Like most market towns in Europe, Vevey has its share of traditional celebrations and I’m hoping to see every one of them. First up, the 543rd (!) annual Foire de Saint-Martin. Okay, all you végétariens out there, brace yourselves and maybe even avert your eyes.
It all started, as does any respectable party, with the roasting of a whole ox in the town square.
They stoked the fire and turned the beast all night in anticipation of feeding the masses the next day. Of course the masses were in no danger of going hungry while they waited. Behind the rotisserie, giant vats of pea soup were stirred and endless links of Swiss sausages were grilled, all just a prelude to the main event. I imagine the barrels of red wine balanced out any ill effects of this festival of cholesterol. All things in moderation I say, especially moderation.
The next day was an absolute jewel of autumn—brilliant sunshine streaming through red and gold leaves, crisp mountain air and a soft breeze that could only be described as, well, beefy. Nothing like a giant BBQ to bring folks together …
The town bells clanged the chow chime and fancy soldiers marched through the square, hoisted their guns and fired, heralding the arrival of the first wave of plates.
A giant slab of meat and a whack of potatoes au gratin. What could be finer on such a glorious Fall day. These market festivals are one of my favourite things about living in this part of the world. For over 500 years the residents of Vevey have been doing this and it was a fantastic introduction to my new town.
But it wasn’t all guns and grizzle and next week I’ll show you more. For now, I’m back to conducting elaborate imaginary tirades against my well-heeled neighbour, waiting for the powers that be to put a stop to her demonic behaviour. Bon weekend mes amis.
OH MY GOODNESS. Eight years in this country and I’ve never even *heard* of this.
YUM!
Please don’t tell me that serving dish is for one?!
Well, roasting an ox is better than bullfighting. That’s my measure of cultural idiocy, whether or not it’s more stupid than bullfighting, and having a town-wide BBQ seems very jolly.
I, too, have a pain in the ass neighbor. One day she complained to me about the noise being made by our tree doctors (who were cutting down a 60-foot tall pine tree in our front yard) and I said to her, “I don’t have time for old ladies like you who have nothing better to do than “….and I forget how I ended that sentence because her reaction was “You’re calling me an old lady???” and she stalked away, never to speak to me again (which is OK by me).
BTW, she’s no older than I am, but calling a Baby Boomer “old” is now my secret weapon for when I need an insult that will incapacitate my opposition. So, have you tried calling your neighbor “old”? Just to let her know that you are evil, because being nice doesn’t seem to be working.
Also, I’ve heard that acting crazy and throwing up on yourself is another effective way to get people to leave you alone, but that might not be applicable in your case.
There’s something so utterly . . . European about a white-coated chef expertly carving a giant roasted mammal at a barbeque.
I mean, he isn’t even hacking at it with a cleaver or wearing a sauce-spattered Kiss the Cook apron!
Wow…what an experience…and the crowds….You are so lucky to get to experience all this stuff. Have a great weekend!
This sounds fabulous. Bring on the meat! The beautiful, smoky, roasted meat!! Love it. I hope you’re surviving your neighbor with the stupid heels….
The vegetarian in me is tut-tutting but the meat-lover in me is salivating :)