Adding spice to life

 A while back I read a story about an American married to an Indian whose husband added something hot to whatever he ate BEFORE tasting.

For years I had as a boyfriend who added salt to anything he ate BEFORE tasting. Now I admit I don't salt when I cook, but he always added salt before tasting no matter where he was and who cooked UNTIL I served him a meal to which I'd added two large handfuls of salt. (I did have a substitute meal ready for him.) 

Rick loves Schwartz, a spice he imports in large quantities. We've been joking that he adds it to everything...orange juice, milk, meat, potatoes, carrots, ice cream...maybe an exaggeration--but not much.

I love teasing him, but sooner or later I suspect that he will taste his food THEN reach for the Schwartz.

Schwartz has added a bit of spice to our life.

Touching history

 The wonderful part of living in Europe is touching history, things only read about in books when I was a child.

As part of playing tourist yesterday we went to the abbey of St. Michel Cuixà. There has been a religious site since 840 but the original abbey was destroyed in 878 by a flood, and with the torrential rain and the raging river nearby, the event seemed a bit more real.

Abbot Oliba, whose signature is scrawled in stone within the abbey that he began in the 1080s.

We wandered the corridors, viewed the altars including a Madonna and child dating back to the original construction.

I could almost hear the voices of the monks from ages gone by singing a mass. I could imagine their feet shuffling over the ancient stones.

Beer or Byrrh?

When friends said let's go to a Beer Cave I wondered. Beer is made in breweries and wine in caves, but I'm always up for an adventure. Both Rick and I were at a lull in our writing and desperately needed time off.

Despite torrential rains we ended up in Thuir (not that far from Argelès) at the Byrrh (sounds like beer) Cave. The buildings were huge and we ducked in and out holding our umbrellas as protection during a tour.

In the 1800s Brothers Pallade and Simon Violet, saw that with the increasing interest wine, they should try to develop an apéritif wine flavored with cinchona. At first, much like Coca-Cola, it was marketed with as a health tonic to increase sales.

Their marketing was wonderful. In one example they showed an elderly couple in an embrace after drinking the beverage. It was not long before they had developed a world wide trade from a building partially designed by the architect for the Eiffel Tower. (see art work photo)

When the brothers died, one of the wives took over. Always good to their employees, they were a major provider of jobs in the area. Eventually the company was sold, but in Thuir there is still a major manufacturing plant. They boast the largest oak barrel producing vine in the world, 1,000,200 litres (see photo).

The tour itself used a film that bore all the trademarks of a film produced when film was new and was shown between holograms of red-suited, red-haired symbol of the product (see above) telling about the process. Where both Rick and I have worked in PR, marketing, exhibitions, we were as interested in the techniques of the tour as the content.

One room smelled wonderfully with coffee and cocoa beans, orange skins, and other ingredients.

A final tasting was definitely in order.

Who cared about the rain. 

Moseying around again

Saturday night, all night there was torrential rain. After lunch Rick and I decided to see if there was water in the La Massane River. I'd owned my flat in Argelès for over 18 years before I ever saw any water in the river. I'd seen elephants, camels and horses in the bed. I used to run my dogs up and down the bed, but no water. At the same time I know that the river has flooded and the police will call owners of cars along the banks to move them unless they want to be turned into boats.

On the way to do Ptah II duty we passed the original wall that is a tower dating back to the 13th century, built by a count to keep the town safe from the pirates. When Jean-Marc does his English tour, he needs to work on the word "count". Take the "o" out and you have the way he says it.

The last stop was to visit Ptah II. His owner is in the States for almost three months and he is visited daily by Fatima, Lydia and me to talk to him, pat him, and make sure he has food, water and cleaned litter box as well as get his daily combing.

Today he wasn't particularly interested in socializing compared to yesterday when my lap was in demand for an extended cuddle. I read for a while, but then left.

Rick learns cooking

(Photo: Rick begins his cooking lesson in our tiny, tiny, tiny kitchen area that is mega efficient. Years ago I saw what great meals French cooks turned with almost no space and minimal equipment. Only requirements: good knife, food processor, pots and pans, stove top, oven, frigo (mine is about the size of two large suitcases but when one buys food daily, larger isn't necessary.)

When Rick and I met up in Starbucks after 24 years he was 30 pounds heavier than he is now and I don't know how many more pounds than when we first met in the 1970s.

Now some might say the stress of dealing with me is the reason for the weight loss. I wouldn't say that of course.

I prefer to attribute it to much healthier and varied eating habits.

He was of the theory if it were a vegetable or fruit you held your fingers in a cross between him and it in case it turned into some kind of blood-sucking creature with or without the full moon.

Now he tries everything and has discovered most veggies and fruits are delicious (especially if they are prepared by Thibault at Bartevelle).

We don't always make the goal of eating at least five different fruits and vegetables daily or the more colours on the plate the healthier, but we at least try.

While living on his own Rick did begin to cook a few things and when he made them for me, they were good. But he wants to expand his repertoire...partially because whoever cooks, doesn't clean up, although the cook better cook neat.

Yesterday Rick learned to make a good spaghetti sauce. We can freeze some of it so we won't have to use that canned stuff with who knows what in it.

The joy of shopping at the marché was the first step and a variety of veggies does provide a lot of the daily required vitamins. Not only that is fun looking at mostly locally grown produce that is freshly harvested and seasonal.

He was a good student and the results were delicious.

I come from a family of great cooks: my mother was a gourmet cook, while my grandmother produced traditional New England dishes that made me look forward to meals. My father was a bit of both styles. (For several visits south to help my stepmom clean out his stuff after he died, we were still eating his spaghetti sauce that had been frozen--the term the Jimmy Memorial Spaghetti was not a joke but brought us comfort.) All the cooks in the family might start using a recipe than improvising forever after. When something was really, really good, we would say, "Enjoy it now it will never be exactly the same again."

Thus teaching Rick involves techniques and alternatives. His next challenge will be medallions of pork.

For his future reference when deciding what to cook, here's what we both should be working with and choosing.

The list below is for him in selecting what side dishes so we stay healthy and live long lives together.

Vitamin A
It is good for healthy eyes,  skin, immune system and cell development. Found in sweet potato, kale, carrots, spinach, avocado, broccoli, peas, asparagus and green pepper.

Vitamin B1 (thiamine)
Converts carbohydrates into energy needed for healthy  heart, muscles, and nervous system. Found in  peas and avocado.

Vitamin B3 (niacin)
Good for healthy skin and nerve function. Found in avocado, peas, potatoes, mushrooms, corn, artichoke, asparagus, lima beans, sweet potato, kale, broccoli, carrots and green pepper.

Vitamin B5 (pantothenic acid)
Helps the body for cellular processes and optimal fat maintenance of fats. Found in avocado, sweet potato, potatoes, corn, lima beans, artichoke, mushrooms, broccoli, cauliflower and carrots.

Vitamin B6 (pyridoxine)
Helps in normal functioning of the brain and nerves. Breaks down the proteins to create new red blood cells. Found in avocado, peas, beans, potatoes and carrots.

Vitamin B9 (folate/folic acid)
Helps make red blood cells for DNA. Found in Lima beans, asparagus, avocado, peas, artichoke, spinach, broccoli, corn, sweet potato, kale, potatoes, carrots, onions and green pepper.

Vitamin C
Helps form collagen keep healthy bones, teeth, gums, brain and blood vessels healthy. Needed for the body to absorb iron. Found in artichoke, asparagus, avocado, broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, corn, cucumber, green pepper, kale, lima beans, mushrooms, onions, peas, potatoes, spinach and sweet potato.

Vitamin D
Strengthens bones and the absorption of calcium. Found in mushrooms and sunshine.

Vitamin E
Helps protect the immune system. Found in pumpkin, asparagus and broccoli are vegetables that are rich in vitamin E.

Vitamin K
Needed for protein modification and blood clotting.  found in broccoli, spinach, kale, Cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and so on.


A complete chart is www.health-alternatives.com/vitamins-nutrition-chart.html

Two murders, two writers two real estate agents, one village

When I bought my studio a couple of years back the real estate agent wanted to be a writer. I told him I was just publishing Murder in Argelès. There's a local author who had written a book with the same title only in French. On the way back to the office he stopped at the Librarie (book store) and bought it for me.

Fast forward to now when Rick and I were with another real estate agent who was showing us the orange house above. We were talking about the flavour of the village and how I love how the old women and old men gather on certain benches and talk about how they would save the world. "The bench by Elisabeth's," the agent said, "It's called the Senator's Bench."

"I know, I first learned from a mystery Murder in Argelès, the French one, not the one I wrote.

He stopped and looked at me. "You wrote a book called that? My Uncle wrote a French one by the same title."

As for the house, it is across from the 14th century church, narrow and deep with a wonderful terrace where we can see the mountains. Not sure we're ready to buy, but if we were, that would be it.

Before we parted, I told the agent when he saw his uncle to tell him how much I'd enjoyed his novel.

Philby

In my grandmother's recipes cards I found this recipe for philby, which I never remember her making but I thought I'd try it.

1.5 cups soft cooked rice
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon sale
1 cup milk
1.5 tablesppons melted butter
2 beaten eggs

Mix ingredients thoroughly and bake in buttered 9 inch round pan in a preheated 450°F/232°C overn for 35 minute. Cut into wedge-shape pieces.

Okay for a side dish. We then experimented by adding to different wedges...nutmeg, cinnamon and melted cheese.

I want my friends NOT to be in disasters

I don't think it is much to ask that my friends NOT be in disasters.

We just heard that our Philippine friends are okay, but not taking it for granted with more storms predicted.

In the last couple of years my friends in various people were in earthquakes, typhoons, civil wars in

• Egypt
• Thailand
• Syria
• Japan
• Philippines

I'm lucky to know so many lovely people. I just want them all to be safe. 

Still learning

I was so happily single that everytime I see a new advantage of having a partner I am shocked.

Today was one of those days.

Rick is an airline buff and there was a model airplane, car, train, boat show being held in town. During the morning instead of going while I visited with a friend, he wrote. It was going to be big covering at least three large halls. One must remember that Argelès is a village of about 8,000 people.

Normally, I'd never attend, but I thought he'd enjoy it and if he thought I wanted to go, he'd shut the computer off. I was right. We blew over to the location with the winds of 43 KMH. I'd half expected to be half bored.

WRONG...

The models were fascinating. A favourite was the tiny cotton candy dealer, but nothing quite matched the detail in this model of a 1930s champagne cave.

 Everything in the display was handmade by a man after he retired. His wife described his techniques and did admit that it kept him out from under her feet. This was their first time in the south of France, although they've exhibited all over Northern France and in Switzerland. She described how the display was transported by breaking it up and re-esembling. Click on the photo to appreciate the detail.

As we walked to another hall with still more unbelievable models, Rick kept shaking his head. That people did this much for what they love with no interest in economic advantage was something he admired but hadn't seen much of coming from a more commercial culture.

Like me, he's still learning.

May we never stop.

see Rick's blog on the exhibition http://lovinglifeineurope.blogspot.fr/ He has great photos.

Haiku leaves

The Tramantane swirls

Crackling leaves at Place Come St

Damien today

Moseying around Argelès

One of the wonderful things about Argelès is the ability to walk everywhere and not have to have a car. In walking we discover more than we would otherwise... Here's some examples that amused us...

I collect photos of painted mailboxes. This is a new one, perhaps not the most beautiful but I suspect a lot of love went into its painting.

When I first bought into Argelès on my 45th birthday (you do the math for those that know my current age, but for those that don't, a long time ago) all the houses were grey and there wasn't much care given to the upkeep of the village. Now the houses have been painted gay colours, and the main street is lined with hanging baskets. The mountains add a lot with their many moods.

I would have missed this if Rick hadn't giggled. All the signs to this and that place and then a sign saying other directions, pointing the other way. And tomorrow is a holiday for the 11th of November. One could write a complete history just by street names. Many have dates of famous events, and almost all towns and cities honour famous writers with a street named after them.

To date I haven't found a place in France without a street named Jean Jaurès http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Jaur%C3%A8 a famous socialist from the late 1800s. Any country to so honour a socialist is a place that I want to live.

Then walking over to see a friend, these casings stuck me as beautiful in an understated natural way.

Again, it may be boring to read over and over, but life is wonderful. By opening my eyes, it is even more wonderful.

I love you Jamie

No, I'm not unfaithful to Rick...

Watching Jamie Oliver before I left Geneva last week, I saw him make the following

1 pork medallion per person which you slit
Put in Feta cheese
wrap in smoky pancetta
Add a little sage
Fry in olive oil...

Today I made it for lunch.

He also made a courgette recipe, but there were no courgettes in the market. I may have to wait for spring, but I won't forget.

I don't know how long this cooking craze will go on. I do know that on Saturday we'll get a roasted marché chicken and Sunday we have reservations to eat couscous on Sunday.

However, there are two pork medallions left, and I've challenged Rick to find a recipe for them. Of course, that means it will be my turn to do the dishes.

the spectacle of nature

I was concentrating on the least favourite part of writing: doing the final formatting of my novel before submission where every space has to be perfect and all typos history.

Suddenly Rick was at my shoulder.

"Come quick, you have to see the sky."

We rushed downstairs, out into the street and around the corner. With the sculpture of an angel in the foreground and the most unusual sky with the setting sun making the blue bluer and streaks of pink clouds, it was truly breathtaking. In the foreground was the newly repaired angel.

"I've an idea." Another race around two corners, down an outdoor flight of stairs and to the bridge over the river that sees water only in the spring.

The blue had faded a bit but the pinks had strengthened. They were in rays throughout the heavens. The mountains were in the background.

Had it been on a canvas, no one would have believed it.

We stood, locked in a hug, happy and being alive watching the spectacle of nature. 

The Promised Baked Bean recipe

I wrote about baked beans a while back and people asked about the recipe. Since both the recipe cards written by my grandmother from the early 1900s until her death in 1969 and the New England cookbook which is older than I am, are part of the recipe I use they are in the photo. Some of the cards are typed. Some are in my grandmother's handwriting.

One quart dried yellow beans (I've made it with different kinds of beans since my grandmother's cards said it was okay)

1/2 pound of salt pork. (A little hard to get in France and Switzerland, but smoked bacon makes a good substitute)

1/4 cup brown sugar

1 teaspoon mustard

1/2 teaspoon mustard

1/2 cup tomato catchup (I usually leave this out)

1 onion

1/4 cup molasses (Although there are Swiss and France molasses products, I love it I can get the old favourite Grandma Molasses is available at the American stores in Geneva.)
 

2 teaspoons salt (I leave this out but my grandmother both added it sometimes and not others depending on the blood pressure of those that were eating)

Soak beans overnight in cold water.  In the morning, drain and cover with fresh water and simmer 1-1.5 hours or until skins wrinkle.

Turn into beanpot. Add other ingredients.  Add boiling water to cover.

Cook in 250°F oven covered for up to eight hours (I find 4 usually does it). Check periodically to make sure the beans are covered with water.

I serve with ham or hot dogs. Also cole slaw makes a good New England side dish.

For me there's something about having the bean pot that my great-great grandmother used, that sat on our dining room table most Saturday nights throughout my childhood that reminds me of who I am, where I came from.

Shopping as a joy

Yes, shopping phobic-me wrote this.

Everything I did was in walking distance of my studio.

First stop:

Flower shop to order a plant to be sent to my friends in the states. The woman had made my flower crown for my commitment ceremony and I chatted about the event. She asked about my friend who picked it up saying how lovely she was.

Above is the bio store. Didn't buy anything here today, but yesterday I bought beans and oatmeal and chatted with owner Pedro, whom I often dance with at street dances.

Second stop

Elisabeth's for spinach, sweet potatoes, walnuts, apples, kakis, tomatoes--chatted with Elisabeth about what we both had been doing in the last couple of months while I was in Geneva.

Third stop

The butcher Michel's. We chatted about the pork medallions I wanted and he cut them to order. He gave advice on the sausage (that the butcher had made) I wanted, and found the right substitute for the Italian ham that they didn't have. Chatted with Stephanie of Barteveille who was waiting in line. The Restaurant always buys products fresh and locally.

At the cashier, I was given a 2, 5, 20 centime pieces in change. The man who had just made a delivery said he would be happy to take my change. I gave him the 2 centime piece. He looked shocked for a second than broke into laughter. "C'est bon," the butcher said.

This isn't really shopping. This is communicating with friends and neighbours while stocking my kitchen. It is also keeping the money in the local economy rather than give it to some multi national.

And the best part...the food is fresh, top quality and delicious.

rue Vermeille and attitude lessons

Rue Vermeille in Argelès is considered the most beautiful street in the village (among many beautiful streets).

Even in November, flowers are abundant. Tourists stop and take photos. Locals take photos. Residents smile and say how lucky they are to live here.

But this morning, as I was heading to the shops there were three people on the street with their cameras. The women were saying how pretty it was.

However, the man, was growling. "Merde. Chiens. Merde."

Yes there was dog shit on this beautiful street. However, the man let this tiny pile, which he DIDN'T step in it and he forgot to look at the beauty all around him.

Attitude is everything.  As for me, I will step around the dog shit as I enjoy the flowers.

Fish and chips

Rick and I try and eat at least one meal together, especially when we are extra busy. It gives us a chance to catch up on what we’re doing, plan to do, or just enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes it’s a restaurant like yesterday which Rick blogged (Spoiler alert http://lovinglifeineurope.blogspot.fr/2013/11/5-star-dining-just-around-corner.html)

When we were in the UK last month he wanted fish and chips but we didn’t have a chance, so today, I decided to make it for him.

We started with cream of broccoli soup, which he never said he wanted or that he didn't want, but there was some broccoli in the frigo. I'm trying to use up and not throw away any food. That is a problem more with veggies (although I love veggies) than chocolate.

• 1 onion chopped and sautéed in olive oil
• 1 head of broccoli cut finely
• Cook in about a quart of water with chicken bouillon cube until really, really soft
• Process in food processor until smooth
• Add cream to taste

This is basically how I make all my soups. I don’t like to use canned or packaged soups because of all the chemicals and salt…At one time I used to have soup de poubelle (garbage soup where all the week's leftovers went into.)

Here’s the recipe below for the fish (for the chips I did regular French fries but I bake them to reduce the oil.)

• 1 egg
• 3/4 c. beer, at room temperature
• 1 c. all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1/4 tsp. pepper
• 1 tsp. baking powder
• 1 lb. fish fillets (scrod)
• 1/4 c. additional flour for dredging
• Vegetable oil or shortening for frying

Beat the egg, then beat in beer. Whisk in the flour, salt and pepper until smooth. Cover and let stand 30 minutes. Just before frying, stir in the baking powder. Pour enough oil in fry pan to cover fish, but no more than 2/3 full to allow for rapid bubbling. Heat 375 degrees. Cut fish into serving size pieces and pat dry with paper towels. Dip into flour and then batter. Lower into hot oil and fry about 3 minutes or until golden brown and puffy. Drain. Approximately 4 servings.

Kaki fruit for dessert.

I'm in a cooking mood...he isn't discouraging it.

I'm a colour freak

I will admit to being both a neat and a colour freak. I can drive my daughter crazy when I say things like, "See the blue wave in the couch fabric. That's the same colour as in this painting. She is a mistress of eye rolling, gained from my many, many remarks about colour. I can't help it. Colour makes me happy.

Coming back to my nest (now my office) Rick had left as a surprise an arrangement of dried flowers that picked up all the colours in my pitcher. The photo doesn't totally show the true colours and the closeness of the match).

And when I'm tired of them in the pitcher, I'll hang them from my beams along with other dried arrangements, my baskets and my copper pots and pans, a permanent memory of a lovely surprise.

Petite Cougar had a major surprise for us

I was working on the newsletter when my bell rang. It was Petite Cougar. She'd left Geneva and said she'd be travelling to try and forget the love of her life, Scooby Doo. It had been Lady Leopard's idea, who said that a geographical cure doesn't change the situation, but it might give her a different perspective.

She asked for a cup of tea and if we could use the antique Art nouveau set.

Ooopps...that is only brought out for serious discussions.

She hemmed and hawed and never got to the point. Finally she insisted she had something to show me but she hoped I wouldn't think too badly of her.

I found her on the couch and frankly, I was shocked.

"He looks like his father doesn't he?" she said. "I call him Scooby Two."

Focus, focus, focus

I am awakened at 5:05 by the pounding rain outside my window and the wind disturbing the leaves and acorns that have not yet fallen.

I’d gone to bed early to finish reading the novel that I need to leave for J when I go to Argelès tomorrow. My daughter says I pretend to read when I go to bed, for I often awake many hours later, the light still on, the book across my chest and my glasses askew on my face.

I listen to the rain then put the light and finish the novel.

Annabel comes and sits on my bed. She dressed in the flapper style of the 1920s. Despite her taking over the cookie factory, she’s never lost her love of clothing which annoys Dieter, her husband who is always  off on political junkets. Annabel has been a difficult character from the start. She has had to hid her strength in flightiness while maintaining the family business.

“I think I should have an affair,” she tells me. “Maybe the wheat salesman. Make him Canadian, blond, tall with a Swedish name.”

Annie appears at my door. “Okay, if my assignment is to write her life story from her journals, how and hell will I know this. She’d never write about it so anyone else can discover she was unfaithful.”

“Simple,” Annabel says. “I’ll write it in code.”

“And how will I break it?” Annie asks.

“You do cryptoquotes all the time. I’ll do a simple letter exchange, j for e, for example.”

Annie sighs. “But you’re writing in Swiss German.”

“So? Don’t be lazy.”

Annie turns to me. “Speaking of lazy . . . you’ve got to finish those corrections on Murder in Ely that J has sent up. That book has got to get to your publisher. And when are you going to format it?”

I know, I know. G, my editor, will want the manuscript not only perfect in the writing but in the spacing, the headings, the type size. Otherwise he’ll yell. Now we Skype I can listen to his rants rather than read his emails in caps saying “YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER” when a tab appears that I forgot to take out.

I nod. She doesn't need to remind her that I also need to proof the final copy of Murder on Insel Poel, but I’ve reserved the train ride tomorrow for that. And then there’s about 43 emails with stories for the newsletter that I will also need to work on today.

I get out of bed, close the window that muffles the sound of the rain, and take my computer back to bed with me.

As Annabel and Annie leave the room, they remind me to focus, focus, focus.

The clock reads 7:50 but it is really 6:50. The reset button is stuck so for six months of the year, the time is off. 

 

I’m ready to focus, focus, focus.