I feel lucky

I feel really lucky to have located this vehicle the way I did. I'd been thinking about getting a second car for quite a while. I'd looked at hundreds of ads on the Internet, and I'd picked out three or four dealerships that I thought I'd visit to check out the possibilities.

By the way, the photos in this post appear exactly as they came out of the camera. I took them yesterday late in the morning, when I got home with the Citroën. I haven't retouched the colors in Photoshop at all.

In December, I decided to pull my funds together. About that time, the dollar started rising against the euro. That motivated me to speed up my search for a car.

And then one day in January I was headed to Intermarché to do some grocery shopping when I noticed a car just like the one I had in mind sitting on the lot at a Renault dealership across the river in Noyers-sur-Cher, not 3 miles from our house.

I drove by there two or three more times in January before I decided to stop one day and see what the sign hanging inside the car, off the rear-view mirror, had written on it.

I was surprised at how low the mileage was — the car has been driven an average of only *11,000 km (7,000 miles) per year* (I mixed up my figures in an earlier version of this post) since it was first registered. I was pleased to see how low the price was — only about two-thirds of what I had budgeted. And I was pleased to see that the car was in such good condition.

A few days later, I called the dealer. Walt pointed out that I really ought to drive a C4 before I made a decision. I figured I could drive this car without feeling obligated to buy it, after all. Maybe I'd hate it.

As it turned out, I didn't have to deal with individuals selling cars on the web. I didn't have to go talk to several car dealers to try to find what I wanted. And if the car needs service, the dealer's garage is close by. The car has a warranty. The dealer is a local man who has a reputation to maintain.

When I lived in the U.S., I bought new cars. I had five of them over the years. I did own a couple of used cars back in the 1970s, but I kept each one of them only a year or two. One was a Subaru that I bought from a friend who was leaving the U.S. for a job overseas.

People used to say that buying a used car was buying somebody else's problems. The fact is, cars nowadays are much more reliable for a longer period of time than they used to be. I've had the little Peugeot since August 2003, and I bought it used. It has needed some repairs over the years, but nothing really major. It's been a great car. Now I've realized that it needs a new timing belt pretty soon if we are going to keep it.

You can click or tap on the pictures to see them at a larger size. As for the car's color, it looks different on each screen (computers, tablets) that I use to view the photos — less mauve on some, and more gray. Since all the displays are calibrated differently, it's hard to know which one is more accurate or true.

Sunday dinner, and a new car

Yesterday we decided to make Julia Child's version of the old restaurant classic called Steak Diane. I had just happened to buy some thin-sliced steaks (rumsteak in French) at the supermarket the other day and it seemed like a good use for them. In Julia's version, the steak is cut or pounded out to a thickness of just ¼" (6 to 7 mm) and then cooked very quickly in a pan in clarified butter. Then, while the pan-seared steaks rest, you make the Diane sauce in the pan.

First, season the steak by splashing on a few drops of soy sauce and a teaspoonful of olive or other vegetable oil on both sides and rubbing it in with your fingers. A grind of black pepper is a good idea that this point too. Once the steak is lightly cooked on each side, take it out of the pan and keep it warm.

Melt some butter (I didn't bother with clarified butter) in the hot pan and toss in a finely chopped shallot or small onion (or a chopped clove of garlic, why not?). Let it sizzle a little and then add a few ounces of beef broth to the pan and stir in a good spoonful of Dijon mustard. Optionally, enhance the sauce with a couple of tablespoons of whiskey or cognac. Add more broth as you see fit. When the sauce is bubbling away — the mustard will thicken it slightly — slide the steaks into the pan and turn them over in the sauce. They are ready to serve — no need to overcook them.

On the Internet, I found a lot of recipes for Steak Diane, in French as well as in English. Most of them seemed to call for a cream sauce. I think Julia Child's version with a mustard-based sauce is more interesting and probably more flavorful. To make the steaks into a full Sunday dinner, I made a bowl of mashed potatoes (with butter and milk) and a side dish of peas and carrots (fresh carrots but frozen peas) to go with them. If that's not Sunday dinner, I don't know what is.

Today is the day I'm supposed to go over and pick up the "new-to-me" car I bought last week. I had the money wired over from my credit union in the States last week, and I'm ready. Last week, after I gave him a down-payment on Tuesday, the dealer set about prepping the car, including changing the timing belt (a major job) and putting on new tires and wiper blades, as well as detailing (thoroughly cleaning) the vehicle inside and out.

Okay, I've been coy about posting a photo of the Citroën CF in question. There it is. I took the photo early last Tuesday morning. The car was covered in frost. I'm still not sure what the color is going to look like without frost and in bright sunshine. On Friday I went to my insurance agent's office in Saint-Aignan to get coverage, and as I stepped out of the office, what did I see but exactly the same car, the same color, passing slowly by. I thought it looked pretty good.

Potato chips

Cooking is like learning a language. Every time you think you've got something figured out, a new technique, a new expression, a new method or word comes along.

We've never had a lot of luck making French-fried potatoes using fresh potatoes. They've never come out as crispy as we would want. They're good, but they aren't the best pommes frites in the world.

Crispy, light chips made with red boiling potatoes

There's a well-known Belgian comic/humorist who lives in our village — I just happened to hear him on the radio one day, years ago, and I was surprised when he named our village as his adopted home. He was asked by the interviewer whether he cooked pommes frites, a Belgian specialty, at home. He said yes, he did, but he had a hard time here in the Touraine finding the right kind of potatoes for frying. Every time he went back to Belgium, he said, he came back with the trunk of his car filled up with good potatoes from up there. So I concluded it was all about finding the right potatoes.

Buffalo-style wings, kale, and chips made with spuds sold as frying or mashing potatoes

Well, a few days ago, we wondered about making potato chips from fresh potatoes. Walt looked it up, and found a recipe that looked easy. Two ingredients: potatoes and peanut oil. It would make a good experiment. In fact, what it made was fantastic potato chips (or "crisps" if you are not American). We've made them twice now, cutting them on a mandolin using the "waffle" blade. (Funny — waffles are a Belgian specialty too.) So it turns out that the secret to good fried potatoes is not so much the potato you use but how you cut them up.

Pizza aux oignons fondants

That means pizza with "melting" onions. Onions that have been "stewed" or "sweated" slowly in a little bit of olive oil for as long as an hour on very low heat.

First you have to peel and slice 1½ to 2 lbs. of onions. It's a good bit of work, but it's wintertime and there's not much else to do, especially not outside. I like to cut off the root end and then the stem end of the onion. Set the trimmed onion on its flat bottom and cut straight down through it. It's easier to peel that way. Then lay each half on its cut side and slice through it from stem-end to root-end to make little crescent-shaped strips.

Onion rings are another option. They'll cook down the same way. Heat up some olive oil in a pan. Toss in all the onion strips or rings with seasonings like salt and pepper, hot red pepper flakes, dried thyme, and a bay leaf or two.

Keep the heat low and let the onions melt down in the pan, stirring them as often as you want. You can also add a teaspoon of sugar or some white wine to give them extra sweetness and encourage them cook down faster. Covering the pan for part of the cooking time helps too.

After an hour, you have oignons fondants — really tender onions — and all you need is a pizza crust to spread them over. Walt makes that. Or even a pie crust. Some black olives, pitted or not, make it look nice.

To go with such a pizza, a salad is called for. This one is just some lettuce and two or three palm hearts — cœurs de palmier — which we buy in cans here in France. They are tender too and have a mild but interesting flavor. The dressing is a standard vinaigrette: vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt, pepper, and oil (olive or other, as you like).