Carol Drinkwater and Her Love of Shopping in French Markets

We live in an isolated spot, hidden from the fast lane of life, peacefully contemplating our view of the Riviera. It suits me to be tucked away. We go out, of course, to shop, pop to the bank, execute the routines of daily life. The hypermarchés set in the middle of nowhere offer most services, but I prefer the snail’s pace of the villages with independent shopkeepers, my hairdresser, our friendly wine merchant, all of whom call me by name. There is a museum in our village and Valbonne, a 20-minute drive inland from our farm, has an English bookshop where I can browse and purchase novels hot off the press. All year round these villages are the nerve centre of our existence and I would be lost without them.

In summer, however, when the tourists arrive, these settlements take on another aspect altogether. The markets – each village has its own market day – are bursting with activity. Dozens more stalls appear than exist during the winter months, with vendors driving from Italy or inland from the mountains to hawk their wares. There is an atmosphere of celebration about these summer market days.

An early start

Cannes has its iconic food and flower market, the Marché Provençal at Forville, close by Le Suquet, the city’s oldest quarter. The original market was inaugurated in 1884 and the present building, a vast hall, was constructed in the 1920s. Soon, it’s to be given a facelift and roof terrace. Open Tuesday to Sunday, 7am till 1pm, it’s a must visit: the vibrant colours and the range of produce are inspiring. Oh, and the fish direct from the sea! Ask for Thomas, fisherman and fishmonger – his catches dazzle the eye and taste sublime.

In summer, we rise at daybreak, shop before the crowds and then settle in a café in one of the narrow cobbled lanes. Sit back and breathe in the palpable sense of bonhomie. In summer, everyone takes the time to enjoy a mid-morning espresso or a second breakfast: café au lait accompanied by warm croissants. It’s a cliché but these viennoiseries melt in your mouth, gentle warm flakes that disappear the second they settle on the tongue. At home, it’s black coffee and fruit for me. I rarely drink milk or eat croissants or pains au chocolat, but all that swimming will burn up the calories. Surely?