Farewell dinner

It was a little to cold to sit outside on the petit balcon this week, but late this afternoon as the sun streamed in the glass doors, I made myself a little snack and an Aperol spritz and sat at my bistro set in the warm sunlit spot enjoying my little corner for the last time in 2015.

I feel lucky to have been here three times this year. Enjoying the quiet, the peace, feeling nourished by the fresh air, the open skies, the blinding sun as it sinks low behind my castle. The familiar always feels good, like a favorite sweater, but new discoveries are welcome too.

I met my neighbors Stuart and Neil today. Londoners who bought the large house diagonally across the corner, Stuart was out front sweeping his stoop and I introduced myself. We chatted a bit and I told him I was a gardener and heard he had a lovely courtyard out back. Well this led to an invitation for a quick tour. To say I was floored is a major understatement. Not only do they have a stunning courtyard, about the size of my first floor, they have turned their first floor rooms into timeless, elegant spaces. Looking around at the choices: the art, the lighting, the antiques, there was no question that at least one of them was an interior designer.  

The courtyard reminded me of the Spanish houses we'd seen in Granada, influenced by Moorish themes--it even had a pool!  Then I remembered they owned a house in Marakkesh. Sue told me of it as she is also their housekeeper. I asked about it and we had a long talk about the magical country of Morocco. Stuart said he rents his place and it comes with a cook and housekeeper. There's even a direct flight to Marakkesh from Bordeaux.  I was never interested in traveling there before, but who knows, each new connection can lead down an interesting path . . .

My neighbor Stefan was delighted to find me at home yesterday. We chatted for awhile to catch up on neighborhood gossip then said au revoir. He told me to send "peace and love from France" to Joe. Later, he knocked on my door to give me a gift: a box of his favorite insense, which, he says smells like honey and curry. I told him I would bring it home and try it there. He beamed.

I cleaned up my potted plants, removing all the dead leaves and letting anything green and vigorous stay a little longer. I pulled up the cherry tomato and ate the only two ripe ones off the vine.

The suitcase is packed. The house is clean and ready for Mandy and Michael, who arrive tomorrow and stay for six weeks. I'm a little jealous as I haven't been able to put together my own six weeks here yet, but they are a lovely couple and I feel I am leaving the cottage in good hands. We have an invitation to visit them at their new place when we return in the spring. 

So that's it. Au revoir from Duras. 

Evening stroll

The views from behind the castle looking roughly northwest are always beautiful, but the late afternoon fall light gives everything a warm, golden glow and enhances the colors and deepens the shadows. I enjoy this nightly hike around the village, behind the castle and sometimes up behind the clock tower. 

A couple of days ago I noticed that my little band of photogenic donkeys are no longer at the nearby pasture. At first I thought they were roaming elsewhere, but then I saw that their fencing had also been taken down and the property mowed. I felt sad, but I'm over it now.

After I had logged a couple of kilometers, I rewarded myself with a trip to the boulangerie, where I procured a baguette that I ate in the street on my walk home. I ripped off the crunchy heel and offered it to the little black and white dog that's in charge of Rue Cesar Jauffret and he sniffed at it then ran past to ward off some perceived evildoer before they had a chance to invade our block. I hope a pigeon gets it.

Eymet market, etc.

Today I had a lunch date with my friend Mimi Knudsen who I met last year after I discovered her travel blog from France and started a pen pal relationship. We met in Eymet at Les Pieds sur Terre, which has become a go-to lunch spot whenever I am in Eymet.

I got to Eymet early as it was market day and I walked the stalls in the ancient square remembering that I had read recently that the Eymet Thursday morning market had been operating continuously in the same spot since 1270. 1270! That's nearly 750 years! I tried to imagine what the vendors were selling on this date in 1270: the pumpkins and apples would surely have been in season. The chicken vendor has his fancy rotisserie truck now, but I'd bet fire-roasted fowl of some sort would be offered. Maybe sheep skins to ward off the coming chill or boots--resembling Uggs, but cruder--would likely have been crafted to order. Goat cheese was probably plentiful and similar to what's sold now. 

I sat in a café and ordered a grand crème so I could people watch for awhile. I studied the scarf guy, who also sells at the market in Duras. One of the characters in my novel is based on him so I lurked about near his stall to get more character details. I told myself that I should go introduce myself and tell the guy that he's in my book, but I worried that he'd think I was a bit of a nut, so I didn't.

Today I found some lovely bouquets crafted of dried flowers and brought them home to perk up a couple of spots that needed some color.

Buried treasure

I have now owned the Clocktower Cottage for 16 months. I have spent much of my time here organizing things and making it my own. I thought I had visited each nook, cupboard and drawer, but apparently that's not true. 

Tonight, while sweeping the kitchen floor, I looked down at just the right angle to see a drawer beneath the oven I'd never noticed before.  It surprised me at first--thinking that I may have overlooked something. I really believed there were no new surprises. Not there especially as I spent a great deal of time on that floor when I was painting the cabinets. How could I have missed it?

So, what's in the drawer?

Two English cake pans with a clever built-in mechanism for getting the cake unstuck from the bottom. You swing the blade around until the whole item is loosened from the pan. Brilliant idea!

Don't know what this is, but it's cute.

Two vintage enamel baking pans: one big enough for a lasagne and the other perfect for a dainty pie for two. These are in beautiful condition--pure white with a lovely cobalt blue edge. These are my favorites!

Two great things about France

One: chestnut yogurt!!

Two: an entire aisle of rosé

How could anyone not be happy here?

Voila!

I've had three tiny framed silhouettes for some months now and I haven't been able to find the right home for them as they are just to small to make any kind of impact on a large wall. I brought them to Duras with me hoping to locate just the right spot, but after a couple of days, that spot was just not revealing itself.

So, while I was sitting on the couch last night, streaming The Paradise on Netflix, I had a thought. Here's how I unified the silhouettes and turned them into something with greater impact: 

Now hanging in my bedroom: 

Fall drive in the country

It was a perfect fall day today: crisp, clear air, deep blue skies and a rosy sunset for the finale. I took a ride to Bergerac--not historical Bergerac, but the shops at the rotary at the exit for Bergerac. Anyway, coming back, between Bergerac and Sainte Foy, I saw a sign pointing toward Duras. It wasn't a turn I typically take, but with three-quarters of a tank of gas and nothing at all to do, I took the turn.

The road passed through the historical towns of Gardonne, then Saussignac, before becoming a narrow country lane. The lane passed by farms and tiny towns with only a derelict church and maybe a post office.

Grape vines blazed in all colors of fall. Plum trees, recently covered with snowy spring blossoms, glowed warmly in the late afternoon sun.

Lazy cream-colored cows munched on crispy grasses. The skeletons of sunflowers bent their heads in dark silence. In some places the farmers had already cut the sunflowers down--leaving a five o'clock shadow of stubble across an undulating field.

Signs pointing the way to Duras popped up at various intervals, but at unmarked intersections I headed roughly west and always managed to get back on track to the next sign validating my course.

It was a perfect fall day for a long ride through vines, through forests, 

I am back! Soup's on!

After nine days in Italy: seven in Tuscany and two in Ravenna, I have traveled to my tiny, adorable village of Duras, where I will putter and catch up on some projects for the next five days.

Being a tourist in Italy exhausted me! We never stopped. Never planned a light day.  So the first item on my French agenda is to give myself a break.

On arriving in town about 3 p.m., I stopped first at the Carrefour supermarket to pick up a couple of days worth of supplies. Unfortunately I missed the Monday morning marché in Duras, but I am well stocked and will not have to go out again until I recharge my batteries. So I am holed up in the Clocktower Cottage until further notice. 

I got to the cottage and found all in order as I knew it would be. Sue was in to give it a good cleaning and bring the box I mailed to myself in care of her address.

Soupe. Potage. Pot au feu. Whatever you call it, I wanted some, and bought everything I needed to make a big pot of soup. Some people like to burn incense or candles to chase out the musty smells. I like to cook! And, I like to personalize the house by cooking something that will waft through the rooms, up the stairs, out the open windows and through the neighborhood.

My soup started with a chicken, a big leek, some carrots, celery, water, salt and pepper. I went out to the street to see if I still had some of the herbs I planted in a pot in the spring. I did, and I cut several sprigs of thyme, some rosemary and some parsley. After everything had simmered together for 1.5 hours, I removed the chicken to a big bowl and let it cool a bit. I chopped up half the chicken and added it to the pot, then put a couple handfuls of tiny elbow pasta. I let it simmer again until the pasta was cooked then took it off the stove to cool a bit while I did some laundry and took a shower.

When I began to feel like myself, I poured a glass of rosé, which Sue is now trained to pop into the fridge to get cold in time for my arrival, then I feasted on my perfectly comforting and warming potage.

There's plenty of it! I think I know what I'll be eating every day this week.

Saint Emilion under the sun

Sometimes you have to be a tourist. We don't do it very often, but on an extremely hot day when every step on the cobblestones resulted in a burst of perspiration, we decided it might be a good day to conserve our energy.

We bought tickets for the St. Emilion wine tour at the tourism office. For just 10€ each we got a wine tour of the famed chateaux, a tasting later at the Maison du Vins, and complimentary macarons at a village bakery. Fearing  that it might be a little cheesy-- like a tour of celebrity homes--we put on our headsets, tuned them to Anglais, and we were off for a very pleasant hour.

The tour narration was far from cheesy. In fact we both learned a lot about how the region evolved geologically, geographically, politically and economically. Religion also played a huge role in the formation of St. Emilion as there were five different monastic orders with roots there.

Ultimately, putting the heady topics aside, it was all about the vines--million of vines with billions of berries sitting in the sun and soon to be the 2015 vintage. The neat rows make me feel calm--everything in such order.

When the tour was over, we headed into the village and enjoyed a pleasant lunch of gazpacho and crepes under a big, white umbrella that protected us from the Africa-like temperatures. With low humidity and a nice breeze it was quite comfortable.

We walked into the tasting rooms of two wine producers and explored the chilly, dark caves, then went into the wine museum where we had a tasting of two wines from La Greniere, a vinyard in Lussac. The owner/winemaker was doing the pouring and he was happy to share a lot of information about his wines. We picked two, the I asked him if he had any favorites among the wines of his neighbors and he was very accommodating and showed us some of his personal favorites from among the racks.

Back home to the Clocktower Cottage, we turned the key thinking that it would be stinkin' hot in there--but no! It was cool and comfortable--stones are a natural form of air conditioning.

Day market/ Night market

There's nothing quite like a French market for a total sensory experience. The heat and light of the summer only enhances the sounds, aromas and colors of the items for sale at the vendor booths.

Today we did a market double header--going to Monpazier for the marché traditionel today, then taking full advantage of the marché du nocturne in Duras this evening.

Monpazier is one of the Plus Beaux Village du France and so, when it's market day there the village is not only beautiful, it's lively and festive too. We bought cheeses, tapenade and olives. I found some other gift items in the local shops. We sat down for two café grand crème at a sidewalk café and watched the multi-colored, multi-ethnic, multi-generational crowd mill about the stalls.

On the way back we stopped in two new towns for us--Villeréal and Lauzun, both in the Lot-et-Garonne department a little south of Duras.

Tonight, we invited my pen pal Mimi and her husband Ken to come join us at the night market. We started with appetizers and aperitifs at the Clocktower Cottage then, after we'd finished nearly two bottles of rosé, we headed down to the market square to find dinner.

We all made a sweep of the dozen plus food booths and everyone chose which vendor they would buy dinner from. Mimi volunteered to save four spaces at a dining table while the rest got our dinners, then she got up and headed to her preferred vendor. I ended up with Spanish-style calamari with rice, Joe got a half chicken with potatoes and veg, Ken got a heaping plate of ham with sides and Mimi found grilled sea bass. We sat at the Café de la Paix tables and ordered a beer from them and had a good table close to the excellent jazz combo. I'm not exaggerating when I say that there might have been over 1,000 people at this village event. Duras was truly the happening place tonight.

Mimi and Ken left us after ten o'clock and we sat on our terrace with the last drips of wine listening to the last set of the jazz band playing in the square until the clock above our heads told us it was time to call it a night.

Allemans du Dropt

I've seen the signs for Allemans du Dropt several times, as it's on the way to Eymet, but never had a reason to stop. Sue, my caretaker, once told me there was a good hotel restaurant there, but otherwise I knew nothing about it. 

First, it's right on the river Dropt and has a beautiful stone bridge that you must cross to enter the village. Second, it has two postcard-perfect waterfalls that rush beneath an ancient stone mill. 

We didn't try the restaurant on this visit as it wasn't lunch or dinnertime, but we will in the future.

Third, there is a tiny, ancient church from the 11th century with frescoes that are lit by putting one euro in the light box. The frescoes are from the 15th century and are like cartoons when compared to the Signorellis and Giottos in Italy, but they are nonetheless a work of passion that has endured for some 600 years.

An artful lunch

Just next door to the Pizzeria Don Camillo, where we had a lovely outdoor lunch today, was a sculpture and painting gallery that had not been there before. We discovered that the artists were doing a two-week "pop-up shop" in a busy Duras square and we poked among the paintings and ceramics for a bit before we sat down to eat. One painting caught my eye and continue to speak to me while I was working on a bowl of garlicky moules frites. So, I bought it.

Les fleurs sont beaux

July in France is a riot of colors. Voila! Sunflowers fill acres and acres--almost too much for the senses.

Hollyhocks stand in straight rows along roadways, next to barns, alongside streams.

Pots in every village enthusiastically wave a rainbow bonjour.

I just couldn't believe this two-meter plus tall hedge of lavender growing around a corner and down a lane. The bees, the aroma--just heavenly.

First day musings sans pix

Ahhhh, finally sitting on my couch with a few quiet minutes to savor before I go to bed. 

It's always a long, hard slog to get to Duras, but ultimately it's worth it--always worth seeing the little distant gnome hat of the clock tower as you round the bend near Levignac, coming from Marmande, the rise of adrenaline as the car mounts the hill to the doorstep of the village. The squeezing of the car on the final leg up Rue Caesar Jauffret and then the empty spot in front of the cottage. Same thrill as last time. As always.

We settled ouselves in briefly, put on sunblock and floppy hats, then, like the sensible characters we are, we headed into town for what we now call our "attitude adjustment meal." The Chai and Rasade wine bar was shady in the afternoon so we chose a pair of glasses of rosé along with a platter of local charcuterie and fromage to snap us out of the lousy funk of long-distance travel that was weighing us down and making us cranky. The slippery duck sausage and the salty Pata Negra ham were out of this world and served to pry greasy smiles from our tight expressions. The wine acted as a lubricant, birthing the kinder words that burbled off our tongues. We ate, drank and suddenly the sunny, warm day was actually warm and sunny and breezy too, and all was forgiven and forgotten.

I was disturbed by the unchecked shabbiness of the potted garden upon arrival so found time to water, deadhead and groom the pots back to something respectable--more like me--and I felt much better when the job was done.

After showers, checked emails and some inventorying of the house, we went to the local Carrefour for some basic provisions, then decided to try Le Cabri for dinner, which is the restaurant just a mile outside of the village at the campground.

Our waitress Meghan was charming and kind, spoke both French and English, and was happy to have some American dialect spoken along with the ubiquitous British expat warbling. Her grandparents live in NYC, she said.

I had a salad with foie gras, bacon wrapped prunes and phyllo wrapped local goat cheese. Joe had duck confit with frites. All was simple, inexpensive and satisfying. Le Cabri is a great place to just be yourself. It's a campground so everyone shows up in shorts, with sunburns and cellulite, dogs and all else hanging out. No pretense here. Just casual, fun atmosphere and kind hosts.

It didn't get dark till 10:30, which was a total delight. If there's anything better than a summer day it's getting to enjoy more hours of one. Now I am tired.

Never enough time

It's the Fourth of July and I am feeling very happy to be American today, still I am looking forward to our travels this week.

We only have four full days in Duras on this trip, which seems so short so we are trying to make the most of each day regardless of the (HOT) weather. 

Tuesday, our arrival day, will be provisioning, napping, then nice dinner out--likely at La Terrasse, my favorite local resto. Wednesday we have a morning meeting with our handyman Warren to discuss putting a second master suite in the attic, then our day is open for exploring--or not--depending on how hot it is. Wednesday night is live jazz at the Café de la Paix with a charcuterie and wine dinner on our own balcony. 

On Thursday, I would love to go to the outdoor market in Monpazier, which we have not visited in two years, but is one of the very best in the region. That evening is the Night Market--le marché du nocturne--in Duras. That means we bring an empty plate from home and our own silverware and go booth to booth to fill up our plates. The long rows of tables in the market square will be filled with locals sharing food, ideas and friendship. There will be a live music group and maybe people will even be inspired to dance.

A few months ago I struck up a friendship with an American woman, now living in France,  who is a retired journalist (like moi) from Reno, Nevada. She blogs on her French experiences in the neighboring town of Lauzun. I invited her and her husband to join us for dinner at the night market, with an aperitif before at our Clocktower Cottage. I'm still waiting to hear from Mimi and hope she'll be able to share in the fun with us.

Friday will be our working day. Shopping for things we need for the fall renters, making small repairs, etc. Then Saturday morning we leave. I can already sense my coming sadness that there is never enough time . . .

French toast!

This very colorful seemingly abstract painting is actually a simulation of the weather patterns that are currently affecting Europe, especially Spain, England and France (!) where we are headed in just three days. The purple ribbon snaking across Europe is wreaking havoc with the energy grid, public transportation, and about 3,000 people--mostly senior citizens--have died from the heat.

I have been checking the forecast daily for the past two weeks and have been amazed that our little village of Duras and a whole swath of France has seen temps above 100 F several times. Just yesterday it was 103 in Duras. The day before it was 107. Yikes!! It's like Africa!!

I am still looking forward to our trip, being in my little cottage by the clock tower, but with no air conditioning and no window screens, I must admit I am a little nervous about our ability to be comfortable in these conditions. It will be a good lesson for us-- is this someplace we could actually spend a summer someday? Or not? Let's hope the cottage's thick stone walls help to keep the heat at bay.

The good news is that it is still relatively cool at night, so at worst, we can sleep all day then head out in the evening for strolling and dinner.

Other fun finds for the Clocktower Cottage

On my last couple of days in France, Linda and I poked around a few antiques and brocante shops in Eymet to see if there was anything that wanted to come home with me.

Well, there were these 1930s-era cross stitch on linen framed pieces that just had a certain magique about them. They ended up on the dining room wall. I liked that they were completely worked in black-- they remind me of cut-paper silhouettes.

Then, after realizing that a new shop called the Shabby Chic Boutique had recently opened in Duras, we headed in there and I was immediately smitten with a small buffet and hutch that had everything going for it: size, price and certainly the mustard-colored painted finish with a blue interior. As Goldilocks once said: it was "just right."

What came home

Besides me, that is. Yes, I have returned to Les Etats Unis and was unpacking my bags this morning. This is always a little like Christmas for me in that I usually forget what I've bought and delight in surprising myself.

So, in the food and wine department we have, from left to right: Lesieur mayonnaise, coarse sea salt, Turkish delight (a gift from the Istanbul airport from Linda), Amora Dijon mustard, wine from Saint Emilion, Epices Rabelais and chocolate covered prunes from Maison Guinguet in Duras.

The back story: I read about Amora mustard on David Liebowitz's blog a few months ago and, being a big fan of moutarde, I made a mental note to try it and return with some. It is very sharp and delicious with patés and charcuterie, but also a great addition to sauces.

The Epices Rabelais is a common spice blend used as a meat rub or in a stew in France. The exact ingredients are a big secret, but it's got rosemary, coriander, cinnamon, nutmeg and other spices. It has a deep, almost exotic aroma and I look forward to trying it--maybe as a rub on slow cooked ribs.

Chocolate covered prunes are just a sinfully delicious treat. If you like dark chocolate and dried prunes, this combination is a winner. Maison Guinguet is a great little shop with all sorts of wonderful confections and gifts. They grow all their own plums and make their chocolate.

The mayonnaise is just because even supermarket mayo in France is worlds better and has a nice piquant dash of Dijon mustard in it to liven up even a dull ham sandwich. 

Now to the other stuff:

I cannot leave France without loading up on my favorite cosmetic brands. For moisturizers I like Caudalie first because it's based on grapeseed oil from the Bordeaux vineyards. Also Embryolisse lait-creme concentrate, because it is a good, cheap moisturizer and makeup remover and does not sting my eyes.