Acquired Tastes: Peter Mayle's Provence

Sometimes I exasperate even myself. Who else could start the week intending to finish, ostensibly, the penultimate chapter to what is arguably the most influential science fiction series of all time (Hunters of Dune) and wind up drifting blissfully into the capable sun-kissed and wine-stained hands of Peter Mayle?

Before I wallow in my frustration at being sidetracked by the truffle-obsessing prose of Mr. Mayle, allow me to enlighten my patient and long-suffering readership of five that I normally keep an eclectic selection of books by my bedside, which I then proceed to devour, without much art or science, according to my late-night reading fancy. Am I in the mood for something distinctly academic, and intellectually demanding? I have some Alasdair MacIntyre, an author who, if we took out all the graduate students who are required to read him, is blessed with a readership roughly equal to mine. How about something historical, but not quite so intimidating? Let me fish out my copy of the painstakingly well-researched but criminally unread sleepy time pleasure A History of Private Life: Pagan Rome to Byzantium. And, just to disprove the notion that my bedside table is a repository for all things unbearably nerdy, I also have good old-fashioned epic fantasy by George RR Martin and Robert Jordan. (Of course, if you happen to be familiar with the two aforementioned fantasy authors, you would be correct to assume that my bedside table is probably designed to support either a ton of bricks, or these authors' last couple of books. In their fully fleshed fantasy worlds, it seems, brevity is not the soul of wit. But I digress.)

I keep Peter Mayle in some sort of weird, elliptical, late-night-reading-fancy sort of rotation on my bedside table because he's just so good at conveying a healthy, warmhearted, self-deprecatingly joyful reverence for good food. Mr. Mayle, despite his almost idolatrous fascination with the truffle, is a true gourmand, unlike the many pretentious epicureans who claim to worship the truffle. He simply relishes the good, whether it be an unassuming dish perfected over time by rustic Provencal housewives, or a sophisticated eight course meal prepared by the finest chefs in restaurants where most of his readers can barely afford to be within sniffing distance of. At any rate, if you're ever in any mood to enjoy the inoffensibly charming wit of a man born to write about fine culinary experiences, check him out. I'd recommend starting with A Year in Provence.

Now, if only I can get my hands on some truffles...

Photo Credits:

Picture of Peter Mayle's Provence is from Peter Mayle.com.

Picture of Hunters of Dune is from The Russian Dune Website.