Moulin Rouge Comes to the Countryside
Hokey, charming, kitschy, amateurish, campy, clever, impressive, exuberant, entertaining. Can all these words apply to the same thing? Bien sûr: the French village fête. (Case in point: Monsieur, above, was part of the Moulin Rouge decor at the fête we attended, though we were not sure how he related to the theme. He WAS wearing red. But the hair shirt and boots? Hmm).
Over the years we’ve been to many of these, usually highly thematic. There are medieval fêtes, with costumes and jousting; there are gourmet randonées. A favorite one featured fantastical hats, fashioned by the villagers. Peter Mayle spent a year going to a slew of them, and wrote a book about them. There is always wine, and food, and questionable talent joyously on display, and lots of village pride. We love them.
So we did not hesitate when our friends Cathrine and Alain proposed an outing to the fête at the village of Pernand-Vergelesses, near Beaune.
A volunteer group puts on a fête every 2 years. The concept is unique: there is a comedy/play, and for each act the crowd moves to a new place in the village. There is dinner too, and each stop includes a different course, most of them with the whole crowd seated. This year the play was a take on Moulin Rouge, called Raisin Rouge (red grapes).
The evening began outside, in a grassy field. Glasses of bubbly in hand, we were entertained by a cast of pole dancers. Our master of ceremonies for the soirée was a rakish fellow in a vest and fedora. He strutted among the crowd, winking , back-slapping, and puffing on a large cigar. The pink socks were, I think, a nice touch.
Our talented pole dancers:
Then we were off to a big tent for our apéro (a croissant with cheese and ham accompanied our wine), where dancers did the can-can.
Next we descended into a vaulted wine cave, turned into a boit de nuit (a nightclub) for the evening, with an amusing drag queen show. There was also an dramatic scene that happened in a resident’s barn (main course, veal stew). Then we were led through a villager’s garden, draped with racy lingerie, for a raunchy bordello scene which was marvelously politically incorrect, complete with cheese course.
Another dance number in a barn:
If you get a chance to attend a village fête, don’t hesitate. All great fun. Well, maybe not all–we went to one this year, billed as a village féte with a tractor race. Which consisted of maybe 20 guys milling around chugging beer (in Burgundy!) and the “tractors” turned out to be tricycle-tractors, for the pre-kindergarten set!
Been to any interesting ones yourself? Do share, in the comments.
In the COMMENTS from the last post: Natalie, the word mignon, which means cute, is indeed cute itself. Francine, I never heard toutous for tourists, but I love it. Solis, how could I have missed including the oh-so-cute word poubelle. I once knew a cat with that name, but it’s not the nicest handle to hang on a cat. And speaking of cats, Ellen’s cat Bellie is every bit as adorable as her name.
Suzanne, we love a good recipe, and that dip sounds fantastic!
Favorite READS: Peter Mayle’s book French Lessons catalogs his travels around France to check out the gastronomic festivals. There’s a fête for snails, a mass to bless the truffles, and many more.
Do you read in French? Natalia likes the famous French detective writer, Guillaume Musso. She says, try La Jeune Fille et la Nuit, it’s fun and easy reading. Maybe even easier–a friend recommends reading Young Adult novels, if reading in French is challenging (as it is for me). Bonne idée!
And here is something special for anyone dreaming of a move over here, sent to us by Francine, by email. The newsletter Frenchly has just put out their annual guide to moving to France, everything you need to know. You can download it here.
