The two towers

Two towers behind the tree

The two towers are done. I said "done," not "down." I'm talking about the two towers of CDs, that I have now finished transferring to computer hard disk. Each tower holds 200+ discs.

That comes to about 6500 songs — but with a good number of duplicates because the same track sometimes appears on several albums, including store-bought "Best of" discs and personal "mixed" discs that I used to make for the music I listened to while commuting to work and back in California.

I just went to look around in Walt's office. There are at least 30, maybe 35 more music CDs in a rack in there. So the job is not entirely done, but at least the discs in the two towers are transferred.

Now we can pack the CDs in boxes and put them away.

As I said, it's at least 6500 songs, which iTunes reports as 35 GB on the hard disk and 17.2 days of listening time. We've been listening, too. Putting iTunes in random mode and being surprised to again hear music we'd long forgotten about is a lot of fun. And the neighbors are far enough away that we can turn up the volume a little without the fear of bothering anybody.

Sun shining through an umbrella tree makes light patterns on a scarred wall.

I'll soon need some new projects. With the end-of-the-year holidays (including Walt's birthday) coming up, I'll be doing a lot of cooking. And then I have to make time to go out and drive my car hard and fast.

Undergrounding

There's a project in the planning stages to underground the electrical wires in our hamlet. Not all of them — just the medium-tension lines that come up the hill from down in the river valley and bring electric current to the nine houses up here at the top of the hill.

View from the kitchen window: those are low-tension wires.

We'd be happy if all the wires were put underground. The reasons would be purely esthetic. The wires you see in the picture above are low-tension lines that bring current to the individual houses from a transformer on a pole out back. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know we've had problems with electricity because of both the wires and the transformer over the past few years.

Pictures are nicer without wires in them.

The medium-tension wires that bring electric current to the transformer are the ones that need to be undergrounded, and not for esthetic reasons. They run up through some woods where there are very tall trees that really sway in high winds. One of those trees fell on the wires in 2010, pulling them down, and we were without electricity for nearly five full days.

At least a couple of utility poles will be taken out if the medium-tension wires
are put underground.

A man from the electric company ERDF (Electricité Réseau Distribution France) was out on the road surveying the situation this past week. Walt talked to him. He said they will need to put a big transformer box somewhere along the road at ground level. The man mentioned putting it in our yard, but I don't think it will end up on our property. We'll see.

« Comme des petits vieux »

Comment devient-on un petit vieux ?

Réponse facile : il suffit d'attendre...

I got my car back from the mechanic yesterday. It failed inspection because it has too much carbon build-up in the cylinders. I don't drive it hard enough to keep the engine hot and carbon-free — to blow out the carbon, as we used to say.

A summertime shot of the Peugeot lazing around on the driveway

A couple of days ago, I was talking on the phone with our summer neighbors who live most of the year in Blois, 25 miles north. I asked how they were doing. « Nous, on va bien. Comme des petits vieux ! » is what they said. She's 77. He's 82.

Now I'm a petit vieux too. You know what petit means — and vieux means "old" as an adjective, or an "old person" as a noun. Des petits vieux are "little old people," in other words, on the model of  "little old lady." LOP, not LOL.

Here's my Peugeot and the Fiat Punto that we rented to stand in for it this past week.

The mechanic insisted on explaining what I need to do even after I told him that I understood the problem: Je conduis comme un petit vieux. (I drive like an old codger.) To get the car engine into better working order, I have to pour some fuel additive (which he supplied) into the tank and then drive the car really hard for a week or two. Then it will be ready to pass inspection in January.

"Your car has a high-performance two-liter engine in it," the mechanic said. "You should take it out and put it through its paces." He said to drive up hills, and we tried to think of some steep hills in the surrounding area. It turns out that there aren't that many.

 I need to drive my little Peugeot until it's red hot, like this one.
Too bad we don't have little Peugeots in the U.S.

Walt and I are trying to decide where to go. We can stay local and drive really fast in third gear up any hills we can find to get the engine hot and blow out the carbon. Or we can go on a trip on the autoroute and drive really fast and far in fourth gear — the speed limit is 81 mph (130 kph) — until all the carbon is burned off. Any ideas where we should go? Remember, we have to take the cat and the dog with us.

Reminds me of the old joke about the grandmother who started walking five miles a day for her health. Her children and grandchildren had no idea where she had got to.

Asian foods and king-size beds

There's no talk of snow on the news or weather this morning, so I wonder if the whole storm didn't fizzle out. When I got up yesterday and took Callie outdoors just a sunrise (8:30 a.m.), the grass, the gravel paths, the cars, and the paved road were completely glazed over. By 9:30, when we left for Tours, everything had started to melt.

Tours, a city of 300,000, is about 35 miles (60 km) west of Saint-Aignan. We drove over on two-lane highways. There was almost no traffic, and the road surfaces were wet but not slippery. We don't go into the center of Tours, but to the shopping areas around the east side of the city. Yesterday, we needed to go to the Asian supermarket and to Ikea.

Paris Store is a chain of supermarkets in France specializing in imported foods

For most things, we have everything we need here in the Saint-Aignan area ("metro" pop. 10,000), with our two largish supermarkets, two smaller ones, the open-air markets in Saint-Aignan itself (Saturday), across the river in Noyers-sur-Cher (Sunday), Montrichard (10 miles west), and Selles-sur-Cher (10 miles east). But for some things, we will drive the 35 miles to Tours or the 25 miles north to Blois several times a year.

Sauces, condiments, and canned goods for making Asian-style dishes

Our main shopping in Tours has to do with exotic and imported foods. I've blogged about the Paris Store Asian supermarket many times. There used to be one in Blois, which is closer to us, but it shut down a year or two ago. The closest one is in the shopping area in the northern section of Tours, and we are lucky to have it.

Need any noodles? Nous en avons...

Pâte d'arachide

We go over there and stock up on noodles, rice, tofu (in cans), sauces of all kinds, and frozen shrimp (for example) two or three times a year. We could almost open our own Asian market with all the supplies we have down in our cold-storage pantry. Yesterday, we were happy to find a one-kilogram bag of black peppercorns for €12.95. That quantity of peppercorns would cost €100 €50 at SuperU (I checked the price again). We also picked up a few jars of chunky peanut butter, which is not that easy to find around here.

If you live in Paris or other big cities, finding imported products is not a problem, of course. Eight or nine years ago, we would frequently drive up to Paris to re-supply the Asian shelves in our pantry, but that's an eight-hour drive round-trip. Now we just drive the hour or so over to Tours and the hour back.

The far wall of the cellier (pantry): Are we becoming survivalists?

Féculents (starches): beans, pasta, rice, flour

Recently, we discovered that Ikea in Tours now sells fitted and flat sheets for American-standard king-size beds. Until this year, we've had to make do with the sheets we brought over from the U.S. nearly 10 years ago, and with a few king-size sheet sets that we've brought back from the U.S. on our annual trips back to see family and friends. But king-size sheets are heavy and bulky, taking up a good portion of the space in your suitcase when you travel.

We'd never been able to find king-size sheets here in France. They just don't have such large beds — the largest French beds are 160 cm wide, and our American one is 180 cm wide. We moved it here in 2003 without thinking about the problem of getting sheets for it 10 years down the line.

If and when we replace the mattress on our big bed, we'll need to buy two twin mattresses, each 90 cm wide. Then we'll be able to get fitted sheets (singles) easily, and flat sheets aren't a problem. The mattress we have is fine, and we don't want to replace it any time soon — especially since we can now get fitted sheets for it more or less locally.

Big problems, eh? Well, that's everyday life when you're an American expatriate in rural France.

Snow, and a sandwich

Not much time this morning. We're planning to leave here at 9:00 to drive over to Tours, and before that I have to go for the morning walk with Callie. And it's supposed to snow — at least it's supposed to north and east of us, toward Chartres, Versailles, and Paris.

We're on the southern edge of the warning area for snow and ice.

We might have to change our travel plans. We'll see when the sun comes up and we can tell whether we are having snow or freezing rain outside. The météo on TéléMatin promises us both. The best laid plans... At any rate, we have a rental car (a Fiat Punto diesel) and we'll have to go take our Peugeot chez le mécanicien for replacement of the brake hoses and a trip to the inspection station.

I think the snow will go north of us. Our temperature this morning is only about a degree below freezing.

I recorded another tall stack of CDs onto my hard disk yesterday. We are looking forward to packing up all the old CDs in boxes that we will store in a closet or down in the garage. Yesterday Walt played a concert of Christmas music on the laptop computer hooked into the downstairs stereo system. He selected for or five disks in iTunes and clicked the Shuffle button. He said it was a lot easier than putting one CD after another into the CD/DVDplayer.

Two turkey reuben sandwiches — the kind you eat with a knife and fork, not your hands

Those reuben sandwiches we made yesterday were really good. Sliced roast turkey breast, strips of crispy bacon, Comté cheese, sauerkraut, and Russian dressing on the good pain de campagne I made.

Melting cheese and Russian dressing running down the sides as the sandwich cooks

I made up the sandwiches, buttered them top and bottom, and cooked them in a hot oven. That was much easier than frying them in a pan like grilled cheese sandwiches. The buther's choucroute cuite was excellent. If he didn't charge so much for it, I'd be tempted to buy it instead of making my own.

P.S. Today is CHM's birthday. I won't give away his age. Un petit beurre des touyous, CHM.

12 + 12 + 12 = 36

Today is 12/12/12, or 12 December 2012. I always used to say that 12 was my lucky number, but 2012 hasn't been a particularly lucky year. The weather has been either freezing cold or much too wet for weeks on end. The garden was okay, but not great. Oh well. Walt and I did have a fantastic trip to the U.S. and Canada in May, after all. Now we'll soon have 13 to deal with.

My post title has to do with today's date and my converting of our music CDs. Yesterday I processed another 36 of them. I've been calling it "digitization" but the fact is that the CDs are already digital. I'm just copying them all to my hard disk. I'm up to more than 5,250 songs and more than 27 GB.

Going plastic-less

As far as backing up the data, my plan is to have several copies of the whole database: two on hard disks on different computers, and then probably a copy on one or two SD memory cards that I can just put away for safekeeping.

Not only are we going to go "plastic-less" when it comes to music, but I'm also trying to go "paper-less" when it comes to newspaper articles. I read a lot of them every day, but I don't like to read sitting in front of the computer screen. I end up with an aching back and stiff neck. So for years I've been printing the articles I read so that I can sit comfortably while reading them.

Reading the newspaper on the radio

Yesterday I spent the day reading articles on the screen of my little Archos wifi radio/tablet. And guess what — it was a good experience. The Archos lets me view and write e-mails, surf the web, play music, or listen to radio stations around the world. The only problem I have with it for reading is that, at 4 inches, the screen is very small.

I see a tablet computer with a bigger screen in my future. Not only will I save my neck, but I'll save a lot of money on printer paper and toner cartridges for my printer. The paper is a big hassle, because I can't stand to pay high prices for it and that means driving to Tours or Blois or Romorantin to buy several reams at a time when it's on sale. 

Also yesterday we decided to make sandwiches for lunch out of the rest of the turkey we cooked on Sunday. I said to Walt that it was too bad we didn't have any sauerkraut, because turkey reuben sandwiches would be really good. Then the drive-up butcher stopped by at noon, and voilà — he had a tray of choucroute cuite on the truck.

Pain de campagne à ma façon

Then we needed sandwich bread, so I decided to make some. The bread lady doesn't come by on Wednesdays. I found a recipe on Marmiton.fr for pain de campagne. I had all the ingredients, and I replaced part of the wheat flour with corn meal and buckwheat flour to make it more interesting.

It turned out to be easy to make, but since I'm not an experienced bread baker the loaf I made came out with a funny shape. Tant pis — it's delicious, and we should be able to make good sandwiches out of it. Now this morning I have to make some Russian dressing. That's easy too: mayonnaise, ketchup, and horseradish.

It's really cold this morning. The weather widget on my computer screen says it's –7ºC in Saint-Aignan — that's +19ºF. Our outdoor thermometer reads a little "warmer" than that, but it always reads a little higher than the official temperature. Poor Walt now has to go out in the cold with Callie.

Apricot, cranberry, and walnut stuffing for poultry

I'm still busy most days digitizing our collection of music CDs. I'm using iTunes for Windows, and it's going well. It has taken me some time to figure out how it all works, and the task is complicated because I want to have copies of the whole collection on two different computers — mostly as backups of each other, in case I mess up and delete something, or have a hard disk failure. I don't want to have to start over.

So far I have nearly 5,000 songs in the database, which takes up nearly 25 GB of disk space on each computer. I'm about two-thirds of the way through, I think.

Meanwhile, here's the recipe for that bread stuffing with dried fruit and walnuts that I made on Sunday. It's good, and Christmas is coming.

Apricot, Cranberry, and Walnut Stuffing

1 lb. (450 g) cubed white bread
1 cup dried apricots, chopped
½ cup dried cranberries
1½ cups walnuts, toasted and roughly chopped
1 tsp. dried thyme
2 tsp. orange zest
1½ sticks melted butter (6 oz. or 180 g)
2 ribs celery, chopped
2 onions, chopped
6 oz. (180 g) cubed smoked pork or ham
2 eggs, beaten
2 cups (500 ml) chicken or vegetable broth
Salt and pepper

Spread the bread cubes on a baking sheet and cook them in a 350ºF (180ºC) oven until lightly browned. Transfer bread cubes to a large bowl, combined with the dried fruit, orange zest, toasted walnuts, and thyme.

Heat 4 Tbsp. butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add the celery, onions, and pork or ham. Cook, stirring, until lightly browned. Stir in the rest of the butter and let it melt.

Mix the celery, onion, and ham mixture and melted butter with into the bowl with the bread and fruit. Mix well. Stir in the beaten eggs and moisten the mixture with the broth. Season with salt and pepper and stir it all up well.

Transfer the stuffing to a baking dish. Cover with foil and bake at 350ºF (180ºC) for 40 minutes. Uncover, increase heat to 400°F (200ºC) and bake until browned, 8–10 minutes longer.

You could use other kinds of dried fruit (raisins, apples, prunes) or nuts. A U.S. cup, for those who aren't American, is 8 fluid ounces or 250 ml, by the way. This stuffing would be good with roast pork as well, but you might want to leave out the ham. The picture above shows the stuffing before it's baked. Yesterday I posted a picture of it all cooked and being served at the table.

A 5 lb. turkey

I was just looking at a Yahoo web page where somebody asked why it was impossible to get a 5 lb. turkey in the U.S. And it does seem to be impossible. The only option is to buy a rolled roast, not a whole bird.

The elusive 5 lb. turkey can be found in France.

Well, here in France, it's not impossible. I cooked a 2.4 kg whole turkey yesterday (it was a late Thanskgiving for us). That's a 5¼ lb. turkey. It was on special at SuperU at 3.95 euros/kg, so the turkey cost under 10 euros.

A turkey perfect for two people who like turkey leftovers

The thing about buying turkeys here in France is that you only find whole ones at the supermarket around Christmastime. The rest of the year, you can easily find turkey parts — breast filets, leg/thigh sections, wings, even rolled roasts, etc. — but not whole birds for roasting. Those you have to order in advance from a butcher.

Turkey and a pan of stuffing — or dressing, if you prefer

Anyway, we enjoyed our late Thanksgiving turkey. Now we have leftovers, but not tons, because it was a small bird. Turkey sandwiches, turkey salad, and turkey soup are in our future. You probably are just barely over your turkey feast in the U.S., but ours is just starting.

To go with the 5 lb. roasted turkey, I made pan of bread stuffing with dried apricots, dried cranberries, toasted walnuts, lardons, onions, and celery. And we roasted one of our garden-grown acorn-type squashes in the oven along with the turkey and stuffing to have alongside.

A late morning, and ten-year milestones

We are having a late morning today, since we were out until 1:30 a.m., having dinner with people who live on the other side of the river from us. We had a really enjoyable time. The evening was completely trilingual, since there French, English, and American participants around the table. The food and drink were excellent, as you might expect. Thanks to our new friends for inviting us.

Meanwhile, we've been thinking about this same weekend 10 years ago, when we came to the Loire Valley — Amboise, Montrichard, Saint-Aignan — to look at houses. We'd decided to consider making a huge change in our lives and moving away from California — the commuting, the long work hours, the earthquakes (or threat thereof), and a generally stressful, fast-paced existence — and to see if we could see a way clear to come live in France. It was something we had talked about doing for years, but without ever formulating a specific plan.

Part of moving from California to France was trading this kitchen,

which we had a big hand in designing...

Now it's hard to believe it's been 10 years already. We ended up finding and signing the papers to buy this house we now live in on the fourth day of that whirlwind visit to France in December 2002. We looked at and thought about the possibilities presented to us by 15 houses we saw during that short week, and this one had the main feature we knew we wanted. It also was what our budget allowed. We didn't know that we were actually going to pick up and move so soon. The house was smaller than the one we were used to, but it had a huge (to our city eyes) garden, some charm, and a fine, semi-isolated location.

 ...for this one, where we would inevitably spend a lot of our time.

It was as close to living out in the country as we thought we wanted. It was near enough to a small town and to all the services and amenities we thought we would need. We would have a garden. We would take long walks with the dog. Saint-Aignan is in wine country, and that's never a bad thing, because wine and good food go hand in hand. We'd be on the grid but far from the 24-hour news noise of the crazy U.S. culutre. And there are no earthquakes or hurricanes here. No blizzards. We thought the Loire and Cher valley landscapes and countryside were pretty even in December, so we knew they'd be even nicer in summer.

Now here we are, 10 years later, feeling like we might live a lot longer than we thought we would when we were living the California rat race. We're enjoying a quiet Sunday morning. Hope you have a nice Sunday too — bon dimanche ! — wherever you are.

Chez le la dentiste

I had an appointment with the dentist yesterday. It's a long story, and it ended up being just a routine visit.

Our first dentist in Saint-Aignan, Dr. Christian Bigot (seriously — [kree-STIÃ-bee-GOH] — Bigot being a very common family name around here) retired a couple of years ago. (His wife's name is Christiane Bigot, and she's a pediatric dentist.) There are three other dentists in town, but two of them have very long lead times (3 or 4 months) for new patients. If you have a dental problem, or think you do, that's a long wait.

Callie in the vineyard at sunset

The photos in this post have nothing to do with the text...

So by default, Walt and I have ended up making appointments with the third dentist, whose office is right off the market square in town. She has a decent reputation, as far as we can tell, but she's very brusque and works so fast you are in and out of her office before you get a chance to ask any questions. You end up wondering if she's being thorough at all, or if she's just trying to see as many patients as she can in a very limited time.

This was only my second visit, so I'll reserve judgment.

Back when in lived in Paris 30 years ago, I had a very bad experience with a dentist, so I'm suspicious. I don't know why I should be, because I also have had very bad experiences with dentists in the U.S. — as well as very good ones. The man who was my dentist in San Francisco for nearly 20 years was fantastic. I also liked Dr. Bigot here in Saint-Aignan, and I'm sorry he retired.

Electrified wire fencing helps keep deer out of the vines

To make a long story short, I was very impressed with the new dentist yesterday. She seems to have state-of-the-art dental equipment — or maybe in the ten years we've lived here I've lost touch with the practices and the equipment used in the modern dental profession.

I needed to have a couple of x-rays. I was amazed how easy it was. My dentist in SF used to aim a bulky ceiling-mounted camera on a long arm at my jaw while I held a piece of film in place behind the teeth he was going to x-ray. He would leave the room while the camera made a loud buzzing sound as it took the picture (the dentist was worried about repeated exposure to radiation, I guess).

This time, in this tiny office in Saint-Aignan, the dentist pointed a little digital-camera type device at the side of my face and the x-ray image popped up on a computer screen that she and I could both examine. There was no waiting, and no holding up of tiny negative images toward the light — no squinting to see what they revealed. The image on the computer monitor was big, clear, and bright.

Is that equipment that all dentists use nowadays?

The garden path

Luckily for me (I think), the x-rays didn't turn up any problems. I thought I might have a cracked filling, but the dentist said I don't. "You're American, aren't you?" she asked. Yes. "So you know all about dental floss and mouthwashes, right?" Yes, I said. Then she sent me on my way, with a smile.

The fee for such a visit? Twenty-one euros, or less than 30 U.S. dollars. I'll get a good portion of that reimbursed by the French national health service.

« Flexibles » = “hoses”

That picture of the Peugeot 206 that I posted yesterday was not recent — it was taken seven years ago! It was the one I found yesterday. This morning I've been looking for a more recent photo, but finding photos of specific things or scenes in my archives is just about impossible. About the only way I can find anything is to find it first on the blog, and then go into the archives for the surrounding dates.

It turns out that my car needs new brake hoses before it can go in for inspection. I've never even heard of brake hoses. In French, a brake hose is called un flexible de frein.The flexibles on my car are craquelés — cracking, deteriorating — and the official vehicle inspectors don't like to see that. I don't like the idea myself. The mechanic said he has to order the replacement hoses.

July 2011 — the Peugeot seen from the terrace

I'll take the car back in next week and the mechanic said he will take it personally to the inspection station after doing the repair and make sure it passes. He said it won't cost me any more that way, so I'm glad to have him do it. I won't have to sit in the waiting room for another hour or two.

Walt and I have decided to rent a car for two days so that the Peugeot can spend the night at the mechanic's if necessary. We wanted to go to Tours to do some shopping, so while our car is being repaired and inspected, we'll drive the rental over to Tours (a 90-mile round trip).

Also July 2011, some my most recent photos of the car, I think

Luckily, our local SuperU supermarket rents vehicles. According to the web site, the little car we can rent will cost 34 euros for 48 hours and 90 miles — a deal. Plus gas, of course, but we'd have to pay for that anyway. I have to go today and reserve the car (a little Fiat).

Today it's snowing all around. It's still dark here so I don't yet know whether we have snow on the ground. But TéléMatin reports some snow at Tours, and a couple of inches all around Paris. I heard it raining overnight, I think, so I'm going to be surprised if I see snow when the sun comes up in a few minutes.

P.S. At 8:15 a.m., no snow at our house...

Passing inspection

It gets colder and colder as the week goes on. It's snowing around Paris (150 miles northeast of Saint-Aignan) and and in northeastern France, and there's been a lot of snow in the French Alps. We haven't had any here so far, though we saw some sleet for a few minutes yesterday morning.

It's time for my biennial contrôle technique. My car's, I mean. It has to pass an official safety inspection every other December. All cars registered in France that are four years old and older have to be inspected every two years and certified to be mechanically sound.

The inspection list includes more than 125 items that get checked. To prepare for the contrôle, I take the car in for an oil change and general going-over by my regular mechanic the week before I take it to the inspection station. The inspection people don't do repairs, so they are in theory objective about the state of the vehicle. The fee is about 75 euros, or $100 U.S.

So I'm taking the voiture to the mécanicien this afternoon. My little Peugeot is 12 years old now and has about 165,000 km (100,000 miles) on the odometer. Since it has a diesel engine, it should last quite a bit longer. That's especially the case because I drive it so little and so gently nowadays, and I keep it in the garage in the winter.

Here's the Peugeot, a 206 with a diesel engine that I bought used in 2003.

In the U.S., only 17 states require annual or biennial vehicle safety inspections. In other states, only what they call a smog check (emissions inspection) is required. Ten U.S. states have no vehicle inspection requirements at all.

Into the sunset

I don't know whether Walt has mentioned it, but I can report that Bertie the black cat is back to his normal self. He meows insistently in the morning until he gets his food. He gobbles it down. I just took him off my lap so that I could type this.

I love to point the camera right into a sunset, at full zoom.

Yesterday, Bert came into the house in the morning and just stayed. He settled in on the living room sofa. Callie knew he was there, but just ignored him. That's great progress. After a while, he wanted to go outside. He still sleeps down in the garage, where he has a comfortable bed.

Vines in winter

Yesterday I "ripped" ("digitized") another 50 French music CDs. I "processed" Maxime Le Forestier, Gérard Lenorman, Maurane, Patachou, Florent Pagny, and Gérald de Palmas, among many others. I have about a quarter of our collection of French CDs to go, starting with Edith Piaf and including Véronique Sanson, Alain Souchon, and Laurent Voulzy. Whew! Then I'll attack the English-language music CDs — an approximately equal number.

“Waiting for my heavens to change”

I'm still trying to get used to the idea that it's winter again. Maybe we need a pretty snowfall to put me in the mood. At the same time, no Siberian blasts of cold like last February's, please.

Looking down the hill and out across the river valley, I see somebody has a fire going,

almost certainly burning yard and garden debris. We need to do that one day.

I keep reminding myself that we are less than three weeks away from the winter solstice — already. It won't be long before the hours of daylight start increasing again. It's funny how the short days sneak up on you.

A later view of the sunset, after the sun was well below the horizon

And yes, Walt and I were both taking pictures at sunset on Sunday. That airplane might have been the same one in both our pictures, but we see a lot of airplanes flying over all the time. Sunday afternoon, Walt took his picture from a bedroom window. I was out walking the dog around the vineyard, trying to avoid the hunters.

The sunset in all its glory, just a few minutes earlier

Yesterday, I must have "ripped" 75 CDs from our French collection. Some of them are old favorites, but seeing some of them again made me wonder why I ever bought them. When we lived in California and traveled to France every year through the 1990s, I used to return home with a pile of new CDs after every trip. We got our first CD player in 1989, and already such appliances are pretty much obsolete.

By the way, the title of this post comes from the Kate & Anna McGarrigle song “Move over moon”:

My horoscope warns me don't talk to strangers
Talk dark and handsome or short bald and plain
My soothsayer says to sit tight
And wait for my stars to get rearranged
So don't talk to me
Don't bother me
I'm just waiting for my heavens to change...

Where to?

We had a cold weekend and we're having a rainy Monday. The sun came out yesterday afternoon, though, and it was even bright enough for me to take a few photos between five and six p.m.

A jet zooming over vineyards and woods...

...headed where, I wonder. Would I want to go there?

I'm spending a few hours every day digitizing our collection of music CDs. There must be 500 or 600 over them, which we've acquired over the past 30 years. Half are American, and half French. It's a good way to stay busy on these winter days, which are either too gray or too cold for doing anything outdoors. It's funny, though, because I listen to a lot less music than I used to.

Hachis parmentier piémontais

The dish called hachis parmentier in France is named after the man who, 200 years ago, popularized the potato here as food for people — and not just as feed for farm animals. Hachis parmentier is what we call shepherd's pie (made with mutton or lamb) or cottage pie (made with beef) in English. It's a layer of meat hash covered with a layer of mashed potato and then baked in the oven.

A layer of lamb hash in the bottom of a baking dish, with polenta
spread over the top before it gets baked in the oven

So what I made yesterday for lunch can't be named after Mr. Parmentier. I made it with cooked polenta instead of mashed potato. Polenta is what we would call "yellow grits" in the U.S. South, and you could also make this with white hominy grits. Since polenta comes from northern Italy, I'll call this hachis piémontais. (I made up that name.) I made this with lamb.

A hash of chopped up leftover lamb, onions, chard ribs, lardons,
mushrooms, dried tomatoes, herbs, and spices

Hachis parmentier or piémontais is definitely comfort food for cold winter days, and it's at least in part an example of what in France is called l'art d'accommoder les restes — making the best possible use of leftovers. Recipes for hachis parmentier often call for using leftover roast beef or pot roast to make the hash, along with onions, garlic, herbs, and other flavor ingredients. In fact, you can use any meat: leftover roast chicken, confit de canard, lamb of course, or turkey. I can imagine a very nice hachis with vegetables only — carrots, celery, turnips, rutabagas, etc. — and no meat at all.

I had more than a pound of diced up lamb, and I cooked 1½ cups of polenta in 6 cups of water. Most all the polenta or grits you can find these days is of the quick-cooking variety and takes only five or six minutes to make. Pour the polenta slowly into boiling salted water (or stock), stirring constantly. Turn the heat down, cover the pot, and let it bubble a low temperature until you like the texture. You can enrich the polenta by beating in a couple of tablespoons of butter or olive oil at the end of the cooking time.

The hash is all cooked, and so is the polenta. Just set the dish in a hot oven if the ingredients are still hot, and let it brown a little on top. If you've let the ingredients cool down before baking, put it in the oven at a lower temperature so that the dish can have time to heat through before the top gets too brown. Let it cool a little after it comes out of the oven, and spoon it out of the dish.

All you need with the hachis piémontais is a green salad — or a salad of lettuce and beets, as above.