A soft landing, with a lot of barking

Late yesterday afternoon, Walt and I were upstairs watching a TV show when Callie went wild barking in the entryway way downstairs. Sometimes she does that if she sees the Bertie the cat walk by the sliding glass door down there.

We called the dog but she wasn't paying attention to us. "Is that Callie growling?" Walt said. He muted the TV and we realized that we were hearing the roar of the gas burner in a hot-air balloon. Walt went downstairs to try to calm the dog down and to see where the balloon might be.

It was flying really low to our south, right over the neighbors' houses. It was even lower than the balloon that passed over a week or two ago and that looked as if it might hit the tops of the trees in our yard. At one point, we thought this balloon might be landing on our neighbor-the-mayor's property. That would be unusual.

This balloon, no more than 20 feet (6 or 7 meters) off the ground, kept drifting northwest over the parcel of vines closest to the mayor's house. Callie was wild with excitement. We opened the back door and we all went out in the yard to see what was going on. We couldn't control Callie at all, but she doesn't know that she would be capable of getting out of the yard by jumping over the fence or gate, so she's never tried to and there was no real danger.

I grabbed my camera, of course, and started snapping photos. We didn't go out and talk to anybody, mainly because of the dog. But we watched for a while. We wondered whether one of the passengers might have had a panic attack or some kind of medical emergency that required an urgent, unplanned landing. The vineyard is a good place for such a landing because there are no utility poles or electrical wires out there. At the same time, the gravel road is a pretty narrow space to land on, and you wouldn't want to land on the vines and support posts.

We saw a couple of vehicles speeding through the vineyard from the other end of the road. They arrived, and there was a lot of activity for a few minutes. Then the vehicles drove away and the balloon went back up in the air. It went straight up, because there was pretty much no wind. At a pretty high altitude, it starting drifting west and finally disappeared into the distance.

Our excitement for the day... I think Callie really enjoyed it.

Much ado...

...about not very much, when all is said and done. Yesterday, we got two pieces of good news.

First, in our mailbox we found a copy of the letter that the cardiologue in Blois sent to my primary care physician, detailing the results of my recent heart monitor (Holter electrocardiogram) exam:

Le holter ECG est plutôt rassurant... Il n'y a pas d'autre traitement à donner chez un patient asymptomatique...

Our friend Jean of A Very Grand Pressigny came over for lunch yesterday.

Walt made a ham & asparagus tart, with green asparagus this time.

And then I got an e-mail from the couvreur with a quote for the roof repair over the kitchen. He says he will need 40 euros' worth of materials (slats, screws, etc.). The labor will cost 245 euros. With all taxes included, the total comes to about 305 euros. Ouf !

Maybe by autumn our kitchen will be back to normal, or even better than before...

Because the roofer is a professional building contractor, he can charge the value-added tax at a lower rate than the full 19% we pay at retail — his rate is about 7%. We his customers benefit from that.

A rose in the yard

For his two exams, by the way, the cardiologue in Blois charged me a total of 175 euros. About 70% of that sum is reimbursed by my French national medical insurance.

Insurance and medical mysteries

I went down to the insurance company office in Saint-Aignan yesterday to pay our annual premium (339 € now, up by a third over the past 10 years, but still considerably less than we paid in California) and talk to the woman who handles our policy. I told her about the leaky roof and the ceiling damage in the kitchen.

What I learned is that the homeowner's insurance we have will not pay for fixing the leaky roof. I think it would pay for the repair if we had had wind damage, but it doesn't pay in this case, where the cause of the leak is not clear.

What the insurance does pay is the repair of the kitchen ceiling, with no deductible. If we do the ceiling repair ourselves, the insurance company will pay for all the necessary materials. I filed a declaration detailing the damage so that we can have the ceiling repaired after we are sure that the roof no longer leaks. Now I'd be happy if the roofer who came over to inspect the damage and determine the cause would just send us an estimate so that we can schedule the work.

I also went to the pharmacy yesterday, and I notice that the roofer in question has a business card posted there. The card says he does « aménagements intérieurs » — I think that was the expression — in addition to actual roofing work. I didn't know that because I found him in the pages jaunes, where there wasn't much information.  Now I need to send him an e-mail to ask him if he will be willing to repair and repaint our the kitchen ceiling as well as fix the leak.

Meanwhile, did I mention that our primary-care physician is going out on leave? Walt went to see him for a routine appointment a few weeks ago and the doctor informed him that he would be leaving very soon for some undetermined period of time. Walt asked him if he was retiring, and he said no.

Yesterday the pharmacist I talked to asked me if I was aware of the doctor's plans. I told her I was. She said that he would be out for at least six months, and that it wasn't clear that he would eventually return to his practice . He had told Walt that we will need to call well in advance to schedule our next appointments, because the two remaining doctors in the practice will be exceptionally busy for the next few months.

It's all very mysterious. I hope the man's health is okay.

Another 10th year milestone

Who knows where the time goes? Et où sont les canicules d'antan ? Today marks the tenth anniversary of the first night we ever spent in this house outside Saint-Aignan-sur-Cher. It was June 12, 2003. We had slept for the first five nights in a gîte rural over in the village of Thésée, and we'd been busy for five days cleaning our new house so that we could move in.

At this point, we've lived here longer than we had ever lived in any other house or apartment before. Dix ans ! Qui l'eût cru ?

Looks like there will be a lot of fruit in 2013.

We didn't have any furniture. We went out and bought two air mattresses to sleep on. We also bought a vinyl table and chairs that we could use use inside the house until we got other furniture — then we would put that set out on the terrace. Most importantly, we went to the Darty électroménager store up near Blois and sprang for a refrigerator, a kitchen stove, a washing machine, a dryer, a coffee maker, a telephone, a television, a VCR, and a vacuum cleaner. We had brought a laptop computer with us from the U.S.

By that Thursday night, 6/12/03, we were ready to start living here, even though we still had a couple of nights left on our rental place — and no refrigerator or stove yet. A friend had loaned us some sheets and towels, and a little counter-top oven. We had electricity and hot water. Our appliances soon were delivered. We camped in the house for nearly a month, when our container-load of furniture, clothes, and other belongings arrived from California. The weather was hot and sunny. Those are good memories.

Asperges vertes

We found something unusual the other day in the Grand Frais supermarket outside Blois: green asparagus. All the locally grown asparagus on the markets and in the supermarkets around Saint-Aignan is white.

I guess those of you who live in the U.S. or the U.K. are used to getting green asparagus in your markets, but it's a special treat here. Actually, it's the same plant as the white variety; it's just grown differently. Friends who live down the road tell me they drive to Blois to get green asparagus, because they prefer it to the white spears.

Green asparagus from Italy

One major difference between green and white asparagus spears is that the white ones need to be peeled — a vegetable peeler or économe does the job — before they are cooked. Their skin is tough and fibrous. Green asparagus spears don't need peeling.

We cooked some green asparagus with shrimp...

There is a brand of green asparagus called Chambord, after the château near Blois. According to the producers' web site, they started growing green asparagus in the late 1980s and formed a cooperative. Green asparagus was barely known in France back then. They are calling it "the new asparagus."

...and served it with Japanese udon noodles.

Never mind that the green asparagus we bought was grown in Italy. Grand Frais specializes in importing produce from abroad. I assume the Italian spears are less expensive than the local ones — these were less than six euros per kilogram. We've been paying slightly more than that for the white asparagus grown around Saint-Aignan.

Warning: food post — Brunswick Stew

I had never made Brunswick Stew before last week. At least I can't remember making it, and Walt too says he doesn't think I ever had made it before. I ate some while I was in North Carolina in April and even though I didn't think it was very good, it was still on my mind. I knew I could do better. The N.C. restaurant version was just too sweet — they put in too much ketchup, I think.

Brunswick Stew, a specialty of Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia

The Brunswick in the name of the stew apparently refers to Brunswick County in Virginia. Or to Brunswick County in North Carolina. Or maybe to the town of Brunswick in Georgia. Virginia seems the most likely birthplace for the stew, which was traditionally made with rabbit or squirrel, back in the 18th or 19th century. It's a tomato-based concoction containing a lot of fresh vegetables.

Shredded, chopped chicken, turkey, or rabbit. This is rabbit. I've spared you the pictures of the whole bunny.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, chicken has replaced game animals in Brunswick Stew. Here in France, where it's easy to buy rabbit on the markets or in the supermarkets, I decided chicken would be just too humdrum. As for the vegetables that go into the pot, the only one I couldn't find was lima beans. I used some Portuguese haricots beurre, which resemble pinto beans when they are cooked, in their place. Another good option in France (or elsewhere) would be flageolet beans.

It wouldn't be Southern — or French — without some smoked or salt-cured pork bacon. Or ham.

Here's a list of ingredients. The main ones are the rabbit (or chicken), and one big tin of whole cooked tomatoes, with their juice. The rest are optional, and the amounts of each aren't crucial.

Rabbit, chicken, or turkey • Smoked pork belly • Broth • Celery • Onions • Garlic • Tomatoes and juice • Tomato paste

Carrot • Lima, flageolet, or other beans • Green beans • Corn • Okra • Potato • Green pepper 

Vinegar (very little) • Ketchup (very little) • Hot pepper flakes or chopped jalapeño peppers

Thyme • Rosemary • Oregano • Bay leaf • Salt and pepper

Some meat and a lot of vegetables

The first step in making Brunswick Stew is cooking the meat and making the broth that serves as its base. It's easy — you just brown the chicken or rabbit lightly in vegetable oil and then pour on enough water to cover the meat. Cut the chicken up or not, as you wish. Season the water with salt and pepper, and add in a couple of bay leaves. I nearly always put in a few allspice berries (poivre de la Jamaïque) or a clove (clou de girofle) too whenever I simmer or braise poultry.

Let the rabbit or chicken cook at a low simmer until it is completely cooked. Take it out of the broth and then boil the broth down to reduce and concentrate it as you like.  When the chicken has cooled enough that you can handle it easily, pull the meat off the bones, which you can discard. Tear the meat into shreds or chop it roughly with a knife and put it aside.

Okra helps thicken the stew, but it's optional.

Strain any peppercorns or allspice berries and the bay leaves out of the broth. Open the can of tomatoes and chop them roughly. Add the tomatoes and, if you use it, the carrot, chopped (it needs time to cook completely), along with the herbs and hot pepper. Let the liquid simmer for 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, sauté chopped onion, garlic, and celery in a frying pan with smoked pork (bacon or diced ham). When the pork is browned and cooked and the aromatic vegetables are tender, add them (but not all the fat) to the pot of simmering liquid. Also add a tablespoon or two of ketchup and/or tomato paste, and a dash of vinegar.

Then add the other vegetables. Use fresh or frozen okra (optional), green pepper, and green beans, but make sure you use either fresh, frozen, canned, or pre-cooked lima or other beans, because dried beans won't have enough time to get done in the stew. Corn can be fresh, canned, or frozen. Let the pot simmer for another 20 to 30 minutes, and then add a cup or so of diced potato. After another 20 to 30 minutes, all the vegetables will be cooked.

Add the cooked poultry or rabbit to the stew at the last minute, just to heat through.

That's when you add in the shredded, chopped chicken or rabbit. It's already cooked, so it just needs to heat through in the liquid. The stew should be thick — it's not soup. Okra will help thicken it (and give it authentic flavor), as will some of the liquid from cooked dried beans along with a small amount of tomato ketchup.

That's it. It's just a matter of getting all the vegetables done as you like them at the same time. If there's too much liquid, pour some off, or use a slotted spoon to serve the meat and vegetables so that they aren't swimming in liquid. Walt and I ate leftovers with cooked rice and that was good too.

Core, from Fr. cœur

Did you know that the English word "core" comes from the French word « cœur », meaning heart? The word cœur isn't used systematically in French to mean "core" — the core of an apple is called le trognon — but some vegetables, including celery (stalks) and lettuce, do have a "heart", which is the finest, tenderest, and most delicious part to eat. Another "vegetable" used in salads in France is hearts of palm, or cœurs de palmier.

This photo of a celery root or celeriac, with a melon next to it for scale, has nothing much to do with the rest of this post.
However, a céleri-rave does have a kind of core or cœur, which can be pithy or just hollow.

I haven't meant to be mysterious about my recent doctor appointments in Blois. They have to do with my heart, and the doctor is a cardiologue, but we don't think there's anything serious going on. I went to see him for a routine exam, because of my age. He told me that I have a slightly irregular heartbeat, but I believe I have had it for many years — maybe since childhood, when I had scarlet fever.

In French, what I have, he said, is beaucoup d'extrasystoles, une extrasystolie, or une prématurité. In English, it's called a "premature ventricular contraction" (PVC). The cardio asked me to wear a heart monitor called a "holter" (after the name of the doctor who invented it) for 24 hours so that he could see if the PVC is constant or is more frequent at certain times of the day or related to physical activity. I'll get results this week.

Montpoupon

On Wednesday, CHM and I took a drive west through several villages along the Cher River — Céré-la-Ronde, Francueil, Saint-Georges-sur-Cher, Chisseaux, Chissay — and on to the town of Montrichard. Along the way, we passed by the Château de Montpoupon and stopped to take a photo or two. This is about 10 miles from our house.

The weather here has been very warm — we would say hot, but people who live in other climates might disagree — since June started last weekend. Yesterday the temperature on the terrace, where we spent a good part of the day with CHM, friends Jean and Nick, and Callie, reached 28ºC (82ºF). Storms threaten, but continue to skirt by us to the south or north. Tant mieux, because our leaky roof couldn't handle any more rain.

 

I had to go to Blois for another doctor's appointment early yesterday morning, and I have to go back today. I won't go into details. CHM accompanied me yesterday, and this morning Walt will make the drive to Blois with us too. CHM will take the train back to Paris later today, and Walt and I will do some shopping in and around Blois before coming back to enjoy another warm afternoon on the terrace here at la Renaudière. There's no telling how many more we might have, or might not have. It's pretty nice right now.

Céleri rémoulade et saumon fumé en roulades

Here's the dish Walt, CHM, and I made on Monday to take to the bloggers' party hosted by Martine, J-L, and B over in Pouillé. It was celery root in a cream & mayonnaise sauce (requested by Martine), with smoked salmon and olives. Walt made roulades of the salmon by filling them with the céleri rémoulade (link to recipe).

The photo makes the celery root dish look like something out of the Larousse Gastronomique. Old-fashioned, in other words. But the whole thing was a treat for the eyes and the taste buds, if you like celery and salmon.

Au Relais d'Artémis

Here's a final post about the restaurant in Bracieux that we really enjoyed last Saturday, Au Relais d'Artémis. First, a view from the main dining room out into the garden: I really like the way the trees are pruned into umbrella (or is it mushroom?) shapes. And again, everything is very green.

The garden at the restaurant Au Relais d'Artémis in Bracieux, near Chambord

As for the food, here finally are a couple of photos of the main courses we ordered. I chose the veal, which was onglet de veau broutard. Evidently, a veau broutard is a calf that has begun to graze on grass — brouter means "to graze." The cut of meat that I had is called onglet, and it's categorized as offal (abats) even though it is red meat. I think it might be called "hanger" or "skirt" steak in English, and it's part of the animal's diaphragm. Whatever it is, it was tender and delicious cooked medium rare or rosé at the Relais d'Artémis.

Onglet de veau broutard

Walt and CHM both chose fish for their lunch. It was filet de sandre, beurre blanc — fillet of zander (pike-perch) with a butter sauce. Zander is a European river fish. The flesh is very white and tender, with few if any bones. Both W and CHM thought it was delicious. It was served with a risotto that CHM said was excellent — creamy and rich, flavored and colored with either saffron or turmeric (curcuma).

Fillet of zander with a golden risotto-style rice

Thanks to CHM for the photo

And I almost forgot the starter course. Since I started this series with desserts, I'll finish it with the entrée. We all three had the same one: Mille-feuille au saumon et asperges vertes. There was both cooked and cold-smoked salmon on the plate, with three asparagus spears per serving. It was also very good, and was a fine introduction to a very nice meal.

A mille-feuille is a multi-layered concoction made with crisp pastry and creamy fillings, usually sweet. It's called a "napoleon" in America. This was a savory version made with salmon.

Okay, lunch at the Relais d'Artémis is over and done with. I hope you enjoyed the upside-down menu. Maybe we should call it Déjeuner à la Tatin.

Interlude

The days are so busy and the time is so short. Today, I'm cooking (an American specialty, Brunswick Stew), filing my tax return (la déclaration d'impôts) for which the deadline is Friday, and trying to keep up with this blog.

Walt watching a train from Tours that's getting ready to pull out of the station

Today I planned to post a couple of photos of the main courses we had at lunch on Saturday in the restaurant in Bracieux, but I just realized that have only one decent shot. When CHM is up and moving in a few minutes, I'll see if he has any photos I might use and post them tomorrow.

The Blois train station's restaurant, not crowded at noon on a Saturday

Meanwhile, here are a few shots I took in the train station in Blois that same day.

An informational sign in the station

By the way, I haven't mentioned the nice party we were invited to Monday afternoon over in the neighboring village of Pouillé. Ladybird / Martine, visiting from Belgium,  and her friends J-L and B who have a house here, were the hosts. There were 15 of us, mostly local bloggers, and we enjoyed conversation and a great lunch al fresco in their garden for the whole afternoon.

Waiting for the crowd to arrive at lunchtime on a Saturday

It was an international crowd, with attendees from Belgium, Australia, Wales, England, Scotland, and the U.S. We got sunburned — can you believe that?

Wine Walt in a bottle

At the Relais d'Artémis restaurant in Bracieux on Saturday, we of course ordered some wine to go with our lunch. The restaurant's vin du mois — wine of the month — was a rosé from the nearby Touraine-Mesland vineyard.

I took the picture of the wine bottle and label at the table, and only afterwards realized that I had caught a picture of Walt "in" the bottle.

A rosé was a good choice to go with our meal, which consisted of fish and veal dishes.

Mesland is a village just a few kilometers west of Blois, on the north side of the Loire River. The vineyard covers 110 hectares (about 275 acres) and is a sub-appellation of the much larger Touraine wine production area. Other local sub-appellations are Touraine-Amboise, Touraine-Oisly, and Touraine-Chenonceaux.

The waitress who brought the wine to our table told me that this particular rosé was made with Cabernet Franc grapes. In Touraine, rosés are often made with Gamay grapes, and sometimes with a special local grape called Pineau d'Aunis.

Mesland and other Touraine still wines are reds made from Gamay, Cabernet Franc, or Côt-Malbec grapes, and whites from Sauvignon Blanc or Chenin Blanc grapes. The region also produces a lot of sparkling wines that are known as Fines Bulles de Touraine.

Le vin du mois au Relais d'Artémis : un rosé de Touraine-Mesland

L'enseigne du restaurant Au Relais d'Artémis à Bracieux, près du château de Chambord

Start with dessert

At the Relais d'Artémis restaurant in Bracieux, there was a notice at the bottom of the menu saying something like : Merci de commander votre dessert au début du repas (Thanks for ordering your dessert at the beginning of the meal). So when the waitress came to take our order, CHM of course immediately told her that he wanted Tarte Tatin for dessert. The young woman was a bit confused but then saw the humor in the remark and laughed.

So I'll start the restaurant report with dessert too. As somebody said, life is short.

Here is the Tarte Tatin that CHM ordered and enjoyed. It's an upside-down apple tart, caramelized, served with a scoop of
glace à la vanille. It's a local invention and specialty in the Sologne region.

Walt and I both wanted to have the apricot dessert — Poêlée d'abricots au romarin, sorbet framboises — but there wasn't any left. We had a late reservation and the place was hopping. So we chose other desserts.

Walt had what was called a tartare de fraises. It's strawberry season right now in the Sologne.
Thanks to CHM for the photo.

My dessert was Croustillant au chocolat, crème anglaise au poivre de Séchuan.
I won't even try to translate all that. I don't eat much chocolate, and this was delicious.

Even after eating three other courses, I was able to finish my Croustillant au chocolat.

Here's a photo of the restaurant taken from the street.

Tomorrow: appetizers, main courses, etc. By the way, there was an English translation for each dish on the menu in the restaurant.

La gare de Blois

There's so much to do and so much to talk over that I don't have a lot of time to write a blog post. I'll just post a few pictures. We picked CHM up yesterday at the train station in Blois — la gare de Blois — at noon.

Blois is a funny name, phonetically speaking. Most people pronounce it as one syllable: [BLWAH]. To do so, you have to pronounce the vowel AH the French way, in the back of your mouth and up your nose. If you say it the American way, in the front of the mouth, you end up with two syllables, something like [bluh-WAH]. It's the way Americans say [pee-noh-nuh-WAHR], in four syllables, rather than [pee-noh-NWAHR] in three syllables, for the grape called Pinot Noir.

La gare de Blois

But you also hear French people say Blois as more or less two syllables, and not the same way. A couple of years ago, CHM and I were on the train, coming from Paris back to Saint-Aignan. The conductor on the train distinctly said something like [buh-luh-WAH] when he announce the stop. I'm not sure he was a native French speaker. Even yesterday, however, I noticed that the woman announcing the arrival of the train from Paris said something that sounded like [buh-LWAH], two syllables, for Blois.

Waiting on the platform are passengers heading to Paris. On the right side, we were waiting for the train from Paris to come in.

Those are the strange observations of my phonetically trained mind (and tongue). Speaking of tongues — or in tongues, I guess — tomorrow I'll write about and publish pictures of the restaurant in Bracieux and the food we ate.

Le train en provenance de Paris rentre en gare...

« Les trente glorieuses »

Années, je veux dire. Today is the 30th anniversary of Walt's and my vie commune. How's that for franglais ? We're going out for a nice lunch in the town of Bracieux, just south of the Château de Chambord. The restaurant is Au Relais d'Artémis (link).

Our friend CHM arrives from Paris by train at noon, and we'll pick him up at the train station in Blois. It's not far from there to Bracieux. He has invited us to lunch at the restaurant, because we are also celebrating the 30-year anniversary of our friendship. CHM hired me as his assistant when he (we) worked in Washington DC, and my first day on the job was the first Monday in January 1983. We've been friends ever since.

Here's the menu we plan to choose from at the restaurant in Bracieux. I'm thinking mille-feuille of salmon and
green asparagus as a starter, and veal with oyster mushrooms as a main course.

So there you have it. The weather is supposed to be sunny for the next four or five days. CHM will stay with us for a week, and we're going to a party with some local friends and fellow bloggers on Monday. On Tuesday, I'll be cooking up a batch of Brunswick Stew, a southern U.S. speciality, because CHM said he'd like to try it. I'm going to make it with rabbit and turkey, onions, herbs, tomatoes, beans, okra, and corn.

One of the roofers I contacted by e-mail answered me! He asked me which day next week would be best for him to come over and evaluate the problem. Maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel. Since the roof only leaks when we have very hard rain, we're safe for a while now. But the roof needs to be repaired before we can repair the water damage in the kitchen.

By the way, the real trente glorieuses (années) were the years from 1945 until the mid-1970s, when France and other European countries saw growth rates and standards of living soar.