Most home cooks I know here take a holiday from cooking on Tuesdays because they want to linger at the market—and because they can always purchase a moist and crisp-skinned rotisserie chicken from the Laotian vendor, who also sells irresistible fresh summer rolls and tiny nems, or fried spring rolls. The women might buy a wood oven-fired pizza from one of the pizza trucks that appear on the streets on market day, or a fougasse, the ladderlike yeast bread garnished with olives or capers or pork cracklings (see ** Fougasse**). Or they might settle on a meal of cheese and salad after visiting one of the goat cheese merchants, many of them aging hippies who abandoned Paris for Provence in the 1960s. Our fishmongers, Eliane and Aymer Beringer, sell an array of prepared fish and shellfish, including garlicky salt cod brandade, marinated sardines, and beautiful platters of gravlax. And our butcher, Gilles Digle, and his wife, Severine, always have plenty of their signature saucisson aux olives, a fresh pork sausage studded with the meaty, wrinkled olives known as_ olives de Nyons_.