Monday, February 23, 2009
I think the paint fumes have gone to my head. Waking up this morning was so hard. Even though I did get up around 8:30 I dragged myself out to the shower. Thankfully the morning dawned bright, clear and warm with a little southerly breeze coming in off the Mediterranean. I lingered for ten minutes under the hot water of the shower. It felt like I imagine heaven to be.
Today the wine was coming. Yippee! I wanted to get those freshly painted shutters up. I also wanted to get the materials for the gate in case, hope against hope, that I would find the time to build them. The damned shutters were still too wet so I puttered around for a while, went into Leroy Merlin and picked up the wood for the gate and then came back and stopped by the cooperative. Bruno was there and the wine was all ready to go.
He met me at the farm with the truck and we unloaded the cases into the temporary cellar. The new one will be started this year and hopefully be ready for the fall. He commented on how beautiful the view is from the farm and I agreed, looking out across the valley and off into the distance where we could still see snow capped Cevennes mountains perhaps 40 miles away. We talked about the farm and the Chateau project and he offered to come back sometime and help me point some of the stonework around the farm. “A good dinnair, a good bottel of wine, zat’s enuff!” We shook hands and he departed, glancing back and waving as he left the courtyard of the farm.
Then I began to install the shutters. I of course chose the most difficult one to do first. It was high and had not place to stand. I could only work the heavy shutter up the ladder, balance it precariously and then try to shimmy around it and screw on the hinges. Bang! Crash! Ker pow! It dropped 12 feet to the ground, slipping out of my marginal grasp, getting covered in grass and dirt where the paint was still wet and having pebbles embedded in the wood at the point of impact. Damn it! This would be easier with two people.
I spent three times as long as I had imagined I would on installing this one set of shutters. In the back of my mind I knew that Christian and Corrinne along with their friend Benjamin, were coming for dinner around 7:30. I had a lot of food in the fridge I wanted to use up before I left so as afar as I was concerned the more the merrier. I kept feeling the time squeezed more tightly, like toothpaste at the end of a tube. I approached the next set with significantly lower expectations and strangely it went a little easier. Still, by the time the light had faded to the point where I could no longer see the screws I still had only one of the two shutters up. I decided I’d better clean up and begin preparing dinner.
I planned to christen the barbecue since it had not been put together yet and I had some beef and sausage to cook up. I also wanted to make my famous Sicilian potatoes in a French version with different ingredients. I had most of the food prepared and the barbecue coals hot when they arrived. The farmhouse was glowing from lamps and candle light, wine was quickly uncorked and ready for pouring and Corinne brought a fantastic fruit salad with her for dessert.
Benjamin, as it turns out, speaks pretty good English and is a very interesting character. He runs a driving school geared to people who want to learn how to properly rally race on dirt. With a mall fleet of Subaru’s his business offers several products designed to give their customers a sense of control while speeding the car around the dirt track race course they use for a school. It didn’t take too long (30 seconds tops) to have me committing to taking a spin on my next trip over. I’ve always fancied myself a race car driver and floating through the turns of a dirt track sounded just about like heaven to me.
We passed a wonderful meal with a few choice local wines, including our own Marquis de Montlaur. Had a nice after dinner smoke and talked philosophy well into the night. Leaving the dishes for the next day I bade them a good night and quickly settled into sleep, knowing full well I had to hit the ground running early tomorrow morning.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Montlaur Movie Festival!
Sunday, February 22nd, 2009
The rain from yesterday failed to make its appearance. In fact the clouds got scooted away by a gusty breeze coming from the north, whirlwinds were everywhere, and my face became ruddy with windburn. But Sunday dawned calmer, clearer and beautiful. The entire trip has been graced with sunny days, with only a few cool nights. It has been amazing, magical even. What kind of life do we want to lead , what do we want to do with and for ourselves, when you come to this kind of place, sit ye doon for a while, you begin to find some answers.
Today is antique market day. Really it’s a flea market with precious little in the way of antiques and a lot in the way of junk. I went last Sunday but the lure is strong for me, I’m like a moth to the flame. Probably something about getting a good deal appeals to whatever dregs of Scottishness still find a home in me. More likely, it’s the desire to stretch a buck in these hard times. Whatever it is I had a list of things that the farmhouse needed and I dutifully went off in search of these items.
I needed carpets, and something for the stone niche on the wall, a petanque set (like a French version of bacci), and who knows what else I might find. I thought I would spend a few of my precious remaining hours and that I could still get the accursed shutters done before I left.
I wandered up and down every aisle, marking what I was interested in, getting a feel for the prices. It hadn’t been a good day at the market. Nothing was really selling, except, frites, merguez and espressos. So then I went into action, wheeling and dealing like what some of those jobless New York brokers used to do. I bought three nice hand made Moroccan rugs, a pair of armoire doors (I had the rest of a similar piece door-less at the farm), a couple of dust cover linens, some small knick knacks selling for 1 Euro per kilogram and a small wooden rolling table that will serve as a scullery table near the stove until the new kitchen goes in some time down the road.
I packed it all in and went home…four hours later. Now I was feeling the pressure of completing those damned shutters. I had set completing them as one of my main objectives of the trip and there I was heading into Sunday afternoon, less than two full days to go and I hadn’t finished building them yet. Well, that was about to change. I went to the well. That well of capability we all have inside of us and I dipped out a huge helping of stick-to-it-ness and a good measure of determination to boot.
I started to work. I put movies on my computer and worked through three movies until finally I had everything built. Then I thought, hmmmm, if I get them all painted I can get them up tomorrow and be done with it. I put in another movie…Conan the Destroyer. “I think I can paint one side every 20 minutes.” Twelve sides total, two hundred forty minutes, two movies.
Now Conan, looked pretty impressive. He was after a Queen and a kingdom of his own. Strange that he found both in America. The effects were pretty cheesy compared to today’s stuff. The monsters faces couldn‘t articulate so they ended up having these grimaces pasted on for the duration of their appearances. Weird! Four shutters painted.
Then I watched Professor Holland’s Opus. If you haven’t seen it before it’s the kind of thing that can make you cry. I had seen it when it first came out in about 1995, the theme about teaching hitting close to home as my mom was a teacher of some longevity (45 years). What amazed me most was how truly talented Richard Dreyfuss is and also whoever did his aging through the film was also incredible. I got teary eyed at the end when he gets to conduct his Opus, the very same day he’s turfed after teaching for 30 years. What lesson is there in that? Every day you should do one more thing for yourself and one less thing for the man. Eventually your life will be your own. Nine shutters painted.
Then I watched the series kick off of Alias with Jennifer Garner. It was really cool, lots of martial arts, cool driving stunts and she gets her back teeth pulled out in an interrogation by some Chinese guys. But she overcomes all her travails, including her fiancé getting whacked by her employer, and finding out her father, cold bastard that he is, is actually working for the same people and is a double agent himself. What a story! We need more action heroes and its great that some of them are women now. I’ve always said that women are the tougher half of the species. Whoo! All the shutters are done, I’m covered with paint, its three o’clock in the morning….I’m going to bed!
The rain from yesterday failed to make its appearance. In fact the clouds got scooted away by a gusty breeze coming from the north, whirlwinds were everywhere, and my face became ruddy with windburn. But Sunday dawned calmer, clearer and beautiful. The entire trip has been graced with sunny days, with only a few cool nights. It has been amazing, magical even. What kind of life do we want to lead , what do we want to do with and for ourselves, when you come to this kind of place, sit ye doon for a while, you begin to find some answers.
Today is antique market day. Really it’s a flea market with precious little in the way of antiques and a lot in the way of junk. I went last Sunday but the lure is strong for me, I’m like a moth to the flame. Probably something about getting a good deal appeals to whatever dregs of Scottishness still find a home in me. More likely, it’s the desire to stretch a buck in these hard times. Whatever it is I had a list of things that the farmhouse needed and I dutifully went off in search of these items.
I needed carpets, and something for the stone niche on the wall, a petanque set (like a French version of bacci), and who knows what else I might find. I thought I would spend a few of my precious remaining hours and that I could still get the accursed shutters done before I left.
I wandered up and down every aisle, marking what I was interested in, getting a feel for the prices. It hadn’t been a good day at the market. Nothing was really selling, except, frites, merguez and espressos. So then I went into action, wheeling and dealing like what some of those jobless New York brokers used to do. I bought three nice hand made Moroccan rugs, a pair of armoire doors (I had the rest of a similar piece door-less at the farm), a couple of dust cover linens, some small knick knacks selling for 1 Euro per kilogram and a small wooden rolling table that will serve as a scullery table near the stove until the new kitchen goes in some time down the road.
I packed it all in and went home…four hours later. Now I was feeling the pressure of completing those damned shutters. I had set completing them as one of my main objectives of the trip and there I was heading into Sunday afternoon, less than two full days to go and I hadn’t finished building them yet. Well, that was about to change. I went to the well. That well of capability we all have inside of us and I dipped out a huge helping of stick-to-it-ness and a good measure of determination to boot.
I started to work. I put movies on my computer and worked through three movies until finally I had everything built. Then I thought, hmmmm, if I get them all painted I can get them up tomorrow and be done with it. I put in another movie…Conan the Destroyer. “I think I can paint one side every 20 minutes.” Twelve sides total, two hundred forty minutes, two movies.
Now Conan, looked pretty impressive. He was after a Queen and a kingdom of his own. Strange that he found both in America. The effects were pretty cheesy compared to today’s stuff. The monsters faces couldn‘t articulate so they ended up having these grimaces pasted on for the duration of their appearances. Weird! Four shutters painted.
Then I watched Professor Holland’s Opus. If you haven’t seen it before it’s the kind of thing that can make you cry. I had seen it when it first came out in about 1995, the theme about teaching hitting close to home as my mom was a teacher of some longevity (45 years). What amazed me most was how truly talented Richard Dreyfuss is and also whoever did his aging through the film was also incredible. I got teary eyed at the end when he gets to conduct his Opus, the very same day he’s turfed after teaching for 30 years. What lesson is there in that? Every day you should do one more thing for yourself and one less thing for the man. Eventually your life will be your own. Nine shutters painted.
Then I watched the series kick off of Alias with Jennifer Garner. It was really cool, lots of martial arts, cool driving stunts and she gets her back teeth pulled out in an interrogation by some Chinese guys. But she overcomes all her travails, including her fiancé getting whacked by her employer, and finding out her father, cold bastard that he is, is actually working for the same people and is a double agent himself. What a story! We need more action heroes and its great that some of them are women now. I’ve always said that women are the tougher half of the species. Whoo! All the shutters are done, I’m covered with paint, its three o’clock in the morning….I’m going to bed!
Cheese, chocolate and philosophy....
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Now this morning was different. It was overcast and seemed perhaps that it would rain. Normally, I go to the Sommieres market on Saturday morning but I was on a mission. I needed some chocolate olives and I couldn’t go home without them. I’ve never found these fake olives anywhere but the south of France, in those wonderful tourist trap places like Les Baux or Carcasonne where they have a candy store that would be a very pleasant place to die if one had the choosing of such a thing. Not sure the staff would appreciate it but grabbing my chest and keeling over into the praline truffles, while knocking over a barrel of these chocolate olives and watching them dance across the floor might be just the kind of high adventure finish I think I have in me.
But Les Baux and Carcasonne were hours away and the shutters were pressuring me to finish them. Christian had googled chocolate olives for me on a hunch. We found a store in nearby Montpellier that carried them (actually they made there own). Easy enough then; a quick drive to Montpellier, visit the store, get the Nestle’s chocolate for the chocolate fondant (I didn’t tell you that yet eh!) we would have Saturday night and presto I’d have the olives as well.
Ok then, straight into the underground parking at the Comedie (Montpellier’s opera), a short walk to the street where the store was. Yes number 25 ….there’s 19, 21, 23…. Fermé. Closed for the “Congés”….what’s a “Congés”? Well there is another chocolate store up the street….Tramp, tramp, tramp…Closed for the “Congés”. Two more chocolate stores…all closed for the “Congés”. Turns out “Congés” is vacation, a midwinter school break that the French like to take to get away. But why all four of Montpellier’s chocolate stores would take the same vacation made me think the universe was conspiring to deprive me of my chocolate olives.
I picked up the other chocolate and a few nice fruits to dip into it and made my way home. I was able to paint a few more sides of the shutters before I cleaned up and with my new chocolate fondue set all primed with chocolate and tidbits of fruit I made my way over to Christian and Corinne’s.
Their friends were already there, a couple who owned a set of “gites” that they had been working on. Nicolas, whom I had met before when he showed me through the construction project on his new “gites”, is an affable and easygoing Frenchman with a calm manner and a lively sense of humour. His English was Ok, as was his wife’s (but I forget her name right now), and together we passed an hour over aperitifs and pretzels.
Corinne had served a cheese fondue before but we’d never done a cheese fondue followed by a chocolate fondue. Tonight would be a milestone night. As usual the cheese fondue was served with a mound of French country bread already cubed and ready for dipping. The cheese itself was a mixture of several cheeses that smelled as rich and fattening as it tasted. Spearing a big chunk of bread and dipping it into that molten cheese was not just tasty but a lot of fun as well. Not to be totally decadent, Corinne also served a green salad with a light but tangy home made dressing of olive oil (from their own trees), orange and spices….I might be wrong about the orange but it did taste really citrusy.
And then came the chocolate fondue (after much wine). I had included, apples, pears, bananas, strawberries, mandarin oranges, kiwi and lichee fruit. We started with 200 grams of chocolate but quickly added another 100 grams just so we wouldn’t run out in the middle.
It was delicious! Christian and Corinne made me a gift of both a cheese fondue pot and the chocolate fondue pot. So now they are both at the farm where we can all use them as much as we like.
We tried some new wines as well and several of the old stand bys. What was really wonderful about the evening was the comfort of just sitting around with a bunch of French people, the language gently rolling over me like warm river water. I felt immersed in this culture, a world away from my own and yet at home and comfortable. By this time, after eight days, my French comprehension had improved and both of their guests worked easily to help me with their constrained English. We could have been sitting in Saratoga, or Toronto, or Vancouver but we were in the south of France, just a stone’s throw from a medieval castle that is our play ground. I could pinch myself but there’s no need. This is good living. These are good people and sharing nights like this with the other people we will surely meet along the way is a pretty good way to spend a life.
Captain Vancouver found his adventure in the new world. We can find ours in the old. All we need be is brave and daring and ready and of course we also need to be ourselves.
Now this morning was different. It was overcast and seemed perhaps that it would rain. Normally, I go to the Sommieres market on Saturday morning but I was on a mission. I needed some chocolate olives and I couldn’t go home without them. I’ve never found these fake olives anywhere but the south of France, in those wonderful tourist trap places like Les Baux or Carcasonne where they have a candy store that would be a very pleasant place to die if one had the choosing of such a thing. Not sure the staff would appreciate it but grabbing my chest and keeling over into the praline truffles, while knocking over a barrel of these chocolate olives and watching them dance across the floor might be just the kind of high adventure finish I think I have in me.
But Les Baux and Carcasonne were hours away and the shutters were pressuring me to finish them. Christian had googled chocolate olives for me on a hunch. We found a store in nearby Montpellier that carried them (actually they made there own). Easy enough then; a quick drive to Montpellier, visit the store, get the Nestle’s chocolate for the chocolate fondant (I didn’t tell you that yet eh!) we would have Saturday night and presto I’d have the olives as well.
Ok then, straight into the underground parking at the Comedie (Montpellier’s opera), a short walk to the street where the store was. Yes number 25 ….there’s 19, 21, 23…. Fermé. Closed for the “Congés”….what’s a “Congés”? Well there is another chocolate store up the street….Tramp, tramp, tramp…Closed for the “Congés”. Two more chocolate stores…all closed for the “Congés”. Turns out “Congés” is vacation, a midwinter school break that the French like to take to get away. But why all four of Montpellier’s chocolate stores would take the same vacation made me think the universe was conspiring to deprive me of my chocolate olives.
I picked up the other chocolate and a few nice fruits to dip into it and made my way home. I was able to paint a few more sides of the shutters before I cleaned up and with my new chocolate fondue set all primed with chocolate and tidbits of fruit I made my way over to Christian and Corinne’s.
Their friends were already there, a couple who owned a set of “gites” that they had been working on. Nicolas, whom I had met before when he showed me through the construction project on his new “gites”, is an affable and easygoing Frenchman with a calm manner and a lively sense of humour. His English was Ok, as was his wife’s (but I forget her name right now), and together we passed an hour over aperitifs and pretzels.
Corinne had served a cheese fondue before but we’d never done a cheese fondue followed by a chocolate fondue. Tonight would be a milestone night. As usual the cheese fondue was served with a mound of French country bread already cubed and ready for dipping. The cheese itself was a mixture of several cheeses that smelled as rich and fattening as it tasted. Spearing a big chunk of bread and dipping it into that molten cheese was not just tasty but a lot of fun as well. Not to be totally decadent, Corinne also served a green salad with a light but tangy home made dressing of olive oil (from their own trees), orange and spices….I might be wrong about the orange but it did taste really citrusy.
And then came the chocolate fondue (after much wine). I had included, apples, pears, bananas, strawberries, mandarin oranges, kiwi and lichee fruit. We started with 200 grams of chocolate but quickly added another 100 grams just so we wouldn’t run out in the middle.
It was delicious! Christian and Corinne made me a gift of both a cheese fondue pot and the chocolate fondue pot. So now they are both at the farm where we can all use them as much as we like.
We tried some new wines as well and several of the old stand bys. What was really wonderful about the evening was the comfort of just sitting around with a bunch of French people, the language gently rolling over me like warm river water. I felt immersed in this culture, a world away from my own and yet at home and comfortable. By this time, after eight days, my French comprehension had improved and both of their guests worked easily to help me with their constrained English. We could have been sitting in Saratoga, or Toronto, or Vancouver but we were in the south of France, just a stone’s throw from a medieval castle that is our play ground. I could pinch myself but there’s no need. This is good living. These are good people and sharing nights like this with the other people we will surely meet along the way is a pretty good way to spend a life.
Captain Vancouver found his adventure in the new world. We can find ours in the old. All we need be is brave and daring and ready and of course we also need to be ourselves.
Wasted days and wasted nights...(not!)
Friday, February 20, 2009
It takes about a week to get into the rhythms of a place, to find the seam of existence that is effortless, a pattern of waking, eating, living and retiring that is comfortable and sustaining. Frequent travelers all develop their tricks to minimize jet lag but it sometimes catches you at the strangest times. I say this because I woke up at 3:30 am and could not get back to sleep, even though I’ve been here a week already. Thankfully I had my trusty literary companions to while away the hours and I did manage to catch a couple more hours at dawn. But it made for a late start to the day.
I began to feel the pressure this morning of my imminent return to the US. Its not the idea that I’ll be returning home that causes the pressure rather it is the idea that I’ll be leaving this place. It is simply so peaceful here, and yes there is a lot of stuff to do, and yes I have to make shutters, and paint them, and plant some flowers, and do some electrical work and I’d really like to get the main gate built while I’m here as well…so the idea of leaving without finishing all that I’d like to do is stressful. So a late start in the morning is just like amping up the pressure.
But today, I have to go to the Montpellier airport to figure out how to ship this wine. Other than knowing I have to find the freight office for Air France I have no idea really what I have to do nor if my pidgin French will be sufficiently useful to get the deed done. But as with most things I head into it with all the optimism of a freshly minted college graduate and let serendipity guide my way. In this case serendipity landed me at the Air France freight office at 1:00 pm and there was not a soul to be found anywhere. I wandered around empty corridors, peered into offices with stacks of paper piled high on what were obviously working desks, and generally wondered if in fact I was in the right place. Several times I went out to check the sign to be sure I hadn’t missed something but no, I hadn’t . “Fret, Air France Cargo”
the sign seemed quite unequivocal.
Needless to say after wondering what was up I spied a woman in the parking lot and asked her if I was in the right place. Indeed I was but they were all off at lunch until 2:00 pm….a very civilized two hour lunch I thought. I do think they have some things quite right.
So off I went to Castorama (think Lowe’s with a Beaver motif) to while away an hour. They have so many neat things that we don’t have I spent almost 2 hours there, buying very little but enjoying myself immensely.
Back to the airport, “Fret, Air France Cargo”, I found the place humming with activity and a little Frenchman who spoke English as passably as I spoke French. Together in a few minutes we figured out what it would take to do the shipment and how much it would cost. “’Ow much duzz eet weight?” he enquired. I realized that I had no idea how much it “weighted”. I have never weighed my wine despite having hefted ten or twelve (thousand) bottles. “Je pense le shipment est une cent ou une cent cinquant kilo totale. ” (“I think the shipment is 100 or 150 kilos total.”)
“Eets four euro twenty five per kilo…no matter.” Ok, by my math that seemed reasonable but not ever having weighed a bottle proved me wrong.
After telling him I’d be back on Tuesday with the wine I went home. I hadn’t seen Christian and Corinne for a few days so I stopped by and left a note for them to join me for a glass of wine if they could. And then I took stock of my volet (shutter) making and decided to get cracking on them. Time was a wasting!
I’d just settled into a good pace after a dinner of leftovers, cranking out the next to last set of shutters when Christian scared the crap out of me by knocking on the door behind me. I am working in a 700 year old stone vaulted farmhouse, it was long past dark and my head was in a volet making groove. I jumped out of my skin and back in I think in the wink of an eye. He opened the door and after a bit of laughing he said I should come over for a drink. It turned out that Corinne’s father had passed away suddenly on Wednesday and so they had been away and of course were a little down. My cheerful presence would be appreciated.
Needless to say I did my duty. I stumbled home late and walked right on by Captain Vancouver, preferring the obliqueness of sleep to the adventures of King George’s emissary.
It takes about a week to get into the rhythms of a place, to find the seam of existence that is effortless, a pattern of waking, eating, living and retiring that is comfortable and sustaining. Frequent travelers all develop their tricks to minimize jet lag but it sometimes catches you at the strangest times. I say this because I woke up at 3:30 am and could not get back to sleep, even though I’ve been here a week already. Thankfully I had my trusty literary companions to while away the hours and I did manage to catch a couple more hours at dawn. But it made for a late start to the day.
I began to feel the pressure this morning of my imminent return to the US. Its not the idea that I’ll be returning home that causes the pressure rather it is the idea that I’ll be leaving this place. It is simply so peaceful here, and yes there is a lot of stuff to do, and yes I have to make shutters, and paint them, and plant some flowers, and do some electrical work and I’d really like to get the main gate built while I’m here as well…so the idea of leaving without finishing all that I’d like to do is stressful. So a late start in the morning is just like amping up the pressure.
But today, I have to go to the Montpellier airport to figure out how to ship this wine. Other than knowing I have to find the freight office for Air France I have no idea really what I have to do nor if my pidgin French will be sufficiently useful to get the deed done. But as with most things I head into it with all the optimism of a freshly minted college graduate and let serendipity guide my way. In this case serendipity landed me at the Air France freight office at 1:00 pm and there was not a soul to be found anywhere. I wandered around empty corridors, peered into offices with stacks of paper piled high on what were obviously working desks, and generally wondered if in fact I was in the right place. Several times I went out to check the sign to be sure I hadn’t missed something but no, I hadn’t . “Fret, Air France Cargo”
the sign seemed quite unequivocal.
Needless to say after wondering what was up I spied a woman in the parking lot and asked her if I was in the right place. Indeed I was but they were all off at lunch until 2:00 pm….a very civilized two hour lunch I thought. I do think they have some things quite right.
So off I went to Castorama (think Lowe’s with a Beaver motif) to while away an hour. They have so many neat things that we don’t have I spent almost 2 hours there, buying very little but enjoying myself immensely.
Back to the airport, “Fret, Air France Cargo”, I found the place humming with activity and a little Frenchman who spoke English as passably as I spoke French. Together in a few minutes we figured out what it would take to do the shipment and how much it would cost. “’Ow much duzz eet weight?” he enquired. I realized that I had no idea how much it “weighted”. I have never weighed my wine despite having hefted ten or twelve (thousand) bottles. “Je pense le shipment est une cent ou une cent cinquant kilo totale. ” (“I think the shipment is 100 or 150 kilos total.”)
“Eets four euro twenty five per kilo…no matter.” Ok, by my math that seemed reasonable but not ever having weighed a bottle proved me wrong.
After telling him I’d be back on Tuesday with the wine I went home. I hadn’t seen Christian and Corinne for a few days so I stopped by and left a note for them to join me for a glass of wine if they could. And then I took stock of my volet (shutter) making and decided to get cracking on them. Time was a wasting!
I’d just settled into a good pace after a dinner of leftovers, cranking out the next to last set of shutters when Christian scared the crap out of me by knocking on the door behind me. I am working in a 700 year old stone vaulted farmhouse, it was long past dark and my head was in a volet making groove. I jumped out of my skin and back in I think in the wink of an eye. He opened the door and after a bit of laughing he said I should come over for a drink. It turned out that Corinne’s father had passed away suddenly on Wednesday and so they had been away and of course were a little down. My cheerful presence would be appreciated.
Needless to say I did my duty. I stumbled home late and walked right on by Captain Vancouver, preferring the obliqueness of sleep to the adventures of King George’s emissary.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
At last! The Wine....
Thursday, February 19th, 2009
I shall not mention the weather since it remains much the same. And I cannot find words to adequately differentiate one day from the next. A little rain might give me something different to say but Languedoc is not obliging me. I keep seeing these gorgeous sunrises with orange gold patinas buttering everything around me and sunsets marked by swirls of pink and purple, a ten minute burst of terra cotta coloured stone just as the sun is sinking below the horizon. Beautiful to watch and, when dressed warmly, a real treat compared to the wretchedness of the winter sun in upstate New York.
This morning I finished rewiring the recalcitrant antique lamp, whose four twisting bronze tentacles resisted the rethreading of wire through them. But persistence and tenacity paid off and I was able to install it in the entry room. I now have many lighting choices for that room including the glow of four 40 watt bulbs from this refitted chandelier.
Having finished that I went off to the cooperative where I met with Bruno Jay, my contact there. His English is perhaps little better than my French, which is to say that its not good. His excuse is that his is quite rusty whereas mine is just not good. After much discussion about the wine and it’s finer points I arranged for delivery to the Farm. And we went to the tasting room.
They make twenty different wines at the cooperative, that is to say twenty brands plus a variety of wine in bulk. I’m hoping that I can have a selection of these wines available for members and so I wanted to try everything. I’m not much of a spitter but today I made a point of it. Bruno certainly was not shy about spitting nor was he shy about opening bottles.
Trying first the whites I found a very good Chardonnay that had a crispness to it that I have found lacking in other Chardonnays. It had a natural peachy tang and something I have found consistently in Languedoc wines and that is an overtone of fig and floral. The Sauvignon Blanc was tart and fresh, perhaps a little earthier and less apple-y than my favourite Sauvignon Blancs but for the price it is a great value.
I tried then a AOC Languedoc rosé, Domaine de Favas which proved exceptional and carried with it the same impression I have had for some time that Languedoc rosés can stand up to many full bodied reds. Drinkable, smooth and full of rip fruit flavours. A very good offering at the price.
Interestingly, I tried the Domaine de Favas red, also an AOC Languedoc wine but was not overly impressed. There was a flatness to the wine that overrode any idea of flavours. Always hard to say with one bottle but if it was representative I would prefer to drink the rosé rather than the red.
Another appellation I tried was a Vin de Pays du Bérange called Bois Noyer. This nutty little wine was quite good and won a medaille d’or at the regional wine exposition. I say nutty since it had an overtone of walnut (without the bitterness) and there was definitely some black cherry in there somewhere, and I think some small amount of the ever present Languedoc fig….an earthy, jammy, sweetish kind of taste but subtle without compromising the dryness of the wine.
Then I tried our wines, the Marquis de Montlaur Classic, aged for one year in stainless steel and the Marquis de Montlaur Fut de Chéne, an AOC Coteaux de Languedoc, oak barrel aged for 18 months to two years.
These were clearly the royalty of the group, both were excellent and had a wonderful fruity nose with a smooth and balanced flavour, and my favourite thing…no negative notes on the palate. They had that characteristic Languedoc fig note in spades, something I think gives the wine a rustic, old world feel. And at 13.5% alcohol they are both strong wines that can stand up to almost any other red. Both of these are medal winners at the Montpellier wine exposition. Bruno suggested that the wine could be cellared for between five and ten years but could be consumed any time, if “uv coorse you open zee bott-el perhaps wun ‘our beforehand”. We also discussed corks and the choice of corks for our brand. He said that after extensive study they selected the real cork amalgam from DIAM, which had proved in service to provide for long and stable life for the cork and hence the wine. So, while I am still faithful to my Brunellos and Chateau Neuf-du-Papes I am very pleased with the selection of this wine for our Micro-Leaseholders.
I will be arranging a preliminary shipment of the wine right now by air with more to follow by sea….but that’s Friday’s story.
It was a wonderful day of tasting and comparing. I went home and made myself a nice dinner of merguez. After watching a movie I clambered into bed and rejoined Captain Vancouver as he and Capitaine Quadro made their way to Maquinna’s village somewhere in the Pacific North west.
I shall not mention the weather since it remains much the same. And I cannot find words to adequately differentiate one day from the next. A little rain might give me something different to say but Languedoc is not obliging me. I keep seeing these gorgeous sunrises with orange gold patinas buttering everything around me and sunsets marked by swirls of pink and purple, a ten minute burst of terra cotta coloured stone just as the sun is sinking below the horizon. Beautiful to watch and, when dressed warmly, a real treat compared to the wretchedness of the winter sun in upstate New York.
This morning I finished rewiring the recalcitrant antique lamp, whose four twisting bronze tentacles resisted the rethreading of wire through them. But persistence and tenacity paid off and I was able to install it in the entry room. I now have many lighting choices for that room including the glow of four 40 watt bulbs from this refitted chandelier.
Having finished that I went off to the cooperative where I met with Bruno Jay, my contact there. His English is perhaps little better than my French, which is to say that its not good. His excuse is that his is quite rusty whereas mine is just not good. After much discussion about the wine and it’s finer points I arranged for delivery to the Farm. And we went to the tasting room.
They make twenty different wines at the cooperative, that is to say twenty brands plus a variety of wine in bulk. I’m hoping that I can have a selection of these wines available for members and so I wanted to try everything. I’m not much of a spitter but today I made a point of it. Bruno certainly was not shy about spitting nor was he shy about opening bottles.
Trying first the whites I found a very good Chardonnay that had a crispness to it that I have found lacking in other Chardonnays. It had a natural peachy tang and something I have found consistently in Languedoc wines and that is an overtone of fig and floral. The Sauvignon Blanc was tart and fresh, perhaps a little earthier and less apple-y than my favourite Sauvignon Blancs but for the price it is a great value.
I tried then a AOC Languedoc rosé, Domaine de Favas which proved exceptional and carried with it the same impression I have had for some time that Languedoc rosés can stand up to many full bodied reds. Drinkable, smooth and full of rip fruit flavours. A very good offering at the price.
Interestingly, I tried the Domaine de Favas red, also an AOC Languedoc wine but was not overly impressed. There was a flatness to the wine that overrode any idea of flavours. Always hard to say with one bottle but if it was representative I would prefer to drink the rosé rather than the red.
Another appellation I tried was a Vin de Pays du Bérange called Bois Noyer. This nutty little wine was quite good and won a medaille d’or at the regional wine exposition. I say nutty since it had an overtone of walnut (without the bitterness) and there was definitely some black cherry in there somewhere, and I think some small amount of the ever present Languedoc fig….an earthy, jammy, sweetish kind of taste but subtle without compromising the dryness of the wine.
Then I tried our wines, the Marquis de Montlaur Classic, aged for one year in stainless steel and the Marquis de Montlaur Fut de Chéne, an AOC Coteaux de Languedoc, oak barrel aged for 18 months to two years.
These were clearly the royalty of the group, both were excellent and had a wonderful fruity nose with a smooth and balanced flavour, and my favourite thing…no negative notes on the palate. They had that characteristic Languedoc fig note in spades, something I think gives the wine a rustic, old world feel. And at 13.5% alcohol they are both strong wines that can stand up to almost any other red. Both of these are medal winners at the Montpellier wine exposition. Bruno suggested that the wine could be cellared for between five and ten years but could be consumed any time, if “uv coorse you open zee bott-el perhaps wun ‘our beforehand”. We also discussed corks and the choice of corks for our brand. He said that after extensive study they selected the real cork amalgam from DIAM, which had proved in service to provide for long and stable life for the cork and hence the wine. So, while I am still faithful to my Brunellos and Chateau Neuf-du-Papes I am very pleased with the selection of this wine for our Micro-Leaseholders.
I will be arranging a preliminary shipment of the wine right now by air with more to follow by sea….but that’s Friday’s story.
It was a wonderful day of tasting and comparing. I went home and made myself a nice dinner of merguez. After watching a movie I clambered into bed and rejoined Captain Vancouver as he and Capitaine Quadro made their way to Maquinna’s village somewhere in the Pacific North west.
Back to the Volet (shutter) grind...
Wednesday, February 18th, 2009
These sunny days are beginning to be monotonous…not! Not so warm as yesterday but still nice. The air had a nip to it that called for a sweater or jacket. By now the stones in the farmhouse had soaked up enough heat that at least when I stepped inside I felt that it was markedly warmer than outside, not something I would have said just a few days ago. In fact I noticed that for the first few days I had automatically left the door open during the day so that the inside would benefit from the warmer outside air. Now I was assiduously closing the door to keep the inside warmth on the inside , done just as automatically as the former. Sometimes we do run on autopilot.
Dr. Berdrow finished her interviewing this morning and we took another walk around the castle before she left. Its always good to hear the reflection of one’s own words, to hear the metal and tenor of them such that you come to know the veracity of which you speak, that this idea that has gotten hold of you makes sense to other people. It is always the greatest of validations to have someone “get it”, to understand what it is that you’re doing even if it’s as huge as rebuilding a ruined chateau or as simple as sweeping the floor.
The remainder of the day I spent working on shutters and painting them. In fact I worked late into the night since I knew I wouldn’t be working tomorrow at all. Because tomorrow I was going to taste the wine.
Ahhh! Captain why do you treat with these Spanish sailors and their wine. You should be drinking French wine! I think the pages fell from my hand as I went to sleep because I woke up with the lights on.
These sunny days are beginning to be monotonous…not! Not so warm as yesterday but still nice. The air had a nip to it that called for a sweater or jacket. By now the stones in the farmhouse had soaked up enough heat that at least when I stepped inside I felt that it was markedly warmer than outside, not something I would have said just a few days ago. In fact I noticed that for the first few days I had automatically left the door open during the day so that the inside would benefit from the warmer outside air. Now I was assiduously closing the door to keep the inside warmth on the inside , done just as automatically as the former. Sometimes we do run on autopilot.
Dr. Berdrow finished her interviewing this morning and we took another walk around the castle before she left. Its always good to hear the reflection of one’s own words, to hear the metal and tenor of them such that you come to know the veracity of which you speak, that this idea that has gotten hold of you makes sense to other people. It is always the greatest of validations to have someone “get it”, to understand what it is that you’re doing even if it’s as huge as rebuilding a ruined chateau or as simple as sweeping the floor.
The remainder of the day I spent working on shutters and painting them. In fact I worked late into the night since I knew I wouldn’t be working tomorrow at all. Because tomorrow I was going to taste the wine.
Ahhh! Captain why do you treat with these Spanish sailors and their wine. You should be drinking French wine! I think the pages fell from my hand as I went to sleep because I woke up with the lights on.
Cleaning up the firewood...
Tuesday, February 17th, 2009
Can you believe it! Another sunny day but with a warm wind blowing from the south. A little overcast in the morning but by 9 am the sky was clear blue, a signature Mediterranean sky.
In order to give Professor Berdrow an accurate idea of what my Micro-Lease product was about I proposed that between her interviews on Tuesday that we accomplish some of the typical things that might be done by any Micro-Leaseholder. Since we needed firewood and I had felled several trees in the fall (and one more large tree had come down in a windstorm) I decided to spend the day cleaning up the wood and getting a stockpile of wood for burning in the outdoor fire pit.
Most of the trees were felled over the old terraced garden area in a tangle of brush that was both unsightly and seemingly impenetrable. Starting a small fire I began to limb the trees for burning and cut up the trunks for saving. The large tree that had come down in a windstorm was particularly interesting since it had been overgrown with vines. And I don’t mean spindly little vines, there were so many vines, each the diameter of my arm at the shoulder, snaking around the trunk that they formed a continuous sheath up most of the tree, two trees in one really.
By the end of the day we had cleared two of the four terraces and stockpiled a fair amount of firewood. We quit early as I had invited Christian and Corinne for dinner and I was cooking. I made one of my specialties, stir fry Thai noodles and Corinne made a nice home made chocolate pudding for dessert. We had no fresh spices while I was cooking so Corinne ran outside and grabbed a handful of rosmarin (rosemary) which, along with thyme and sage, grows in wild profusion virtually at your doorstep. I had opened up the big fireplace for dinner and it crackled with the burning of old shutters and new wood. Between a great dinner and the wine and the discussion about the business it was a good day.
Once again, George Vancouver would have to wait.
Can you believe it! Another sunny day but with a warm wind blowing from the south. A little overcast in the morning but by 9 am the sky was clear blue, a signature Mediterranean sky.
In order to give Professor Berdrow an accurate idea of what my Micro-Lease product was about I proposed that between her interviews on Tuesday that we accomplish some of the typical things that might be done by any Micro-Leaseholder. Since we needed firewood and I had felled several trees in the fall (and one more large tree had come down in a windstorm) I decided to spend the day cleaning up the wood and getting a stockpile of wood for burning in the outdoor fire pit.
Most of the trees were felled over the old terraced garden area in a tangle of brush that was both unsightly and seemingly impenetrable. Starting a small fire I began to limb the trees for burning and cut up the trunks for saving. The large tree that had come down in a windstorm was particularly interesting since it had been overgrown with vines. And I don’t mean spindly little vines, there were so many vines, each the diameter of my arm at the shoulder, snaking around the trunk that they formed a continuous sheath up most of the tree, two trees in one really.
By the end of the day we had cleared two of the four terraces and stockpiled a fair amount of firewood. We quit early as I had invited Christian and Corinne for dinner and I was cooking. I made one of my specialties, stir fry Thai noodles and Corinne made a nice home made chocolate pudding for dessert. We had no fresh spices while I was cooking so Corinne ran outside and grabbed a handful of rosmarin (rosemary) which, along with thyme and sage, grows in wild profusion virtually at your doorstep. I had opened up the big fireplace for dinner and it crackled with the burning of old shutters and new wood. Between a great dinner and the wine and the discussion about the business it was a good day.
Once again, George Vancouver would have to wait.
Down to work....
Monday, February 16th, 2009
Another beautiful sunny day, cool but not too cold. Although the night was cold and I resolved to get myself a couple of duvets for the two covers I had brought over. Today was a perfect day for working around the farm. I first painted the shutters that I had prepared yesterday. We’ve chosen the colour “Provence Bleu”, evocative of Mediterranean climates and Latin cultures. Although not uncommon here in the south of France it is less common here in Languedoc. The Languedociennes seem to prefer more muted earth tones, and indeed if one can find any shred of paint on the farmhouse windows and doors it seems to have been something approaching olive. I tried that when I first started painting but it seemed so drab…perhaps why it is associated with “olive” in the first place.
Having successfully completed the one set of shutters I looked at the next four I wanted to get done. They were by far the largest of what I had completed so far but being on the approach to the farmhouse would make the most difference in visitors coming to see the place. They were each about 2 meters tall and about 1.5 meters wide. For the most part the hardware was in place but a couple of pieces would need to be replaced.
In replicating these shutters, which were made when nails were hand fashioned on a forge perhaps two hundred years ago, it is important to retain the character of the old while capturing the functionality of the new. Normally I do this by removing all the metal hardware and painting it for reuse. Sometimes this is best accomplished by burning the old shutters and sifting through the ashes for the metal bits and pieces. It can be laborious but the effect is well worth it when you see the new window shutter dressed up in its refurbished hardware. Something about the new hardware available in the stores that is just grating on the eye.
I quickly decided I needed to make another excursion to Leroy Merlin for materials, requiring longer boards and several other pieces that I had not previously provisioned. I also had a list of other materials I wanted; wire to rewire an old bronze light I had purchased at the flea market, light bulbs, plugs, fuses, kerosene and of course the wood for the next shutters. I tend to wander through the stores here because there are so many things that we don’t have. For example, they have an extensive collection of decorative stickers for walls from outright photographic murals to psychedelic accents to Zen-like silhouettes of trees, flowering branches etc.
And that’s just the beginning. In every department, whether it’s the Walmart like “selling everything” style grocery/department store (LeClerc, SuperU, or Auchan) or the Home Depot “selling everything” style store for do-it-yourselfer’s (Leroy Merlin, Brico Depot, or Castorama…which means something like “beaver market”) there is something new to see. And products which cost huge amounts at home cost next to nothing here. One example; I priced a stainless steel and glass exhaust hood in the US for a new kitchen at approximately $1800. I bought something very similar at Brico Depot for $140 US or about 100 Euro. Italian made, excellent quality, easy installation and I just checked the box it came in at the airport when I made my return trip…shipped it home for free!
Anyway, having procured my materials (and two new queen sized duvets which cost about 80 Euro total) I made my way home and found that Christian had dropped me off the little kerosene heater he had promised to lend me. Tonight was going to be warmer!
Late in the afternoon Dr. Iris Berdrow arrived. She is a professor of International Management at Bentley College outside of Boston and had completed her MBA and Phd at Western, where I had completed my own although we were some years apart in attending. She had seen the profile of my business in Western’s “In Touch” alumni magazine and while on sabbatical at a college in Clermont Ferrand was doing research in the field of cross cultural constraints on innovation. It seemed I might be a good prototypical study for her research.
Christian and Corinne had arranged for her to stay at a local gites and once she got settled I gave her a tour of the farm and the Chateau ruins. To do this, even in a cursory way, takes a couple of hours by the end of which it was time to crack a bottle of wine. I had explained the vision I had for the business at some length and it seemed the more we talked about it the more Dr. Berdrow thought it might be a good multi-faceted case study to write up. With this thought in mind we went to Sommieres for dinner at my favourite little pizza place there.
The day had begun brightly and opened up some new possibilities for the business. Too tired to walk for a while with Captain Vancouver I went to sleep remembering my case studies at Western…I wondered who in the future would skip reading the case and charm their way through as I had done for so many cases in the past. And speaking of cases, there were many cases of wine waiting for me at the Cooperative, but that is Thursday’s story. But it does give the “case-study” method a different twist.
Another beautiful sunny day, cool but not too cold. Although the night was cold and I resolved to get myself a couple of duvets for the two covers I had brought over. Today was a perfect day for working around the farm. I first painted the shutters that I had prepared yesterday. We’ve chosen the colour “Provence Bleu”, evocative of Mediterranean climates and Latin cultures. Although not uncommon here in the south of France it is less common here in Languedoc. The Languedociennes seem to prefer more muted earth tones, and indeed if one can find any shred of paint on the farmhouse windows and doors it seems to have been something approaching olive. I tried that when I first started painting but it seemed so drab…perhaps why it is associated with “olive” in the first place.
Having successfully completed the one set of shutters I looked at the next four I wanted to get done. They were by far the largest of what I had completed so far but being on the approach to the farmhouse would make the most difference in visitors coming to see the place. They were each about 2 meters tall and about 1.5 meters wide. For the most part the hardware was in place but a couple of pieces would need to be replaced.
In replicating these shutters, which were made when nails were hand fashioned on a forge perhaps two hundred years ago, it is important to retain the character of the old while capturing the functionality of the new. Normally I do this by removing all the metal hardware and painting it for reuse. Sometimes this is best accomplished by burning the old shutters and sifting through the ashes for the metal bits and pieces. It can be laborious but the effect is well worth it when you see the new window shutter dressed up in its refurbished hardware. Something about the new hardware available in the stores that is just grating on the eye.
I quickly decided I needed to make another excursion to Leroy Merlin for materials, requiring longer boards and several other pieces that I had not previously provisioned. I also had a list of other materials I wanted; wire to rewire an old bronze light I had purchased at the flea market, light bulbs, plugs, fuses, kerosene and of course the wood for the next shutters. I tend to wander through the stores here because there are so many things that we don’t have. For example, they have an extensive collection of decorative stickers for walls from outright photographic murals to psychedelic accents to Zen-like silhouettes of trees, flowering branches etc.
And that’s just the beginning. In every department, whether it’s the Walmart like “selling everything” style grocery/department store (LeClerc, SuperU, or Auchan) or the Home Depot “selling everything” style store for do-it-yourselfer’s (Leroy Merlin, Brico Depot, or Castorama…which means something like “beaver market”) there is something new to see. And products which cost huge amounts at home cost next to nothing here. One example; I priced a stainless steel and glass exhaust hood in the US for a new kitchen at approximately $1800. I bought something very similar at Brico Depot for $140 US or about 100 Euro. Italian made, excellent quality, easy installation and I just checked the box it came in at the airport when I made my return trip…shipped it home for free!
Anyway, having procured my materials (and two new queen sized duvets which cost about 80 Euro total) I made my way home and found that Christian had dropped me off the little kerosene heater he had promised to lend me. Tonight was going to be warmer!
Late in the afternoon Dr. Iris Berdrow arrived. She is a professor of International Management at Bentley College outside of Boston and had completed her MBA and Phd at Western, where I had completed my own although we were some years apart in attending. She had seen the profile of my business in Western’s “In Touch” alumni magazine and while on sabbatical at a college in Clermont Ferrand was doing research in the field of cross cultural constraints on innovation. It seemed I might be a good prototypical study for her research.
Christian and Corinne had arranged for her to stay at a local gites and once she got settled I gave her a tour of the farm and the Chateau ruins. To do this, even in a cursory way, takes a couple of hours by the end of which it was time to crack a bottle of wine. I had explained the vision I had for the business at some length and it seemed the more we talked about it the more Dr. Berdrow thought it might be a good multi-faceted case study to write up. With this thought in mind we went to Sommieres for dinner at my favourite little pizza place there.
The day had begun brightly and opened up some new possibilities for the business. Too tired to walk for a while with Captain Vancouver I went to sleep remembering my case studies at Western…I wondered who in the future would skip reading the case and charm their way through as I had done for so many cases in the past. And speaking of cases, there were many cases of wine waiting for me at the Cooperative, but that is Thursday’s story. But it does give the “case-study” method a different twist.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Settling in....
Sunday, February 15th, 2009
Another glorious morning! But again cold and the jet lag hit me last night. I was up from 1:30 am to about 4:00 am. Just woke up and was not tired. Thankfully I had Captain Vancouver to keep me company. I really like this Russian Earl Grey tea they have here, flavored with Christian and Corinne’s own rosemary honey it makes for a great wake up treat. That and the French yogurt is like, the best thing in the world. I buy the ones with the little glass or pottery jars so I can use them for votives as ell but they do happen to taste the best as well.
Another glorious shower! I cannot say enough about a brisk shower out of doors. It is invigorating and delicious all at once. Although for the sake of the blog I’ll have to start skipping writing about this activity…but tell me who doesn’t like a hot shower. There is an indoor shower, I’m just not inclined to it.
Every Sunday is the Flea Market in Montpellier. There is all manner of stuff sold there and I like to check it out when I’m here. Today I was looking for another pedestal light and a table as well as some electrical extension cords. After some false starts I found my way there (I’ve only been with Christian in the past and now I had to find my own way) and proceeded to walk through every single row and aisle and look at every booth…it is an indulgence I would only allow myself when I am alone. After checking it all out and getting some sense of pricing I went back through to strike a bargain with the vendors on items of my choice. I didn’t get everything but I got a lot of it for about 30 euros, including a merguez et frites sandwich for 3 euros.
Then home to the farm where the material awaited for the shutters. I spent the afternoon taking down one set of old shutters and measuring them carefully and rebuilding them with the new materials. They are now ready for painting.
Christian and Corinne stopped by and invited me for dinner around 7 pm. Before I went I reorganized the kitchen with the new lights and table I had purchased and then set off for dinner. Corinne prides herself on her cooking, making new and traditional recipes all the time. Tonight we had a terrine de porc she had made with pain de campagne, a ravioli jambon avec rochefort et fines herbes and a tart apricot for dessert. The meal was fabulous and washed down with some good local red wines from the cooperative.
I said my goodbyes and came home to George Vancouver and the troubles with the Spaniards. All told it was a good day of effort.
Another glorious morning! But again cold and the jet lag hit me last night. I was up from 1:30 am to about 4:00 am. Just woke up and was not tired. Thankfully I had Captain Vancouver to keep me company. I really like this Russian Earl Grey tea they have here, flavored with Christian and Corinne’s own rosemary honey it makes for a great wake up treat. That and the French yogurt is like, the best thing in the world. I buy the ones with the little glass or pottery jars so I can use them for votives as ell but they do happen to taste the best as well.
Another glorious shower! I cannot say enough about a brisk shower out of doors. It is invigorating and delicious all at once. Although for the sake of the blog I’ll have to start skipping writing about this activity…but tell me who doesn’t like a hot shower. There is an indoor shower, I’m just not inclined to it.
Every Sunday is the Flea Market in Montpellier. There is all manner of stuff sold there and I like to check it out when I’m here. Today I was looking for another pedestal light and a table as well as some electrical extension cords. After some false starts I found my way there (I’ve only been with Christian in the past and now I had to find my own way) and proceeded to walk through every single row and aisle and look at every booth…it is an indulgence I would only allow myself when I am alone. After checking it all out and getting some sense of pricing I went back through to strike a bargain with the vendors on items of my choice. I didn’t get everything but I got a lot of it for about 30 euros, including a merguez et frites sandwich for 3 euros.
Then home to the farm where the material awaited for the shutters. I spent the afternoon taking down one set of old shutters and measuring them carefully and rebuilding them with the new materials. They are now ready for painting.
Christian and Corinne stopped by and invited me for dinner around 7 pm. Before I went I reorganized the kitchen with the new lights and table I had purchased and then set off for dinner. Corinne prides herself on her cooking, making new and traditional recipes all the time. Tonight we had a terrine de porc she had made with pain de campagne, a ravioli jambon avec rochefort et fines herbes and a tart apricot for dessert. The meal was fabulous and washed down with some good local red wines from the cooperative.
I said my goodbyes and came home to George Vancouver and the troubles with the Spaniards. All told it was a good day of effort.
Living in the moment....
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Ahhh! What a glorious morning! Bright and sunny, crisp and clear, the perfect day to start into my work. I had plans for the day and one of them way to buy another heater for the farm. It was 38 degrees F outside and only slightly warmer inside the stone farmhouse. Still I had not installed an outdoor shower for nothing, so braving the cold (it wasn’t really so bad) I went outside and turned on the shower. Nice hot water came pouring out and I stepped into it. What joy! What rapture! I lingered under the stream for several minutes before shampooing and soaping up, rinsing off in a glorious dichotomy of crisp cold air and steaming hot water. It did the trick, my blood was flowing and a light breakfast of yogurt and tea set me up properly for the day.
The first thing I wanted to do was to visit the farmers market in Sommieres, a fair sized town just about 10 minutes drive away. It is held every Saturday morning and is an experience I am loath to miss. Sommieres is an old Roman garrison town with many Roman architectural elements still in place. The Roman bridge crossing the Vidourle is still in good repair and used all the time. Inside the old town you can see how the old Roman buildings, which had stood separately when originally built, had been overtaken by the medieval town when a variety of wars ravaged the region from 400 AD to 1600 AD. You can see the arcades of a coliseum disappear into the side of a building knowing full well that they are still inside it. Its quite amazing.
And through the streets of this town winds the market with its broad assortment of items sold in ways we can’t even imagine. Spices in mounds, cheese in whole wheels, freshly baked breads and fresh roasted meats, shoes of all sizes and lingerie to bedazzle even the most hard boiled centurions. In fact it is reported, despite the reputation for haute couture enjoyed by France, that fully 30% of clothing purchased in France is bought in these country markets. Given the number of people looking through the offerings I found that easy to comprehend.
I myself purchased some merguez, a type of north African sausage and some garlic sausage, both of which I like to barbecue. I also purchased two large climbing rose bushes and a Camelia for the farm. Each trip to the market there I like to buy something to plant. The vendor was very helpful trying to speak English for me after I began in my poor French patois…”Ma francais est tres mauvais…” “My French is very bad…”. I think this is the key to disarming the French…simply try to speak their language in their home and they appreciate the gesture. I have found virtually universal success with this approach and today was no different. Not only was he helpful but he insisted that he could come to help me with the “soil problem”.
“Zee soul, eet eese moost be acidic pour ze Camelia. Here, ze soul eese calcium, ppptt!” This last sound made by pursing the lips and spitting, indicating that of course Camelia could not grow in calcium rich soil. Thereafter followed a detailed exhortation of the importance of preparing the hole for the planting of the Camelia to protect it from the calcium in the soil. This included digging a hole 2 feet deep and 2 feet wide. If you’ve ever seen the soil here you know that that is a monumental task, it being full of clay and rock and roots. In the end he summed up by saying, “Or you cooed plant eet een a pot. C’est meilleur! (It’s better!)”
After getting my plants and making my way home I went with Christian to visit the man I had bought the little Opel Corsa from. His name is Francois and of course he knew some very good wines that I should try including one he poured right there at 11:30 am. And it was very good! A wine that is made by putting it in a large glass jar outside in a field for a year. It reminded me of a port but was I should say, more complex in its flavorings with strong tobacco and leather accents, both flavors lingered pleasantly on the palate.
We signed some papers and he gave me another bottle of wine to seal the deal, an AOC St. Chinian made by a friend of his. He thinks it a superb house wine for less than 6 Euros a bottle. I promised to have him over to try it.
After that I went back to the farm, which was warming up in the 65 degree F day. I put on a pot of water and proceeded to make a beef stew. Turnips, potatoes, carrots, mushrooms, cabbage, some local olive oil and some very nice stewing beef diced up in cubes. A handful of rosemary, thyme, oregano and a laurel leaf (bay) all from outside in the village square and some salt and pepper, and Voila! A hearty evening meal ready to eat with some rustic pain de campagne. It was delicious…I had a big bowl surrounded by the heaters with all the candles in the farmhouse blazing and my little IPOD pumping out the Gypsy Kings.
I had also decided that I wanted to get all the shutters redone on this trip so I went to Leroy Merlin (France’s Home Depot) and bought all the materials for the work. Now, it can be said that if wine, cheese and bread are cheap in France wood is like gold. It is so expensive and often the only choice is bent and twisted like the worst you might find at Lowes. Still they have systems to do most things and this is true for shutters. Unlike North America, shutters are still a practical consideration here for both weather and security. They also have a decorative role in these old stone houses. The shutters at the farmhouse were probably circa 1850 and were in bad shape. I’ve replaced most inside the farmhouse but the ones facing the village square had not been done. This is the task for this trip.
The day ended with my materials for the work secured and a full stomach of stew with a nice rye and ginger (a toast to my dad who very much liked his rye and ginger) to wash it down. And then some more reading of “The Wind From All Directions” regarding Captain George Vancouver’s voyage to the Pacific Northwest. Its getting quite good now…I’ve met the Spanish and the natives he encountered. They don’t seem like a bad lot.
Ahhh! What a glorious morning! Bright and sunny, crisp and clear, the perfect day to start into my work. I had plans for the day and one of them way to buy another heater for the farm. It was 38 degrees F outside and only slightly warmer inside the stone farmhouse. Still I had not installed an outdoor shower for nothing, so braving the cold (it wasn’t really so bad) I went outside and turned on the shower. Nice hot water came pouring out and I stepped into it. What joy! What rapture! I lingered under the stream for several minutes before shampooing and soaping up, rinsing off in a glorious dichotomy of crisp cold air and steaming hot water. It did the trick, my blood was flowing and a light breakfast of yogurt and tea set me up properly for the day.
The first thing I wanted to do was to visit the farmers market in Sommieres, a fair sized town just about 10 minutes drive away. It is held every Saturday morning and is an experience I am loath to miss. Sommieres is an old Roman garrison town with many Roman architectural elements still in place. The Roman bridge crossing the Vidourle is still in good repair and used all the time. Inside the old town you can see how the old Roman buildings, which had stood separately when originally built, had been overtaken by the medieval town when a variety of wars ravaged the region from 400 AD to 1600 AD. You can see the arcades of a coliseum disappear into the side of a building knowing full well that they are still inside it. Its quite amazing.
And through the streets of this town winds the market with its broad assortment of items sold in ways we can’t even imagine. Spices in mounds, cheese in whole wheels, freshly baked breads and fresh roasted meats, shoes of all sizes and lingerie to bedazzle even the most hard boiled centurions. In fact it is reported, despite the reputation for haute couture enjoyed by France, that fully 30% of clothing purchased in France is bought in these country markets. Given the number of people looking through the offerings I found that easy to comprehend.
I myself purchased some merguez, a type of north African sausage and some garlic sausage, both of which I like to barbecue. I also purchased two large climbing rose bushes and a Camelia for the farm. Each trip to the market there I like to buy something to plant. The vendor was very helpful trying to speak English for me after I began in my poor French patois…”Ma francais est tres mauvais…” “My French is very bad…”. I think this is the key to disarming the French…simply try to speak their language in their home and they appreciate the gesture. I have found virtually universal success with this approach and today was no different. Not only was he helpful but he insisted that he could come to help me with the “soil problem”.
“Zee soul, eet eese moost be acidic pour ze Camelia. Here, ze soul eese calcium, ppptt!” This last sound made by pursing the lips and spitting, indicating that of course Camelia could not grow in calcium rich soil. Thereafter followed a detailed exhortation of the importance of preparing the hole for the planting of the Camelia to protect it from the calcium in the soil. This included digging a hole 2 feet deep and 2 feet wide. If you’ve ever seen the soil here you know that that is a monumental task, it being full of clay and rock and roots. In the end he summed up by saying, “Or you cooed plant eet een a pot. C’est meilleur! (It’s better!)”
After getting my plants and making my way home I went with Christian to visit the man I had bought the little Opel Corsa from. His name is Francois and of course he knew some very good wines that I should try including one he poured right there at 11:30 am. And it was very good! A wine that is made by putting it in a large glass jar outside in a field for a year. It reminded me of a port but was I should say, more complex in its flavorings with strong tobacco and leather accents, both flavors lingered pleasantly on the palate.
We signed some papers and he gave me another bottle of wine to seal the deal, an AOC St. Chinian made by a friend of his. He thinks it a superb house wine for less than 6 Euros a bottle. I promised to have him over to try it.
After that I went back to the farm, which was warming up in the 65 degree F day. I put on a pot of water and proceeded to make a beef stew. Turnips, potatoes, carrots, mushrooms, cabbage, some local olive oil and some very nice stewing beef diced up in cubes. A handful of rosemary, thyme, oregano and a laurel leaf (bay) all from outside in the village square and some salt and pepper, and Voila! A hearty evening meal ready to eat with some rustic pain de campagne. It was delicious…I had a big bowl surrounded by the heaters with all the candles in the farmhouse blazing and my little IPOD pumping out the Gypsy Kings.
I had also decided that I wanted to get all the shutters redone on this trip so I went to Leroy Merlin (France’s Home Depot) and bought all the materials for the work. Now, it can be said that if wine, cheese and bread are cheap in France wood is like gold. It is so expensive and often the only choice is bent and twisted like the worst you might find at Lowes. Still they have systems to do most things and this is true for shutters. Unlike North America, shutters are still a practical consideration here for both weather and security. They also have a decorative role in these old stone houses. The shutters at the farmhouse were probably circa 1850 and were in bad shape. I’ve replaced most inside the farmhouse but the ones facing the village square had not been done. This is the task for this trip.
The day ended with my materials for the work secured and a full stomach of stew with a nice rye and ginger (a toast to my dad who very much liked his rye and ginger) to wash it down. And then some more reading of “The Wind From All Directions” regarding Captain George Vancouver’s voyage to the Pacific Northwest. Its getting quite good now…I’ve met the Spanish and the natives he encountered. They don’t seem like a bad lot.
Home to Montlaur....
Thursday, February 12, 2009 to Friday, February 13, 2009
Why do we brave the night crossing? The darkness stretching into tomorrow, the maw of the ocean, tossing and cold below, ready to swallow us whole if this contraption fails. Why do we leave the comfort of warm beds and enfolding arms? Or the certainties of a rhythm, born of all the days and nights of habit, of growing towards the light of laugher and joy in the bosom of all that we have known all of our lives. Knowing which side our bread is buttered on speaks of loyalty, of self interest, of a manifest sense of what is good for us and yet is it that self same knowledge that drives us into the void, out of our comfort zone, into the realm of new experience.
I can only think, landing bleary eyed in Paris once again, that it is some part of our better selves that drives us, a curiosity about the world and our place in it. Not so much an exercise of who we are but of where we fit. We test ourselves again and again in life and listen for the tuning fork hum of resonance when we find that place in the world that is made from the same stuff as us. It warms to us as we to it I think. The sun follows us there making for brighter days. The breezes soften to caress us upon arrival. Toil there, unlike anywhere else, is a joy. All forms are pleasing to the eye. This is what Maugham spoke of when he wrote of a stranger finding home in a far off land, this feeling of belonging, of being a part of something.
It did not occur to me until writing this note that I survived another Friday the 13th. For those unaware, Friday the 13th has been considered an ill-luck day since 1307 when thousands of Templar Knights were rounded up in one day all across Europe and the near east. Charged with heresies against the church, many were tortured and killed in what has come to be known as an incredible power play on the part of Phillippe the Second of France. Perhaps the first corporate raider, he was really after the wealth of the Templars, a wealth that somehow eluded him. And now I sit very near the old fortress of Montlaur, many a scion of which followed the Templar path.
The Delta flight was difficult, uncomfortable due to some back strain I suffered this past week lifting some drywall. I did not get much sleep, something I usually count on when flying overseas. I arrived on time at 10:00 and I was able to get my bags quickly (about 15 minutes) and make my way from Terminal 2E at Charles de Gaulle to the TGV station located between Terminals 2E and 2C and D arriving around 10:30 am. On this trip I had elected to take the train rather than renting a car and driving. If you plan to take more than 2 train trips during your stay then the Anytime/Anywhere France pass is the best option when travelling alone. You can find it on the Rail Europe web site.
When taking the train option to get to Montpellier it is best to set up your air ticket to arrive before 8:30 am. Then you can get the 9:30 TGV direct to Montpellier and be there at about 1:00 pm and at the farm by 1:30 if you’re being picked up. That way you still have a good part of the day to unwind from the trip and slip into your new abode.
If you arrive after 9:30 as I did this time (I had been planning on renting a car and driving so it didn’t matter when I arrived) the next Montpellier TGV is 11:43 am and on some days it does not travel direct. On this day it did not. I took it for 2 horus and 15 minutes to Valence train terminal, got out and waited for an hour for the next train to Montpellier (not something you really want to do when you’re sleep deprived, but fortunately I grabbed the International Herald Tribune, an oasis of English comprehension amid an ocean of lingua Franca)and arrived at 4:44 pm. Carried my bags the too long a distance to the Rental Car park and got my Avis car in a few minutes, leaving there by 5:10 pm.
One of my favourite things is to go provisioning. I like to do it when I arrive so that the farmhouse is “fully stocked” with all the French stuff I like. Then I can hunker down for a few days without worrying too much about anything. Others prefer to soak in the atmosphere of the south of France upon arrival, waking in the morning and going to find some local café where the residents eye you up with overweening curiosity while you stumble through ordering an espresso and a pain au chocolat. I CAN do that, I just prefer not to.
This is the part where I must tell you that its obvious that we North Americans have lost our way somehow when it comes to basic foodstuffs. By basic I mean wine, cheese, bread, fruit and vegetables. Not only does the average European demand much better quality in these things but they get it. And not only do they get it but it tends to be at prices that are from 30 to 65% less than we pay even after converting the $ to Euros. I don’t now if maybe they are rampantly using children for jobs in the supply chain but whatever it is they’ve figured out a much better way to feed themselves than we have.
Now fully “provisioned” I made my way to the farm. It was dark and cold but still around 40 degrees F. Opening up the farm in the dark (sunset came and went while I was “provisioning”, lingering over the manifold cheese selections I think) was a treat. It has been a couple of months since I was here. Everything was draped in sheets and the water was turned off. That was the first to turn on and then to turn on the water heater. After that to start up the small heaters inside the farmhouse and store my “provisions”. It took a while to get everything opened up and in its place. I could see my breath on the air as I worked and was thankful for the 50 below Canadian made sleeping bag I had stored in the closet. Finally, I was set and making myself first a cup of hot tea and then a rye and ginger I set about reading a draft of a book an old friend of mine has just written; something of the adventures of Captain George Vancouver in the Pacific Northwest around 1792. I felt strangely sympathetic to their isolation and sufferings as I shivered inside my sleeping bag. I wonder what Captain Vancouver (sounds like a Canadian superhero!) would say if he could see us now.
Why do we brave the night crossing? The darkness stretching into tomorrow, the maw of the ocean, tossing and cold below, ready to swallow us whole if this contraption fails. Why do we leave the comfort of warm beds and enfolding arms? Or the certainties of a rhythm, born of all the days and nights of habit, of growing towards the light of laugher and joy in the bosom of all that we have known all of our lives. Knowing which side our bread is buttered on speaks of loyalty, of self interest, of a manifest sense of what is good for us and yet is it that self same knowledge that drives us into the void, out of our comfort zone, into the realm of new experience.
I can only think, landing bleary eyed in Paris once again, that it is some part of our better selves that drives us, a curiosity about the world and our place in it. Not so much an exercise of who we are but of where we fit. We test ourselves again and again in life and listen for the tuning fork hum of resonance when we find that place in the world that is made from the same stuff as us. It warms to us as we to it I think. The sun follows us there making for brighter days. The breezes soften to caress us upon arrival. Toil there, unlike anywhere else, is a joy. All forms are pleasing to the eye. This is what Maugham spoke of when he wrote of a stranger finding home in a far off land, this feeling of belonging, of being a part of something.
It did not occur to me until writing this note that I survived another Friday the 13th. For those unaware, Friday the 13th has been considered an ill-luck day since 1307 when thousands of Templar Knights were rounded up in one day all across Europe and the near east. Charged with heresies against the church, many were tortured and killed in what has come to be known as an incredible power play on the part of Phillippe the Second of France. Perhaps the first corporate raider, he was really after the wealth of the Templars, a wealth that somehow eluded him. And now I sit very near the old fortress of Montlaur, many a scion of which followed the Templar path.
The Delta flight was difficult, uncomfortable due to some back strain I suffered this past week lifting some drywall. I did not get much sleep, something I usually count on when flying overseas. I arrived on time at 10:00 and I was able to get my bags quickly (about 15 minutes) and make my way from Terminal 2E at Charles de Gaulle to the TGV station located between Terminals 2E and 2C and D arriving around 10:30 am. On this trip I had elected to take the train rather than renting a car and driving. If you plan to take more than 2 train trips during your stay then the Anytime/Anywhere France pass is the best option when travelling alone. You can find it on the Rail Europe web site.
When taking the train option to get to Montpellier it is best to set up your air ticket to arrive before 8:30 am. Then you can get the 9:30 TGV direct to Montpellier and be there at about 1:00 pm and at the farm by 1:30 if you’re being picked up. That way you still have a good part of the day to unwind from the trip and slip into your new abode.
If you arrive after 9:30 as I did this time (I had been planning on renting a car and driving so it didn’t matter when I arrived) the next Montpellier TGV is 11:43 am and on some days it does not travel direct. On this day it did not. I took it for 2 horus and 15 minutes to Valence train terminal, got out and waited for an hour for the next train to Montpellier (not something you really want to do when you’re sleep deprived, but fortunately I grabbed the International Herald Tribune, an oasis of English comprehension amid an ocean of lingua Franca)and arrived at 4:44 pm. Carried my bags the too long a distance to the Rental Car park and got my Avis car in a few minutes, leaving there by 5:10 pm.
One of my favourite things is to go provisioning. I like to do it when I arrive so that the farmhouse is “fully stocked” with all the French stuff I like. Then I can hunker down for a few days without worrying too much about anything. Others prefer to soak in the atmosphere of the south of France upon arrival, waking in the morning and going to find some local café where the residents eye you up with overweening curiosity while you stumble through ordering an espresso and a pain au chocolat. I CAN do that, I just prefer not to.
This is the part where I must tell you that its obvious that we North Americans have lost our way somehow when it comes to basic foodstuffs. By basic I mean wine, cheese, bread, fruit and vegetables. Not only does the average European demand much better quality in these things but they get it. And not only do they get it but it tends to be at prices that are from 30 to 65% less than we pay even after converting the $ to Euros. I don’t now if maybe they are rampantly using children for jobs in the supply chain but whatever it is they’ve figured out a much better way to feed themselves than we have.
Now fully “provisioned” I made my way to the farm. It was dark and cold but still around 40 degrees F. Opening up the farm in the dark (sunset came and went while I was “provisioning”, lingering over the manifold cheese selections I think) was a treat. It has been a couple of months since I was here. Everything was draped in sheets and the water was turned off. That was the first to turn on and then to turn on the water heater. After that to start up the small heaters inside the farmhouse and store my “provisions”. It took a while to get everything opened up and in its place. I could see my breath on the air as I worked and was thankful for the 50 below Canadian made sleeping bag I had stored in the closet. Finally, I was set and making myself first a cup of hot tea and then a rye and ginger I set about reading a draft of a book an old friend of mine has just written; something of the adventures of Captain George Vancouver in the Pacific Northwest around 1792. I felt strangely sympathetic to their isolation and sufferings as I shivered inside my sleeping bag. I wonder what Captain Vancouver (sounds like a Canadian superhero!) would say if he could see us now.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Une nouvelle recette du Languedoc....(from Corinne)
Grilled cod fish with vegetables....
Haricots verts et carottes apportent a ce plat nombre de composants protecteurs (beta-carotene, folates et vitamine C) ainsi que fibres et mineraux.
Green beans and carrots are a source of many healthful things (beta carotine, folic acid and vitamin C) and also a good source of fiber and minerals.
Pour 4 personnes.
For 4 people.
Prep. 10 min. * Cuisson 18 min.
Pre time 10 min. * Cooking time 18 min,
4 carrottes moyennes en batonnets de 6 cm x 5 mm
4 medium carrots cut into spears 2.5 in x 1/4 in
300 g de haricots verts fins equeutes
3/4 lb green beans destemmed
100 g de pin d'epice rassis
1/4 lb dry spice cake loaf
1 cuill. a soupe de sauce de soja
1 tablespoon soya sauce
2 cuill. a soupe de moutarde
2 tablespoons of Dijon mustard
40 g de beurre
1/8 lb of butter
2 dos de Cabillaud de 300 g en 2 troncons
2 pieces of Cod, each weighing 1/2 lb
1 cuill. a soupe d'huile d'olive
1 tablespoon of olive oil
sel, poivre
salt & pepper to taste
1) Faites cuire 10 min les carottes dan le compartiment perfore d'un cuit-vapeur et 12 min les haricots verts dans de l'eau bouillantes salee.
1) Cook the carrots for 10 minutes in a steamer and the green beans for 12 minutes in salted, boiling water.
2) Allumez le gril du four. Emiettez le pain d'epice et passez-le au robot pour le reduire en chapelure. Ajoutez sauce de soja, moutarde ete beurre. Essuyez les dos de Cabillaud, salez-les et poivrez-les. Posez-les cote a cote dans un plat supportant le chaleur du gril. Glissez le poisson 10 cm de la source de chaleur et laissez-le cuire 3 min. Retournez-le, recouvrez-le avec le melange au pain d'epice et refaites le cuire 3 min.
2) Turn the oven on to 400F . Cut the spice cake into small chunks and pass through a food processor to further reduce the size to the consistency of bread crumbs. Blend the soya sauce, mustard and butter together with the spice cake crumbs. Dry the pieces of Cod with a paper towel and add salt and pepper and place them side by side in the grilling pan. Ensure that the fish is no more than 4 inches from the grill and cook for 3 minutes. After three minutes turn it over covering it again with the spice mixture and cook for 3 more minutes.
3) Deposez les haricots egouttes et les carottes sur les asiettes. Arrosez-les avec l'huile. Posez le poisson dessus.
3) Place the dried beans and carrots on the plate. Dash with olive oil. Place the fish serving on top of the vegetables.
Serve with a nice crisp Sauvignon Blanc! Bon Appetit!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Booking time at the Vineyard...
(The central courtyard of the Chateau de Montlaur...in winter)
As you can see the accommodations at the Chateau are light and breezy...just kidding! While you can certainly stay up among the ruins for a time an overnight sojourn is not recommended just yet. Perhaps in a few years when we start to rebuild certain parts and sections but for now its an archeologists dream...unsurveyed ruins.
There is however, ample comfortable lodging in the area starting with the farmhouse (a mere 200 meters from the frosty accommodations above. Work of renovation on the farmhouse is proceeding at a slow pace but it will have comfortable living space (if simple and rustic is your idea of comfortable) for between 2-6 people by this summer. All the basic amenities are in place for members to enjoy with plans for key additions to the wine cellar and grounds dependent upon continued subscription for Micro-Leases.
Additionally, the first commissioned gypsy carts should make their appearance this summer as long as the completion of the supply and waste lines meets schedule. That should be sometime in April.
The mainstay of accommodation for the vineyard are the local gites. Even with this economy they are booking up fast although we may be able to find you something that works for your visit. A "gites" is a small apartment with all amenities, self contained and self catered. They generally charge differentially by season with the summer being the highest cost. There are many around Montlaur but the area is a popular place for Europeans to vacation and the gites book up very quickly. You need to plan several months in advance and to get exactly what you want, perhaps 6-10 months pre-booking may be ideal. For whatever reasons the economic downturn has not yet affected demand for these places, in part I think because they are so reasonably priced to start out with. Needless to sy if you are contemplating a trip please give us as much notice as possible.
The times of year that are best for a trip of course depend upon your own tastes and preferences. I can tell you I have been there in every part of the year and there are joys to be had no matter the season. The wine, the cheese, the bread...they are all very affordable and in limitless supply. I prefer October most of all because of the coolness in the air and richness of the colours. April and May also favor the cooler weather traveler and provide for ample sun and robust activity. June and July are very nice with the fullness of summer and festivals in every small town. The fresh farm markets also are in full run trailing through quaint two thousand year old streets and a warren of small piazzas like rabbit burrows strung along an Alice in Wonderland like hole in the wall.
September is "les vendanges", the harvest and with it comes hard work, good food, play and much laughter. Already a group is forming for this period so getting in early is key.
August is good for the beaches but it is otherwise very hot. For the last two years I was there when it was 114-120 degrees, a dry heat that sucks the very moisture from your body. The entire summer is filled with European vacationers particularly July and August. Even though Languedoc is not Provence or for that matter Bordeaux it still gets over run by other Europeans in the high season. They pack the roads, fill the gites and hotels, swarm the restaurants and generally resemble more a plague of locusts than civilized members of society. Which is not to say that this is a bad thing...it is what it is and there are certainly good things to enjoy about it....who doesn't like a party? But best you know about it before you come to stand in line.
November, December and January are the quietest and I secretly dream of the tranquility of the "alone-ness" of the place during these months. It is then a time when I can turn my favourite music up full blast and work on the place, enjoying the glow of a warm fire and the comradeship that the old farm house bestows on me and mine. There are cold blustery days where its best to keep the fire charged up and the soup hot in the pot. And then there are days as warm and sunny as summer, where the cooling stones take back some measure of warmth from the oncoming winter. Dress warm, walk often, take your camera.
That leaves February and March. I leave this week for France and the farmhouse. I expect it will be spring already there and the buds will be appearing on the trees. There is much to do to prepare for the life of the farmhouse and I feel these are the months for that. Cleaning the floors, sweeping out the cobwebs, repairing windows and doors and finishing renovations started on the last trip. Thats what these months are for and I lust after them with the same desire I would reach for a good bottle of wine. We are informed as much about who we are by what it is we choose to do, not because we have to but because we want to. I am, in my way, the same as my friend, Jean de Montlaur whose family has called this place home for more than a thousand years, I am about fixing things and making them anew. This is where I find my joy in life and this is how I want to share it.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Next trip.....
(The Roman Bridge in Sommieres)
is now scheduled for February 12-25 and will involve making arrangements for shipment of at least a couple of pallets of the 2007 vintage. Its all ready and sitting in the Cooperative warehouse so its very exciting to be going over to actually take it and get it moving towards the customers. For current Micro-Leaseholders we will be shipping extra cases of the wine for trade shows and sampling which they may be able to procure for promotional purposes. All wine is shipped marked "for personal use only" and "not for resale". This wine will not be available on the market. The 2007 vintage was considered very good and it could be cellared for perhaps 8-10 years. I'll know more when I get there and check it out for myself.
For anyone planning possible trips to France the availability of space in the Gites around Montlaur is dwindling. I will post some availability in the near future so you can plan. The farmhouse should be ready to accommodate several people by early summer so long as we continue to get some of the interior work done. That too is a function of time on the ground there. But it is all good!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Tough times require more from us.....
(The Chateau in winter)
One of my Mother's favourite mottos was "many hands make light work" and for those that have visited Montlaur or Thibaudiere you can attest to the fact that, indeed when we work together there is a spirit that infuses the process. Everything is more enjoyable, everything has more salt, more of a sense of vitality. So when I speak of doing things together I am speaking of doing the things we can do to help each other through this. What can I do to help you? Well a lot of that is embodied in the whole business concept of Monte Lauro. I developed it as something beyond anything you could simply buy because I wanted you to be a part of it for the long term. I wanted you to be invested in it, to care about it and to keep caring about it. I want you to feel like an owner, even if its not practical to be one I still think its relevant to "feel like one".
But what else can I do. Well here's a sampling;
1) For every current Micro-Leaseholder I'll add another year to your Micro-Lease right now (Value=$966),
2) For new Micro-Leaseholders I'll offer a free one year gift Micro-Lease for you to give to someone you think would appreciate it (Value=$750),
3) For those with limited cash flow, but who would like to enjoy the benefits of membership, I'll reduce the buy-in from one year up front to six month's up front and spread the rest over the next two years (Value= $483),
4) For every person who refers a new Micro-Leaseholder I'll provide a free week's accommodation at the vineyard or in one of the Gites close by, subject to a couple of reasonable conditions (Value= Up to $1000)
5) For all active Micro-Leaseholders I'll provide the opportunity for you to take over the entire farmhouse for week long stints to have and use as your own place, with space for up to six people to sleep comfortably, for a usage fee of just $500 per week, subject to a couple of reasonable conditions. You can't find anything so reasonable in the south of France!
I'm confident that, working together, we can actually grow during this recession and that in doing so we'll come out the other side stronger and more resilient, better equipped for all the other challenges we have to face in life. At the very least we'll have shared some good wine, some good food and some good company in a place that transcends economies and transports the spirit. You need to experience it...get a taste at www.experience-wine.com and don't hesitate to give me a call to ask about it.
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