Ode To Something Delicious

When Andrew and I were in Aix-en-Provence in 2003, we took a walk through the markets and amongst the plump stone fruits and pyramids of spices and all the hues of yellow at the fromagier, was the saucisson seller. He was very happy to hear we were from Australia, as his daughter was studying in Melbourne. He wanted us to try his charcuterie, and amongst a few market buys, we took home a wild boar saucisson for lunch in our tiny sun-filled kitchen in our hotel. It was a typical Provence moment: a spotlight of midday sun, small wooden table, two chairs, baguette pulled apart, crumbs, cheese, saucisson, peaches, knife, beer.

I still maintain that sausage is The Most Delicious Thing I've Ever Eaten. The wild boar had a deeper, gamier taste, probably with a hint of sweetness, thick with fat that left our mouths tacky, and we couldn't stop slicing off just a little more and relishing this new flavour.

I think we both always regretted not buying another. On Saturday in Leiden, at the Italian deli Susan took us to, I spotted a salami di cinghiale - wild boar - so I nabbed it. I knew it wouldn't be that taste, and it wasn't - but it was still delicious, rich and meaty-flavoured. Nothing better than a slice here, a slice there. And maybe one day we'll pass through Provence and get a second chance.