We were peacefully sitting having the most delicious lunch in the bastide square of Monpazier, enjoying in particular the quiet and tranquillity after a morning of jostling with the hordes of tourists in every village and town that we had visited, and only just commenting on the fact that everyone seemed to have forgotten about Monpazier for the moment and what bliss it was to see the square so empty, when all of a sudden, as if from nowhere -- and almost as if pre-arranged, individuals started appearing from little side streets to converge under the beautiful rustic old grey beams of the halles -- each carrying small timber boxes brimful with big fat plump cèpes-- the giant wild forest mushrooms of the season. 
I asked one of the old characters how they all knew to come to the market on this specific day and at this specific time. His answer: the Gallic gesture of blowing through the lips, a shrug of the shoulders, the raising of the hand palms, and then rubbing the point of his nose and winking mischievously. But I persisted, not satisfied with the standard body language reply -- which could -- and usually does mean a zillion different things. "Fifteen days after the last rain the cèpes are out and big enough to be picked," he acquiesced. "So if you own a patch of forest, you go out and pick them and bring them to the village". "But HOW did you all know to come today and at THIS exact time?", I continued like a fox terrier who would not let go of that stick. Again the shrug and the hands and the rubbing of the nose, the smile and the wink -- and I knew at that moment that there will always be certain bits of folk lore and traditional custom of the region I am not likely to ever understand.
However, the fresh pasta with cèpes Suzanna made for us that evening, with crusty fresh bread and an excellent crisp Graves wine, and the cèpes omelette with garlic and rosemary from my garden that I made the following morning, was food for the gods, and I thanked again my good fortune for living in a world where the importance of ancient customs and tradition might well all be shrugged off and left unexplained with a Gallic gesture, but nevertheless will always result in something so delicious that my mouth waters just writing about it a few days later......
Something more about Le cèpe
" Cep " is a gascon word which comes from the latin word meaning "trunk" -- a word which also signifies something strong and durable -- a good synonym for the foot of this giant mushroom. In this region of the Dordogne and Perigord, (and also the Gironde, Quercy and Limousin) the climate - the sun and the moisture and the vast areas of forest, the cèpe is completely at home. And yet -- it remains a magical mystery to man. Only a couple of hours is needed for this mushroom to grow to extreme proportions -- that is why, when we for instance bought our little box of cèpes, the farmer immediately told us at exactly what time those were picked that morning -- between 6:30 and 8:30! in other words, if he had waited until noon to pick them, they would have been twice or three times their size!
This mystery which surrounds this amazing fungus adds to its magic. -- For example, it is said that no one has ever, ever been able to surprise one of these giants of the forest in the silence of the middle of the night to observe its rapid growth. Many have tried, but in vain. In the same empty spot where they had sat watching during the night, there would appear in the morning a giant mushroom, of up to 30cm in diameter and up to 1 metre in circumference! Truly a mystery! Pure magic! The "King of Mushrooms" grows between August and November, depending on the depth of the forest and the rain fall.The best way to enjoy the cèpes, is in an omelette and made with duck fat. And if you wonder about the richness of this dish, it is a dish enjoyed by the French at either lunch time or at the evening meal -- remember: the French are not into eating eggs at breakfast, so an omelette is most definitely for later in the day!
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