A Village on a Hill

When the Good Lord begins to doubt the world, he remembers that he created Provence. — Frederic Mistral

It had been a long journey. My wife and I had left London that morning, transferring to the high speed TGV train south, before picking up our rental car and driving across the Luberon valley to this hilltop village we found online, eschewing the more popular Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Aix-en-Provence, and Orange. We arrived in the village in good time and found our way through the winding streets to the address of the apartment that would be our home base for the next five days before heading to Èze and the coast. Our apartment was built into the ramparts of the village and accessed from the owner’s town house above, or though a private entrance in the wall of the fortress. At one point it had been the private chapel to the bishop to be used when at war with the neighboring Protestant village of Lacoste. The stone walls were cool and comforting with bared windows and views to the nearby forest. Rosemary and laurel wafted through on the summer breeze. It was spacious and cave like and it was perfect. 

Having secured our lodging and having met our roommate, a bat we named Vincent, we ventured out to a brasserie we had passed on the way to our rental. The restaurant, Brasserie La Terrazza, stood tucked in close against the hill, greenery and the village climbing higher behind, on the side of the main road that snaked to the village’s upper levels. Across the street, tables and awnings had been placed to take advantage of what is my favorite view of Provence. We took one of the few remaining tables and ordered drinks to start. This was my introduction to Bonnieux.

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Below us the terracotta roofs and pale yellow walls of the lower church provided the sand-colored base to the gradient so familiar to Provence. Sand, pale-yellow, green, loam, dark green, blue, indigo, and then the pale blue of the summer sky. The farms below stretched to the mountains on the other side of the valley and I knew that I never wanted to leave. 

We sipped rose and looked out over the view. I attempted, clumsily, to capture the scene with my camera but the result never matched what I was seeing with my own eyes. The colors were less vibrant, the field of view never as expansive. Giving up, I sat and let Provence seduce me. The view, the warmth of the evening, the sound of cicadas, combined with being in the company of my favorite person in the world, created that perfect moment of being content. 

We had come to Bonnieux by a happy accident. I was looking for a place in Provence to go for my birthday. It was a big one, and I wanted to celebrate it somewhere special. I instinctively knew that once visiting Provence there could be the distinct possibility that I would refuse to leave, and so I had put the trip off until I was in a position that if I made that decision it would disrupt as few people as possible. But where to go? Where, and with whom other than my wife, would I want to celebrate? Saint-Rémy-de-Provence? Aix-en-Provence? Orange? All were on the list, but the only thing I knew about them was from travel guides. All looked great. How would I know that they would have the right feel for celebrating a half-century of rotation around the sun? 

Serendipitously, Pharrell released the song Happy the summer before and a viral sensation had hit the internet where groups, mostly teens and young adults — those who were still not jaded by how others perceived their actions — would create videos lip syncing and dancing to the tune. As I searched online for towns in Provence, Google surfaced a video entitled Happy — Bonnieux. Until then, I had never heard of the village. I clicked the link. There, before me was not a few friends dancing wildly and singing the song, but the entire village. Everyone in the town seemed to have a role. No matter how silly they thought they may look. It was simply endearing. After watching the video a few times it felt like I knew the shopkeeper, the bakers, the hairdresser, the restaurant owners, and their children. Even the priests. I found myself thinking that if I was going to risk spending a birthday in an unknown place, I would want it to be a place like this with these types of people. And so, we now sat in the same town, overlooking the Luberon valley, drinking rose and wondering if we really ever needed to go home. 

For now, we didn’t. We had more important issues at hand, such as dinner. We contemplated finding a restaurant deeper in the town, but I just didn’t want to leave the view. There was something calming about the expanse of the valley, the diffused light, and the warm breeze that bade me to remain, no matter that Italian was the specialty of the house. In a nod to at least the country, if not the region, the pizza of the day was an Alsace style flatbread with caramelized onion jam, ham and Gruyere. We ordered the pizza and a carafe of local red and watched as the light moved from evening towards sunset. 

The pizza was a delight of the senses and even given its origins, one-hundred percent Provençal. The crust was crisp with darkly toasted bubbles around the edge, the inside tender with a bit of chew, sweet with a slight tang. There was just the touch of tomato sauce, the onions caramelized to a jammy texture with thyme and a bit of honey taking up the main support role, topped with the best French ham, Gruyere, and briny whole black olives. 

Photo: Brasserie La Terrazza.

There is an alchemy that happens between the dish that you are eating and the place where it is eaten. And with that pizza, overlooking that view, harmony was achieved. It was as if that one moment was the exact moment for which the restaurant was created. We sat. We sipped. We sighed. 

Satiated, we lingered as the sun dropped below the horizon and the lights of the valley began to twinkle. And then, more magic. Across the street, next to the restaurant with just enough room for the occasional car to pass, a French jazz and blues band set up for their nightly set. They played. People started to dance. And we remained, with contented subtle smiles on our lips, until the carafe of local wine was emptied.

Alsace Flatbread Bonnieux

INGREDIENTS

For the Dough:

• 2 cups flour, plus more for dusting 
• 1 1/2 tsp dry yeast 
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 cup plain Greek yogurt, 5% is best, but you can use non-fat if preferred
• 1 tbsp honey
• 1/3 cup water 

For the Toppings:

• 2 medium yellow onions, sliced thin
• 1 tbsp honey
• 1 tbsp fresh thyme, chopped
• 4 slices French ham, torn. Can use thinly sliced deli ham or Black Forest ham as well.
• 1 1/2 cups Gruyere, grated
• 1/4 cup whole Kalamata olives, pitted

INSTRUCTIONS

For the Dough: 

I like the ease of making this in a food processor, however you can make it by hand in a large bowl. If stirring by hand, I like to use the handle of a wooden spoon so that it doesn’t overwork the gluten. 

1. In a food processor, add the flour, yeast, and salt, and pulse about 5 seconds until well combined.
2. Add the yogurt, honey, and water and process until a small ball forms. If the dough is not tacky to the touch and sticking slightly to the sides of the bowl, add water one tablespoon at a time, pulsing until incorporated. The dough should be shiny and elastic.
3. Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and knead the dough with flowered hands until it forms a smooth ball. 
4. Divide the dough in half and form each half into a tight ball 
5. Place the balls of dough about six inches apart on the floured surface and cover with plastic wrap.
6. Let dough rise until doubled in size. About 1 to 1 1/2 hours. 
7. An hour before backing, pre-heat oven to 500°F. If using a baking stone place the stone on the middle rack to heat as well. 
8. Gently stretch each ball on a lightly floured surface into a circle or an oval six inches by 12 inches.

For the Pizza:

1. In a skillet, cook the onions over medium heat until they are caramelized and have broken down, about 25 to 30 minutes
2. Add honey and thyme and cook an additional ten minutes util the onions have broken down and the consistency is jammy. Remove to a bowl and let cool.
3. Once the oven is heated and the dough is ready, top each dough with the onion mixture, spreading evenly. 
4. Place small piles of the shredded cheese across the onion mixture, leaving pockets where there is no cheese. 
5. Tear the ham and place around the pizzas in the places where there is no cheese. 
6. Sprinkle the black olives evenly across the top of each pizza.
7. Bake pizzas for 15-20 minutes until the crust is golden brown and the cheese is melted and beginning to bubble. 
8. Remove pizzas from oven and drizzle with a bit of honey and top with fresh thyme.

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