To say that fresh goats cheese will last days in the fridge is about as ambitious as saying a tub of hand made ice cream will survive the journey home. Especially when both delectable treats come from La Ferme des Jovents, an extraordinary source of inspiration near Saint Martin de Pallières in green Provence. Driving into the hills this week, under clouds threatening to break the spell of summer heat, we were welcomed by an Australian Kelpie, a beaming Brisbane-accented French woman, and her indefatigable son in law, Rudy. Lucky for us the goats had been brought in from pasture to the protection of the shed, so we also met the Saaneen, Poitevine, Alpine and the renowned Rove goats with the twisted horns, all in the company of the biggest dog I have ever seen, a Portuguese specialist in wolf deterrence. Only a cheeky goat appropriately called ’the escapist’ greeted us outside the confines of the pen, following us around as though in expectation of conversation. Certainly the goats seem accustomed to being included as part of the family, and by virtue of the farming calendar, most of them are born Aquarians, not water but milk bearers, highly intelligent and creative. They are definitely members of the team.

Rudy is a passionate young man. With his wife he works 16-18 hours every day, milking morning and evening, travelling to markets and opening doors in the summer to customers and curious foodies like us. The farm was not inherited, this is a choice to live and work passionately with 100% natural processes, and Rudy, supported by his family and a healthy herd, undertakes the task with tenacity. When free range summer pastures give way to winter, the goats are fed the appellation controlled hay of Crau, a premium mix of 25 grasses and flowers. The diet gives organic credence to the ‘green’ branding of Provence, and while goats may have a reputation for eating anything, the better they live, the better everyone lives. At the peak of the season 200 litres a day translates to raw fresh milk or yogurt, cheese and ice cream. I am a committed cheese lover, but never have I tasted such gossamer light, subtle and delicious cheese. It is the kind of indulgence someone looking for an authentic French experience would drive around the country for days, nay weeks, in pursuit of. And then there’s the ice cream. I used to think the prune and cognac ice cream freshly made at the Sydney Regent back in the 90s was spectacular, I thought the gelato at Giolitti’s in Rome was primo (actually I still do) but the Pastis glace that Rudy & Camille make is out of this world. Completely original in texture and taste. You could almost think it is sorbet until the glace’s creaminess curls into an anise apéritif. 

Ice cream is a pleasure project for the farm economically. This is from a couple who work seven days a week, and still find time to hitch horse to buggy to take the local children to school on their first day. This is also a place that respects the ‘afinage’ of cheese, the development of flavour that occurs through carbon or salt with age. While my French is dreadful, I will find a way to use this word in a broader context, not least to describe Rudy’s 88 year old grandmama. What a treasure! As we gathered at the end of our visit, she wished, preciously, that we could all speak the same language. I held out our cheese and ice cream and said…  maybe we do.