Here's why foodies need to wake up to Gascony

People greeted the announcement that I was off to Gascony for a fortnight with polite puzzlement.

Many had some sense that it was a southern bit of France that was not Provence.  Foodies knew it as the home of foie gras and Armagnac.  Literary fans recognised the home province of d'Artagnan, history buffs the lands of the great Eleanor of Aquitaine.  But nobody I spoke to had ever been here, and even those who could call those headline facts to mind knew little more.

An article in Conde Nast Traveler magazine (read it here) had triggered my curiosity two years ago.  The author had compared Gascony to Tuscany, writing with giddy enthusiasm that the French province was far better.  I wanted to investigate this travesty.  And, given that my husband wasn't keen on the Italian heartland, but is a Francophile who frequently worships at the twin altars of duck and Armagnac, I knew Gascony would be a popular choice.  When we stumbled upon an article about   a cooking school in the region while researching destinations for the husband's big birthday year, it seemed a sign to take some action.

Sitting here on the patio of our gite (holiday cottage) between the ancient towns of Condom and Montreal, eight holiday days behind me and seven stretching ahead, I understand where the Traveler writer was coming from.  The similarities between this place and the Tuscany I know so well are clear ... perhaps one of the reasons I feel more at ease here than in any other part of France I've visited.

Both places share the heritage of the Roman empire, most notably with established roads between towns and a long history of wine making.  In the Middle Ages, both suffered through brutal conflicts (Guelphs v Ghibillines in Italy, English v French in Gascony) that drove their people into fortified hilltop towns. Civil war is hell, but at least the Medieval version left an impressive architectural legacy.  Both were mostly left out of industrial revolutions of the 19th and 20th centuries, preserving

a highly agricultural, village-based way of life.  That also meant gruelling poverty in both places until very recently, when increases in tourism, food and wine export, and expats restoring old properties have changed the financial base.

The landscape of both places shares sensuously undulating hills, often criss-crossed by vineyards.  Ancient fortified villages sit on hilltops, their venerable church steeples providing navigation points.  Lines of tall, thin trees border the roads, though Tuscany's cypresses give way to poplars and oaks in Gascony.  The Tuscan hills are higher, its woods thicker.  Gascony is a gentler place and, in this verdant month of May, seems a richer, greener one.  Extremes of temperature rule out olive production here, so Gascon vineyards alternate with fields of grain.  Wildflowers dot the verges and wild roses climb through hedges.

The cultural edge, admittedly, must go to Tuscany.  There's plenty of history in Gascony.  Picturesque towns, intimate chateaux, charming little churches.  But few blockbuster sights, and no masterpieces.  If you want a cultural holiday, you're still off to Italy.  If you want to relax, drink in the whole scene and do a little gentle tourism, Gascony's for you.

The pace of life is similar in both places, with the world still coming to a halt for two hours in the middle of the day.  Tourists be damned, we're closing up and going home for lunch.  Because in both places, food and drink are sacred. Both cuisines spring from the frugality of a peasant tradition that exploits beans and stale bread, both start many dishes with the comfortable base of onion and garlic, and both have a thriving truffle industry (though we've yet to bump into the latter in Gascony).  Both stick to local produce and traditions and, by embracing that concept of terroir, it's in gastronomy that the regions differ most.

The duck rules here in Gascony, followed closely by the goose and the pig.  (In Tuscany, beef and wild boar are the celebratory meats.)  Gascony supports neither olives or, surprisingly, dairy herds, so the typical cooking medium is neither olive oil or butter.  It's duck fat.  We pay £3 for a little jar at home; you'll get 1 kilo blocks here for less.  We learned why when we broke down one of the region's famous foie gras ducks.  With up to an inch of fatty skin all over their bodies, the rendered scraps from one duck will keep a kitchen going for a while. And, it turns out, the saturated fats in duck are better for you than either olive oil or butter.  Gascon ducks are bigger and more succulent than any other duck you've had, because they're all corn-fed, gluttonous by-products of foie gras creation.

Something of which I'll write more in a later entry.

This is, admittedly, a heavier cuisine.  There's more of a pastry tradition here, while the Tuscans will default to fruit, ices or gelato in a natural response to their hotter climate.  Potatoes take the place of pasta.  Both regions produce a wide range of wines to wash all that food down with, but here Gascony may have the edge on variety.  Tuscany offers an abundance of reds with some average whites in the minority; Gascony is heavier on whites, and produces lots of roses and reds.

We haven't found any exceptional local bottles yet but, of course, Gascony is a satellite of the ancient regional capital of Bordeaux.  Thus the cheap immediately local shares shelf space with world-beating almost-locals.  But Gascony really edges ahead on the other alcoholic drinks.  Beyond wine, Tuscany offers Vin Santo and Limoncello.  Gascony can give you the sweet stuff in a wine called Floc, three regions of Armagnac production and a variety of Armagnac-based liqueurs.  One of the latter, called Pousse Rapiere, is my favourite discovery of the trip thus far.

On one very important front, Gascony is surging far ahead.  It is, quite simply, easier.  Holidays in Italy always balance delights of food and culture with hard work.  The roads are always in poor repair, processes always seem a bit inefficient and our Italian holiday rentals have been charming but a bit worse-for-wear.  Perhaps we've simply gotten lucky here, but Gascony seems to have moved past all those problems.  Roads are in great shape, signage is clear.  Grocery stores are sparkling models of convenience.  Both places we've stayed are models of renovation, retaining historic elements like beams and stonework while giving us modern, spotlessly clean, comfortably furnished interiors.

In short, the Traveler writer was right.  Gascony is one of the best kept secrets in Europe, especially for gastronomes.  In future entries I'll explain why.