In search of salmon fillets for lunch, I set off for the Friday market in Lautrec.
Lautrec
This is a small affair for the people who live in and around the village. There are usually a couple of stalls with fresh local products, a fishmonger, cheese stall and not a lot more. Occasionally a man who makes and sells L’Aligot—a speciality of the region–which we have subtitled “Heart attack on a plate” is there, but not today.
L’Aligot is a sticky mix of melted Chantal cheese and mashed potato, which is turned in a vat with what looks like a paddle; very good with Toulouse sausage, for a not so light lunch! Comfort food, and dangerously delicious! Type Two-ers beware!
As usual there are small groups of people standing around chatting. Market day is an opportunity for locals to meet up and chew over the events of the past week, and all the better if the sun is shining like today.
Pink Garlic from the Tarn
I shake hands with our friend Robert and the Monsieur who let us collect fallen walnuts from his garden last year, whose name escapes me. We say “Bonjour—ça va?”, confirm that we are “en forme”, and that all is well “chez nous”, and agree to meet up, “un de ces jours” [one of these days] and on we go. An agreeable culture of politeness.
I change my mind about the salmon and buy two spare rib pork chops from M. Fraise, the butcher, and head home.
Robin Ellis 
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