Colds and viruses

I've got a cold and my computer's got a virus. If you receive any suspicious-looking e-mail from me, don't open it! I made the mistake yesterday of opening an e-mail from a former blogger who called himself Amerloque ("the American") and lives, as far as I know, in Paris or in Normandy. I'm sure he didn't send it on purpose — his computer probably has the virus too.

Our house in November — we still have petunias in the
window box and geraniums on the terrace.

It's called Security Defender, and it's very intrusive, displaying warnings about all kinds of threats and viruses, making it impossible for you to do much of anything on your computer. If anybody reading this knows a quick and easy way to remove it from a computer it has hijacked, I'd appreciate knowing about it.

Nobody uses the communal well in our hamlet,
La Renaudière, any more.

Meanwhile, here are a couple of pictures from my walk with Callie yesterday morning. In the rain... but at least it wasn't cold at all. And when it really started raining, the dog and I just came straight back to the house. Today the sun is shining and my cold is slowly getting better. Now back to the virus problem...

Fabulous feasts

The other day I was doing some reading in a cookbook called Mexican Everyday (2005), written by Rick Bayless, a Chicago chef and author. I like what he says in his introduction. Here's a quote:

“The world's most time-honored cuisines illustrate that: (1) everyday eating is best kept to deliciously seasoned simple preparations of natural ingredients (mostly unrefined and balanced among a variety of fruits, vegetables, legumes, and meat) served in moderate portions, [...]

One of our recent “fabulous feasts” was savoy cabbage,
carrots, turnips, and potatoes...

and (2) fabulous feasts — once a week, or, for special occasions, more often — are an essential part of our healthy nourishment.”

...served with pork belly, saucisses de Strasbourg,
and saucisses de Montbéliard.

[...] “cuisines that have healthily nourished generation after generation have a pretty brilliant — but basic — way of putting essential foods together in the right proportions for everyday eating. Call it their foundation dishes. Yet those same cuisines also realize that feasting is essential for a culture's aesthetic development, encouraging cooks to reach for new culinary heights.”

We didn't eat it all at one sitting, of course.

As Bayless says, “A feast can make our spirits soar for days, while our bodies are regenerating themselves on everyday fare.”

Morning...

...and afternoon.
Those are wind speeds in kilometers per hour on the maps.

I think I need to come up with a feast for today's midday meal. Look at the weather report. It's already raining here. Does this qualify as a special occasion? Let's see... broccoli? rice? chicken wings? Got it.

La crève et les plantes

J'ai attrapé la crève. Je tousse. J'ai le nez qui coule et les yeux qui pleurent. Je suis à plat. Et puis, depuis le changement d'heure dimanche, j'ai l'impression qu'il fait nuit tout le temps. Hier matin, il a plu comme vache qui pisse pendant au moins trois heures. C'est novembre, quoi...

So that's what's going on here. A bad cold. I got it from Walt, just as he was getting over it. We can't figure out where he got it, except that about 10 days ago we spent half an hour in a crowded wine bar down in Saint-Aignan having a glass with friends. Crowds! You can have them. And November — you can have that too. Besides, today is a Catholic holiday: the Day of the Dead!

Weather forecast for tomorrow afternoon

Otherwise, when it's not raining, I've been out trying to continue cleaning up the yard and garden. I've raked more leaves. I've brought in more of the potted plants that spent the long dry summer outdoors. Do you keep potted plants? They are a lot of trouble, but I can't stop myself. In San Francisco, a lot of plants in pots could stay outdoors year-round, because the temperature never went down to freezing. Here, they have to come back in for the winter.

One of the best improvements we've made to this house since we moved in was to have the little front porch glassed in. Now we have a sun porch where we can keep plants during the cold months. This past summer I bought a couple of wooden shelf units, and Walt bolted them to the wall on the sun porch a week or two ago. That gives a lot of room for pots.

A lot of my potted plants have sentimental value. They've been given to me by people I'm close to: CHM, my mother, our friend Gisèle on the other side of the village, and Josette, the woman who sold us our house here. They replaced plants that we had in California, many of which made the trip across the U.S. with us when we left the East Coast for the West in 1986. When we left California in 2003, we had to leave all the plants behind.

The new loft space with its four windows
gives me a lot more space for houseplants.

Thanks, however, to a cousin in N.C., my mother, and CHM, I still have potted plants that were my grandmother's before she died back in 1977. They are little Sansevieria trifasciata ‘Hahnii’ plants that moved with me from North Carolina to Washington DC and now to France. It's a long story, and a long history. I had given some cuttings to CHM when we left California, and some to my mother when we stayed with her that year. CHM brought me some cuttings from back there after we were settled in Saint-Aignan, and my mother did the same. Now I've got two or three pots of them growing again.

There's something about bringing potted plants in and keeping them going over the cold winter months that feels very positive, optimistic, and satisfying. Especially when you have a bad cold and it's raining buckets outdoors.

Canard laqué

One of the nice things about cooking and eating in France is the universal availability of duck at affordable prices. I'm talking about whole ducks or ducklings for roasting, leg & thigh sections for confit, duck breasts for grilling or broiling — not to mention duck sausages, duck prosciutto, duck fat, duck gizzards, duck hearts, and duck livers, including foie gras de canard.

I bought a duckling at SuperU last week and made lacquered duck for the second time in recent years. Canard laqué is something I especially remember eating in Asian restaurants in Paris back in the 1970s and 1980s. Now I can make a passable version of it for myself at home. Here's a set of photos.

Marinate the duck overnight or for as long as 48 hours
in a sweet-spicy-salty sauce (recipe)

Bake the duck at about 300ºF/150ºC for 90 minutes.
Pour water or wine into the pan so the juices won't burn.
Wrap the duck in aluminum foil if it starts getting too dark.

Marinate the duck every 15 minutes with the sauce. Then
unwrap the duck and turn up the oven to give it good color.

Carve as you would carve a chicken or turkey. Cook the
remaining marinade to thicken it and serve with the duck.

Serve the duck with rice or Asian noodles and vegetables
and some of the drippings from the roasting pan.

I'm going to make this same thing using a chicken or a guinea hen next time to see how that would be. Or with a pork roast. Here are links to some of my other posts about cooking duck:

Canard laqué
Confit de canard: the brine
Confit de canard: the method

Confit de canard in cassoulet