A food show without the cameras - tourists in Avignon cook live

Dec 29, 2009, 14:24 GMT

Avignon, France - Avignon would be unthinkable without 'Les Halles.' Most days, gourmets from all over the region on the lookout for tasty vegetables, fruit, cheese or a joint of meat for a Sunday roast can be seen strolling through the celebrated market halls of this southern French town.

Julien Charvet can be found here too. But he is not plying any wares. Would-be chefs come to see him since Charvet is a culinary expert and a dab hand when it comes to juggling with the contents of pots and pans. He shows people practical things like exactly how to fry and braise meat and he can turn a pile of almost any local ingredients into a tasty meal.

At the centre of the market hall, Charvet runs a top quality show kitchen for French men and women who want to hone their cooking skills, a kind of running food show without the TV cameras. Tourists can learn a lot too, and they are to be found here in increasing numbers. All they need to do in order to take part is to don an apron, grab a ladle and get down to some serious cooking.

Charvet's 'Cours de Cuisine' is living proof that things just taste better in Provence. The course of instruction starts off with a foray around the market booths to get participants in the right mood.

'Look, over here, that's Monsieur Jean,' says the maestro, introducing a poultry vendor wearing a white pinafore over his striped shirt. Jean waves a duck before the noses of the assembled crowd and beams before picking up a chicken and gesturing at the array of fowls laid out for purchase. There is enough poultry on display here to supply a football team's barbecue.

There is a huge selection at 'Les Halles': Olives galore, anchovies and of course Tapenade, the local pureed or finely chopped paste made of olives, capers, anchovies and olive oil. There are artichokes, stuffed wine leaves or dried tomatoes.

Antipasti enthusiasts will find their mouths watering as they file past. Julien Charvet then sends off his charges to buy the remaining ingredients. Goat's cheese must be located along with butter, potatoes and five courgettes - 'but not any of the ones with a bulge at the top,' the chef warns his acolytes.

After a while, all are gathered around a stainless steel work surface and an impressive selection of wooden platters and knives. Bringing up the rear are a refrigerator, an Expresso coffee machine and an oven with induction hot plates. There are two washbasins here as well - everything is close together and the layout of the equipment is practical.

Charvet invites his guests to dice the courgettes and take a knife to the fresh mint and dried tomatoes. While one pupil crushes the Indonesian pepper in a mortar, another is melting chocolate and butter in a pot and a third person is boiling some potatoes.

Charvet keeps a watchful eye on the goings-on, but he is not strict, only intervening with tips in order to avoid his charges making a mess of things.

This applies to the skill of filleting bream. Cutting open the Mediterranean variety of this fish calls for skill. Charvet demonstrates this part twice before it is the turn of the tourists. The bones are removed gingerly with a set of tweezers.

No cooking display would be complete without spectators and, as things progress, a growing number of market shoppers stand and stare as the puree is crushed, the ginger is fried and the dorade, as the species of bream is known around here, stubbornly refuse to yield their final bones. The fish finally end up on the baking tray, are coated with olive oil and decorated with slices of courgette.

The first course consists of goat's cheese in puff pastry, served with a side salad. Chocolate fondant is the dessert. 'Excellent work,' praises Charvet. That sounds flattering, but the chef remarks wryly: 'Look, if it turns out OK then so be it, but if it's no good, well then it must have been your fault. ..'