The French Dispatch

Historic abbeys, authentic bistros, lavish châteaux, and precious porcelain: the region of Limousin is overlooked-and utterly enchanting. Nina Caplan goes off the beaten path to discover the charms of La France Profonde.

- Nina Caplan

I ARRIVED IN Limousin in a rental car, which felt wrong: it should surely have been a stretch limo. There are several theories as to how a motorised symbol of wealth and luxury came to be named for a rural part of central France that, while beautiful, is almost entirely devoid of opulence, but none are particularly convincing. One theory is that the limousine was christened in honour of native son Charles Jeantaud, the late-19th-century inventor of an early form of the motorcar. The other is that the hood of the early limo, intended to protect the chauffeur, resembled the hooded cloaks of Limousin shepherds. Whatever the truth, it’s amusing to think that what was once the preferred mode of transportation for celebrities and royalty is named for a region best known for crockery and cows.

I got an inkling that there was more to Limousin than exquisite porcelain and delicious meat (Limousin veal is famous throughout France) a couple of years ago. During a cross-country trip, I made a brief stop in Limoges, the region’s capital. Having read about the glorious train station, I ducked in. It was amazing: a palace in pale stone, with a giant dome decorated with stained glass by Limousin’s master glass craftsman, Francis Chigot. Beneath that grand cupola loomed a quartet of sculpted women, each embodying a region of France. The figure of Le Limousin held a vase representing Limoges’ famous porcelain in one hand and reached toward a canopy of wheat and chestnuts with the other. I’ve seen many provincial French train stations, and they don’t normally look like this. As I marveled at the spectacular setting, I sensed there was much more to this region than I had once thought.