at our local weekly markets, I don't have to worry so much about being duped by peat-covered potatoes and gingham-wrapped jams.
Knowing actual people gives the lie to the consumption of faux "authenticity" that lurks around this entire affair like a bad toupee. I'm not sure that this study takes that cliché about human relationships very seriously, perhaps because the typical shopper doesn't either. Having said that, I'd bet a franc that, like me, Lucy is at her market to buy local produce, not to buy the experience of buying local produce.
Well put, Chris, and certainly more so for the initiated. Although the book was originally greeted as an expose, when it's all said and done the rural machinations it speaks to are just very funny: bumpkin pie?
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I've read post 30 and I'm not sure what you are trying to say. Yes, the producers market at Place Carnot does not do the business of the St. Antoine weekend market, or indeed we had Italians being punished for dressing like peasants to sneak fraudulent goods into certain markets in Torino the 1400s?
In any case, there is a whole lot of generalizing going on and the goal seems suspect to me. Anyone can take reality and exagerrate to the limit of truth and hype it with some spin - market vendors, snake oil salesmen, and journalists alike. It's when you get a combination of the three that things start getting obnoxious.
As to your first question: Neither, quite.
I was using the historical example to support your observation at Place Carnot, i.e. that market operators occasionally segregate producers from middlemen. In the case of Bologna in the early 1400's, you might argue that they took the punishment of perps to extremes. Gelding the lily, so to speak.
Thanks for your example; in our own market culture, especially at large civic markets such as Granville Island, beginning in the early summer that segregation becomes both less clear and more clear. Less clear because middlemen also begin to sell local product; more clear because local farmers selling their own product are isolated in a special area to sell from their trucks.
From what I have read thus far, one of de la Pradelle's points is that it is sometimes difficult, and not just for the casual observer, to make that distinction. To that I would add, as I have previously, that the challenge in making this distinction is available to consumers globally and has been for centuries. At least that's the point that I'll likely make in the chapter that I'm currently researching.
Finally, I don't know that de la Pradelle’s sample was too general; in fact some (such as Ptipois) might reasonably argue that the research was too specific. I found her observations by turns amusing, illuminating and well-researched, and based on them, can at least partly understand the collective nerve that they hit when originally published, perhaps intensified when it won a literary prize.
Perhaps its translation into English, and even its discussion here (at least of a brief excerpt), might be seen to have a similar effect.
Of course the antithetic argument might be the more persuasive. And that is that any deception doesn't really matter at all, simply because the food products of rural France are so superior, even at the Depot level, as to convince even the most discerning.
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Thank you for your (as always expert) local insights, Lucy.
Here's a portion of what William Grimes had to say about Market Day in Provence in his review in The New York Times last weekend:
'Ms. de La Pradelle, an ethnologist who was sent by the French government to analyze public markets, spent years scrutinizing the goods and the behavior and the underlying rules governing the market in Carpentras. Her findings amount to a cold shower for anyone, like myself, who has constructed a rich fantasy life around such places. All those farm-fresh fruits and vegetables, those delectable cheeses, those mouth-watering pâtés, come from the same wholesalers who supply the stores. The region switched over to large-scale industrial farming way back in the 1920's. "A market is a collectively produced anachronism, and in this it responds to deeply contemporary logic," she says.'
bleudauvergne On Wednesdays here in Lyon at the Place Carnot there is an evening producers' market. The rule that producers only can sell there is strictly enforced. They are well attended although I can say that because they are out of the way and not at a regular market hour they don't get the traffic that St.Antoine does on the weekends.Indeed. Please see Post # 30, above.
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Of course it's not just the French open-air market that was born from this artifice. It's a time-honoured manipulation seen all around the world, from the rafia-tied litres of second-rate olive oil in Chiantishire, to the cruise ship tourist drops of Ketchikan and Juneau.
Juneau a tourist trap?
I usually don't think of state capitals, not even state capitals nestled in fjords with mountains all around and no highway connections to anyplace more than about five miles distant, as places of this type.
Usually, they're sleepy, sometimes overgrown little burgs, with little to recommend them aside from the presence of the state government, if that can be said to be recommendation.
Then again, Juneau probably has access to really good salmon as compensation, which might justify the tourist-trappery.
Which reminds me of a tale I heard many, many, many years ago about a band of Catholic friars who maintained some sort of roadside stand somewhere in the United States where they sold their own foodstuffs made at the monastery, dressed in their traditional robes.
According to the story, when a visitor inquired about their religious order, one of the brothers replied, "We're Tourist Trappists."
Maybe they were affiliated with this Kentucky abbey?
If their cheese weren't quite remarkable, I would suspect yes.
For the record, Sandy, I didn't call Juneau a tourist trap. I called it a cruise ship tourist drop. Believe me, when a couple of Panamax-class cruisers pull in, the beautiful scenery quickly gets hidden behind a forest of bad tracksuits.
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Yes this is true.
Jamie - unfortunately, with out reading the book it self it is not possible to make precise comments on the content etc. I find the premise very interesting in the context of presenting this original issue, but I insitinctively shy away from absolutes (sorry if I have mis-interperated this issue).
I am sure that what is been highlighted is a very valid point, but surely it indicates one end of a typical normal distribution? Buyer beware and all that.
I'm not sure that this is confined to French markets though and ultimately if the customer is happy with the outcome does it matter?
In the product is good, is the UK supermarket adding soil to clean potatoes and the creation and marketing of the "Blue Foot chicken—an American facsimile of France’s poulet de Bresse" a deception?
He is well paid who is well satisfied.
I should think that deceptive trading practices are as old as humanity. I believe the first example was C. Magnon & Sons short-weighing a filet of mastadon, or the early herbalist-philosophers, Dawn of Thyme, selling old sages as fresh.
In Evelyn Welch's brilliant new book Shopping in the Renaissance, Consumer Cultures in Italy 1400 - 1600 (Yale University Press), she states:
"As a consequence, these Bolognese treccole, defined as 'all those who retail fruit, greens, vegetables, and their seeds and other things that they have bought in order to sell again which are normally sold by market gardeners who toil for and cultivate things themselves', were normally not allowed into the market to sell their wares until after the market had officially closed at midday. When they appeared, they were not to be visibly separated from the peasant gardeners, the ortolane, who were themselves carefully defined as those with market gardens either inside the city walls or within three miles of the town."
She goes on to say that in Venice, "There were severe punishments for those who [sic] to disguise themselves as peasants in order to pretend that they had grown their wares themselves."
It seems the Italians were on their game, even in 1410. We can only hope that the City of Turino has copied this ancient by-law during the current festivities.
And finally, in the case of your soiled spuds, are the parties to the social contract not complicit? One of the frequent observations within Market Day in Provence is that even experienced local consumers suspend all logic in order to buy produce that couldn't possibly have come from the vendor's own 'farm'.
As you read, she then cites the case of the vendor with just a few items, versus those that reveal their displays as elaborate cornucopiae. There are many retailers (boutique versus department), who follow this psychology, but it was interesting to see it reduced to this level, and the seeming fact that many shoppers found the 'boutique' (a few chickens, leeks and a bit of other, blemished produce) more convincing.
I think one of her points is that both parties are complicit in this little confidence game. Just as when we purchase a tennis shirt with a little polo player on the breast, so too we might buy a little bit of Ralph's other designs on our lives. But in the case of the open-air markets of France, the author allows that the badge of honour, or brand, is the artful display complete with dead lapin, the rusticated fermier, or the glass of pastis just down the cobbles.
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Anyway, to the point:
I was attracted to this thread by the title "the myth of the French 'country' market" and I find out in amazement that the discovery of a few dishonest practices (though how dishonest they really are deserves to be looked at more closely; for instance where is the fraud in selling artisanal produce that you didn't grow yourself but bought from the next field when what you're supposed to sell is artisanal produce?) seems to be enough to put the blame on the whole phenomenon of French country markets and, thus, on the whole population of small farm producers and maraîchers, who do a terrific job all over the country, I can testify for this.
Once again, a few flaws seem to be considered enough of a trigger for global bashing, and the serious term "myth" is immediately applied to French farmer's markets without any closer look on the question. I mean, people, isn't there obviously a problem there?
Yes, after reading a good whack of the book I'd have to agree with you: There is a problem there. But for the most part the appearance is that it's more amusing play-acting and light chicanery (an 'unindictable fraud') than something deeply malicious.
Free advice: Read the book. Market Day in Provence has been available in France for some time. The author finds much more than 'a few flaws' though: The evidence suggests that all is not as it appears. But I'd cheerfully recommend that you read it and make your own mind up.
The author is an acclaimed French ethnologist, it won a serious French award and is certainly deeply researched (if clumsily translated into English). And, as I said earlier, it delightfully illuminates the pastime of sacred cow-tipping. Needless to say, it also provoked ample Gallic hand-wringing.
Also, I fail to grasp how the picturesque examples of your Auvergnat farmers may be a proof of artifice. The preserves were not made entirely from fruit grown on the farm? So what? And it seems perfectly normal to take the stuff to market in a deux-chevaux instead of the more fragile Peugeot. Where's the inauthenticity in all that? That was certainly good farm produce. I mean, what more would you need for things to be more french-authentic? Preserves being cooked on a wood fire and the jars carried to town by oxcart?It was the artifice of Extra-Jean's ploy to be très authentique that was so amusing, not that his bought-in products and Madame's home-made preserves were necessarily inferior. But believe me, as I said earlier the Deux Chaveaux and blue smock gambit was entirely intentional: Irony, after all, requires two audiences. At the market, those two audiences - separated by that unspoken irony and a plank of wrinkly produce - were composed of the shepherd and the fleeced.
In fact, it was a standing joke in the household, a weekly uniform of Mock-Paysan Sunday Best. If his daughters accompanied him, the Dior pumps and low chignons would stay back in favour of espadrilles and toussled bed hair - their take on Marianne Goes To Market. That being said, there wasn't really any malice to it, just a little Gallic shrug and a knowing wink. The neighbours were silent collaborators and many performed the same weekly service.
Of course it's not just the French open-air market that was born from this artifice. It's a time-honoured manipulation seen all around the world, from the rafia-tied litres of second-rate olive oil in Chiantishire, to the cruise ship tourist drops of Ketchikan and Juneau. It's just that the French are so much better at it, having global rights to the use of blue gingham and all, and enchanting descriptors such as 'mamam', 'confiture' and 'naturellement mon petit jardin organique est fertilisé avec le produit de mes vaches.'
But of course.
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If you really like French country products, well, get to know them. When you do, it is very unlikely that you'll get gypped at any of those stalls. Those who cannot tell the difference between industrially-grown and artisanally-grown produce are to be pitied indeed. Real producers with real produce should be spotted from the very first sight. They often have modest stalls, few produce, and diversified: a few chickens, two or three bunches of radish, a few bunches of cress or hairy leeks, three crates of ugly potatoes and sandy carrots. Apple with spots on them. Six half-pounds of butter, hand-shaped into balls. Another way to spot them: there's a waiting line and most of what's available is gone before 10:30 AM. The owner is not dressed "as a peasant", though he or she may have a tan from staying outside in the fields. And so on. I believe anyone who buys produce from a "fake" stall and believes it to be the real thing deserves every bit of it.
As Carrot Top rightly points out, de la Pradelle’s research delves deeply into the wizzened apples, dead rabbits, 'lots of oil cloth' displays. That section culminates in this paragraph . . .
This type of display may lead the customer to believe, or at least suggests to him, that he is buying lettuce or leeks directly from the person who patiently transplanted and hoed them. In reality, Roux’s fruits and vegetables come from the marché-gare (the section called le petit marché, used above all by producers who have only small quantities to sell), though he does have his “own” little producer, a neighbor of his in Pernes.She clearly makes the case that these displays and stall holders are as equally inauthentic as the 'artful display/battered chapeau' types.
Meh.
Here, even, in the hallowed halls of eGullet! Is a good example of how easily one can be hoodwinked.
Mr. Maw thought it was me, Carrot Top, speaking - when really it was Ptipois speaking!
Now it is true that we are both fine specimens, me a green top of a carrot, she a fresh spring pea - but there the sameness ends! She is French and undoubtedly chic - I am merely the American girl next door.
Tonight we will blame this on the fact that it is the fin de la semaine, and probably Mr. Maw was indulging in some excellent old Burgundy as he read, then afterwards as his fingers hit the keyboard so masterfully. Burgundy. That *is* French, isn't it?
But it just goes to prove how easily one can be fooled as to point of origin by even the finest produce (whether intentionally or not!
) .Zut alors! Actually, dearest, and for clarity, while quoting Ptipois, I was referencing a similar point that you made upthread.
I didn't want you to think that I had been overly distracted by Olympic women's hockey.
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But again, I'm not sure why this is such a surprise, that is the nature of markets after all, interacting with people and developing relationships with them.
Developing relationships? I think it's the author's central premise that these relationships are founded on dishonety.
But the real point is the romantic notion of the seductive French stall and its seemingly rustic farmer-vendors. According to the suthor, most of them are as illusory as Ralph Lauren.
I recently read a book on the romance of markets in southern France. The Canadian author (who was unoriginally setting out to buy a house) naively proclaimed that French consumer has a naturally deeper connection to the soil because of their open-air market mentality and insistence on only very high quality product: fresh, local, seasonal.
An awfully lot of bad food writing is based on this flawed premise and its counterpunch: that North Americans suffer a disconnect from the land because they largely shop in supermarkets.
I see what you mean, but I guess my surprise was this - as much as I like markets and target them at every opertunity, I would never go as far as to say that I trusted a vendor absolutely. The nature of the game and all that.
Maybe the Canadian author you mention above isn't that naive. After all, it is these sentimental memes that people want to hear and that is what sells books and makes money for the author. Prehaps they are playing the same game as the market vendors. The original version of the book may have been entitled "France: God it sucks", but that wouldn't fly I imagine and would result in a rapid re-draft.
Regarding supermarkets (off topic, but amusing): Here in Scotland I noticed that although most potatoes are sold in plastic bags, some are sold loose in bins, covered in a layer of peaty earth. It is quite interesting to watch the staff put perfectly clean, brushed potatoes into a bin then pour a bag of sterilized earth over them.
I'll always check out markets too, Adam, faux-charm or not. And as regards the Canadian author, her snobby premise met with much derision here: "If it's so darn good there, please feel free to stay."
With regard to your sneaky Scottish grocer friends, that does plumb a new low even if the peat likely imparts a smoky flavour not unlike a superior whisky.
Well, at least Scottish grocers have stopped stuffing potatoes in their Speedos whilst holidaying in France.Which is clearly where they got the idea.
Jamie
PS - I'm filing the Faux-French Market Factoids in that trove of Who Would've Thought? arcana that numbers other epiphany-inducing provocations such as discovering that the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas has more hotels rooms than Venice. It's just that important.
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[sNIP]
I'm quite sure that a lot of the tricks described in previous posts do happen. What I don't understand is why this is such a surprise? Vendors have been playing games with customers from the very begining of trade.
What is also true is that there are also honest traders that work hard and make many sacrifices, either due vocation or lifestyle choices. I know this to be true as I actually know such people.
Most vendors are more then likely somewhere in the middle of these two extremes and I do not doubt that there are regional differences also.
But again, I'm not sure why this is such a surprise, that is the nature of markets after all, interacting with people and developing relationships with them.
I don't think it a surprise at all, especially here at home, where picturesque hillocks of dewy melons don't fool many. That's just one reason it's a pleasure to buy at the farmgate or orchard stand in the Okanagan.
But again, I'm not sure why this is such a surprise, that is the nature of markets after all, interacting with people and developing relationships with them.Developing relationships? I think it's the author's central premise that these relationships are founded on dishonety.
But the real point is that this book completely overturns the romantic notion of the seductive French market, the foods on offer, and its seemingly rustic farmer-vendors. According to the suthor, some of them are as illusory as Ralph Lauren.
I recently read a book on the romance of markets in southern France. The Canadian author (who was, unoriginally, setting out to buy a house- yawn) naively proclaimed that French consumer has a naturally deeper connection to the soil because of their open-air market mentality and insistence on only very high quality product: fresh, local, seasonal.
An awfully lot of bad food writing is based on this flawed premise and its counterpunch: that North Americans suffer a disconnect from the land because they largely shop in supermarkets. It turns out that the French do as well, but in ones that offer the illusion of
[Ptipois] Modest stalls, few produce, and diversified: a few chickens, two or three bunches of radish, a few bunches of cress or hairy leeks, three crates of ugly potatoes and sandy carrots. Apple with spots on them. Six half-pounds of butter, hand-shaped into balls.So much of the concept of the French idyll (a bike or canal boat ride through the countryside, stopping at a market to gather supplies for a picnic) is based on this ripe artifice that it appears, up close, like that amusing pastime of sacred cow tipping.
Or merely merde de cheval.
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If you really like French country products, well, get to know them. When you do, it is very unlikely that you'll get gypped at any of those stalls. Those who cannot tell the difference between industrially-grown and artisanally-grown produce are to be pitied indeed. Real producers with real produce should be spotted from the very first sight. They often have modest stalls, few produce, and diversified: a few chickens, two or three bunches of radish, a few bunches of cress or hairy leeks, three crates of ugly potatoes and sandy carrots. Apple with spots on them. Six half-pounds of butter, hand-shaped into balls. Another way to spot them: there's a waiting line and most of what's available is gone before 10:30 AM. The owner is not dressed "as a peasant", though he or she may have a tan from staying outside in the fields. And so on. I believe anyone who buys produce from a "fake" stall and believes it to be the real thing deserves every bit of it.
As Carrot Top rightly points out, de la Pradelle’s research delves deeply into the wizzened apples, dead rabbits, 'lots of oil cloth' displays. That section culminates in this paragraph . . .
This type of display may lead the customer to believe, or at least suggests to him, that he is buying lettuce or leeks directly from the person who patiently transplanted and hoed them. In reality, Roux’s fruits and vegetables come from the marché-gare (the section called le petit marché, used above all by producers who have only small quantities to sell), though he does have his “own” little producer, a neighbor of his in Pernes.She clearly makes the case that these displays and stall holders are as equally inauthentic as the 'artful display/battered chapeau' types.
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Thanks Jamie. A couple of things occurred to me regarding this topic. Does this mean that the French with their "superior" taste buds aren't so different from us Yanks, meaning that they can't tell the difference between a mass produced (FILL IN THE BLANK) from the artisnal product any better than many Americans? As for the products that come from the wholesalers, are they dumbed down versions of the real thing or are they able to recreate the genuine article, just en masse? Finally, here in the states we have a multitude of laws at the Federal and state levels governing truth in advertising and a very lawsuit-happy population (I have no idea what laws/penalties are out there that may address what purveyors at our farmers markets must say or advertise about their wares). What about the laws of France? I would assume that they probably have a much more casual approach than we do here.
I haven't finished reading Market Day in Provence yet, but it largely rings true with my own experience in France and other countries: what appears artisanal and home-grown at a so-called farmers' market is often anything but. Let's call it re-gifting.
On the French farm (in the Auverne) where I worked, which mainly grew grain and hay crops, Madame would make some of her own fruit preserves from nearby stone fruit trees, but would also buy in fruits and vegetables from the Co-Op. These were artfully rearranged into rustic wooden crates that had first been lined with straw. Then Extra-Jean, le fermier, would back his battered Deux Chevaux (not as pretty as this one) around to the cellar doors to bundle up the day's 'produce' and packaged goods, to be conveyed to the market. Needless to say, the shiny new Peugeot stayed in the garage.
But the francs earned on market days served an economic purpose: Cropping on a large scale only delivers one pay day per year, and the hard currency from the market (most of which escaped the tax collector) provided consistent family income throughout the year. That in turn was regifted by keeping their beautiful daughters in chic dresses and stylish high heels.
As the extended quote that I linked points out, this market artifice is almost tacitly agreed to by the parties (except unsupecting tourists and naive food writers); it requires only the suspension of logic on behalf of the purchaser and the white lies of the stallholder.
As I get deeper into the book, it will be interesting to see if the author compounds the fracture by discussing the massive subsidization of French farmers.
I realize that the vast majority of the world's lawyers live in America; in France, as long as the end product behaves well and tastes good, there's more of a 'nudge, nudge; wink, wink' mentality and rare are the lawsuits for merely taking a leek.
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Another fantasy destroyed! I can't decide by what you wrote whether that should make us hate the French or admire them (or both?)
Oh, admire them, if only because nobody plays the French card quite the way the French do.
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A Commerce of the Imaginary
Romantic notions of local terroir and fermier-tended produce for sale in the traditional open-air markets of France will be dashed on these shores by the recent English translation of Michèle de la Pradelle’s Market Day in Provence.
“The Carpentras Friday market,” writes Jack Katz in his foreword, “creates a seemingly unique place without committing any indictable fraud.”
The book, which won the Prix Louis Castex de l'Académie Fran‡aise, is also sure to dim the credibility of those breathless, Enchanted April-style books that etol the 'authenticity' of French produce and the 'connection' of the French to their soil.
De la Pradelle, a French ethnologist, deliciously eviscerates the Carpentras market (near Avignon) and the faux-produce, cheeses and charcuterie on offer. Her thorough research puts paid to the fakery of the small farm and artisanal products seemingly on display: fruits and vegetables are grown industrially and vendors buy their pâtés and cheeses from large suppliers.
Several merchants quoted in the book openly admit to their playacting, which conjures images of speedy purchasing trips to the MIN (Marché d’Intérêt National - or gigantic wholesaler) followed by the careful placement of dirt under fingernails, donning of battered straw chapeau and blue farmer's apron, and labelling of 'Cornichons' and 'Confiture d'Abricot du Pays' in child-like script on Mason jars.
- Market Day in Provence; Michèle de la Pradelle, University of Chicago Press.In fact, from what the charcutiers at the market told me, very few of them make their own products anymore, but they do strive to meet customers’ expectations, even if that means letting them believe that what has actually been bought from wholesalers comes out of their own ateliers. As Delvaux explains with a touch of humor:'It’s important to people that we make our own products, so we have to lie. When I have them taste a pâté, they say, “Oh, it’s good, it’s really good!” If I don’t say I made it myself, they don’t think it’s as good. In the beginning I made almost everything myself, while trying to fill customer orders at the same time. That hurt me, obviously. Here I don’t make anything myself. It’d help if I had a shop, I could work in the back. But I don’t, so I started buying. In the beginning that raised a few eyebrows, but later people came and said, “All right, let me have some pâté, but your pâté, okay—homemade!” It wasn’t mine, I’d bought it at various places, so I’d say, “Here, this one is new, it’s a new recipe.” You cut off a bit, give them a taste. “You made it yourself?” “Yes, yes.” The product helps, but a bit of hype really makes it easier to put things over.’
You can find a longer quote from Market Day in Provence here.
An intriguing look inside the psychology of what, as it turns out, is just another brand.
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Speaking of Kelowna any rec's on a decent place just off the highway (97) for a quick lunch? I'm transporting the folks for their annual stay in Vancouver and if I have to eat at another Montanas or Tims I'll slit my wrists.
While I'm at it (and this is a really long shot) are there any recommendations for dinner in Clearwater?
The Birch Grill or The Bohemian on Bernard downtown; The Cactus Club or Joey's on 97. In behind the CC there's a very good pho shop if your folks are slightly more adventurous. But the Cactus Club serves a good lunch in attractive surroundings. Speaking of the Human Resources Department, if you mention Neil Wyles' name to Shona, the bartender, and then give her $6, she will bring you a very cold beer.
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I'm surprised that no-one's mentioned The Gasthaus in Peachland yet. It's a FD German restaurant that has operated very successfully for years, and recently expanded their floorspace by about 150% to accommodate a pub with casual dining. They have some spotty reviews on the net but no-one I've ever known to dine there has had a bad experience. My mum and I have had several Xmas dinners there, the food is fairly unique to my taste, but apparently very authentic (far from the Bavarian stereotype).
I agree with you. Several weeks ago, after standing in snow and mud for a few hours, in we shot for lunch. The enormous fireplace was a warm welcome, as was the food. I had brawurst Nurenburger, kraut and very good rosti potatoes - for $8.95. Big summer beer garden which I anticipate attending, by boat.
The room is really quite authenic, with carved woodwork but no cuckoo clocks that we spotted. Lots of Hellenic beers on tap and by the bottle.
Nice call Anchoress.
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Jamie, when you figure out a way to say all that in the space I took to say what I said, in such a way as to maintain the interest of a reader, you can give me coaching advice on how to make my arguments stronger. Until then, let's just face the reality that, as generally wacky as she may be, Joanne Kates got it right this time around.
No worries.
1. "In our experience, in the major urban centres of most western countries we have found that service in fine dining restaurants is now almost universally at a relatively high level. That standard usually maintains whether the service charge is included in the bill or is to be added by way of gratuity. If, however, you feel at all uncomfortable with the level of service, we recommend that you either request a discount on the service charge or diminish your usual, friendly tip. In Canada, however, all bets are off."
2. "In more casual dining establishments, where we typically witness greater extremes of service, we prefer a straightfoward tipping system, which is speedy consideration for service personnel to monitor and manage our dining experience expertly. Or not. In Brooklyn, we've noticed, you're probably better off banging Tami in the walk-in."
3. "If you are Joanne Kates, or, for that matter, any broad in a bad hat or questionable do, all bets are off."
And I mean that. Seriously this time.
Jamie
The Myth of the French 'Country' Market
in Food Traditions & Culture
Posted · Edited by jamiemaw (log)
I understand your point and think it well made. I also look forward to your opinion once you've had the chance to read the book.
Produce, never (I am one tough, shrewd carrot negotiator my few remaining friends will tell you); affairs of the heart though, as often as possible!
OK, enough with the flattery. I am to hijacking what Dick Cheney is to marksmanship. But I borrowed your quote for a reason; it works remarkably well in the bigger discussion (well beyond wrinkly fruit) of not only are we what we eat, but because we are also defined (and define ourselves) by how and why we purchase. This, after all is the author's main thesis.