Bergerac sits on the Dordogne river in the Périgord, and it’s one of those French towns that takes a morning to properly arrive at — you need to walk the old quarter at a slow pace and let it work on you. The half-timbered medieval centre, the riverside quays, the market square — it all builds into something genuinely lovely. And then there’s Cyrano: the bronze statue of the famously large-nosed literary hero stands in the Place de la Myrpe, and he has become, somehow, the town’s most beloved resident.
The wine is the other reason people come. Bergerac AOC produces reds, whites and rosés that are frequently excellent and almost always better value than equivalent Bordeaux bottles — the vineyards are practically next door and the appellations have far less cachet, which works entirely in the consumer’s favour. We did a couple of cave visits and came home with considerably more wine than we had room for.
The market on Wednesday and Saturday mornings fills the old town with produce that makes you reconsider everything you’ve ever bought from a supermarket. Tomatoes, peaches, duck confit, walnuts, truffles in season, cheese that smells like a productive afternoon — it’s an education in what food should taste like. We based ourselves in a converted farmhouse outside town and ate extremely well for ten days.