A country day: Au Coindumont, St-Didier-en-Velay

 

The daily boulangerie rendezvous....

I am sitting at the fire that Fred has got going, on a chair with it's faded quilt, it's drizzling and I am content. 

Gite au coindumont details

I am reflecting on our first day at our gite. 

It started with an hour of uncontrollable giggling at 4am, pitch black room, another new bed, strange noises from the water pipes and quite frankly wondering what we were doing in this remote spot rattling around in a 3 storey gite built for family times - we are missing family as Doreen was not able to resolve the frustrating visa process. 

I am getting used to pivoting, so rethinking our days was part of today too.

After a social meeting with Catherine our host we went into the village -an ordinary village- to visit the weekly 'Marche'.

Our first port of call was a  boulangerie and meeting with the villagers who were bemused with our foreignness.

Coffee at the local bar and I popped back to the boulangerie as the bar is happy that you bring food in with you. 

The market was unpretentious, good honest fresh produce and we treated ourselves to fresh filleted fish which Fred expertly fried for lunch. We did find the mattress salesman a rather odd addition to the market.

We made plans after lunch for the coming weekend, where to watch the RWC semi-finals; fitting in my must-do visit to Le Puy to both eat a green lentil dish and to buy some of those lentils with their own appellation; getting to another iconic Tour de France climb, the Puy de Dome; that all took some thinking!

Our afternoon passeggiata was a pleasure, we stepped out of the gite, no car needed, and walked the paths around the fields, the forrest, along the river and past the tiny hamlets and farm houses.

I have made dinner, we have perfect little apple and pear tarts for dessert and this has been my day in the country. 

Ile flottante revisited: Sisteron

A postcard home dated 9/5/87.
A farm-stay in Longueville with the Leroy family.
Their kindness and their hospitality has stayed with me for over 35 years.

It's still amazing and still too delicious

Pillowy airy poached French meringues floating on a bed of velvety ice-cold creme anglaise drizzled with a trickle of caramel and a few toasted almonds. The magic of a French dessert called floating islands or Iles Flottantes. 

And for me, this dessert takes me straight back to one of my favourite memories of living here in France in the mid 80's. 

I have only had this dessert once before and it was in Normandy when our farm-stay host, Mme Leroy, invited our little family to stay on and join them for Sunday lunch. 

I write home to my mother about our weekend experiences on the farm and how French life revolves around mealtimes and how exciting it was for us to witness their lives. 

In my letter below I give the details of that Sunday lunch and its 'amazing' dessert. And here I am, in the town of Sisteron, completely delighted to have finished our Sunday lunch with this dessert that comes with layers of feelings and meaning.

A letter to my Mom in the mid 80's when we lived in Paris, all about a French Sunday lunch.

The "Pearl of France" revisited: Menton

'Les Rampes de Saint Michel',  the staircase to the Basilica in Menton

My first outing to Menton felt as though I was shucking oysters and not finding the pearl in this so called "Pearl of France". I was weary, it was hot, we kept walking around in circles to find the Basilica, which we had already found and it was closed, then accidentally walked the famous 'les rampes', at that point I realised I was jaded by it all.

I was also so struck that my dear friend Michelle in the US, who completely loves Menton, was going to be in this place in a few weeks time and that we were missing each other. I was almost grumpy with the universe for these bizarre circumstances and poor timing. 

I did the next best thing, asked her to plan my return visit with all her favourites and what makes her love Menton. 

So from her must do's about food and everyday living:

• I bought the freshest Italian Taggiasca hand pressed virgin olive oil directly from the farmer at the Ventimiglia Mercato Coperto ...
• I bought his last season lemons from his tree, and I noticed how I felt about these gnarly looking lemons...
• In Menton I chased down her favourite honey boutique and bought the 'Miel & Citron' as this is the capital of lemon growers...
• Then down the alley to Maison Herbin for Lemon Marmalade and Fred loved the tart lemonade on sale too...
• Then the Les Halles Market for fresh produce and an assortment of deli items for our antipasto this evening...
• Last night we caught the train to Menton and choose our pizza spot. Another foodie treat and better than our pizza choice in Ventimiglia today...
• And of course gelato, a dark delicious frutti di bosco...

Thanks Mich for introducing me to your French 'pearl', I get it now and I noticed the special umbrella spot...I miss you.

A return visit: Apricus Osteria and Bar, Apricale

The approach to Apricale, breathtaking even on the second viewing

There is a spaciousness about having a week in one place and that has always been the pleasure of our timeshare swops around the world. 

Ambling through the village

Here on the Cote d'Azur we are nestled between Nice and Menton with Italy on our doorstep. 

We have appreciated the choices of how to put our days together and yesterday we got to go back to Apricale, the hilltop Ligurian village, for another round of delicious food and another amble through the ancient old streets. 

It's a rare treat to return to an isolated destination like Apricale and I am so mindful that these set of circumstances that find us here, are unlikely to happen again.

And what a difference to Sunday. 

The crowds had dissipated, there were no rally drivers revving up the narrow steep streets, we got to breathe in the milder more humid air and to just take in so much more of the detail of the thousand years of history in this village. 

We even found the ancient communal bread ovens, the villagers would prepare their dough and come to the 'forno' for the baking, it was used until the 1940's when the last baker stopped his fine trade.

Apricus details.

Once again we ate with joy, my burrata and fresh peaches were a perfect late summer starter and equally Fred's carpaccio was delicious. We just happily sat back with the views of Apricale and had our courses.

We also took the opportunity to natter to the maitre d about their relationship with Chef Jan and he shared lots of stories and news which was entertaining indeed and we shared a good laugh.

Sidebar: we have a late afternoon swim here at Le Golfe Bleu which is such a treat after a day out and of course after all the delicious food. We have been meeting people too at the pool. So yesterday we had a note taped to our door, an invitation for a sundowner. The American couple on our floor have owned a unit here for 25 years and it's setting is one of the best in the complex. It sure was lovely to sit back and take in the sunset, watch all the lights come on in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin with conversation rolling from one topic to another. 

A Sunday lunch in Italy: Apricale

 

One of Chef Jan's favourite getaway spot, the Italian town of Apricale

I watched season 1 of Jan some years back. 

I remember being completely taken by an aerial shoot of a hilltop Italian town nestled in the Ligurian Alps in one of the episodes (and the haunting soundtrack is magnificent too). The South African Chef, with his Michelin star restaurant in Nice, has a real affinity and love for this little village which he calls his 'happy food place'.

Our happy food place, buffalo mozzarella caprese,
borage and ricotta ravioli with butter and sage,
panne cotta.

So Fred and I are based in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin and instead of lazying on a Med beach today, or doing what the French do on Sundays, we headed off into the Ligurian hills to find our own happy food place in Apricale. 

And we did, in fact we plan to return a few times and have one of Jan's favourite places booked for Wednesday, Apricus.

Its the simplicity of excellent fresh ingredients treated well that makes for happy food, nothing superfluous and everything paired with ease.  

The village is on the list of the most beautiful villages in Italy. I can certainly appreciate why, the tiny alleyways, the arched passageways, the ancient houses and the cobbled staircases give Apricale a unique charm.

Charming Apricale, Western Liguria, Italy.

We buy cheese from a farmer: Aire de Lacq Audejos

Ewe's milk cheese, direct from the farmer.

As we fly along the motorways with a destination in mind we pop into an 'aire', a motorway stop, to picnic, to have a break and we don't expect to be either delighted or surprised - it's functional at best.

Today we pulled into an aire and I set up the table while Fred wandered off to find the coffees. A man approached me carrying a cooler box and my South African response kicked in, 'what does he want, I'm not available for anything'! 

He is a sheep farmer, and makes cheese, he also pops over to the aire at lunch time and sells his cheese. What a complete delight to say yes, we tried the ewe's milk cheese, well matured, nutty, fragrant and had some for lunch. 

I asked a few times for the name of the cheese and I could not decipher the reply - but he mentioned it's regional and between two valleys, and I figure it's the name of the aire, so its fromage de brebis Lacq Audejos, and completely delicious.

The ordinary days: on the road in Europe

 

When a hit or miss is a hit, lunch at the Auberge Dupuytren, somewhere in France

So how about the ordinary days among our stand out experiences, so much of an extended stay is also about the quiet times and the gentle passing of time.

Doing the laundry on a rainy afternoon. Making a delicious salad and setting a table with a view. An early morning good cup of coffee from Fred. A good nights sleep. Relishing the fresh air in the mountains. A conversation with a dear friend. A hug from a child and a grandchild. A WhatsApp from family and friends. An end of day swim as the fierceness of the sun decreases. Watching a Red Kite soar above me. Popping into a supermarket for nothing special but toilet paper and coming out with a delicious goats cheese. Ironing clothes. These moments are the holiday.

And it's also about the tough side of being on the road. Transitions days. The packing and unpacking. The scratchiness between us with all the unknowns. The disappointment with poor food choices and expensive awful coffee. The anxiousness of being in traffic and having to navigate the complexity of the highways and byways. Arriving in a different space and having to orientate and make nice. The tiredness that comes with travel and the anxiety of remaining well. The irritation of white goods flummoxing me with their complexity.The pressure of catering and provisioning. These moments are the holiday too.

My way of being is one of planning ahead, researching and I rarely just arrive somewhere. Today was a harsh transition day, from the tranquility of the south of France to the frenetic busyness and traffic of Paris. 

I had planned a picnic en route and as lunch time neared we were driving through sheets of rain. So I just picked a village at random, Pierre Buffiere, drove down a quiet street and I noticed that the Auberge was offering a lunch. We walked in hopeful and wishful...

Such a unexpected surprise, behind the rather blank facade of the Auberge the restaurant was buzzing with happy diners. The flustered waitress was barely coping, but we eventually worked out the set three course meal and sat back happily being served layers of simple delicious food. 

I cannot remember when last we dined like locals, with a fixed price menu and the plats du jour, a carafe d'eau and baguette on the table. With only one small deviation from the locals, we have our cafe with a splash of milk which is then a noisette. 

This meal and a welcoming apartment already set up by Shawni and Craig made for an 'unordinary' day. 

Provisioning: a French morning market tradition

Monday morning market in Salies-du-Salat

There is nothing quite like a visit to the weekly village morning market and we have made sure to pop into many markets along our road trip, both French and Italian. Today was a stroll into the village with James and Kirstie and getting them involved in selecting the produce and trying to manage the carrying - both activities rather short-lived. 

Things go well, until they don't. The roasted farm-reared 'chicken man' only took cash, which meant a traipse into the high street for an ATM, but we recovered, although Kirstie is still looking for a 'chicken man'. The longest queue for the morning was for the bread seller and I had to grin when he offered the littleys a treat and Kirstie turned him down.

Provisioning also comes with the veggie prep afterwards - the red peppers needed roasting; as did the red onions and garlic; the strawberries and radishes needed cleaning; I made a quick tomato sauce with a huge heirloom tomato for with our lunch on the patio.... I need a hit of coffee now and a rest....the pears need poaching, I think they can wait for tomorrow. 

Either way I can feed the family tonight, are expecting Shawni and Craig to arrive soon.