Love in a French Village

Saint Valentin gateau from our village boulangerie

As it is St Valentine’s Day I thought I would share a little of the love I have found in our village. Our neighbours, who have been happily married for over fifty years, certainly seem to know the recipe for love. Talking to Pierrette recently she was almost giggling in girly excitement when she let me into a little secret. Dominique, her husband loves pancakes, although she admitted they do not eat them very regularly, so on this particular afternoon once he was safely off working in his vegetable garden she rustled up the batter, adding a drop of rum, and left it resting until his return at dinnertime. For Pierrette, love is, surprising your man with pancakes!

Another village love story, which unfortunately has a sad ending, is of Mauricette and her husband Jacky. She is a regular at the library, choosing novels for herself, but as his health was deteriorating and he couldn’t follow a story she always chose large, photo filled hardback books for him as he still enjoyed looking at the pictures. She also ensured he never missed an event in the village, even if it meant her pushing him to the salle des fêtes in his wheelchair. Five years ago he was just one of the old soldiers standing with flags at our 11^th November ceremony. Last November, he was the only one and was sat in his wheelchair. Sadly, he passed away this week. I didn’t know him well, but I will miss him. I will also miss selecting books for him from the library bus that visits four times a year and ensures we get a good supply of different books for our library.

Remembering a special villager

For me, love is days out on the bikes with Adrian, especially if it includes a morning boulangerie stop, a picnic and an afternoon  beer stop. At the moment life is throwing spanners in our cycling plans as work is busy, which keeps Adrian away and the weather has been a bit wild, too wild for me on the bike. 

It is not unusual for us to spend St Valentine’s Day apart, but this year we were full of hope with his planned return home on the evening of 13^th. Then Tempête Ulrika arrived blowing her best all day yesterday, threatening the Atlantic coast, whipping the waves and bending the trees inland too. More worryingly for us was the effect she would have on Adrian’s return flight to La Rochelle, where the end of the runway is at the edge of a cliff, but thankfully he made it. Love is, making it home in a storm. To reward his efforts I’ve prepared a special homemade meal for tonight, but I can’t tell you what it is, as it’s a surprise.

Now, over to you, do you have a love story to share?

This post has been linked to the Dreaming of France blog link. Click here for more posts.

France et Moi with Carol Drinkwater

Welcome to ‘France et Moi’ where this week, as part of the blog tour to coincide with the release of her new novel The Forgotten Summer I am talking to actress and author Carol Drinkwater about what France means to her.

 

Carol Drinkwater

Carol Drinkwater, known for her award-winning portrayal of Helen Herriot in the BBC series All Creatures Great and Small, is the author of the nonfiction Olive Farm Series of memoirs which inspired The Olive Route, five documentaries following her travels in the south of France. Her memoirs were great comfort reading for me when we moved to France in 2004 and everything felt daunting and different. She is also the author of three bestselling Kindle singles.

1) I think France is a special place, famed for many things including its cheese, wine and diverse holiday locations plus, dare I say it strikes and dog poo littered streets. What do you think makes France so very unique and ‘French’?

Carol: Our dogs run free on our land so we have no part to play in your observation of French streets!

France is a republic where the individual counts above the crowd, and that is very important to the psyche and the way people live here. The French, although I don’t usually go in for sweeping generalizations, respect freedom of the individual. They will stand up for this, as last year’s attacks proved. The right to think, worship, live as each feels is fundamental (within the law, of course). It is this philosophy that is at the heart of the hugely diverse choice of cheeses and wines. Each region, even a tiny village, is protected by its hard-earned AOC - Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée - label. Our olive oil, for example, comes under the AOC ‘Olive de Nice’. This oil cannot be produced anywhere else. As with all AOCs, it is the marriage of soil, climate, product.

2) What is your first memory of a trip to France?

Carol: Riding on a coach tour with my parents down to Italy, stopping for sunny lunches on terraces, flying through the Alps, hitting the Riviera coast –the Belle Epoque villas, the glittering Mediterranean, that hot embracing sun - and then a stroll round Monaco. I was about ten or eleven so, I would guess, early times in terms of tour operators to “the Continent”, but I thought it was magical. It was all so exotic to me back then, and so glamorous.

3) When you first arrived in France what was the best thing about being immersed in French life and the scariest thing?

Carol: Our very first summer, I went to Nice university and enrolled in a two-month course in French. I had studied Latin languages at school but this was essential. I have two fabulous step-daughters, who were thirteen at that time. They both spoke some English but refused to converse with me in my mother tongue. If I wanted to engage with them it had to be in French, and they were not slow in correcting my errors!

4) Do you have any embarrassing language mishaps you are happy to share?

Carol: Here is one I have recounted in The Olive Farm. My parents were coming to stay for the first time. I was nervous, keen for them to approve our mad purchase of a dilapidated olive farm overlooking the Bay of Cannes. I had cleaned up everything as much as was possible with little money to spare and next to no furniture. Wild flowers in vases in the bedroom, our best linen on their bed. Wine and food all ready to be served. And then I noticed a rather unattractive “leak” seeping out of a drain right alongside the swimming pool, newly renovated and filled for the first time. I panicked, ran indoors and called the plumber who was not home. His wife answered. I yelled that her husband had to come immediately. There is a HUGE TROUT coming up through the drainage system and it will slip into the swimming pool any minute now.

‘A TROUT, Madame?’

‘YES, please get your husband here as soon as possible....’

The plumber was there within fifteen minutes.

‘Where is this giant fish then,’ he grinned.

‘FISH? What are you talking about. We have a LEAK.’

I had confused the words: TRUITE for trout and FUITE for leak.

5) How does France inspire your writing?

Carol: In every way, and more and more profoundly. I regularly read about France, read in French, dig into history. I am keen to get beyond the clichés to discover the spirit of the country. I am also constantly bowled over by the beauty and the variety of geographical locations here. The wild Atlantic scenery, the Mediterranean’s chic yet natural beauty. The elegance, the snobbery, the poise of capital city women, the love of art and language, cinema, literature. The investment in the arts, the pride the French take in all that is French... Every day, there is something new...

6) Your new novel The Forgotten Summer is set on a vineyard in Provence, how important do you think it is to match your French wine with your food? Any top matching tips you can share?

 

The Forgotten Summer

Carol: We don’t have this habit. We drink lighter wines in the warmer seasons – Chablis, for example, with a home-grown salad dressed with garlic and our own peppery olive oil. With our winter foods such as Boeuf Bourguignon or Pot au Feu we would go for a red Bordeaux such as a Saint-Emilion.

7) Imagine you are sitting outside a French café at 10.00am on a sunny morning watching the world go by, what do you order from the waiter?

Carol: Coffee. Double espresso. I am not a great one for food in the morning so I am happy with my coffee. When I am at home, I might sweeten it with a semi-spoonful of honey. Otherwise, I drink it neat.

8) France has many different cheeses, this is a silly question, but which French cheese are you? A hard and mature Tome, a soft, fresh and lively goat cheese, a creamy and rich Camembert or a salty and serious Roquefort?

Carol: Je suis fromage! Ha ha. A soft, melting, creamy Brie full of delicate tones.

9) Can you describe your perfect French apero for us, including the drink, the nibbles, the location and the company?

Carol: Champagne on the terrace at our home overlooking the Bay of Cannes where we can watch the sun set over the Mediterranean. In the company of my husband, Michel, (who prefers chilled rosé) and perhaps also several dear friends, with our dogs dozing at our feet. On those warm evenings with jasmine and orange blossom perfumes wafting our way, we eat outside. We have three barbecues of varying sizes. Michel will have the fire going to get the meat or fish grilled and as we sip our drinks, the scents of cooking waft our way. We grow the ingredients for our salads and mixed herbs, our own potatoes... Usually, to nibble with our apéros, we like to serve roasted almonds (also grown on the land) and slices of charcuterie. Not too much or we will have lost our appetite for the dinner yet to come!

10) France has some beautiful cities and there are a few that constantly battle to be my favourite, what is your favourite French city and why?

Carol: Paris, toujours Paris. It has everything. Even after all these years, it thrills me to be there. There are certain quartiers I know better than others and I tend to head for them. I am particularly fond of the Bastille area. I shop and hang out around the 5th and 6th arrondissements. This includes Bon Marché, the splendid department store which has a fine bookshop and a small restaurant on the same floor. I buy books and then dip into them while enjoying a coffee or lunch. I go to the cinemas around L’Odéon or along the Champs Elysées.

Finally, do you have any current projects you would like to tell my readers about?

Carol: I am at work on a new novel, also set in France. It is too early to talk about it but I am aiming to create a story that is epic and dips into some recent French history as well as being a very up-to-the-minute tale.

Thank you for taking the time to give some great answers to my questions about France and you. I really enjoyed The Forgotten Summer, even if it did make me cry and I’m sure readers will love it. I will be waiting patiently for your new novel.

The Forgotten Summer was released in hardback and ebook format on 11th February and will be available in paperback on 14th July 2016. To read my review, click here. You can find Carol on Twitter, Facebook and her website and don't miss out on the other stops on The Forgotten Summer Blog Tour organised by Penguin Random House.

Carol’s Olive Farm and Olive route books are available in paperback and ebook format. Her Kindle Singles are ebook only novellas. Links to Amazon can be found below. My reviews of two of her Kindle Singles can be found by clicking on the links below.

The Girl in Room Fourteen
Hotel Paradise

Book review of The Forgotten Summer by Carol Drinkwater

The Forgotten Summer, Carol Drinkwater

My review today is for the brand new novel The Forgotten Summer by Carol Drinkwater, released in hardback and ebook format today. 

The Forgotten Summer is set in Provence on a family run wine and olive estate. When a devastating drama hits the family, a web of hidden secrets come to light that cast doubts on the past and threatens the future of the business. Someone needs to step in, but who will be strong enough to take control?

Jane and Luc Cambon appear to be a close couple from different backgrounds, who split their time between their life in London and Luc’s family estate in Provence, where helping with the harvests is something they always look forward to. The estate is a special place for them both, but a difficult relationship with Luc’s mother Clarisse, leaves Jane emotionally exhausted and although Luc tries to reconcile the differences between the two women, they have an old secret neither have shared with him. Clarisse is the matriarch, hard and cold on the outside, set in her ways and with a strength that comes from a difficult past. I found her a very interesting character to get to know.

This book is intriguing from the start. Carol is an excellent storyteller; layering the story from the beginning with lots of little morsels of family secrets, feuds, family history and French history, all dotted in and built on throughout the book. My mind was often running ahead and supposing what was coming next and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It is a very emotional read that did make me cry, but following the initial despair and heartbreak comes the rebuilding and back-tracking into the past, solving the mysteries that will eventually enable them to move on to a better future. 

Set with a backdrop of Provençal vineyards and olive groves, with scents of the French countryside and sunshine to warm you, Carol will take you away as you become immersed in the unusual life of the Cambon family, where no one is quite who they first seemed to be. I'm sure readers will love it.

The Forgotten Summer is published by Penguin Random Housewho kindly sent me a review copy. It is available now in hardback from all good booksellers. It is also available in ebook format and links to Amazon can be found below. It will be available in paperback from 14^th July 2016.

You can find Carol on Twitter, Facebook and her website and don't miss out on the other stops on The Forgotten Summer Blog Tour, including joining me back here tomorrow where I will be chatting to Carol for my France et Moi interview feature. 

Volunteering in the village

My French Village Library

Since arriving in France over eleven years ago my motto has been to say “oui, d’accord” (yes, OK) whenever I’ve been asked to help out. This has opened many doors of friendship, helped my French and given me a wealth of experiences I would otherwise have missed out on. Rural villages with small, often aging populations need volunteers willing to give their time and their ideas to ensure there is social centre at the heart of the village. Our village library may only be open for a few hours, a couple of times a week, but it is as much a place to gather for a chat for the older people as it is a place to pick up books.

One of the first things I became involved in was the village magazine committee and I can vividly remember sitting in the meetings and not understanding a word, let alone being able to contribute anything apart from helping with the folding, stapling and distribution. However, I stuck to it and soon found myself able to translate the monthly Mot du Maire (Mayor’s Word) into English and even suggest the odd idea or two. It wasn’t long before I was also volunteering at the village library, the treasurer on a village committee and running a Family Fun Day in the park every August. 

Ask not just what you can do for your village, but also what volunteering for your village can do for you! Volunteering has given me friends as well as neighbours, has increased my French vocabulary, given me a social life and every now and again offered me a tasty meal too.

Mixed fish entrée

Haddock main course

Chocolate dessert

Last Saturday night the library and magazine volunteers were wined and dined at a local restaurant to thank us for another year of service to the village. We are a mixed bunch in all sorts of ways and the only thing we have in common (apart from our love of village life) is that none of us were born here. We are English, Welsh, Moroccan born French and French, originally from Brittany to Montpellier and Paris to the Pyrenees. We have different ideas, different strengths and different languages, but I can tell you there was a lot of chat and laughter around the table on Saturday night.

If you would like to help out in your town or village I would suggest making enquiries at your Mairie or speaking to someone on one of the committees who organise events. It won’t always be easy, but it will be rewarding and it will help you to find your place in your community. 

The volunteers

This post has been linked to the #MyExpatFamily blog link. For more posts click here.

Celebrating the feast of Saint Jacqueline

Saint Jacqueline and the frangipani slice

I think I have reaffirmed the belief that I am the ‘slightly bonkers English lady’ in the village on my trip to the boulangerie today. I am not usually to be found buying cakes on a Monday, as a Sunday is my day to indulge, so the boulanger was a little surprised at my request of a frangipani slice this morning.

“You’re being a little greedy today” he joked with a smile.

“Aah, I’m celebrating, it’s the feast of Ste Jacqueline today” I replied.

His blank look meant that although he (and his wife) may make the most flakiest puff pastry, filled with the most delicious almond frangipani; that shatters and comforts with each bite, he is a bit lacking in the history of the frangipani. 

I explained that Saint Jacqueline was born in 12th Century Rome; she married Gratien Frangipani and was quite an accomplished baker of almond cakes. These cakes, called Frangipani after the family name, were given to the poor, the unhappy and the rich and also bundled into her little chariot to be handed to the other pilgrims she met on her annual pilgrimage walk to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. What a lovely lady she was. 

I have to admit to having had a bit of a love/hate relationship with my name when I was growing up. Primary school writing was much harder for me than my friend Emma, but funnily enough I’ve always had a thing for sweet almond desserts. I’m also fascinated (and very tempted) with the Chemins de Saint Jacques, the French routes to Santiago de Compostela that pass very close to where we live. I am no saint, but Ste Jacqueline and I are obviously kindred spirits.

I then went on to say that it is the law that all those named Jacqueline must eat frangipani today in celebration.

“Oh, really” he said. “That is an English custom is it?”

“Aah, no, actually it’s just in my head, but I think it should be the law!”

So, if you are called Jacqueline, or you know someone who is, please spread the word and indulge in frangipani today. It certainly brightened up my morning coffee and would make Saint Jacqueline and me very happy indeed.

A family day out on La Grande-Cote, Charente-Maritime

La Grande-Côte

Today we had good weather, we were all home and we had no plans – this is unusual, especially in February. We packed a picnic, threw in some old clothes (which wasn’t easy for Ed who is a bit of a fashionista) and set off for a family day out at the beach.

Since September Ed has been staying away at Lycée during the week, he often has plans with friends at the weekend and Adrian’s work also takes him away during the week and some weekends. It is a difficult time (for me) as I’m happy to see Ed enjoying his independence and gaining in confidence, but just a little bit sad at the speed in which he is growing up. The last two school holidays, in October and at Christmas, we have packed up, shuttered up and left for the UK to have fun with our families and as Adrian will be away working for a lot of Ed’s fortnight holiday at the end of this month, we have been rather lacking family time together.

Ed and Mini on the dunes

It is an hour and a half drive to our favourite off-season beach, which starts with twisting back roads through Cognac vineyards. We are in the middle of vine pruning season, some are neatly pruned and ready for spring, some are still awaiting the vintners who were wrapped up against the chilly air, pruning, even on a weekend. It was a beautiful blue sky today, the air cooled by a breeze, but plenty of sunshine to warm from within and nature was all around us. There were hives half hidden in sheltered hedgerows, hares darting across ploughed fields and buzzards circling in the thermals overhead, as we made our way from village to village. The Charente Maritime villages have an air of elegance, the houses made of smooth cream stone with pale shutters and today windows were flung open to air the bedrooms. Nearer the coast we drove through skeletal fruit tree orchards and passed bright orange hunters watching and waiting at the edge of woodland, before arriving among the coastal pine forests. The last part of the drive can be very busy in the summer and parking isn’t easy, but not in February, even on warm, sunny days.

The Atlantic defences

Summer at the beach can be too hot and uncomfortable for me, and the combination of a sweaty body, sun cream and loose sand is my idea of a nightmare. It is also only possible to take Mini the dog to the beach out of season and she loves to run, dig in the sand, climb the dunes with Ed and play endless games of ball. Fully clothed means I don’t have to touch the sand so a day at the beach is much more my thing in the winter.

Between St Palais-sur-mer and La Palmyre along La Grande-Côte, at the top of the Gironde Estuary there are remains of the Atlantic sea defences. Eerie looking concrete blockhouse constructions left abandoned after the German Occupation. Many years of erosion have caused them to slip down the beach where they now wonkily sit in the sand and the sea, depending on the tides.

Driftwood sculpture

This stretch of coast has kilometres of flat easy walking and tumbling waves that bring in stones, shells and jellyfish. It was warm enough today to leave the coats in the car, despite the healthy breeze that erased our footprints in the sand as we walked along, which we did for at least an hour and a half. The beach was littered with washed-up wood, worn smooth from it’s travels by sea and providing a sculpture exhibition for the many walkers, dog walkers and even two donkey walkers. We certainly all benefited from fresh air, a change of scenery, exercise and family time together.

Donkey walkers

This post has been linked to Paulita's Dreaming of France blog link up. See here for more posts.

A Roundabout Passage to Venice by Patricia Steele

My review today is for A Roundabout Passage To Venice a short travel memoir of a special visit to Europe in 1995 by Patricia Steele.

A Roundabout Passage to Venice

Patricia, in her forties, persuades her mother, in her sixties, that now is the perfect time for a trip together from the US to France. After a little thinking time, Mum agrees and soon Patricia finds herself planning a real European adventure to London, Paris (via the newly opened Channel Tunnel), Provence and Italy, as each phone call with her Mother sees another ‘must-see’ destination added to their list. Her Mother sounded great fun and was full of energy and excitement throughout their journey. 

I really enjoyed seeing my Europe and the places I know so well through their excited US eyes and couldn’t help but smile as I was reading. From the scary driving on the wrong side in London, to the history all around them in Paris and the questionable public toilets, Patricia’s writing style ensures the reader is there to experience everything with them, without the pain of sore and blistered feet. These ladies really know how to get the maximum from a trip. 

When they are in France they are lucky to stay en famille with some friends they have made. Many of the meals in their host families’ homes are described in mouth-watering detail and Patricia admits to following along in the kitchen with her notebook. I would have loved for her to include some of the recipes in the book, however she does include colour photos of them on their adventures, which is a nice touch.

This enjoyable memoir, that brings Europe in the 1990’s to life, is available in ebook and paperback and links to Amazon can be found below.

La Friperie, the second hand shop

I love the fact that my life in France is constantly changing and I’m still discovering new and exciting things, even after eleven and a half years. I mentioned before Christmas that I had serious bag envy after spotting this gem, designed purely for the purpose of transporting a quiche or a tarte to a picnic or shared meal. It is chic, stylish and oh so French and in my opinion can only enhance the experience of an outdoor social event.

Sac à tarte

Some French friends overheard my enthusiasm and the next thing I knew plans were afoot to start a small village sewing group, with the sac à tarte as our first project. We are all enthusiastic, we all have our own sewing machines and I’m hoping they have enough knowledge (and patience) to guide me gently. I would love to be able to sew. As a child I have fond memories of knitting, pom-pom making and cross stitch sewing, all under the guidance of my Nan and I loved it. I also have memories of Mum trying to teach me how to use her sewing machine, but alas we didn’t get very far and I think tempers frayed quicker than the material. I foolishly thought that as Ed got older I would have more time to take up sewing as a hobby, but my village life is a busy life and Mum’s sewing machine has now been sat in our dining room gathering dust for more years than I care to remember. I’m hoping 2016 is going to be my year of the needle.

What we all needed was some pretty material for our bags, ideally in two contrasting colours. A date was made for fabric shopping and this morning at 7.30am we set off on our adventure to what I thought was going to be a fabric shop, but I was wrong. We were in fact about to discover the weird and wonderful world of la friperie, a large warehouse stacked with second hand clothes and materials, all sold very cheaply by the kilo.

My friperie summer dress

Loosely sorted into areas of trousers, tops, dresses, skirts and more, some of the piles of clothes were taller than I am. We tip-toed daintily around the edge, lifting, looking and sorting, however some bold ladies (obviously professional sorters) were clambering on the clothing and digging deep for that something special they hoped was hiding at the bottom. I was probably the least vigorous rummager, but I still found a beautiful lined summer dress, that is the perfect fit on my short frame, not something I find very often. At around 1€ it was a real bargain.

Friperie fabric for my sac à tarte

In the fabric bin we all found something that will make some of the prettiest sac à tartes in the area and my friends, more accomplished seamstresses than I, also bought material and wool for their other projects. Watch this space for more updates on how my sewing skills are coming along. I promise to share the good and the bad of my journey, but I’m determined I will be the proud owner of an original sac à tarte in time for the summer. I'm also sure that won't be my last visit to la friperie.

Friperie fabric for my sac à tarte

This post has been linked to the Lou Messugo #AllAboutFrance blog link up. Click here for more great posts about France.