Don't Speak
Not by choice, mind you.
I arrived home from the States with a mild cold but was feeling much better after just a few days of sleeping in my own bed. Then some hateful germs found their way into my body and it all went downhill from there.
Last Thursday started out as a very exciting day. I left early that morning for Béziers to pick up my citizenship dossier from the sous-préfecture, complete with a letter from M. le Président, the words to la Marseillaise and an acte de naissance that would allow me to apply for both a carte d'identité and a French passport.
The meeting went smoothly and afterward I wandered around the city, window shopping and running a few errands before seeing friends for lunch.
The dry cough and headache began halfway through my savory chèvre and honey crêpe and continued for the next 24 hours until I was able to see the doctor. Diagnosis: bronchitis and a sinus infection.
lovely
The Pharmacie sent me home with a bag of goodies and the days of stubbornly accepting the fact that yes, you are sick so just deal with it already, began.
For five days I slept, wandered around the house in yoga pants and slippers, watched two seasons of the wickedly funny series Weeds, drank copious amounts of tea and juice, took my medication and guzzled cough syrup, then slept some more.
Then suddenly my appetite came back.
I still couldn't speak without fits of coughing, but I was hungry! Tuesday I whipped up a batch of spicy Thai Fried Rice for lunch and Wednesday I tried this recipe for Duck Breasts with le Puy Lentils. I even baked some focaccia bread one day.
I am officially on the mend! Finally.
Photo du Jour
La Fête du Fromage - Pigouille des Charentes
I'm familiar with the "des Charentes" part, meaning from the idyllic Charentes region of central France.
It was that first word - pig ou, huh? - that I'd never seen before. So of course I had to try it for la Fête du Fromage!
When I pointed at the cheese and read the name out loud to the fromagère, she had to correct my pronunciation. Twice. (I hate it when my French accent fails me)
Just so everyone is clear, it is pronounced:
Pig - ew - wee Day Shar -ont
Now that you know how to say it, you might want to know the origin of the name. A pigouille is the long paddle that a boatman uses to navigate a small canal barge - a yole - along the narrow canals of the Marais Poitevin, also called the "Green Venice" of western France.
Traditionally, Pigouille des Charentes was made from unpasteurized cow's milk or goat's milk, or a mixture of the two. Today this cheese is made from raw ewe's milk and produced by one lone producer on the Île d'Oléron.
The first impression was its aroma, which was full of sweet hay and a clean barnyard scent. I knew that good things were to come....
The flavor was exquisite!
A salty, sweet and strong flavor that was a perfect match to the rustic baguette and red wine that we were drinking. When I purchased the cheese, its exterior was lightly crusted with blue mold, but not yet entirely covered. After one week the mold almost covered the entire surface, which accentuated its heady, lovely flavor.
I recommend this one highly. If you can find it, please buy it!
Saumur wine is suggested, but we found that it paired nicely with our local Minervois wine.
Saturday in Santa Monica
I wanted to present something fresh that could match the lightness of the screen porch where I had set the table.
Truth is that as much as I like avocados here, I could not keep on serving them as an appetizer even, so I got baby leaves of spinach (organic), seasoned them with salt, pepper, olive oil and lemon, and added parmiggiano flakes, pine nuts, and a few green olives. Once tossed, it was light and cool. I prepared a Basque Piperade for the entree. Piperade is made in France's Basque region, in the Southwest. They use a lot peppers and tomatoes in their cuisine, and this is a classic. I got one onion (they're very big here), two red peppers and one green, and tomatoes. I cut the onions in thin slices, and made them cook in medium low heat till they become translucent. Then I added the peppers cut in slices. When they were all soft, I added the tomatoes. I let cook for 15 minutes over low heat. I seasoned. When it was ready, I beat 4 whole eggs (organic) in a large bowl, added salt and pepper and added half of the preparation. I poured in a hot skillet with olive oil and made scrambled eggs. I kept the rest of the preparation hot.
When my scrambled eggs were ready, I served in a large round bowl, half with the preparation with eggs and half without eggs.
Piperade is usually served with Bayonne ham, a variety close to Serrano ham. I did not find any in the two shops where I went, and finally I chose a so called home made "prosciuto" which was very, very disappointing ... too much salt, not dry enough, slices badly cut ... Friday I baked a pear clafouti in this oven, in individual portions. This time I chose yellow fruit.
Allow me to introduce Abbi
Today allow me to introduce Abbi, the special guest. Abbi's mother and I met in high school and we have been good friends ever since. Abbi works for a Star PR agency in LA (a dream job) and loves her life here.
Mary-Laure (yellow tee), daughter and blogger, who's visiting us in Santa Monica for a few days, shares with Abbi and her family many childhood vacation memories, so before lunch they looked at old pictures in Mary-Laure's laptop (she has patiently digitalized over 3000 pictures from our family albums). In the afternoon we went to Montana Ave for yogurt icecream and strolled along this very posh avenue, looking at the nice displays in the shops and chatting, chatting.We had a very good time together!
Moules Marinières
Plump, juicy mussels in a white wine, garlic and shallot sauce. Plenty of French bread to soak up the sauce. A glass of the remaining white wine.
Perfection!
Moules Marinières
serves 4
extra virgin olive oil
1 shallot, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 cup dry white wine
3 pounds live mussels, rinsed and debearded just before cooking
handful of chopped fresh parsley
black pepper
Warm the olive oil in a large stockpot over medium low heat.
Sauté the shallot and garlic until translucent.
Add the wine and boil until reduced slightly.
Add the mussels, cover, and cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until the mussels open, then cook for an additional minute.
Remove from the heat, evenly divide the mussels among 4 shallow soup bowls, sprinkle with parsley and black pepper, and pour the cooking juices over all.
Serve immediately.
One Year of La Fête du Fromage
A friend asked me what our monthly cheese budget is and I guessed around €20. They were aghast! However, €5 a week for cheese really isn't that much, especially for the varieties that have to be purchased whole, such as Époisses, Langres, Vacherin du Haut Doubs, Chabichou, Banon... OK this list is getting too long...suffice to say, there are many, many cheeses that you have to purchase whole.
On to cheese number 82:
A wonderful, local chèvre that I picked up at the Olonzac market last week.
Chèvre de Roquecave
Chèvre de Roquecave is an organically produced goat's cheese from a small farm, la Ferme de Roquecave, near Ferrals les Montagnes in the Montagne Noire.
The couple who own the farm occasionally come down to the local market and when they do I rush to get into line to buy one of their soft and sweet, fresh goat cheeses. We love it drizzled with honey as dessert.
While I was waiting I spotted this little disk, about the size of a Camembert, and asked a few questions. I was told that the goats graze on rich, green mountain grasses under chestnut trees (a very romantic vision, don't you think?) and that this particular chèvre is made in the style of Reblochon.
We shared it with Colleen and all agreed that it was splendid! It's aroma was very earthy and its taste was enticing; full of mushroom and sweet honey flavors. I didn't find it "goaty" at all. It was soft and really delicious.
The Minervois red we were drinking paired quite nicely. Again, local wine goes with local cheese.
One year of cheese. I've been inspired by how much I've learned and how much I've fallen in love with these special French delicacies.
On to Year Two of la Fête du Fromage!
Thunderstorm Morning
This morning two thunderstorms rolled through before I even woke up at 7:45.
I took this photo at 9:30 am. It was so dark in the house that we had to turn the lights back on and the camera needed the flash to capture the foreboding, stormy sky.
Eerie color!
Tico, our little chihuahua, is scared merde-less when there are thunderstorms. He shivers and hides under blankets or under the bed.
Surprisingly the power hasn't gone out (I shouldn't jinx it by saying that...it's still early in the day) but the computer and TV satellite have been blipping off and on.
No Tuesday morning market for me. The vendors probably didn't bother showing up with this wild weather!
Spring at last: Tea on my deck
Photo du Jour - Stumbling Upon History
Birds on my deck
We are changing the wooden tiles.
This was the right opportunity to move around plant pots and buy some new plants too. It's looking beautiful. So many birds have nested among the plants! The little seagull on the edge comes from Uruguay (1987) and it was given to me by my dear friend Nora. The two clay doves were purchased last year in a decoration shop in Saumur with this deck in mind.
A little colorful toucan bird on the edge comes all the way from Mexico (1996). And the yellow bird hiding under the cyclamen comes from Colombia (1976). The cyclamen are self-seeding and are becoming denser and denser.Finally, this sober small iron bird comes from.... France. It may be looking for its companion that I still have to place somewhere!
Breakfast in Paris: enjoying the Indian summer
Yesterday morning I enjoyed, as I have been doing everyday, my favorite breakfast. It was so quiet, the day was breaking, and I was sitting on the deck, surrounded by a mix of summer and autumn flowers. It felt great.
On my tray, my Printemps procelain white with a blue rind cup and saucer, gift of a dear friend, my Italian percolator with my coffee ready to be poured, a glass of grapefruit juice, and a bowl of a delicious mix of my home made Charentais melon jam, plain low fat yogurt, and 1/2 cup of organic muesli. I am using a fair trade Brazilian coffee right now, and I love it. I have ALWAYS loved Brazilian coffee I must say. I store it in this container I bought in Venice (Marci has the same) The Italian percolator makes pretty strong coffee, but it's so delicious!
Every morning I also have a large glass of 50% juice, orange or grapefruit, and 50% water. I'm watching the calories I take, doctor's injunction, and I have fresh fruit during the day, so I am careful. I use a Japanese blue and white bowl I bought in Japan back in 1992. It contains a healthy mix. Plain yogurt: culture and milk, that's it (why would you need anything else?). Of all places, I have found in Amsterdam my favorite muesli mix, to which I add some sunflower and pumpkin organic seeds and dry cranberries. I take about 1/2 cup. Finally I add 3 or 4 teaspoons of one of my home made jams. Right now I am using a delicious Charentais melon jam; I will share with you my recipe in my next post.
I look forward this moment every morning!
Notes To Self
The expression "I almost had to give up my firstborn child" does not translate into French. Use it and they'll think you're certifiable.
Your neighbors and your hairdresser will never stop commenting on your weight gain or loss.
There's a reason behind la priorité à droite. You will just never understand it.
The type of bra you prefer is a balconnet, not a banquette*.
As soon as they learn that you're American, they'll assume that you're rolling in dough. The expression "rolling in dough" doesn't translate either.
Stop trying to order your steak à point*. It will always arrive bleu*, no matter what.
That sweet looking, little old lady standing uncomfortably close to you in line at the boulangerie is trying to cut in front of you. Stand your ground.
It is de l'eau* or un verre d'eau*. Get that through your head already.
The day that you're running late for an appointment in town is the day that all the streets on your route will be shut down for a manifestation.
You will never be able to pronounce the words grenouille* or moelleux*. Stop embarrassing yourself by trying to.
You will continue to have those incredible "oh my god I live in France" moments. Savor them.
As soon as you get comfortable and think you've got this whole living in France thing all figured out, remember that you really haven't.
And remember to breathe.
*banquette - seat
*à point - medium
*bleu - rare
*de l'eau - some water
*un verre d'eau - a glass of water
*grenouille - frog
*moelleux - soft or mellow
Three Years Already?
Chez Loulou turned three.
Three years. Already? My how they have flown!
I would like to raise a glass of my favorite Minervois red (too chilly for rosé in January!) and toast all of you who read and support this blog. I love writing it and appreciate the wonderful comments I get from all over the world. It has allowed me to meet some really cool people, both in person and on the web.
The best part - being part of a fantastic, creative community of chefs, writers, expats, photographers, foodies and overall passionate, kind people.
Merci et santé!
Photo du Jour - La Terrasse
Photo du Jour - The Food Life
Great book! Delicious looking recipes. Wonderful story written by a man who is truly passionate about food and cheese. Loved reading it. Made me salivate. Made me want to become an olive oil connoisseur. Made me want to move to New York.
However, there was one ghastly, glaring error on page 209 that made me want to strangle the editors.
Ail Rose de l'Autrec? Non. Non. Non.
It's Ail Rose de Lautrec!!!
Our Trip to the Loire Valley
Our trip to the Loire in October (which now seems like a lifetime ago) was really amazing...and wonderful...and well, interesting...
We encountered a few minor hiccups along the way, but were determined not to let them ruin our trip.
To start things off, I spent most of the night before our departure curled up on the bathroom floor with what I think was food poisoning. By the time I was able to crawl my sorry butt out of bed that Saturday morning, the mere thought of spending 8 hours in a car was so horrific we decided to postpone the trip by one day. No big deal. We had the entire week to enjoy our holiday and explore the Loire.
Or so we thought....
Sunday morning we took off, well rested and ready for our vacation.
The drive up was uneventful, other than a freak snowstorm near Clermont Ferrand, and we arrived in the Loire Valley, impressed by the wide, rambling river and awestruck by the pale white beauty of the villages. After a bit of a struggle with our temperamental GPS we found our gîte and settled in.
We spent the next two days exploring Angers and Saumur, tasting local food and wine, visiting a couple of Châteaux and generally enjoying our time away when we noticed that the gas stations in the region were slowly running out of fuel and shutting down due to the national strikes.
And when you're staying in a rural area and relying on your car to get around, that kind of puts a damper on things.
By the afternoon of day three we were stuck in our gîte because we couldn't find any fuel at all and had less than a half a tank left. After much discussion we decided to pack up and leave early in the hopes that we would find fuel a bit further south, and hopefully enough to get us home. (we did)
Thus the Saturday-Saturday booking at the gîte turned into a Sunday-Thursday booking. And two of those five days were spent driving back and forth from home. It was disappointing to say the least. We didn't get the chance to visit friends in southern Brittany, see Nantes and Tours, or visit any cheese makers.
We've decided that we simply have to go back. There's far too much that we missed!
Now about our gîte...
It took us a while to find the right place, but our patience finally paid off. Because we were traveling with our two chihuahuas, it meant that most vacation rentals were crossed off the list due to their no pet policy.
We finally stumbled across La Roche à Vent.
What a gem!
Our house was spacious and comfortable and we had gorgeous white cows as our neighbors. The owners, John and Patricia, were friendly, offered fabulous restaurant recommendations and loved the dogs. I would go back and stay there in a heartbeat.
Another attraction in the little village of le Thoureil is Le Tasting Room, where we spent a happy two hours learning about the wines of the Loire Valley with the very informative and passionate Cathy Shore and Nigel Henton.
Of course two hours learning about Loire Valley wines barely scratched the surface - with more than a dozen grape varieties and 65 appellations, the region offers something for everyone. We tasted both a white and a red that are definitely worth going back for.
The Loire Valley, or what little we saw of it, was wonderful. We enjoyed every precious minute and vow to return.
Fingers crossed there won't be any strikes, fuel shortages or illness next time!