Colors and signs of the season

Above left, the northwest corner of our back yard, with my (red) plum tree and our (yellow) fig tree.
On the right, a grape vine just outside our back gate.

Above left, blood red grape leaves on the northern edge of the vineyard.
Right, grape vines outside our back gate, with our neighbors' houses in the distance.

Above left, a hydrangea in mid-October. Right, firewood waiting to be burned when winter comes.

A stroll in the vines

Yesterday morning, Tasha the Sheltie and I walked up and down vine rows just outside our back gate.
Here are some the Fall colors we enjoyed seeing.

I haven't mentioned my wrists much this week. That's because I'm doing so much better. My left wrist seems to be completely better. My right wrist still hurts a little bit, but not a 10th of how much it hurt last week. And the swelling, while not completely gone, is hardly noticeable at all. I'm still taking 200 mg of Ibuprofen every morning.

Chez moi en Caroline du Nord

As I said the other day, I'm feeling a little bit homesick for the town where I grew up. We lived on the North Carolina coast, three blocks (300 meters) from Bogue Sound, a large salt water lagoon. Below are two the photos of the house I grew up in. I actually remember when we moved into the place in 1951... or at least I think I do.

The house was built in 1910, I believe, by my mother's uncle, whose name was Eugene Clifford Willis. Both of my mother's parents had died, one at the age of 43 and the other at 39. My parents rented the house from Uncle Gene, as we called him, in 1951. The rent was $40 a month, I believe.

 

The house had three bedrooms, a living/dining room, a kitchen, a full bathroom, and an attic. Uncle Gene, as we called him, lived on the same block we lived on. His house was just up the alley or just around the corner, depending on which way you walked over there. He and his wife had taken my mother and her sister in when their parents died. When he himself died in the early 1960s, he left the house to my mother. I lived there until I turned 18 in 1967 and went away to college.

 
Here are a couple of photos of the waters of Bogue Sound and nearby Beaufort Inlet, which is open to the ocean.

Bogue Sound is 25 miles long and only about a mile wide. Around the area there's almost more water than land. We lived a two-mile drive, part of it over a drawbridge, from the closest ocean beach. As a teenager I could ride my bike over there and go swimming. We lived just six or seven blocks from the downtown business district and also from the town's waterfront, with its seafood restaurants, fishing boats, and fishhouses. I was born in the town's hospital, which was on the waterfront back then.

Blanquette

Along with coq au vin and bœuf bourguignon, blanquette de veau is one of France's most iconic culinary concoctions. For decades, it was rated no. 1 on polls in France asking people what their favorite dish was; maybe it still is. I make a blanquette at least once a year, and often several times. It's a veal stew (un plat mijoté, or simmered dish) made with veal broth, white wine, cream, mushrooms, and onions. At the table, you squeeze a little bit of lemon juice onto the stew to perk it up. And you serve it, usually, with steamed white rice.

Here's the blanquette I made for lunch yesterday. It's made in two steps: first you simmer some veal (shoulder meat is nice and tender) in a mixture of water and white wine with onions and carrots, for two hours. Then, using some of the broth you get from simmering the veal, you make a white sauce (une sauce béchamel) in which you cook some mushrooms and then re-heat the veal. Voilà.

You can make blanquette with chicken, turkey, or lamb. Follow this link and scroll down to see many posts about blanquettes on this blog.

No, this is not France

It's North Carolina, the coast, where I grew up. I haven't been back there for six or seven years now. I'm starting to get homesick. Or should I say seasick, because one thing I really miss about it, besided family and friends, is the sea. The Atlantic Ocean, just a few miles from where the Gulf Stream forms and flows northeast across the ocean, taking some warmth to France, Ireland, Great Britain, and Scandinavia.

From the photos I've chosen to post, I guess you can tell that I really enjoy stormy days at the beach.