vendredi 14 septembre 2018

Change of Season

Umbrellas glimpsed through the drying platane tree leaves


Neptune fountain at Place Carnot late summer
Summer does not want to leave us here in Carcassonne.  It's hanging on with all its strength, to the point where it has worn out its welcome, I think.  The temperatures are still in the 80's, and the afternoon sun beats fiercely into my office window, making it impossible to write without closing the shutters to keep out the heat and the glare from the computer screen.  I am still operating the fan at night to keep a little breeze cooling me while I sleep.  It's too cool not to have covers, but once under them, I get overheated.  I have enjoyed summer, but it really is time for it to go--places in the southern hemisphere are awaiting its arrival.
Lagoon and salt flat Gruissan

Late summer colors at Abbey Fontfroide

There are signs that autumn is not far off.  I was sitting at the bus stop yesterday, and the leaves of the platane trees have dried out to the point that their rustling in the wind sounds like running water. Sometimes when I lie in bed and listen to them skittering down the street, I think it is raining. We have had a series of thunderstorms in the late afternoons, but mostly they have skirted us, at least here int he Bastide, and have dropped their moisture further south.  Walking across the Aude today, I was struck by how muddy it was--there must have been considerable raid upstream, which is south of here.  The plants know that the season change is upon them...they are drying and turning brittle.
The plants know the season is changing

Going to seed and to rest

Silvery olive tree at the Abbey

The daylight is noticeably shorter.  Dawn doesn't arrive until after 7 these days, and sunset is earlier.  It makes for late risings and a confused time for dinner.  I am not used to dinner in the dark, or, if so, it's late--8:30 or later.  I remember last winter thinking it odd to have dinner at 5 because it was dark, and therefore must be time to have the evening meal.  
Dusty greens and browns of the Corbieres

A welcome bit of shade

Geraniums' last hurrah



In the mornings, people are wearing jackets and sweaters and the ubiquitous scarves are reappearing.  Long pants are showing up again.  The shop windows are full of fall colors--wines, olives, browns, mustards.  I love the colors they have selected for this season, and bought a wine-colored purse for fall, and am coveting one in feep olive green.
Salvia, I think

Full of bees

The harvest is underway and already finished in some vineyards.  We had a wet spring and a very hot summer; I hope that means it will be a good year. La rentree  (re-entry into school and work from summer vacation) is now history, and I have had my carte de sejour renewal--both signs of fall.  This weekend is the heritage celebration all across Europe==Les Jounees de Patrimoine.  (Heritage Days)  
Sunsets are earlier each evening

Lights just coming on at dusk at La Cite

Yes, the Twilight Zone rings are still there, coming down at the end of the month

Warm evenings my the fountain

Playing with the camera

I have truly enjoyed walking and taking the air outside these past few weeks.  It was one thing I missed in Brookings--it was always too foggy and cool there to spend much time outside after dark.  But I am ready now for crisp mornings and evenings, a pot of boeuf bourguignon, slippers and long sleeves, and maybe even a rare rainy day.

Outdoor fun along the Canal

Late autumn, late afternoon light

The "Clean-out" still choked with water plants

Not a bad rate for a night's stay


samedi 18 août 2018

The Wonders of Bread

Bought at Saturday market
Of course I knew that living in France meant that I would have some really good bread.  Although I don't eat it often, I do buy a baguette if company is coming.  For just myself, I almost never buy one, as they go stale long before I can possibly finish one.  Even half a baguette doesn't stay fresh as slowly I as consume it.  Sometimes I will buy a pain pave--a hard-crust roll that is reminiscent of a paving stone, and have that with some soup, or thinly sliced with butter.  But as a rule, I don't buy bread, because it goes stale before I can finish it.  And believe me, few things are harder than a stale baguette.  

One thing that might startle Americans, obsesses as they are with germs--often your baguette is selected for you by bare hands.  While it might be put is a sleeve or have a little paper napkin twirled around it for east of carrying, most often it's bare-naked.  And never, ever, ever have I seen a baguette sealed in plastic!  Thank God!

Top of the loaf
And not all baguettes are created equal.  Some are the equivalent of white sandwich bread--crusty on the outside, but white and fine grained once cut.  Those are my least favorite and I have to be desperately hungry to have a slice of that.  My preferred baguette is either "Traditon" or "Campagne" (traditional or country-style)  They usually have a darker, thicker, chewier crust and the bread itself is denser and darker and has more flavor.  I have become a bit of a baguette snob, I am afraid.  There are some coated in sesame seeds--pretty tasty. Some larger ones will contain olives, some will contain hazelnuts.  Once in a while as a treat,  I will get the little "paving stone" that contains dried fruits, even though the bread itself is far from sweet.

The French do not eat butter on their bread; bread is an accompaniment to the meal, and is generally used for sopping up leftover sauce.  A basket of sliced baguette arrives with the carafe of water while waiting for a first course.  A slice of baguette and some wine while waiting for the starter is traditional.  I almost never indulge in this.  And I do not ask for butter when I eat out.

But at home-----that's an entirely different story.  I think the bread is simply a delivery vehicle for the glorious French butter.  Sometimes I will put a teaspoon
The Crumb
of jam (preferably cherry or apricot) on the buttered slice of baguette, but most often it's just bread and butter.

But today, I found, on advice from my friend Romain, a new (to me) baker in the Saturday market.  He has resurrected an ancient variety of wheat once grown in this region, cultivates it, grinds it into flour and bakes bread for sale in the market.  There's a guy down in Cucugnan who does the same thing, and he resurrected the mill as well.  But his bread is really hard to get--he is sold out before he even bakes his loaves.  

I love the fact that I didn't have to buy an entire loaf--I could order a half or less if that's all I wanted.  He had a piece there that looked like half a small loaf of wheat with sunflower seeds in it, so I bought it.  It cost all of 2 Euros---for organic, locally sourced wheat (and probably the sunflower seeds as well).  I don't know what the equivalent size of organic bread in the US would be, but I am pretty sure it would be more than 2 Euros.  And while it might be organic, I am pretty sure the wheat would not be full of local nutrients.  
Really browned bottom crust

I had a slice, with butter--of course--for my supper tonight.  Oh my--my bread experience has been taken to a completely new level.  The crust was crisp, and chewy, full of flavor.  The inside of the bread was soft, but not gummy, toothsome and slightly, but not unpleasantly sour.  The texture and taste of the bread combined with the velvety sweetness of the butter was amazing.  I think I have found my new bread man.

And a note about butter--I bought some salted butter a couple of weeks ago, because I was careless and didn't read the label.  I was horrified when I got it home and unwrapped to fund it contained salt.  I can barely stand the stuff now, and once upon a time, it was all I ate.  I am using it as fast as I can to cook with, but I hope I don't make that mistake again. My favorites are the butters from Normandy or the Charentes regions of France.  I guess it's the flavor of the grass that the cows there ingest that makes it so tasty. 

This will toast beautifully in the mornng
I remember reading stories of Europeans setting out on a picnic of bread and butter, or bread and cheese, and little else.  As someone who grew up on Wonder Bread and Velveeta,  I never understood how those two foods could be a meal, much less one that satisfied. I understand it now.  Do they still even make Wonder Bread? 

And oh yeah, I bought some green cheese at last week's market in Limoux....basil flavored.  Yum!

A slice of the moon
 

mercredi 8 août 2018

Heat Wave

The world turned black and white for a few minutes
The newspapers called it the hottest weekend of the summer.  I would be hard pressed to argue the point.  I don't have air conditioning, so it was a battle to keep the heat at bay.  We do it here by opening the shutters when it gets cool (relatively) and shutting them again to live in the dark in the heat of the day.  It works against normal summer heat, but is only partially effective against la canicule--the heat wave.

Unfortunately my apartment is one of those spaces that holds in the heat.  It was too hot to sleep in the bedroom--it gets extra toasty there, even when there is no heat wave.  Coming out into the bigger, airier living room and sleeping on the couch worked pretty well, except for Monday night.  The humidity built and built.  I felt like I was back in the house of my mid-Atlantic childhood.  Even two fans didn't do much against the swelter.

Tuesday the heat wave was scheduled to break, and so it did, but not before I experienced the most uncomfortable day since leaving Maryland two decades ago.  It's not usually so humid here, but at nearly 60% yesterday, it definitely qualified as a HHH day. (Hazy/hot/humid) There were occasional winds that helped, but it was like being back in Baltimore. 
Relief is in those clouds

Late in the afternoon, I decided that a stroll outside would be cooler than my place, so I meandered down to Bar Felix and had a pastis---after one of those I and my numbed lips didn't care that a storm was approaching!  For lovers of anise flavored anything, I recommend this drink so beloved by the south of France, but--with plenty of water to start.  Otherwise, your lips will go numb too!
Note the neighbor's light. 

I got a little buzz, but not so much that I didn't notice the platane tree leaves are dry and rattling and beginning to show up fallen onto the streets. Whether due to the heat wave or to the normal summer cycle, it was a hint that cooler temperatures are not too far away on the horizon.  Once we get through the canicule.... 

The expected storm rolled in as scheduled, with not a lot of rain, at least on my street, but with plenty of thunder and lightning.  For several minutes, the world was black and white--what a very odd sensation.  The storm brought blessed relief from a string of nearly three weeks of nights too hot to sleep.  But last night--I even got under the covers at some point.  Ahhhh

From my living room window

samedi 4 août 2018

You Can Take the Girl Out of the Country, But...

       
In this morning's basket
Even though I don't live in the country (as opposed to the city) or even in the country of my birth, I guess there's enough of the country in me to appreciate the rhythms of food harvest and preservation. There is something about the sight of all that produce at the market that awakens memories of my early days as a country girl, harvesting vegetables from the garden for canning.  There is something eminently satisfying about shelling peas and snapping beans--almost every trip to the market yields a small saucepan of green beans, cooked and cooled for salads.  The peaches have been especially good this year, enough so that I have actually bought extra and frozen them for winter cobblers. 
A not-overloaded basket this morning

     It's nice to know that I don't have to "put up" summer's vegetable bounty in order to eat during the winter.  The French food supply may be seasonal, but there is always something fresh to be had.  I can find beans or potatoes or squash every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, and if I need only two zucchini, I buy only two zucchini--like I did today. (A recent gift of a huge can of Old Bay seasoning is prompting me to make fake crab cakes...using zucchini. ) It's nice to know, though, that I have the skill to preserve food should I ever need to.  And I saw potimarons--little pumpkins--for sale today.  That means fall harvest is on the radar. 
In the freezer for January cobbler

     I did succumb, however, to the peaches.  I sliced and froze several quart-sized bags.  I don't have a big freezer, and I don't have to provide for a big family, so several bags will do just fine to give me a taste of sunshine in the dark days of January.  
This makes me smile and smile

  

mardi 24 juillet 2018

Le Tour de France

Freebie hat

Waiting for the caravan in yellow freebie hats
Bicycling is a huge sport in France, and the crowning glory of the pastime  is the Tour de Franec.  The route varies year after year, with the exception of the last leg--it's always an entry into Paris.  This is the second time since I moved here that one leg of it has been hosted by Carcassonne.  In 2016, the racers were here for  one day--this year they were here for a full three.

The leader and winner of this leg comes into view
I saw the departure in 2016; this year I got to see both the arrival and the departure.  Arrivals are certainly more exciting and much, much faster.  The racers are, after all, trying to beat the clock and one another.  This year's finish was particularly close, with the top three riders engaged in quite a battle for the lead.  I have given up trying to get photos of the riders---I don't have a good or fast enough camera and they are gone in a matter of seconds.  There are far better photographers than I to whose work I will just post links.  The arrival into town, coming over the Black Mountains was widely attended--it was on a late Sunday afternoon, so people had the day off and could show up to clap and cheer.
Fan zone

The first yellow school bus I have seen in 3 years

Course for the youngsters

I think that because people come from so far away to see the race and it is over in the blink of an eye, the host cities must devise some other diversions to fill the time and make people feel like they have traveled all that distance for SOMETHING. This year Carcassonne had several venues with booths, activities, free merchandise, participation opportunities.  I think any tourist in town for the Tour would have felt like there was something to do, to see, to learn.  I went to most of them.
Yellow "jersey" on the Portail des Jacobins

The city set up a Fan Zone at one end of the Bastide, across from the Portail de Jacobins.  There were bike courses for all ages, as well as a BMX course for the more adventurous.  There was a display about the history of the Tour.  I couldn't help but think of Lance Armstrong---what a shame all that scandal was.  No mention of him anywhere, and he was such a strong presence for several years running.  They had booths set up selling official team jerseys and official Tour de France merchandise.  There was nothing for the two little tykes in my family, so they will have to wait until the next time for either a yellow jersey or the polka dotted one.
Artists at work Place Carnot

Proud of our Occitanie region

I stopped in at Place Carnot, where the city had numerous booths selling and giving away samples of local products--wine, truffles, ice cream.  fortunately, I do not like the locally produced ice cream--it's much too sweet for me, so I wasn't tempted by the free samples.  I had a lovely conversation with one of the truffle grower/gatherers.  The mayor was there, trying his hand (his legs?) at the bicycle powered blender.  I bought a few gifts for my friends and family who couldn't be here.
Product of our region

I wonder----what do the riders do on their rest day?  Sleep late?  Eat lots of pasta?  I didn't see any skinny bicycle-types while out and about, so maybe they are just lounging around thinking about the hundreds of miles yet to go.
yellow jerseys everywhere

one of the caravan characters

Part of this morning''s parade

One of the attractions provided by the Tour is the Caravan--the parade of floats and decorated cars that most of the sponsors enter to let people know who is footing the bill for most of this spectacle.  It's never as simple as a couple of people just having a bike race, is it?  They come along the side of the streets, throwing all manner of doo-dads to the spectators.  The biggest sponsors are Carrefour, the national grocery store chain and Vittel, the sellers of bottled water.  They had a specially designed float that came along and sprayed the crowd with water, especially appreciated on the entry, when it was so hot.  I didn't get very good photos of the entry caravan, but because the crowds were sparse this morning for the departure, I did get a couple of nice photos to share.  And I even got pelted with some loot, all of which I have sent back to Andrew and Lauren in the States....I do not need a tire tread gauge, as I have no car!  
Gendarme keeps an eye out

I got one of their blue hats

Cookies

After the departure caravan, I walked up to the Bearnaise village---a collection of tables and booths showcasing the Bearn region of the Pyrenees.  I bought some of their local products and they, too are en route to the States.  Red saffron is one local specialty, and the first Bourbon King of France was from Pau, the largest town in the region.  The region is also Basque country and on my list of places to learn about and spend some time. I picked up lots of maps and literature.
 
Win a house

I love these old Citroens!

Back to Boulevard Jean-Jaures for the official departure of the riders at 11:30.  I gave up trying to get photos--I could NOT get away from this one woman who constantly stepped in front of me.  The departure is controlled--the riders are all bunched together as one huge group, which will change as soon as they get out of town and onto open road.  But it is impressive to see all those colors and helmets and realize just how quiet they are.  I waved, shouted good-bye and wished them all a good ride at the top of my lungs.  I don't know what was going through their minds, but I know at least one rider heard me, because he acknowledged me. 

All manner of "floats"

Riding uphill

French fry dress
The US had three teams to start with, but I don't know for sure if any of them are still in the running.  There were only three US riders in the entire 176 person race, and there was at least one US team that had not one single US citizen on it.  It reminded me of the World Cup.  

Vittel is a huge sponsor

I have no dog in this particular fight. I want the best guy to win.  I want them not to be doping.  I want them to not make it come down to who's got the best equipment.  I want them to just have a bike race.   
Food truck in Bearnaise village

Table linens from Bearn

Bearnaise goodies

Shady, nearly deserted Chenier this morning