The Mastery of Peter Mayle's Storytelling

The bounty of armchair travel literally transported me to the South of France...

The famous “I Love Nice” sign, located on the Promenade des Anglais, beside the Mediterranean Sea. Photo: Corinne Kovalsky

1989 was a particularly good year. So was 2009. British author and decorated Francophile Peter Mayle, the creator of the modern travel memoir, published his first book in 1989. It was called A Year in Provence, and it chronicled his move to France and the restoration of an old farmhouse. Most of his works, romancing the French lifestyle, became bestsellers thanks to the many characters he met along the way, and to his way with words.

Peter Mayle photographed by his beloved wife at their home in Provence. Image courtesy of Jennie Mayle (I had the pleassure of interviewing Jennie for another project).

In 2009, he wrote the first in a four-part series about glamorous capers. The Vintage Caper was all about a multinational wine heist. Rogue investigator Sam Levitt followed the trail of an extraordinary collection of 500 priceless bottles of stolen wine from Hollywood to Bordeaux and to the south of France before solving the mystery.

I suspect that by now you are wondering what Peter Mayle has to do with Dearly Decanted, which is after all a wine column. His books enthralled and transported me. They made me laugh aloud. They taught me about savoring experiences. I was riveted as his protagonists ate and drank their way deliciously from Paris to Provence.

I researched the vintages he wrote about. I enjoyed many of the wines recommended in his pages. Mayle was single-handedly responsible for my love of Rosé. He wrote about it with reverence. He also gave me confidence to dine alone in restaurants: “The ideal number for dinner is two…myself and the sommelier.”

On a recent trip to the south of France, I decided to follow in the footsteps of Mayle’s characters.

Marseille

Restaurant Le Peron in Marseille. Photo: Corinne Kovalsky

My first stop was Restaurant Le Peron because it was regularly featured in Mayle’s Caper series. It was a blustery August day in Marseille. The view overlooking the Mediterranean was dramatic. The waves crashed against the rocks, mere feet below my table. The meal began with a welcome glass of chilled Domaine Tempier Rosé. The Provençal tomatoes and fresh herbs drizzled with olive oil paired perfectly. The anticipation built for the main course. The famed daurade royale was celebrated by foodies and by Mayle as “the playboy of the Mediterranean.” A delightful main course fish, it was cooked in a salt crust and served with delicious aioli. I had gone to the restaurant alone, but with the books for company. They were a great icebreaker. The manager and nearby diners took photos, and I was peppered with questions.

In addition to the lunch at Marseille’s Peron, I marveled at Le Pharo, the fictional home of Francis Reboul, a key character in all four books.

Cassis and Monte Carlo

I drove to wine country in Cassis and visited its small port, as Mayle’s rogue sleuth, Sam Levitt, had done at the end of the Vintage Caper. Unfortunately, it was too early for the Bouillabaisse that he had so enjoyed.

Le Bistrot de Nino, where Mayle’s characters dined at the end of the Vintage Caper. Photo: Corinne Kovalsky

In Monte Carlo, I had lunch at the Café de Paris where Levitt and Elena Morales plotted their next move in the Corsican Caper. Later, I watched the yachts jockey for position in the harbor. I imagined Lord Wapping, the villainous Brit from the Marseille Caper, at the helm of the biggest of them, his aptly named Floating Pound.

Monte Carlo Harbor. Photo: Corinne Kovalsky

Paris

Back in Paris, I saved the best for last. Thanks to the Vintage Caper, I knew Le Récamier was famous for its soufflés, so I chose (Levitt’s and presumably Mayle’s favorite) the caramel soufflé and was overcome by an urge to kiss my fingertips in a tribute to the chef, as Mayle’s characters had done many times in his books. When I showed the waiter the excerpts about the restaurant, he seemed bemused, but appreciative. He didn’t speak English, so I did my best to translate in halting French.

Peter Mayle’s love of the French lifestyle sparked joy. The moral of this story is simple: Be open when inspiration strikes. Sample widely. Whether it’s the wine or the lifestyle associated with it, take the time to appreciate the experience. Treat your palate, whether in person or from the comfort of your favorite armchair. Cheers!

I suspect that Peter Mayle would have agreed with this excerpt from a 2017 article by Emma Balter in Wine Spectator: “Wine comes from grapes. Grapes come from vines. Vines come from the earth. Just like the tomatoes you put on your salad. Don't let anybody make you feel like wine is out of your reach. Enjoy it, learn about it, but don't sweat it.”

Peter and Jennie Mayle at home in Provence with Nelly, a 60th birthday present for Peter from Jennie. Photo: Carey More. Used with permission.

Postscript: Peter Mayle died in 2018. His many books romanticizing the French culture earned him the Légion d’Honneur from the French government. He is survived by his widow, Jennie Mayle.