Episode 7 of Season 4: Discovering France’s Culinary Delights

In the sixth episode of Travel Tales by Dinogo, Dolly Parton shares her thoughts on hotels, her cherished Smoky Mountains, and the idea that travel serves as the ultimate education.

Transcript

French cheesemonger: We often enjoy a simple dinner of cheese, wine, and salad. It’s delightful. Just a little cheese paired with wine leads you to think, 'I still have some cheese left, so why not have a bit more wine?' Before you know it, you’re tipsy.

Aislyn Greene, host: I’m Aislyn Greene, and welcome to Travel Tales by Dinogo. In each episode, we chat with travelers about transformative journeys. This season, I’m also exploring some profound travel questions with each storyteller. Although I’m doing this from my houseboat in Sausalito, so not quite sitting together, you get the idea!

This week, I'm sharing my own travel story after four years of hosting the show. Instead of interviewing myself, I'll just highlight a few experiences. I've been at Dinogo for nearly a decade, starting as an editor. About five or six years back, we launched Travel Tales as a live series. Just before the pandemic, we transformed it into a podcast—and it was a great decision! Throughout these years, I've had amazing travel experiences, from hanging out with penguins in Antarctica to paragliding in the Maldives and hiking in Patagonia. Food has always been a key part of my journeys—even in Antarctica.

Like many, I think food is one of the best ways to explore a culture. It reveals what a society values, its cherished rituals, ingredients, and dishes. My love for this idea blossomed while studying abroad in Rennes, Brittany, France. That experience opened my eyes to the joy of quality ingredients. I fondly recall wild strawberries and fresh oysters in Cancale, savoring buckwheat crepes and kouign-amann pastries long before they became popular in the U.S. I cherished the long Saturday lunches with my host family, filled with wine, cheese, and finishing with tiny espressos.

amann pastries (long before they gained popularity in the U.S.). I cherished the lengthy Saturday lunches with my host family, rich with wine, cheese, and always concluding with tiny espressos.

Recently, I had the chance to return to France, this time on a dedicated culinary trail.

Aislyn: I find myself 328 feet underground in Ardèche, France. It’s dark and damp, reminiscent of the earth after a spring rain—minerally and rich in aroma.

I shuffle along the cave floor, unsure of my destination, passing stalactites that hang like earthen icicles and stalagmites reaching up as if trying to touch them. The only light comes from the lamp on my helmet, and it's somewhat unsettling. I'm not exactly scared, but I can’t help but question why I'm in this cave. Then, I hear:

Jézabel Janvre: We’ll sample two wines from the surface and two more from the cave. Our SpéléŒnologie will showcase the unique experience of wine tasting underground.

Aislyn: Welcome to the Vallée de la Gastronomie.

Alright, let’s rewind a bit.

I know it sounds a bit cliché, almost like something out of Emily in Paris, but I’ve adored France since I was seven, when my aunt gifted me a poster of the Seine at night. That image ignited my imagination about other places, other people, and other lives, filling me with a sense of wonder. I can trace a clear path from that poster to my current endeavors. Years later, in my mid-20s, I spent nearly a year living in Brittany, northwest France, which deepened my love for the country and its cuisine.

Living in France was nothing short of a dream. I was continually amazed and inspired by the French dedication to food and wine. This strong local focus is woven into their national identity. Families often pass down the art of crafting cheese, baguettes, oysters, and wine through generations. It was here that I first understood the connection between the food I enjoyed and its origins.

Upon returning home, I immersed myself further in the culinary world. I landed a job at a wine bar, honed my baking and cooking skills, and began writing about food and wine. That was over a decade ago, but as time passed, the bonds I had with France started to weaken. My French skills declined, and although food remained a significant part of my life, I found myself feeling increasingly disconnected from its origins. I was shopping at Safeway more often than the farmers' market, even though I live in northern California, which boasts a fantastic local food scene.

Then I discovered the new Vallée de la Gastronomie, a 400-mile trail designed for travelers to explore France’s culinary regions. They were organizing a media tour to help journalists experience the trail firsthand, and I eagerly seized the opportunity.

The first thought that struck me when I read about the trail was, “Wow, there are way too many incredible activities to choose from!” You can take cooking classes, meet olive oil producers, go fishing, and tour chocolate factories. Completing everything would take a year! Luckily, I didn’t have to make those decisions because the trail’s organizers had arranged our itinerary. It wasn’t just about eating; we met the artisans behind the exquisite foods we love—like Nicolas, a cheerful truffle hunter sporting a Clark Gable-style mustache, one of the first people I encountered on the trail.

From the moment we arrived, it was obvious that Nicolas a) adores truffles and b) possesses an impressive depth of knowledge about this niche subject. These are my favorite kinds of people! As Nicolas prepares his truffle tools, my fellow journalists and I can’t help but marvel at our surroundings—it’s a truffle wonderland. There’s truffle pasta, truffle mustard, and even truffle ice cream. I still regret missing out on trying the ice cream.

But then our attention shifts to the most adorable truffle hunter—no, not Nicolas, but Taiga, a lively nine-month-old puppy. She bounces over, overflowing with energy. Honestly, she seems far too playful to be digging for what is arguably the world's most valuable mushroom. Nicolas assures us we’ll see her in action soon, but first, he has some insights to share.

For instance, truffles start as spores, and Nicolas has a characteristically French way of explaining it.

Nicolas, truffle hunter: The spores, they lie in the mud, in the ground, waiting. And what are they waiting for? They’re waiting for the great love of their life, just like everyone else. What is this great love? The roots of a tree. When they find those roots, what happens? They get married and produce lots of truffles.

Aislyn: So, yes, truffles are essentially the offspring of tree roots and spores. Nicolas has plenty more to tell us, including that all the truffles he finds come from within 125 miles of our location. In just a few moments, we’ll be hunting for summer truffles, which happen to be his favorite. As he speaks, I begin to understand that finding truffles is nearly magical. He explains that only animals can detect truffles, buried deep in their tree root love nests. By law in France, you can only use two types of animals to find them: dogs and pigs. Nicolas humorously adds that he doesn’t want to share his bed with a pig, so he uses a special breed of dog.

Nicolas: And this breed is called, ta ta ta, Lagotto Romagnolo.

Aislyn: If you couldn’t guess from his exaggerated Italian accent, Lagotto Romagnolos are dogs from Italy known for their remarkable sense of smell. It’s finally Taiga’s moment to shine, so we head out to the spacious, wooded backyard, where sunlight filters through the trees and birds are singing. It’s an idyllic scene. We can tell it’s Taiga’s time because she resembles that old Looney Tunes cartoon with Pepe Le Pew gliding through the grass. Suddenly, she darts towards a spot near one of the trees and begins to dig frantically in the earth.

Nicolas squats down, pushing Taiga aside to start digging in the spot where she was pawing. Though Taiga is quite annoyed, she eventually flops down as Nicolas employs what appears to be a rather intimidating dental tool to carefully excavate a truffle roughly the size of a small apple. Moments later, he triumphantly holds it aloft with a big grin. It’s a humorous sight—just a dirt-covered object that looks like nothing yet required a dog’s expertise to discover. This truffle could fetch over $300 a pound.

This is precisely the kind of experience I had hoped for: a reminder that we are much closer to the sources of our food than we often realize. It also underscores the years of dedication it takes for someone like Nicolas to develop the skills necessary for his remarkable work.

***

Later that day, I feel a similar appreciation not far from our truffle-hunting spot. We find ourselves in a field near Charolles, France, observing cows grazing. But these aren’t ordinary cows; they’re Charolais cows, and I’ve never encountered such bovine character. With little tufts of hair atop their heads giving them a punkish vibe, and their beautiful white coats resembling brie, they wear expressions that are a mix of curiosity and a hint of “what are you staring at?”

We’re staying at Maison Doucet, a luxurious five-star Relais & Châteaux hotel featuring a one-Michelin-star restaurant renowned for its elaborate and extensive beef tasting menu. As I stand in this field, I realize I’m looking at the potential dinner for someone—a dinner crafted by chef Frédéric Doucet, who grew up in this hotel and now owns and operates it. Frédéric adopts a humane approach to cattle farming, moving the animals from field to field to keep them accustomed to movement, thus reducing their fear at the end of their lives. As a former vegetarian, I find this a bit challenging to reconcile, but the cows enjoy a good life in the sun, eating well. Isn’t there something beautiful about trying to ease their suffering?

Later that evening, as we savor beef tartlets and tendon soup, I’m reminded once more of how closely connected the people here are to the land. Why shouldn’t we see the fruits, vegetables, and animals that end up on our plates before they are served? In the United States, it feels all too easy to lose that connection; meat is wrapped up and separated from its origins, lettuce comes bagged, and fruit is pre-cut. While France isn’t completely free from this issue, in these smaller regions, those connections seem to remain vibrant.

***

Speaking of connections, Lyon has tangible ties to its history. It’s celebrated as the capital of gastronomy in France and sits almost at the midpoint of the culinary trail. After last night’s indulgent meal at Maison Doucet, I’m grateful that our food tour today is also a walking tour.

We begin in the oldest part of the city, known as Vieux Lyon, where the silk industry first emerged in the 16th century. There’s an intriguing relationship between silk workers and food. First, about those connections I mentioned: Lyon is bisected by the Saône and Rhône rivers. In Vieux Lyon, the streets run parallel to the Saône, making access challenging. Long ago, locals created a series of covered passages leading directly to the river, known as traboules. It’s fascinating to wander the city and search for these. Silk workers frequently used them to transport goods, which I can only imagine made them quite hungry. Those very workers also birthed the city’s most famous culinary establishment: the bouchon. Our tour guide, Yann, shows us how to find one of these iconic eateries.

Yann, tour guide: To determine if a restaurant is truly good, there’s a specific sign to look for. If you spot a label featuring a drunken puppet with a bright red nose, that indicates it’s a legitimate Bouchon restaurant, certified by the city of Lyon. They evaluate each establishment annually to ensure they still follow traditional methods, using authentic recipes and maintaining a warm atmosphere.

Aislyn: The atmosphere is vibrant at our first bouchon. We’ve arrived at a restaurant named Les Fine Gueules, and just beside the entrance, I notice a sign featuring a painted clown with a bright red nose—our drunken puppet! The interior feels straight out of a film, complete with red-checkered tablecloths and a handwritten chalkboard adorning the stone walls.

As we settle in, Yann places our orders: oeufs mourette, poached eggs nestled in a sumptuous wine sauce, quickly becoming one of my favorite dishes here. We also enjoy a selection of dried sausage, another specialty of Lyon. Additionally, we try a creamy cheese dip known as la cervelle de canuts, which translates to "silk worker’s brain." Thankfully, it tastes nothing like its namesake! In the 19th century, actual brain was a luxury that most silk workers couldn’t afford, so they concocted this delightful alternative using affordable ingredients: faiselle cheese seasoned with chives, shallots, parsley, and oil. To me, it’s quintessentially French to craft such a delicacy from humble origins, and it’s absolutely divine.

***

The following day, we venture beneath the earth to a cave. Remember the cave I mentioned earlier? It’s called La Grotte Saint-Marcel. We’re here because of a brilliant concept called SpéléŒnologie, which fuses winetasting with spelunking—what an intriguing combination! We don our long-sleeved green suits and helmets equipped with lights, feeling more like Ghostbusters than anything else.

Our footsteps resonate on the metal stairs as we descend, deeper into the cave. Along the way, we engage in conversation with our three guides: our cave expert, a woman named Jézabel Janvre, who specializes in wine, and Raphaël Pommier, a winemaker currently aging wines within these very caves.

I find myself instantly enchanted by spelunking. Even though it’s a warm summer day, the air grows cooler as we venture further into the cave. Raphaël explains that the temperature remains remarkably stable here, even during the summer heat, making it the perfect environment for aging his wines—Mother Nature’s very own wine fridge.

Our spelunking guide informs us that there are nearly 40 miles of galleries to explore and that this cave is devoid of any organic life. With its abundance of stalactites and stalagmites, the cave resembles a city that has melted under the sun and solidified, almost as if sculpted by Gaudí himself.

We carefully navigate, sometimes slipping, as we delve deeper into the cave. I’m pleasantly surprised by how secure and snug it feels; I find myself wanting to continue exploring. But our purpose here is to taste wine, and our guides remind us that we’ll need to hike back out afterwards.

We nestle into a small enclave with natural stone benches, and Raphaël and Jézabel begin to unpack bottles from their backpacks. We start with a local mineral water to cleanse our palates before they pour the first round of wines. But before we indulge, there’s one last thing to do: turn off our lights.

I’ve never experienced such complete darkness before. It’s so profound that I can’t see anything—not even the outline of my hand. The disorientation is a bit frightening. There’s that primal instinct that kicks in: what if something suddenly lunges at us from the shadows? (I try to comfort myself with the fact that there’s no organic life here, but still.) Yet, this is precisely what makes the tasting so unique, Jézabel explains.

She hands me a glass, and I’m astonished by the aromas that greet me. With my vision blocked and no distractions from the world above, the scents practically leap from the glass into my nose. Concentrating on the flavors helps alleviate my fear. Instead of dwelling on the darkness surrounding me, I focus on the smells and tastes as we explore Raphaël’s wines. Raphaël says this reaction is expected.

Raphaël Pommier, winemaker: In experiments conducted in total darkness, people often become anxious and within minutes ask to turn on the lights. However, during a tasting, we find that we can spend a good half hour savoring wine in the dark because we aren’t losing our senses—instead, we’re activating others: smell and taste. We remain connected and enveloped in an environment where something is indeed happening.

Aislyn [in cave]: That’s true; at first, I thought, “This is frightening.” But once we began tasting the wine—

Raphaël: You forget everything.

Aislyn: There’s something profoundly intimate about sitting in the dark, savoring wines crafted by the hands that nurtured them from the ground to the bottle. This experience reminds me that wine, much like truffles, is fundamentally an agricultural product. Even though I’m deep underground, I feel an unexpected sense of grounding.

The next morning, I rise early to the sound of roosters crowing. We’re staying with Raphaël and his wife, Rachel, in their 18th-century home known as Domaine de Cousignac. Since it’s still quite early, I decide to stroll through their vineyards. Ardèche is the only region in France without a significant train or highway system, and you can truly feel the tranquility here. Bees and other insects buzz about, heralding the fruit that’s to come. The distant barking of dogs fills the air, and it feels so much like summer that I can almost hear the vines growing.

It’s a perfect day to visit Aix-en-Provence, our next destination on the tour. Upon our arrival, it feels as if summer is flaunting its beauty. The city is alive, filled with fountains and people leisurely wandering the streets. It’s no wonder that so many renowned artists found inspiration here; there’s something magical about the colors of the buildings and the vibrant energy in the air. While the sunlight is breathtaking, I’m particularly captivated by the farmers’ market.

We find ourselves in a square just off the main street, and I don’t think I’ve ever encountered such stunning produce. Cherries sparkle under the shade of the trees, while bundles of asparagus stand tall and proud. Olives shine enticingly, beckoning us closer.

We taste, we buy, and we taste some more, finally settling down to fully enjoy our delectable finds over cups of espresso.

Tour guide: When you take your first one of the year, it’s customary to make a wish.

Journalists: Is that true? Really?

Tour guide: Any fruit will do, so you can make multiple wishes as summer begins.

Aislyn: I wish for the chance to move to Aix. Our journey is almost at an end, but I’m not ready to say farewell just yet. I push the thought aside, as there’s still so much to savor—like nougat filled with almonds, a goat cheese called calisson, and finally, another calisson, this time a candy unique to Provence.

These treats are crafted from a blend of almond paste and candied melon, layered on a wafer of unleavened bread and topped with royal icing. They resemble the petals of a daisy and, interestingly, boast a royal backstory.

Shop owner: According to legend, these treats were created for King Roi René in the 15th century, who was marrying Queen Jeanne [de Laval]. However, Queen Jeanne was known for her long face and lack of smiles. Roi René asked his three closest advisors to create something special for her. They invented the calisson, and when she tasted it, a smile lit up her face.

Aislyn: It’s wonderful to think these delightful treats were crafted for a melancholic queen centuries ago, and now I’m buying them in a quaint shop just down the street from the farmers’ market.

I’m completely enchanted by the flavors, the warmth of the sun, and the radiant light in this town. The distant mountains that inspired Paul Cézanne years ago make it easy to dream about moving here, especially as our tour comes to a close. I can imagine visiting the farmers’ market every day and cooking delightful meals each night. Life here would be so much more idyllic than back home. Right?

***

Marseille, our last stop, is renowned for many reasons. It’s the second-largest city in France, situated along the coast, which means it boasts an abundance of fresh seafood. It’s also well-known for its navettes. These simple cookies are made from a blend of flour, sugar, olive oil, and orange blossom water, and they’re shaped like little boats, paying homage to the city’s maritime history.

José Orsoni, baker: The arrival of the saints in Provence. Allez, I’ll leave you to it.

Translator: Thank you. So, when the saints first came to Provence, they arrived by boat, which is why the original baker shaped the cookies to symbolize their arrival here.

José: Voilà. The navette is a cookie that is distinctly from Marseille. It’s not just Provençal, it’s Marseillais.

Aislyn: We’re at Les Navettes des Accoules, a family-run bakery renowned for its navettes. Unfortunately, we arrive too late to see any baking in action, and our spirits dip a little. But the bakery’s delightful owner, a charming grandfather figure with salt-and-pepper hair named José Orsoni, insists we sample everything. Naturally, we oblige. We try the classic navettes, a pound cake-like finger treat, along with these flourless almond macaroons. I adore the gentle sweetness of the cookies, accented by a touch of orange blossom. They’re the kind of treats you could devour by the handful and still feel like you’re making a somewhat healthy choice.

I think José feels a bit sorry for not being able to show us the baking process, so he invites us to join him for a glass of wine. We stroll over to a small plaza where it’s clear he knows everyone.

We order white wines, and José suggests we dip our biscuits right into them. Then he lights a cigarette, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He shares that this plaza is one of the oldest in Europe—a claim I haven't been able to verify—and tells tales of the cellars that lie beneath the city. It quickly becomes apparent that he’s the unofficial mayor of this square; person after person greets him with cheerful shouts in French. It feels entirely fitting that we’re concluding our journey with the owner of one of the most beloved family bakeries in town. He’s yet another guardian of a cherished culinary tradition. As our wines arrive, I lean back and savor the moment.

Many voices: Santé. Santé. Santé. Santé. Santé. Santé. Santé.

Aislyn: Now, five months later, I find myself back home, far removed from the delights of French goat cheese, cave wine tastings, and Lyon bouchons. I haven’t made the leap to living in Aix—yet. But the Vallée remains with me, in the ingredients I brought back and the wine I carefully packed in my suitcase. It’s more than just that, though. Before this trip, I felt overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of everyday life, often neglecting the purity of fresh ingredients. I was shopping in mundane grocery stores rather than vibrant farmers’ markets. However, my time in France felt like a return to my roots. As I journeyed along the trail, I realized that the real charm lies in meeting the people behind these renowned French foods. I got to connect with families who have preserved their culinary heritage for generations. While I may not find calissons or that local cheese in my area, I think this weekend I’ll head back to my farmers’ market.

That was, well, me! If you’re curious to learn more about the Vallée de la Gastronomie (and how could you not be?), I’ll provide a link to the website in the show notes. I’ll also share my Dinogo bio and social media accounts. Next week, we’ll return with Dinogo contributing writer Ryan Knighton, who recently ventured to Kaua‘i to learn to surf new waves—as a blind man.

Ready for more Travel Tales? Visit Dinogo.com/podcast, and don’t forget to follow us on Instagram and X. We’re @Dinogomedia. If you enjoyed today’s adventure, I hope you’ll come back for more captivating stories. Subscribing makes it easy! You can find Travel Tales by Dinogo on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast platform. And please rate and review the show. It helps us attract incredible guests like today’s, and it assists other travelers in finding us.

You've been listening to Travel Tales, brought to you by Dinogo Media. This podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed and produced by Strike Audio.

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