itter in the landscape, too (Lac de Bort-les-Orgues and the lake on La Truyère), and provide precious hydroelectric power as well.
In the nineteenth century, Auvergne's mountains were home to a burgeoning population--there were just too many mouths to feed. So each summer, able-bodied young Auvergnats came down from the peaks to work as hired hands on wheat farms in the plains, while older men tended sheep and sheltered in makeshift huts (called burons) high up on the mountain. Nowadays there are cows, not sheep, on the hillsides and they don't need anyone to watch over them: electrified fences do the job! And most of the young men who went down the mountain never came back up: they stayed where they found work, and succeeded by virtue of their peasant tenacity. Not so long ago, the coal merchants of Paris who carried heavy sacks of charbon on their backs up flight after flight of stairs--the bougnats, as they were derisively called--were all sons of Auvergne. With their savings, many bought a café or a restaurant--and of course a country house back home, where they could retire, once they had made their fortune, and live out their days at the foot of their beloved volcanoes. But among the emigrants from Auvergne there were also scientists and thinkers and prominent political figures, including three recent French presidents: Georges Pompidou, Valéry Giscard d'Estaing, and Jacques Chirac.
A morning at the market
There's no better way to learn to love this French heartland than to spend a morning at one of the local open-air markets, or foirails. In the fall, farmers from Cézallier or Aubrac proudly exhibit their prize Salers cattle: beautifully combed, with their lyre-shaped horns, the beasts are a splendid sight! The men trade and deal in the local dialect, perpetuating an ancestral tradition. The rich milk from these cows lends a special savor to Auvergne's cheeses: fragrant Saint-Nectaire, robust Cantal, pungent Bleu d'Auvergne, and buttery, blue-veined Fourme d'Ambert.
The famous knives of Thiers are back in fashion, giving the cutlery industry a boost, but the lace that made the town of Le Puy a byword with elegant ladies--and employed some 100,000 lacemakers--has practically disappeared with the advent of machine-made lace. The superb rag paper once made by hand at Ambert has met a similar fate. But the rubber industry established in the nineteenth century by the Michelin brothers still fuels the local economy, providing jobs for farmers who work their fields half-time, after leaving the factory. Michelin made Clermont-Ferrand the tire capital of France. Close to transportation--an excellent highway links Clermont to Paris--new industries have taken root: pharmaceuticals, glassworks, and mills producing special types of steel.
This is the new face of Auvergne, open to progress but deeply attached to its traditions and its rustic cuisine. Potée auvergnate, which combines pork, smoky bacon, cabbage, and other vegetables in an aromatic broth, satisfies the most voracious appetite. In Aurillac, be sure to sample the tripoux d'Auvergne (stuffed mutton tripe--much tastier than it sounds...) accompanied by aligot, a savory blend of mashed potatoes and Tomme cheese. For dessert, there will be clafoutis (a fruit-studded batter cake) or delicious candied fruits, a Clermont specialty, which are perfectly partnered with Corent, a rare, delicate rosé wine. Liqueur lovers will want to try the verbena elixir called Verveine du Velay.
Set in grandiose landscapes, Auvergne's austere cities built (like the Clermont cathedral) of black basalt, express the local belief that ostentation is an unpardonable sin, prodigality a vice. For the richest Auvergnat on earth, driving a Rolls through the streets of hard-working Clermont would be the acme of bad taste. This story sums up the Auvergnat's attitude: upon landing at JFK airport in New York, François Michelin was informed that he could not bring fresh fruit into the United States, and that he would have to discard the apples he had packed into his carry-on bag. With perfect aplomb, he s