Savor a Rainy Day

It started to drizzle, then pour as we climbed the hilly streets of the Monday market at Cadenet in Provence. As quickly as the sunny September skies vanished, I began to yearn for comfort food. Perhaps it was more because of jet lag than the darkening day, but I bypassed vibrant tomatoes, eggplants and peppers and reached instead for mellow carrots, potatoes and shallots. Familiar routine would right my time-altered world--I needed to cook.

Now as we dashed from sheltering awning to awning, I was filled with purpose. Each clap of thunder sounded a call: “When in France, . . .”

The four of us were staying at a friend’s house just across the Durance River, 10 minutes from Cadenet, a small, ancient town in the south Luberon Mountains that had once been a center for basket-making. With a kitchen at my disposal, I would soon feel like the title of one of my favorite cookbooks, “Patricia Wells at Home in Provence.”

The butcher “shop” at the farmers market reminded me of the catering trucks that hover near Los Angeles construction sites. But when the side panel went up, instead of a vendor dispensing burgers and tacos, there stood a burly, white-aproned butcher. Behind him hung large sides of fresh meat waiting to be cut. In front of him was a gleaming refrigerated case of tied roasts, chops and steaks. There, as if it had my name on it, was the perfect pork loin roast.

Only the day before, we had been napping in the sun by the pool, surrounded by the vineyard, stands of fruit trees and a vista of the Durance Valley and stately Mont Sainte-Victoire immortalized by Cezanne. By the time we returned from the market to the 250-year-old pink stone farmhouse, the lowering clouds had obscured the view.

When the rain lightened, I gathered thyme, rosemary, parsley and bay laurel from the garden. I wove these through the twine of the roast, then rubbed briny sel gris de Guerande (gray salt crystals harvested from salt beds on the Brittany coast) into the surface of the meat and roasted our dinner until the aroma of caramelizing meat and vegetables beckoned everyone to the table.

Tiny, tart red currants scattered into the pan juices added the fruitiness that goes so well with pork. The roast was tender and fragrant with its prickly herb cloak and earthy vegetables dotted with bright berries, and we sopped every last drop of gravy with country bread. It was the perfect remedy for our rain-soaked, jet-lagged day.

Back in Southern California, I was eager to re-create a bit of the south of France. At the first sign of cool weather, I invited our friends for a reunion dinner and headed not to the supermarket for a shrink-wrapped roast but to a butcher shop where the proprietor hand-trimmed a pork loin for me. (No, it wasn’t more expensive.)

Fresh cranberries took the place of hard-to-come-by red currants. Like jewels crowning the roast, they lent a festive sparkle that brightened the wintry day. As did the memories of that cozy day in Provence. Sitting at our kitchen table, I imagined us back in the thick-walled farmhouse, gazing past the centuries-old mulberry tree and the lifting clouds toward the view of Mont Sainte-Victoire.

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ROAST PORK LOIN WITH CRANBERRIES AND HERBS OF PROVENCE

Serves 6 to 8

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3 1/2-pound boneless pork loin roast, rolled and tied with twine

Kosher or sea salt

8 fresh bay leaves, or 6 dried

4 long sprigs fresh rosemary, or 1 tablespoon dried, plus additional sprigs for pan

8 long sprigs fresh thyme, or 1 tablespoon dried

8 shallots, unpeeled

4 carrots, peeled

2 pounds Yukon gold or yellow Finn potatoes, scrubbed and cut into chunks

1/4 cup chopped and 1/2 cup whole fresh cranberries

1 tablespoon fruity vinegar such as black currant

Preheat oven to 475 degrees. Rub salt on roast. Thread fresh herbs along roast lengthwise through twine, alternating bay, thyme and rosemary. If using dried herbs, rub them into surface of meat and tuck bay leaves into twine. Place roast on bed of additional rosemary in roasting pan large enough to also hold vegetables in single layer. Salt shallots, carrots, and potatoes and place around meat.

Roast 20 to 30 minutes until meat looks crisp and vegetables begin to caramelize. Baste with juices, adding 1/2 to 1 cup water to make shallow pool of liquid. Reduce heat to 350 degrees and roast 30 to 40 minutes more, basting often (add water as needed), until meat thermometer reads 140 degrees (meat will continue to cook after it is removed from oven).

Remove meat and vegetables to serving platter and cover loosely with foil. Discard rosemary branches from pan. Add 1/2 cup water, chopped and whole cranberries and vinegar to pan juices and stir, scraping up any brown bits. Return pan to oven or place on stove over medium heat and cook until cranberries are tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Season to taste. Pour sauce over roast, mounding whole cranberries on top.

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Food stylist: Christine Anthony-Masterson