Petite Provence Reviews

Auckland Food critic Ewan McDonald
in the NZ Herald Travel section October 21, 2008.

To get to Provence, drive towards Whangarei and turn left at Brynderwyn. The petrol station,
not the hills. Drive for another half-hour until you reach Matakohe, famous for its Kauri museum.
Some kilometres further on you’ll find the signs for Linda and Guy Bucchi’s homage to the
South of France.

Driving into this modern farmhouse, set high on a ridge where the hills run down to the scrub and
grey waters of the Kaipara, you will have a welcoming committee of one, if he can be bothered rousing himself from the sunniest spot on the veranda: Loopy, the large, grey, indeterminate house dog.
He may even open an eye, and startle with the cornflower blue that betrays some husky, though
what a husky was doing in a village near Avignon some years ago is one of those mysteries of the
canine world.

The surprises continue inside. Furniture, furnishings, colours, textiles, pictures, ornaments: all
bear the unmistakable imprint of the Midi. Unpacked, freshened, and on to refreshments in the vast
dining room that seems to take up half the house. Vast, as in a dining table that can comfortably
feed, water, wine and cheese 12 appetites is swallowed up in a corner. Linda suggests wine and
cakes. Guy: ‘‘Wine? Perhaps . . . pastis?’’ Perhaps. We are, after all, in Petite Provence.

Click Here to read full article...


Home	Accommodation	Reviews	Contact Details & Directions	Links & Activities
	Petite Provence Reviews Auckland Food critic Ewan McDonald in the NZ Herald Travel section October 21, 2008. To get to Provence, drive towards Whangarei and turn left at Brynderwyn. The petrol station, not the hills. Drive for another half-hour until you reach Matakohe, famous for its Kauri museum. Some kilometres further on you’ll find the signs for Linda and Guy Bucchi’s homage to the South of France. Driving into this modern farmhouse, set high on a ridge where the hills run down to the scrub and grey waters of the Kaipara, you will have a welcoming committee of one, if he can be bothered rousing himself from the sunniest spot on the veranda: Loopy, the large, grey, indeterminate house dog. He may even open an eye, and startle with the cornflower blue that betrays some husky, though what a husky was doing in a village near Avignon some years ago is one of those mysteries of the canine world. The surprises continue inside. Furniture, furnishings, colours, textiles, pictures, ornaments: all bear the unmistakable imprint of the Midi. Unpacked, freshened, and on to refreshments in the vast dining room that seems to take up half the house. Vast, as in a dining table that can comfortably feed, water, wine and cheese 12 appetites is swallowed up in a corner. Linda suggests wine and cakes. Guy: ‘‘Wine? Perhaps . . . pastis?’’ Perhaps. We are, after all, in Petite Provence. Click Here to read full article...