Le Tortoir, a priory in Picardy

I'll start this trip report with the last place we saw on Sunday. It's called Le Tortoir, and I don't know why. The term « tortoir » seems to have something to do with a kind of stick that was used to wind up and tighten down a cord or rope holding a load on a wagon. (The Robert dictionary says: Bâton qui sert à tordre et à serrer une corde (pour assujettir une charge sur une voiture, un bât, etc.). Tortoir or tordoir is also an old term for a press used to extract oil from seeds or grains.

Le Tortoir that I'm talking about, located near the big towns of Laon and Saint-Quentin in Picardy, is an old priory, or prieuré in French. A priory is a monastery run by a prior, who doesn't rank quite as high in the Catholic hierarchy as an abbot, who presides over an abbey. The priory was home to a religious community. This one is in the northern French region called Picardy.

Le Tortoir is privately owned and not open to the public

The priory called Le Tortoir dates from the 14th century, and it was a leper colony or hospital at one point in its history, according the what I've read. The fact is, Le Tortoir is in a valley and deep in the woods, kind of isolated even today, near the village called Saint-Nicolas-aux-Bois. It is privately owned and no tours are given. All you can do is admire it from the road.

The long view of Le Tortoir...

We went there this afternoon after have a look at the town of Senlis, which is impressively picturesque in a medieval way. It's not far north of Paris, and very close to Chantilly. Then we drove through Villers-Cotterêts, an old town where the Renaissance French king François Ier liked to spent time, hunting in the surrounding forest. It was at Villers-Cotterêts in 1539 that King François signed a decree making French, not Latin, the official language of his kingdom for administrative purposes.

...and another view through the front gate.
That might be the owner; he was out walking a dog.

Then we drove on to Soissons, which has a beautiful cathedral that had to be nearly completely rebuilt after the Great War of 1914-18. We had lunch in a crêperie. Soissons, a much bigger town (pop. 30,000 or so) than the others we visited, seemed almost strangely quiet and deserted on a hot, muggy Sunday afternoon. Maybe all the inhabitants went out into the countryside or to the coast for the long holiday weekend that just ended.

The historical monuments sign

Finally, late in the afternoon, we left the main road, visiting the ruins of the old fortified Château de Coucy and seeking out two — yes, two — priories at Saint-Nicolas-aux-Bois (Saint-Nicholas-in-the-Woods), in a surprisingly thickly wooded valley. The valley landscape has a lot of little lakes all around, which makes it and even the most modern house look picturesque — reflections and all, you know. Greenery.

From this angle, the old place looks a little overgrown.

I was exhausted by the end of the day, after getting very little sleep the night before because of meterological mugginess and the buzzing, biting mosquito(es) of Paris. But I did okay driving, enjoyed my day with CHM, and I'll be ready for another busy day today. It was raining when I went to bed last night, but it just cloudy this morning.

The circuit

Yesterday afternoon the weather in Paris turned muggy and then stormy, with loud thunder, bright lightning, and finally a steady fine rain overnight. And there are mosquitoes! One (or more) of them kept me up most of the night. I've got bites all over my arms, ears, and forehead.

Earlier, we had a good lunch at the Bistrot de Breteuil with friends from Montréal who are finishing up a week's stay in Paris. A good time was had by all, I believe, and the food was more than "correct" — as we say in France.

Now I'm looking forward to seeing:

Senlis
Villers-Cotterêts
Soissons
Coucy-le-Château
Péronne
Laon
Reims
Châlons-en-Champagne
L'Epine
Troyes
Sens
Joigny
Pontigny
Auxerre
Varzy
Pouilly-sur-Loire
Sancerre
Bourges
Vierzon

That's a list of some of the places we will or might see on the coming week's travels out of Paris and then back around to the east and south. And here's an approximate itinerary on a Google map.


There will be many historic districts, houses, churches, châteaux, monuments, and landscapes to admire... and photograph. By the time you read this today, I'll be on the road, headed north out of Paris.

Picking and cooking greens

And cooking them. I picked about a bushel of greens yesterday. Half mustard greens — they're all harvested now. And half collard greens. I have a lot of collards left growing in the garden.

France-grown collards (above) and mustard greens (below)

The collard harvesting was a thinning. I pulled the plants up by the roots. Then I cut the leaves off the stems and washed them (the leaves) out in the yard in a big plastic storage bin, using the garden hose. I did the same with the mustard greens. Of those, there were only six plants. Big bushy plants though.

About a peck each of collards (above) and mustard greens (below)

I think I have at least a quart of each kind of greens, cooked. That will make several meals, depending on whether they are intended as the main course or as a side dish.

Cooked collards on the right, mustard greens on the left

I guess it's weird that I get excited about greens, but I do. You might be tired of reading about them. I don't get tired of eating them, however.

A reflection of the kitchen cabinets in a stainless steel pot lid

Again, I cooked them in water and white wine, with salt, pepper, and some duck fat as seasonings. We had some for lunch with polenta and grilled pork chops.

A single mustard plant, grown for the greens

Cactus flowers

I have a cactus in a planter box. Several of them, actually. I leave them outside all winter, and they don't seem to mind much. Right now they are flowering. CHM brought them to me in the form of cuttings off a plant he has in his garden the United States.

Opuntia robusta or humifusa ?

In the planter with the cactus are some little joubarbes des toits — variously known as "hens and chicks" or "houseleeks" I believe. The genus is Sempervivum. I read in the Larousse Gastronomique that some varieties of joubarbes are edible. You trim and cook them like artichokes. I've heard local people here call them petits artichauts. One day I'll have to try them.

A prickly pear flower

The cactus pads are also edible, of course. I've never tried cooking them either. This particular cactus, which is a prickly pear, looks like Opuntia robusta, which is native to Mexico and has been naturalized in parts of Australia, where it is seen as a "noxious weed." The flowers produce the cactus fruit, which is edible. The fruits have to be peeled or scraped very carefully to remove all their tiny spines and needles before you eat them.

Opuntia variety and Sempervivum tectorum

I like growing the cactus but it's hard to work with of course. If you want to transplant it, you have to be very careful or you'll end up with a lot of little spines sticking into your hands. Cactus pads or leaves are called « articles » in French, and the Opuntia pads are « articles plats en forme de raquettes » that are called « cladodes ». Some people call the Opuntia plant « un cactus-raquettes ». The fruits or "pears" are called « figues de Barbarie » in French.

Another Opuntia blossom

Some people might be surprised to know that cactus plants grow on the sand dunes and sandy shorelines of the North Carolina coast (where I was born and grew up). I assume they are native plants, because they've always been there as far as I or my mother can remember. It's quite a surprise to step on one when you are barefoot at the beach. They, along with sand spurs, are a good reason always to wear sandals or flip-flops around there.

The "pear pad" or Dune Prickly Pear of North Carolina

We called them "pear pads" when I was growing up, and they also are a species of prickly pear — in other words, an Opuntia. They thrive in high temperatures and sandy, well-drained soil. I took pictures of some (above) growing along a sandy shore when I was on Harkers Island in North Carolina in March. According to this Duke University web page, they are called Opuntia pusilla, or the Dune Prickly Pear.

And this morning, I found this other web page on that Duke University site. Evidently, there is a prickly-pear cactus native to the North Carolina coastal plain called Opuntia humifusa. It probably grows in other states, including Virginia. In the pictures, it sure looks a lot like the cactus plants I'm growing.