The Trail's Our Thing

But Laurence seems to have forgotten that caution, and now we just let her talk on. This morning she launched into a story about the day she and her two young daughters went hiking near Sivergues, on what the hiking book said was a two hour family walk. Instead it turned out to be a five hour walk and they ran out of water, had to knock on a door in Sivergues and ask for a drink…. hey, I did understand!

Although we’ve hiked into Sivergues before, we weren’t hiking today. It’s late July—way too hot for hiking at midday. We were headed to Sivergues by car—actually beyond Sivergues—for lunch at Le Castelas.

Le Castelas is probably the most unique dining experience in the Luberon, a large farm complex high in the Grand Luberon, a few miles beyond the end of the paved road at Sivergues. Sivergues is a tiny village of about 40 people; at 1935 feet, it’s the highest inhabited village in the Luberon. In the 16th century a group of persecuted Protestants called the Waldensians hid in this area, fleeing from massacres that killed about 3,000 people in the Luberon.

I’ve wanted to eat at Le Castelas for a couple of years; my friend Linda from Slow Travel reported a wonderful visit there last fall and showed me photos of goats standing on their lunch table. Unfortunately, Le Castelas was one of several eating places that weren’t open during our long stay in the off-season, understandable given its remote location. But now we were here in summer, anxious to have the experience others rave about. Charley called a few days ago to make a lunch reservation for today.

As we organized ourselves to get ready to leave, I noticed some ominous clouds rising behind us in the mountains. We convinced ourselves that the clouds would pass; after all, rain is a rarity in Provence in the summertime.

We allowed 30 minutes for our drive and got there in 25, heading up above Bonnieux to the straight expanse of the Claparèdes plateau and then making the right hand turn to Sivergues. The narrow road to Sivergues winds down and around a dramatic canyon, passing a large house built partially into the rock. We passed through the small village, pointing out the miniscule church, the phone booth, and the place where our hiking route last winter had headed off toward the plateau. Then we saw the sign: Fin de la Route. We’d reached the end of the road, and we bounced along the even narrower-gravel road for another few miles. It’s hard to imagine people living back this far in the mountains, but there are utility poles and mailboxes; they have electricity, water service, and mail delivery.

The weather conditions hadn’t improved. We had hoped the clouds were over another part of the Luberon, since showers here are often localized. But no, the clouds were right there above us. As we pulled into the parking lot at Le Castelas, big drops started splashing on our windshield. The outside temperature gauge of our car plummeted to 23 degrees centigrade—just 73! Normally at this time of day it is well into the 90’s.

We were six or seven minutes early for our 12:30 reservation and decided to wait it out in the car, hoping it was just a quick shower. Finally, when we could wait no longer, we jumped from the car and walked through the gate, headed down the path as quickly as we could to Le Castelas.

The Ferme-Auberge (farm inn) called Le Castelas occupies an absolutely beautiful spot in the Grand Luberon with sweeping views to the west and towering rock formations to the east… views all the way to the Alps on a clear day. Approaching the farm, we passed a field of goats on the left side of the track and pigs in a field on the right. The grounds include a very large, rambling stone farmhouse/barn and several outbuildings, one of them a roughly-assembled pen full of goats wearing bells. Later we learned there are over 100 goats in addition to sheep and pigs. Le Castelas also has rustic and inexpensive “gite d’étape” accommodations, especially ideal for hikers and horse-trekkers.

I noticed trestle tables down under the trees and several large tables on a paved terrace outside the large stone house. Obviously we wouldn’t be eating outside today. We stepped inside a room with a couple of Routard signs on the door. A shirtless man was sitting at one of several large tables in a vaulted stone room, reading a book.

We were the Wood Family, here for lunch, we explained in French. Yes, we had a reservation.

The man (Gianni, the proprietor, originally from Sardinia) left the room and returned with his wife, an attractive blonde woman who spoke good English. He now had a shirt and resumed his reading at the table. It seemed clear that she was responsible for customer relations.

“Are you Ingrid”” I asked, remembering the name from Linda’s restaurant review. She seemed pleased that I knew her name.

“I am sorry for you,” she said referring to the weather.

We took a seat on benches at one of the long tables, close to the open door, and ordered a bottle of white wine and a bottle of water for Kelly. No sirop or soft drinks up here in the remotest outpost of the Luberon.

From our seats we watched the rain now pouring down outside, thunder and lightening both very close. Provence has had a serious drought this summer, so we knew this was very good for the farmers—but it wasn’t the idyllic day I’d dreamed of at Le Castelas: eating outside beneath the trees, enjoying the mountain air and view, watching Kelly frolic with the goats.

The storm crosses the Grand Luberon (view to the west)

Ingrid returned with our drinks, three small glasses, three plates, napkins and silverware. We spoke in whispers as the rain continued. Ingrid and her husband stood at the door, watching the downpour before she returned to the kitchen to complete the preparation of our meal.

Lunch at Le Castelas is a simple affair: a huge long bowl of salad greens tossed with vinaigrette, toasted bread with hot goat cheese, a platter of thinly-sliced cured ham, a basket of whole-grain bread, and a plate of at least ten goat cheeses with a tiny container of very thick honey. Ingrid explained that the ham, the goat cheese and the honey all came from the farm. She shops for other food at the market in Apt. The serving dishes and platters all seemed to be hand-carved from rough wood. The presentation was appealing, and Charley and I dug into the food with gusto.

Ten different goat cheeses, all from Le Castelas

“Mommy, I’ve never seen you eat so much salad,” Kelly observed, as I heaped my plate full yet again. I hadn’t realized a simple salad could be so good. This was without question the best vinaigrette I’ve ever eaten, coating each of the crisp salad leaves, complete with big crushed cloves of garlic. I vowed to try to create my own vinaigrette back at home—and to never again eat blue cheese dressing on my salad.

Kelly nibbled on a few pieces of bread, which she did assure us was quite good. She doesn’t eat cured ham, lettuce drenched in vinaigrette, goat cheese, or honey. (This turned out to be a very expensive meal of bread and water for Kelly, since Le Castelas doesn’t have a children’s menu or price!) It’s possible, though, that Charley and I ate her share. Our friends (the ones we’re housesitting for) told us this used to be one of their favorite places until their daughter—Kelly’s age—became a vegetarian.

As we finished our meal, the rain finally stopped. We stepped outside to the soggy grass, skirting a puddle on the terrace, and surveyed the scenery. Far, far in the distance, the sun shot through a tiny break in the clouds to illuminate a familiar-looking village with a distinctive structure at the top.

“Cette village?” Charley asked the Gianni, pointing to the west. “Lacoste??”

Oui, it was Lacoste, almost directly west, perhaps some 15 miles away. We were amazed to recognize it so far in the distance. And then the clouds lifted enough for us to better appreciate the beautiful surroundings of Le Castelas. We paid our bill (cash only) and chatted some more with Ingrid, then headed out into a much-cooler Luberon day.

On the way back to the parking lot, we stopped at the goat pen where Charley and Kelly rubbed a few noses and I took my photos. Another family—Americans from California with lots of kids—was arriving for lunch. I cautioned the woman that there wasn’t a children’s price. It looked like this would be an expensive meal for them, but perhaps their kids like salad, cured ham, and goat cheese.

At the goat pen (and after the storm)

Somewhere nearby are the ruins of a 12th century church and an ancient cemetery. We didn’t go looking for them today, but perhaps we will the next time. And there will definitely be a next time at Le Castelas…. we’re thinking this September for dinner, when we can see the sun set over the Luberon. We’ve heard there’s often entertainment at dinner, and the meal seems a better value, especially since the wine is included. But if it rains next time, I think we’ll shift to Plan B.

Note: Le Castelas is open during the warmer months only (possibly April through September?) for lunch and dinner. Lunch costs 19 euro (wine is 20 euro a bottle). Dinner seems a more economical option at 30 euro a person, and includes entrées, roasted meat (lamb, pork or goat) and side dishes, dessert, and house wine, as well as the items included at lunch.