THE FRENCH LAUNDRY THAT HANGS IN LOURMARIN

 

French laundry conjures up all sorts of images. For my friend and fellow-blogger, David Scott Allen, visions of delectable meals from Thomas Keller’s famous restaurant surface…things like Creamy Maine Lobster Broth and English Pea Soup with White Truffle Oil and Parmesan Crisps.

 

For my friend, Betsy Tabor with whom I have been exchanging gifts, poems, and postcards about laundry for years now —both French and American and, come to think of it, Burkina Fasoian, too—I thought she would say it’s about that crisp fresh smell that emanates from clothes left to dry outdoors. However, when I called to inquire what images popped into her mind when thinking of French laundry, she quickly corrected my assumptions.

“That’s American laundry,” she said emphatically. “French laundry…well, that brings to mind lingerie.”

This is NOT the French Laundry that Hangs in Lourmarin

 

For me, French laundry makes me think of …well, French laundry. Lourmarin laundry, to be specific. That colorful laundry, carefully hung on les cordes à linge that traverse the communal laundry area on the very outskirts of the village center, always makes me smile. That French laundry could even make me want to do laundry just so I could enjoy that serene patch of land with the best view in the village.

 

Photo: David Scott Allen

It’s a rectangular plot of green grass, about the size of a large pétanque court, enclosed by a tall stone wall on three sides, effectively hiding the clothes lines until you round the corner and peer through the gate. A slightly lower stone wall on the…
fourth side enables a stunning view of the Protestant church, the château, and a rolling green field dotted with olive trees. Cypress trees and the Petit Luberon Mountains rise up in the background.

Photo on right: Mark Sammons

The clothes lines themselves are rather pedestrian. Although perhaps it is their ordinariness, their abject dullness that makes the scene so inspiring. The steel ropes stretch from one heavy iron post to the other. The posts, painted an institutional green, appear to have been deeply embedded in the ground by strong hands that knew sturdiness was the only quality that would ensure their survival in the famous mistral winds.

Anything and everything is hung on these lines. I’ve seen linen tablecloths and I’ve seen tattered underwear. (No lingerie, though, as I suspect that even the French, at least in a small village, are more circumspect about where to hang that laundry.) Some people hang their laundry in a haphazard manner and others hang it with great precision.

Photos: David Scott Allen

Sometimes when I observe the diligence with which laundry can be hung—by category, with a measured space between groupings, or with color coordinated clothes pins—my mind wanders and I think that hanging laundry could be a really healthy outlet for those who suffer from obsessive-compulsive personality tendencies.

Top Photos: David Scott Allen

A lavoir stands at one end of the clothes lines. Defined as a communal basin—actually, there are usual several basins—for washing and rinsing laundry, they are often covered structures and are usually made of stone. They date back to the mid-18th century when a law was passed that funded their construction to ensure clean water and thus good hygiene.

Left Photo: David Scott Allen.  Right Photos: Pierre Schott

Women—it’s always women, isn’t it?—took their dirty laundry to le lavoir where they spent hours with other women, washing, rinsing, and hanging their clothes and linens, all the while exchanging thoughts about various and sundry subjects and probably a little gossip. Much like bars, cafes, and the office water cooler, familiarity bred comfort and support.

Local woman walks toward the communal clothes lines to hang her laundry

Because they became such important meeting places for social exchange, the advent of washing machines did not immediately replace le lavoir. Women continued to do their laundry in lavoirs and, according to Pierre Schott, friend and resident of Lourmarin, the older women in France’s small villages still use the lavoirs. (If you’ve ever used a French washing machine, you might consider a lavoir yourself!)

Lourmarin has two lavoirs, one with the clothes lines and another on the other side of the village without the benefit of the clothes lines (or the view). I don’t know if there ever were clothes lines accompanying the other lavoir. Today, both lavoirs are beautifully maintained and are enjoyed primarily as a tribute to Lourmarin’s history, a way of life all but gone by.

The communal clothes lines are definitely used. First come, first served. And, in Lourmarin, on a warm sunny day—of which there are many—you had better get there first. People in Lourmarin may wash their laundry in a machine, but many—mostly older women who aren’t pressured by time—prefer to hang it on the communal lines. And maybe meet their friends.

If I were in Lourmarin today, after hanging my French laundry to dry, I would return to my kitchen to begin dicing my tomatoes, slicing the zucchini, eggplant, and yellow squash, and chopping my herbs for a meal from the other French Laundry. Thomas Keller’s Yountville, California restaurant named the French Laundry, that is.  It is widely considered to be the premiere French restaurant in the United States and some restaurant critics and foodie magazines have deemed it America’s best restaurant. Period.

With all those accolades—in addition to three Michelin stars—I suppose it is not surprising that the star of a wildly popular Disney movie—Winner of the 2008 Academy Award for Best Animated Feature—would turn to Chef Keller for his ratatouille recipe.

You can turn to David’s Cocoa and Lavender post to get Thomas Keller’s recipe for ratatouille (and to find out which aspiring chef in which movie consulted Chef Keller for this recipe!).

And what does the other French Laundry have to do with French laundry? Well, that famous restaurant is located in what was once, in the 1920s, a French steam laundry!

A view from the chateau of The French Laundry that hangs in Lourmarin.  (Click on photo to enlarge to see laundry.) Photo: Mark Sammons