What's Left And What's Cooking

 

What’s Left And What’s Cooking

Having reached the not so very grand age of 83 I’ve been telling myszlf for the last cuple of years that what is important is to focus on what is left. Admittedly I gave up the ambition of scoring the Cup Final winning goal for Chelsea later than I should have but reality must eventually prevail.

I returned from my trip to the UK (I found London to Avignon , with one change of train, particularly impressive) to fine weather and to find that caterpillars had been feasting on my cabbages. What is left I have sprayed with a caterpillar deterrent I then got friend Johann to help me clear the summer vegetable plants and ended up with a pile of red and green tomatoes and chillis and some aubergines and courgettes. A lot of this I gave to friends and to the Bar du Pont for whoever wanted it. I kept a lot of green tomatoes with which I shall make chutney and some red tomatoes and chillis. The allotment still has cress and rocket and celery and lettuces that are not yet quite ready to pick.

So what is left for me to do this winter ? I bought 50 narcissi bulbs which I shall plant in front of the house. Idid the same last year but mice and rats get some of them although I hope I am winning that battle and will have a fuller display next year than I did earlier this year. I also plan to plant some shallots. The midday temperature today (1st November) is an unusual 23 degrees and it has been similar all week so they should get established quickly.

And then there is cooking and I like to eat well so cooking is a winter pastime for me.the activities left for me in winter.

A few days after my return the Amitié Mollaniase had arranged a meal at the Maison Familiale Rurale in Buis. The MFR is a school for future restaurateurs and meals are prepared , cooked and served by the students. It’s not often that yu see a teenage Maitre D supervising a sitting. This meal was excellent and what really impressed me was a sauce forestrière served with veal. Now is mushroom season and the shops and markets are full of various varieties : chanterelles, lactères, girolles, trompettes de la mort, etc. I like mushrooms but have always found it difficult to get the full flavour out of them when cooking them. That is what this sauce did : essence of mushroom. I’ll have to find out how it is done.

Although the days are still warm the evenings are cool enough to justify stews and hearty soups : besides which I like cooking these. For dinner guests this week I have decided to do a beef stew, an English version of pot au feu with dumplings. Fortunately you can sill get beef on the bone here, which seems to have disappeared in the UK since the outbreak of BSE. I may do cress soup to go beforehand if I can find enough large cress leaves in the allotment. I like Maroccan soups, such a chorba, so those will be on the menu bedore long, as will a Flemish dish, beef with a stout such as Guinness and onions. With summers here being too hot for dishes such as these winter offers a chance for a welcome change. Howzver I have never really mastered desserts and I love fruit. Locally grown fruit is plentiful and varied here for most of the year and that is my preference for dessert when making a meal for myself. For dinner guests it’s more problematic. The baklava I make for the street party is always well received and I can make a decent apfel strudel but that is about it. Ice cream is an easy option but maybe I’ll try working on desserts this winter. Besides, cooking is one of the activities still left for me.

My Trip To The UK

 

My Trip To The UK

My trip started auspiciously. Friends Claudine and Jacques had arranged to take me to Avignon TGV to get me on my way but Claudine knocked on my door early. Normally when they come to Mollans from St Malo in the autumn Claudine makes a moules-frîtes meal and that hadn’t happened because she couldn’t find the mussels she wanted, small and tender. However she had found some in the Buis arket the previous day and so suggested I go to them at lunch time to have the usual meal before we took off for Avignon. As usual her moules were delicious. After lunch they took me to Avignon and I was on my way.

The train journey to London was smooth but not the end of it. I found myself near the end of a train a half mile long with two cases and not a luggage trolley in sight. They seem to have been banned from British stations. Making my way along the platform I found what appeared to be a cleaner’s trolley and used that to get to the end of the platform, where I found the escalator downwards had been switched off, presumably because it was assumed all passengers had departed. So I walked down the escalator and went into a maze of rooms indicated as UK BorderFforce. I found my way through the deserted maze to an exit sign and then found Mr Border Force looking miserable and doing something on his laptop. Then I took a taxi and I booked myself into a cheap hotel for the night.

The following day I had arranged to meet a long-time friend from working days, who had been instrumental in my writing one of my books, for lunch at Zedel, a favourite restaurant, and that evening I caught a train to Glasgow where my daughter met me.As in previous years I found lugging asmall and large suitcases around rather difficult but with taxis and an occasional hand from kind strangers I managed it. The luggage was necessary for presents for family.

On my first day in Scotland I unloaded rosette, a saucisson sec, a bottle of lavender essence, two boxes of langue de chat biscuits, a book I had written decades earlier in which I had written a dedication to my granddaughter Eilidh, who is seven, and a small marble box with semi-precious stones which I had bought in India decades earlier too, again for Eilidh to keep her treasured conkers or whatever. My family had arranged nothing, thinking I might like to just relax. However my daughter and I went to the bank to sort out some matters with my account in the UK. With impaired hearing and vision I can’t get through the bank’s security system and the bank seems to have no answer to this, making my account so secure that even I can’t access it. I also took the opportunity to buy some gifts for friends back in France.

The following day Eilidh was taking part in a 2km run. Her school has ditched the formerly mandatory corporate act of worship to begin the school day with a daily one mile run, a great idea I think.So off we went to see around 100 kids doing the run and then went for lunch at a nearby garden centre with a friend Eilidh had met on the run and her parents. After lunch I nought bulbs and a couple of clematis for us to plant later on.

The next day, Monday, was my birthday and we had arranged to go and see friends Steve and Jo in Ecclestone, about a 90-minute drive away. So, after I had opened cards and presents, off we went.I was at school with Steve so the friendship goes back a long way. Steve and Jo greeted us with bubbly and then we went for a pub lunch followed by a long chat at their home.

The last two daysof my stay were taken up with gardening, a bit more shopping and a visit to the Glasgow Science Centre, which Eilidh absolutely loved. It is full of hands-on exhibits illustrating numerous aspects of science and includes an IMAX cinema in which we saw fa ilm on ocean currents and a planetarium. Eilidh flew from exhibit to exhibt including the one on optical illusisions below. I was exhausted when we got back but Eilidh was still doing her impersonation of a perpetual motion machine. So ended my trip to Scotland.

Having understood the British non luggage trolley system I arranged for assistance on all the following train journeys. Assistance consists of an electric cart that transports you and luggage. So the trip to London went wmoothly and I duly ended up at the huse of my friend Margaret, a cello player who also works for a local charity. I unloaded cheeses and a bottle of lavender essence and we went for an evening meal in a pub where I had the mandatory glasses of bitter and fish and chips.

The next day we met my son, Carl, once more at Zedel, and we had a long chat which we continued in an adjacent pub afterwards. I handed over a considerable quantity of duck, confit drumsticks, breasts and slices of smoked duck, and a dry sausage, all of which Carl loves. Duck is not always easy to find in England and is normally sold whole. My cases were at last lghter. Margaret and I shared a bottle of wine that evening and then all that remained was the journey back to France. It went smoothly and I was met at Avignon by friends Daniel and Gerard who took me back to Mollans.and southern sunshine. The weather during my trip had been mixed, cold sunny days interspersed with dull wet ones, and there was evidence of flooding all in the fields and countryside all through England and France. But finally there was warmth and sun, which continued for days after my arrival.

Grumpy Old Man

 

A Grumpy Old Man

That is not usually me; I have plenty to be thankful for and generally enjoy life. Except, that is, when I have to deal with websites. Just over a year ago I wrote a feature article for Computer magazine in England about the mistakes websites make on usability. It is generally because of inadequate user testing It costs commercial websites money but that is their problem. I am much more concerned with practicality, ease of use, as cost factors make person to person contact much more difficult to obtain. The most general substitute is the assistant Cora, who seems to me to be badly in need of some artificial intelligence. My bank account is so secure that even I often have great difficulty getting access to it. My hearing and eyesight are failing, as happens with many elderly people, so ease of use is paramount. I wrote a Talking Heads column for several years for Computing in the 1980s, along with Donald Michie, a professor at Edinburgh university, and offered them a grumpy Old Man column recently. But I haven’t heard back.

Summer Is Over

OK, rant over, as well as summer. The first sign of that here is when early mornings and evenings become noticeably cooler, whatever the temperature during the day. More varieties of mushrooms and fewer varieties of summer fruit appear in the shops and markets; figs appear for the first time. The coco de Mollans beans have been harvested and this year a friend gave me two bags full of them, half of which I have cooked and half of which are in the freezer. They are much vaunted here with their own AOC but I have to confess that, to me, they are just like butter beans in England. There’s a weekend festival of the harvest in the village and I’m slightly surprised there are no aficionados in bean hats. Nyons has an olive festival in which initiates wear hats with bits of olive tree stuck in them and they tap tap one another on the shoulder with sprigs of olive tree. Only in France .The big

question here, as always, is how the grape harvest will go. I have noticed a big drop in the number of grape-harvesting tractors this year. The general trend is towards organic wine and I have been told that tractor harvesting is not allowed for organic wine. I don’t know if that is true and can’t see why it would be but, if it is so, it will certainly have the benefit of requiring more labour; anyway, grapes are always picked by hand for the better wines.

Some friends from England came to explore the village and seem enchanted with it. I have been particularly impressed by friend Marigold’s tenacity and determination to speak French as much as possible. We English never lose our accent entirely and it is always the “u” sound and the English diphthongs which betray us. Which brings me to my next topic……

Conversation Classes

I’ve decided to restart the English conversation classes here n the 24^th of September; I’ve placed posters around the village and informed the village website as usual and hope there will be some newcomers. There are normzlly 6-7 of us but winter can pose difficulties in attending so a few new faces would be welcome

.

Trip To The UK

I’m currently organising my annual trip to the UK to spend my birthday there. I have decided to do it by train this year and will go more or less directly to Scotland, spending just one night in London. On my way back I shall stay with a friend in London for a couple of days before returning to France. The time in London on my way back will be spent at least partly on shopping. The shops I miss most here are the Asian stores, and why don’t the French have back

 bacon?

The Allotment

The allotment has proved productive this summer, the only failure being green beans; I’ve no idea why. I’ve just about finished the autumn planting now. I couldn’t find any kale plants in the market, which was a bit of a disappointment, but cauliflowers and red and green cabbages are all planted along with leeks, some more spinach beet and lettuces. I’ve also sown carrots radishes, rocket, beetroot and turnips. I didn’t attempt as much last year and, although the leeks were successful, I had just some cabbage leaves. I’m hoping this year’s autumn planting will be more productive; at least I have more chances.

Family Visit and Village Festivities

 

Family Visit.

My daughter Natalie, son-in-law Andy and granddaughter eilidh came for a fortnight for their annual holiday here and seem to have thoroughly anjoyed it. For the adults it was a time to relax in as far as this is possible with a non-stop 7-year old and also, for Andy, a chance to do some cycling tours on country roads. He is a keen cyclis and determined to turn his daughther intone too. Eilidh managed

 

cycle runs of several kilometres, not bad for a 7-year old. Natalie, despite looking after everyone (including me) managed to find time to read a book or two. They all spent a lot of time in the pool, the weather playing ball for their stay. We usually had breakfast at the Br du Pont, went to the Buis market twice and had lunch at the Castors a couple of times. We made one visit to the allotment ogether, dug some potatoes and picked some tomatoes, chillis and lettuce. Ve also spent a happy day at the 

 

Ouvèzewaterfall/cascade splashing in the water, catching tiny fish and having a picnic. All of us went the meal in the street and all my coronation chicken, Tunisian lentil salad and Baklava was consumed there so there were no left-overs to clear up. How to sum up ? Just a good family holiday in great surroundings.

 

 

Village festivities

The annual round of village festivities kicked off as usual with the Feu de la St jean and a shofirework dislay. There was nothing special about it but it is always good to see the Banche Cour square crowded and buzzing. Bastille Day celebrations followed but were slightly marred by their coincidence with the final of the 2024 football Euros. As an England supporter I went along, more in hope than expectation, dressed in my Union Jack T-shirt and sporting a bowler hat. It was a deliberate gimmick that some people took advantage of for photo opportunities but watching the match meant I missed much of the July 14th celebrations going on outside the bar. My muted expectations were realised and a kind Dutch lady offered me a drink afterwards, noting that she had had the same disappointment a few days before at the hands of England. I refused the drink but thought it a very generous gesture. Anyway, Spain deserved to win.

Then the remaining official festivities came together on the following weekend: the fête votive and the painters in the streets. That event has been well and truly ressurrected after COVID with an astounding total of over 80 painters exhibiting. However, I didn’t get to see them, having intended to do so on the Sunday. A storm in the early hours of Sunday continued during the day and cancelled out all the remaining activitie for the weekend.

I must confess that I am slightly disappointed by the music on offer. Inevitably a lot of those attending the celebrations are visitors but I like to see the villagers bouncing and that hasn’t happened. The villagers are French and I don’t think that the music has been particularly appealing to French tastes. Let’s hear it for “Emmenez moi”.

Then, last Thursday at the moules-frites along came a guitarist to play bob Dylan and French tunes outside the Bar du Pont. And yes he played Emmenez-moi, and yes the place was rocking. Village entertainments committee please take note.

Politics, Gardening And Books

 

European Elections

I voted in the recent European elections and thus became familiar with the voting process, at least in Mollans. In the Uk you tick a box against a candidate/party. Here you pick up a candidates leaflet, or more than one if you want to hide your intentions from possible prying eyes, and, as in the UK, put it in a ballot box. What blew my mind were the 37 options on offer. I ‘m used to the half-dozen or so in the UK. I’d been warned I would be faced with more than a dozen options and had asked a friend, given very broad criteria, to make a first cull of them, but that still left a lot to sort out. The contrast with UK elections was stark.

So how to boil all this down? I’ll be clear. I think the UK election system is faulty. It allows for a government to be elected that has a minority of votes and that has happened. It also tends to give one political party absolute power, even with perhaps a slender majority. In the UK an election that results in a hung parliament is often regarded as a failed election. But why?; In a war situation you certainly need clear and decisive action. But in peacetime what is wrong with some kind of consensus? More specifically the UK system more easily allows extremes of government, right or left. There seems to be something in the British psyche that wants a definite decision, needed or not. European approaches to elections seem much more diverse, much more open to compromise. Supporters of the UK system could claim that the compromises have already been made in the political parties manifestos but, as we all know, a manifesto can be far from reality.

Anyway, my own stance is to detract as far as possible from the seeming movement across Europe to the far right. Rightly or wrongly I see the far right as dominated by the influence of Powerful and wealthy interests. So where do I fit in? It can only be as a pawn, who may or may not get lucky in fitting in to the plans of those big interest groups. I want to be more than that. I cannot have complete political control of my destiny but I won’t be a willing pawn. I believe that, through ownership of media and other channels of influence, the far right has learned to manipulate the uninformed and unthinking via appeals to xenophobia, prejudice and nationalism, to vote against their own interests and allow the powerful and wealthy to retain and even extend their wealth and power. This is what I will always vote against. In peace time, compromise and consensus are good. Division and nationalism, as Mitterand has said, lead to conflict and war.

The Fruit Season

This, as a self-confessed fruitaholic, is my time of year. In the shops and arkets we have cherries, strawberries, apricots, peaches, nectarines and melons in abundance; I always buy too much and have bought a bottle od druit alcohol to preserve some of that that I don’t manage to eat. What I love especially here is that almost all of this is locally grown and ripe. I could always buy as much in supermarkets in the UK but was always left wondering where it might have come from and whether, if unripe, would it ripen successfully or moulder or turn to rubber. Here I can buy three melons in the Buis market for 5 euros and tell the vendor I want one for today and two for two or three days hence and he/she will give me the right ones. For a fruitaholic, this is Heaven.

Gardening

I definitely have a different approach to my allotment than my fellow gardeners here. I have eventually understood that the others decide what they will want to eat and grow that in the quantity they expect to consume. If there is any excess they will happily give it away. The result is that a large part of their plots is fallow, covered in straw to impede weeds. I explain to them that I am a poor English peasant and my problem is how to provide enough to feed my wife, 20 children and other family dependents. So every inch of my plot must produce something to eat. Ike them, I’ll give any excess away. It’s just a difference in approach.

Meanwhile the front of the house is looking OK. The first flush of the honeysuckle is over but the jasmine has come in on cue to replace it. All the flowers in the front are blooming and looking healthy so it is just as I want it for when my family arrive at the end of next week.

The School

The school in Mollans is one of 15 in France taking part in a bilingual primary school experiment, French and English. The English library in Beaumont has finally closed its doors, Pat Stapleton who has run it for countless years now having reached the age of 93 and can no longer continue it. No home has been found for the 10,000 books so Pat has said anyone can take what they want. I’ve taken four or five for anglophone friends but, more importantly 40-50 children’s books for the school. Various people told me that the school wouldn’t be able to accept them because of this or that regulation but I met the headmaster and he was delighted to have them. A success!

Two Excursions And A Book

 

Two Excursions And A Book

The first excursion of the year organised by the Amitié Mollanaise was a trip to Les Baux, a small old village on a hill to the south which used to have a quarry just below it. The quarry is now a large hall with very thick rectangular pillars and all surfaces rendered smooth for light displays. The light displays are themed, the theme when I visited being Egypt. The constantly moving images over the different surfaces were quite striking but became boring after a while. Visits are intended to last an hour and that seemed about the right amount of time. No doubt because of the coach loads of visitors to see the light display the old village has been given over almost entirely to tourist attractions: cafes, restaurants and shops selling artisan products and mementos. I found that disappointing but probably inevitable.

On the way back we stopped at an olive farm, the riskily named Le Moulin de la Couille, the Bollock Mill. The olive oil produced there was certainly very good but, at 27 euros a litre, moe than I was willing to pay. I buy a supermarket oil for cooking at a quarter of that price and a fruity Spanish oil for salads in the Buis market for less than half that. The stall in the Buis market has a dozen different oils from which to choose and that should cater for most tastes. Perhaps not if you are an expert aficionado…….but I am not.

Then, this week, I decided to hold the English conversation class at the allotments along with drinks and muchies that everyone brought along. It was a very enjoyable, relaxed get-together for which I supplied an allotment vocabulary. We took a tour around the allotments before getting down to the serious business of eating and drinking. Josephine, a wild plant forager, made a pesto on the spot for us all to sample. I think everyone was pleased with the evening; photos are below.

 

 

I have had two book projects in mind as there is nothing printed you can buy that is of interest or helpful if you visit Mollans. One is to reproduce a history of Mollans that was created and printed some 10 years ago, for which I did the English translation. However several people were involved and the rights to reproduce it are complicated. So I have put that on the back burner for now. If it were to be done it really needed doing immediately to catch the summer tourist trade and that doesn’t seem possible. My other project is to write and produce a book myself for visitors to Mollans. That is progressing and friend Claudine has undertaken to translate my English text into French. So it will be in both languages and should be finished and on sale early next year at, I hope, a modest price.

Update

Update

The weather up to last weekend has been unexceptional, more or less what you would expect at this time of the year, rather wetter than usual but with quite a few warm sunny days. Then at the weekend we had two days of 29 degrees in the midday sun. They filled me with foreboding of what we might get later in the summer but the last few days have been cooler, helped by the Mistral deciding to take a hand.

Anyway the longer daylight hours have woken the village up and there are now groups of people on the cafe terraces most evenings, the first cycling teams streaming through and generally more life in the streets. The Cafe des Sports closed for a couple of months, nobody seemed to know why, but has reopened. Summer is about to begin.

I have been gardening almost non-stop and am sendig my cleaning lady mad. There are seedlings (and compost) on the balcony and around the house where there is sufficient light and she has to clean round them. I bring them in at night because I’ve found that rats are partial to a juicy seedling or two and, being in a rural area, rats will be around looking for food at night.

Whether or not a result of climate change two of my climbing roses in the front have already started blooming, a good 2-3 weeks earlier than usual. It has inspired me to start planting flowers naround the house that much earlier and my balcony now boasts an array of pelargoniums. On a chance visit to Lidl I found clematis on sale for 2.99 euros so couldn’t resist buying another three, which means I know have a dozen crawling over the house. The rambler roses I planted in the back garden and next to the wash-house opposite are now in full bloom but at least their timing is more or less accurate.

The allotment is already almost completely seeded and planted with just a small space in the middle which I haven’t yet decided how to use. I’m lacking sunflower seedlings this year. The plants I put in pots in the front last year have mostlykept their foliage preventing the seeds the birds drop from my balcony getting into the pots. I may have to grow some from seed myself. Despite the greater than usual rainfall the surface of the allotment is dry and so I have already had to start watering the seeds sown and seedlings planted there.

At the last meeting of the gardeners’ association we decided to put a lock on the entry gate. If boars got in there now it would be disastrous. The gardeners are aware of that and religiously shut the gate when leaving but others use the tables and benches around the outside and we have often found the gate left open. It has also been decided to restart the Friday evening aperitif ritual there now.

Some friends arrived from Brittany and brought me a bottle of Lambig. It’s distilled cider but not Calvados; the taste is certainly different but I’m not sure in exactly what way; it seems a bit more refined , rather less obviously made from apples.

My scrapbook for my granddaughter of her past visits here is proceeding nicely although there are some more photos that I need and I’m finding sizing the photos within the text challenging. I’m still planning on writing a book on Mollans but that will be mostly for the winter. I would need to have it finished in time for the next tourist season.

Finally I had been told that in order to vote in the forthcoming European elections I needed to register. So I went to the Mairie but it seems the process is now automatic; I was already on the electoral list. Friend Jacques suggested that the problem with the left is that it it is too splintered; the right coheres more easily. Nurture some cherished prejudices, add a dash of blind nationalism, dislike immigrants and revere money and there you have it. The left argues and splinters over philosophical details. Unfortunately I think he may be right. Where did the centre go?