
Ever since I first sampled her cooking many years ago when she first opened Les Olivades in the 7th after working for Alain Passard, I’ve been a fan of Florence Mikula, a really nice woman whose cuisine is as generous and straight-to-the-point as the lady herself. Back then in the mid-eighties, provencale cooking was enjoying a new vogue in Paris that was a reflection of the fact the Parisian media elite had thrown in the towel on the Riviera as being overbuilt and too flashy and was moving north to Provence, and specifically into the Luberon, in search of some peace and quiet and the thing they destroy the moment they find it: authenticity. The TGV had made the Luberon a viable weekend destination, too, and so la cuisine du soleil, or provencale cooking, suddenly started turning up in the food pages of French women’s magazines, where it was always rightly noted that it was as healthy–olive oil instead of butter, lots of fruit and veg, as it was delicious.
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