Rhyme for Rod

Posted on March 6, 2025 by TheFitzyreport

Every fortnight for the first 11 years of Rod’s tenure hosting overnights on ABC radio, I chimed in with news from New York City. The longevity of our broadcasts bears witness to the magic of the city and the endless fascination we shared for it. Since then we have spoken occasionally from Budapest, Italy and France, and later today we will catch up again with some great news……. Sean and I will be celebrating the premiere of our show in Italy at the end of July. Oh, and not only that, there is the chance Rod will be there in person for this much anticipated event, courtesy of his new daylight schedule.

In recognition of Mr Quinn and those 11 years, I have written a few words…

Lured to New York by adventure and work
the Big Apple was a whirlwind of bites
how to share all the fun was a quest in itself
so I contacted Rod on Overnights.

Mr Quinn rules the airwaves from dark until dawn
like Frank loves a city that doesn’t sleep
there’s too much to do, to see and to say
more amusing than counting those sheep.

Every fortnight for years we talked of the latest
there was never a shortage of chat
his listeners chimed in with comments and calls
becoming friends as a matter of fact

Rod came to Manhattan just twice in 10 years
Eataly marked our long lunch as a treat
No cronuts or hot dogs to eat in the park
smart dining for this special meet.

When I left for Europe our broadcasts were less
Budapest didn’t have the same thrall
Then Italy called, then France and Provence
Hey Rod, we are having a ball !		

Past tense and present my grammar is mixed
like emotions in Sydney at Auntie
For Rod plans to swop the mic for some leave
he’s earned it, it’s time for a party

Good luck from us all, buona fortuna, bonne chance 
it’s my shout this time - you can choose
Many thanks for our broadcasts, for connecting me home
there’s more — but it’s time for your snooze.

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At home in Provence

Posted on March 5, 2025 by TheFitzyreport

While real estate is not my forte, I am a firm believer in serendipity. So when Australian friends said they would love to spend a few weeks in a small village somewhere around the Mediterranean, I immediately thought of my friend Agneta, who has a beautiful house in Provence, but is off on her own travels these days. For those of you wanting to linger in this beautiful part of the world, maybe call in to see Romain at the cafe in Le Val, ride a wine harvester in the middle of the vintage, eat more delicious cheese than you thought possible, join the local jazz club on the first Thursday of the month, and visit the best markets outside of Italy, here is the blurb and a few photos….

“Now we rent out our little house in the medieval village of Montfort-sur- Argens in le Var, Provence. The house is perfect for 4 people and has a wonderful terrace with a view over the roof and no transparency. Lovely surroundings with hikes and swimming in waterfalls. The village is about 1h15 min from Nice and about 45 min from Aix-en-Provence. If you are interested, let me know… agneta.solden@gmail.com

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(Inter)National Gravy Day

Posted on December 23, 2024 by TheFitzyreport

Babe stole the show – again! In a crowded field of festive co-stars, the rabbits, geese, lambs and goats were upstaged even before the main event. Rehearsals for the Christmas crèche vivante were cast aside, as angelic poses gave way to the rough and tumble of Boxing Day sales. Carrots and crackers were the initial culprit, overflowing from market bags proffered by Grandmas eager for a photo-op with their favourite littlies. Of course the signs said not to feed the animals, that the elves had already brought them fresh hay. But with a look like that from Babe, who could resist?

The market, le marché, brings everyone together, and at this time of the year especially, it is a heartfelt wish. Our Halal butcher, who we took lamingtons with the message that they do not contain gelatine or alcohol, gave us a chicken saying Joyeux noël! The fruit and veg family, with 80 year old grandpa speaking Albanian, Italian, Romanian and French, decorated our groceries with generous sprigs of fresh dates. The purveyor of the best Kalamata olives in the world welcomed a slice of (my mother’s favourite) cheesecake and slipped in a scoop of confit tomatoes. And then there’s the guy at the wineshop who gave our pudding a fire rating. The 21st of December was a day to remember.

My sister Thérèse always made the gravy at our place. There were so many rich brown bits in the bottom of the roasting pan that, as far as I know, she didn’t add any tomato sauce. In France tomato sauce is not readily available anyway, but we found some Bundaberg ginger beer at Intermarche and that could always be a stopgap. But thanks to Paul Kelly, whatever happens on Christmas Day, the hug between Angus and Joe at the end of the movie will sustain us all. As for Babe and his furry friends in the manger, treats are on the way, no-one would expect you to eat hay without gravy….

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Les 13 Desserts

Posted on November 24, 2024 by TheFitzyreport

Tasting no less than 13 special desserts on Christmas eve to ensure good luck for the new year is my kind of pressure. Having been introduced to this ritual by a sweet-toothed Provence-residing Swede, I immediately imagined French favourites jostling for position on the menu – chocolate mousse, crème brûlée, crepe suzette, soufflés, profiteroles, tarte tatin, éclairs…. all my christmases would have come at once. But it turns out there is much more complexity to the custom than simply (over) indulging in randomly spectacular sweets.

Religion has a hand in the choice and numerical symbolism of the celebration – this is Provence after all, where the papacy once resided. So 13 is Jesus and the 12 apostles. Three candles on 3 layered tablecloths offering desserts for 3 days represents the Trinity. The desserts themselves become a little more satirical, with the 4 poverty-bound ‘beggars’ – dried figs (representing the Franciscans), walnuts (Augustinians), almonds (Carmelites) and raisins (Dominicans). Dates represent the wise men from the east; white & black nougat are good and evil – and red nougat is presumably the rosy middle ground. The final compulsory dessert is the aptly named ‘oil pump’, a fougasse style bread made from throwing flour into the oil mill to collect the last of the precious olive oil. Pompe à l’huile should be broken not cut to add another ace to 2025. With tradition taken care of, the remaining 4 desserts can be exotic fruits, sweet almond Calissons, chocolate, and a personal Christmas favourite, watermelon!

The markets are festively ablaze with delectables vying for a spot in the top 13. One could almost imagine monastic orders throwing burnt orange scarves over nut coloured habits, wise women bringing Bowen mangoes from the tropics or nougat studded with glistening red, black, green and yellow cherries. Whatever you have you share, and if it lasts three days then all the better. 2025 is shaping up to be a very lucky year, and ritual or relish, our table on Christmas eve will be overflowing…

The following picture is courtesy of Marseilles Tourism…

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Cheeky little Saints

Posted on November 17, 2024 by TheFitzyreport

The French Revolution set in motion a lot more than a few heads. When the ancien régime was abolished, the turbulence of the new order saw churches closed and the Christmas crib become nativity non-grata. So the religious and resourceful people of southeastern Provence look matters into their own hands. Forbidden to create a public crèche they went private, and started a whole new cultural tradition making small clay figurines at home. Santons, or ‘little saints’ were small, easy to hide, and quirky – and fortunately they didn’t have to stay in the closet for long.

Santons have since become a very popular and purely Provençal art form – a respectful, sometimes rascally reflection of 19th century society. Santonniers did and increasingly do feature more than the Holy Family, the Magi and a few animals in the manger. In minute detail they create candlestick makers, card players, ladies doing laundry, even a siesta in the shade after lunch. This very inclusive Christmas gathering brought hearty spirits to the fête in Saint Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume on the weekend – and to the crowd in attendance, eager to add to their collection. One of the artists I spoke to travelled to Florence to study the faces of angels, but then found fun in sculpting a man in her father’s image, adding a centuries old hearing aid to perhaps help when the modern one wouldn’t. A story close to my heart!

It’s no secret that closed doors can make creators of us all. And that the richness of tradition baked with a modern twist can bring delight. Perhaps that’s the message from the artist who designed the only pétanque game at the fête. Bored and ignored for yet again achieving a zero score, the player resorted to her final move, and turned the other cheek….

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Remembrance Day

Posted on November 12, 2024 by TheFitzyreport

Representing Australia at the Armistice ceremony in Le Val today was an absolute privilege. Unofficial though the post may have been, stepping up to join the community in their respect for lives given and giving, was a heartfelt experience. ‘All history is a current event’ said the (Muppet endorsed) muso Dr John, making the commemoration of the day as contemporary as the cornflower bleuets on well pressed lapels. Blossoming bountifully on serving army personnel were also medals from Haiti, Malaysia and Kosovo, adding polish and pride to this century old salute.

Jérémy the mayor and councillor Julien greeted everyone personally as they arrived. While there naturally weren’t as many people as in previous years, under the plane trees in the sunny town square, unchanged since way before Rose Valland wrote Le front de l’art, any gaps in the crowd were suddenly filled with memories of her classic story/movie, the Resistance sharing a last loaf of bread before venturing back into the night, courage and bravery in black and white.

Two other opportunities exist for my potential ambassadorial representation of Australia in France. May 9th, which celebrates peace and unity in Europe (the beginning of the EU after WW2) and of course July 14th, la grande fête. But such is my emotional response to the band playing La Marseillaise, that there is the chance I could lose face entirely. The bugle call on Anzac Day has the same effect – those sunrise services in downtown Manhattan were full of tears, particularly with only an Anzac biscuit on offer for comfort. But Le Val has the dilemma solved. Not just with wine and olives, but for lingerers there was pizza and Marquisette, a cocktail of white wine and fresh lemon. No wonder the French endured. No wonder they celebrate. Let’s get that band playing…!

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First Impressions

Posted on November 3, 2024 by TheFitzyreport

Aix-en-Provence is a place made famous by friendship. And not just once. The first time was when two young boys were challenged by a bully in the schoolyard. The bigger boy defended the smaller, who the next day bought a basket of apples as thanks. Those boys, Paul Cézanne and Émile Zola became inseparable friends then inspirational colleagues, and apples became a signature motif in Cézanne’s paintings. When Émile later encouraged Paul to visit the capital, Cézanne said ‘With an apple, I will astonish Paris!’ How different their lives could have been. Ah, the power of friendship and food…

Province still boasts life-changing apples, and for all the academic analysis of Cézanne’s work, creating a link between the joy of impressionism and the architecture of abstraction, my theory is that his genius is irrevocably linked to food. Have you seen those bakeries in Aix-en-Provence?!? The intense colour of framboise tarts was surely the inspiration behind the pigment that Cézanne was at first criticised for and then became a cause célèbre. The madeleines that have become a defining taste experience of this small town effuse such an aroma when they are baking, that people queue down the cobbled streets just in the hope of a whiff, let alone a taste, of these easy-to-eat-while-you-paint treats. Cézanne became a diabetic in middle age, this is no coincidence. Even the painting of his father reading the revolutionary newspaper ‘L’Événement‘ was an edition devoted to the ideal that food can make you happy.

Last week the cafes in Aix-en-Provence spilled into the leafy sunshine, empty chairs waiting for a random reunion or a precious rendezvous after many years. The spirit of Cézanne and Zola, along with their friends Pissarro, Renoir and Monet filled the market square. It was a magic day, and for the second time, or the umpteenth time, Aix-en-Provence played host to friendship. Fantastic to see you Bronnie, and yes, let’s not wait another 20 years. I know our friendship will hold, but those tables do fill up very quickly….

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Water to wine

Posted on October 27, 2024 by TheFitzyreport

Provence is a wash out! Eau, oh, and more eau. The vineyards have become waterways. The river rose and the markets stood down. The weekend quince festival became a squelchfest. The Mysteries of Mycology workshop did not so much reveal the best and worse of mushrooms as create a new generation of slime mould. But my rubber boots held and new slippers offered sheepish comfort. This week we survivors will gather for quince crumble and forage for fungi fit to purpose – botrytis! There’s always a silver lining…

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Le Fascinant Week-end

Posted on October 20, 2024 by TheFitzyreport

The deer that play hide and seek in the surrounding vineyards always win. Their enviable agility bounces them out of frame just as I focus in, the only proof of sighting being the footprints they leave behind. But this weekend, Bambi beware. Thousands of people are venturing into the vineyards for a frolic – more formally known as expériences œnotouristiques culturelles – a cultural wine tourism experience – and you may have some competition.

Choosing where to start with the 150 experiences on offer was a sticky choice. Rosé reigns queen in this part of Provence, so to find a sweet wine in readiness for Sean’s anticipated tarte tatin triumph, we sought the advice of our Co-op friends, which was, unequivocally, Chateau Sainte-Croix. The drive there was spectacular, winding through forested hills and vineyards, glistening gold in the autumn sunshine. Getting lost was a bonus, taking potential options for the weekend to 151, to include exploring what would have been the extensive landholdings of Thoronet Abbey‘s Trappist monks. When we did arrive, we were in the perfect place for a much needed glass of wine. Not surprisingly, the multi-medalled Rosé was sold out, but the delightful Jessica treated us to another first, (152), giving us a tour of the winery and a taste of blushing jus, fresh from the tank. Chateau Sainte-Croix has 13 grape varieties and a full range of wines developed over the last 100 years, with the father of the most recent generation happy to have his shadow taken. A shy producer of outstanding wine.

With a bottle of the delicious muscat in hand, we took a well signed road home, pausing on the side of a lake to watch a couple of fisherman enjoying the peace. There was not a lot of action, and fish don’t leave footprints, but my guess is that they all got away. Or maybe the men didn’t even have their lines baited, maybe their fishing basket was actually a picnic basket full of cheese, and there was a bottle of something delicious chilling in the water at their feet. That’s 153 and counting….

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A cordial syrup for Posterity

Posted on October 12, 2024 by TheFitzyreport

Cordial is cool in French cafes. The more flavours you have the greater your cafe cred, and the more fun you can have with cocktails. A beer with grenadine will become a ‘tango’ because that’s what you’ll feel like doing, a beer with orange liquor will become a ‘piconbeer’, although why would you? And a beer with any cordial at all becomes a ‘gommer’ because the colour of the beer is erased by the syrup. All this and more was learnt from Romain, the youngest and most hospitable cafe owner in the south of France.

Romain was 21 and undertaking his masters degree in economics when the cafe in his hometown came up for sale. He said ‘the adventure of working in my village was too significant’ so he gave up his student life, and with a 2 month apprenticeship courtesy of his cousin, learned how to mix a ‘Mauresque‘ & live without sleep. For 330 days he went to work every day. Then just as the adventure was wearing thin, an old school friend and hospitality professional, the trim and tattooed Nelle, turned up and the rest is on the roster.

The rules for being a cafe owner in Provence are fluid. In the summer the latest closing time is 2am, in winter it is 1am. There is a mandatory course for the responsible service of alcohol, and penalties can be stiff, especially if the police brought in to break up a scuffle find themselves on the receiving end. But being open every day, being the one thing in a small community that everyone can rely on, is the key to success. Providing the means to equal shouting time, where every drink – even the smallest Heineken I have ever seen is all €2 – is the next obvious but clever step. Then understanding the principle of being together, of community, is the cream on the cake, the froth on the beer.

The craziest thing is that Romain doesn’t drink. He might have a panaché, a shandy, to be convivial, but apart from that he sticks to syrup. The reason for the significance of returning home mid-masters, is that his family have lived and worked in the village continuously since 1628. Who could bear the burden of abdication after nearly 400 years…? With such dedication Romain will be mayor of the village by the time he’s 30, a perfect age for a coronation, a carousal… and a cordial.

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