Do you ever find yourself smiling at some of the things you pass by during your day?
I love those moments and have started to record them with my camera. I can’t help it. Everything in France seems so exotic to me, being a ‘non-Frenchie’!
Here’s some pics to share with you, but be warned! There’s a few of them, so I hope you don’t get bored!!
(& check out the brilliant photo of her!)
Still there? Hope you made it!
Thought you were going to see a cheeky image of naughty bits??
Sorry, no, it’s Summer and this is often what our table looks like the morning after…
Glasses are cleared but the bottles are waiting to be packed and emptied at the village recycling bin (and how the old mesdames and messieurs of the village, seated on their bench, must love counting how many wines that Aussie girl manages to consume).
It’s now past the middle of August and I can’t believe how quickly Lilas’ school holidays have passed, how many interesting people have stayed or called by, and how much wine and food we’ve consumed. It seems like a non-stop degustation here sometimes, with the Beroccas coming out first thing in the morning, but things will certainly slow down now that ‘les vendanges’ (harvest time) are approaching and Benji prepares the cellars for receiving grapes. Soon he’ll be working a seven-day week and mostly absent from our daily timetable. It’s an intense time until all grapes have been picked and are safe in the tanks or going through the press, so it’s good to make the most of it with family and friends time in this heat.
The bottles photographed above are the empties from an evening with some of the ‘Naked’ crew. Joe from Naked and is family came to visit, one warm and windy night and an informal tasting turned into a bottle fest (with Lilas and the kids meanwhile transforming the living room into a Playmobil playground) with everyone trying the whites and reds from Benji’s range together with local cheeses, bread and mountain lamb (big merci to our friends Vincent and Isabelle who were staying that week and gave us a huge help in the kitchen – the bbq’d lamb was a treat!). It’s always great to meet new people around a table of wine, glass in hand and every Naked tasting we’ve had has been full of laughs with interesting people from all parts.
You’re probably wondering what on earth Naked is. It’s a company in the UK called Naked Wines and Benji makes and sells wine with them. It’s been just over a year since the collaboration started and we’ve met so many great people – customers and other winemakers – and had lots of fun tasting the range over dinners, lunches and informal evenings like this one. I know it sounds like a plug – and it is! But seriuosly, all puns aside, it is an energetic company run by young people with enthusiasm and a love for wine, and fuelled by a community of customers – people buying and tasting wine from anywhere in the world and then sharing their experiences online. Benji’s range has done well and we’ve learnt a lot from the forums and the feedback people have offered. Thanks to everyone, Rowan, Joe, Amy, Sam, Fran, Simon, Frankie, Kevin, everyone, for the ride so far!
Scene – The kitchen, somewhere in rural France. Table set for lunch, wine open and salad ready for tossing
‘Who wants an egg, and how do they want it ?’ I shout over the vigorous conversation of the happy crew who are finishing off the last of their aperos and picking what’s left of the olives out of the bowl.
Orders are noted – soft, almost hard, soft – and I place the six eggs in the pot of water, place it on the stove and light the gas.
‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING ???!!!!???’
‘I’m making the eggs,’ I reply calmly, blowing out the match.
‘You’re What ??!??? You do NOT boil eggs like that. They need to be placed AFTER the water has boiled!!’
‘But (I say, hand on aproned hip, beginning to think that this coversation could take some time) I’ve always boiled eggs like that and we’ve always enjoyed them .’
‘No I do not think so. Like I said, that is NOT how you boil an egg. You can never boil an egg like that. It must be placed in the water only after it is boiling and then you must time it!’
At which point family member no. 2 adds :
‘Oh yes, that is the ONLY way to ever make an egg. It is nonsense to try it any other way. I have never heard of boiling an egg in this way.’
Okay, so I’m outnumbered in my own home.
‘What is all this about ?’ enquires family member no. 3.
‘Why can’t she just make an egg how she wants to ? …Actually, I must say that I haven’t ever heard of this method myself, but maybe it could work ?… We could give it a try ?…’
‘You really believe that ??!!!!???? But surely you are not being honest ! You have never seen eggs made like that, why would you say it is okay ??!!??’
Glad to have the vote of confidence, I soldier on with my defence that I’ve always done it this way, place the eggs in the water, bring it to boil and continue boiling for 3-10 minutes, depending on how soft-hard you want the egg, and that it’s always been successful.
But I don’t think I’m being heard. The conversation has turned up a notch and way past my comprehension.
Full-scale war you could say. And the time is 12.17pm.
It’s all on, men vs women and I’ve turned off the gas.
Family member 3 seems to be continuing valiantly in my defence but I’ve completely lost track of the ‘discours’ and am losing interest in the eggs. If they want eggs, they’re welcome to it. I’m not cooking them.
Suddenly the noise has lowered and family member no 1 is firing up the stove and asking how everyone wants their eggs.
Would I like a glass of red ?, family member no 2 gaily asks me ?
‘Why yes, I’d love one !’
Bon appetit
Some presents are better than others.
And this has to be one of the best. A vegie box from our friends in the village. I collected Lilas from a morning of play with their granddaughter and they presented me with this beautiful box of produce from their ‘potager’ (vegetable patch).
The box was so fresh and gleaming with colour I couldn’t wait to take a photo of it! I’m sure our friends thought I was a bit bonkers when I told them that.
A ratatouille is on the way with this stuff…
Mmmn, nothing like the flavour of the first fruits hand-picked from your own tree.
Lilas was thrilled to get out there and collect these three apricots herself (note boots for the summer heat) and they were delicious.
Since renting a house in Adelaide many years ago that had a huge apricot tree in the middle of the backyard, I’ve always dreamt of planting our own ‘abricotier’ (apricot tree). We’d go down the back to feed the chooks and guinea fowl and pick a few ripe, sweet apricots on the way through. What luxury.
Even though our tree is still small, the concentration of flavour was incredible. And the ‘abricots’ went down very well with a chilled glass of Minervois muscat.
The Vigneron's Wife 