The Monday morning routine.

    Not saying that the occasional supermarket pork chop doesn't find its way into our fridge but most weeks we try to do almost all of our meat and veg shopping at the markets in Lavalenet and Mirepoix, the two small towns that are each about a 15-minute drive from our village. Lavelanet's is on Fridays--and it's by far the better one in terms of the number and variety of producers, and general mood of joie de vivre. Mirepoix's on a Monday is still good but its historical setting does mean that, summertime especially, it's rife with visitors who are there to gaze not rummage through the courgettes and aubergines.
     Never easy any time, finding a place to park the car can be horrendous in July and August. We do have a secret spot where we can usually guarantee success but it's a five-minute walk from the market stalls. Most Mondays, Peter drops me off just beyond the post office so I can make a start on shopping. But before I stroll into the square, I cross the road and go in here.

Here's the boulangerie where I get out of the car with my basket, back-up plastic bag, and list. We usually arrange to meet about 20 minutes later in the presse. That way, if either of us is late, the waiting one can browse through the new issue of Cuisine Actuelle and Paris-Match.

Those multicoloured thingies on the middle and upper shelves are pears, apples, mice and Sponge-Bob Square Pants (!!) made of marzipan. Approaching nirvana...

...with a brief stop to gaze at these.

Almost there. The pains aux raisins are on the top shelf on the right--and there are only two left, but that doesn't matter.

I should have put a euro coin beside this so you could see its colossal size. It's easily big enough for the two of us. The best part is the sugary, buttery, raisin-laden middle.