home cooking

I am constantly amazed at what Cliona can rustle up for dinner, especially using herbs, fruit and veggies from the garden.

Last night was a case in point.

On the bbq we had leg lamb steaks brushed with olive oil, salt and pepper.

This was accompanied by two delicious salads.

The first comprised roasted peppers and aubergines. Cliona removed their charred skins and sliced their soft flesh. She added feta cheese, mint and parsley, then dressed the salad with cherry vinegar and olive oil.

The second was based around haloumi cheese fried in a mixture of olive oil and za'atar (a Middle East seasoning). To this was added cherry tomatoes and a pomegranate molasses dressing.

Boiled new potatoes had been steam-dried and mixed with steamed haricots blancs (white string beans), dressed with a lemon, honey, mustard and oil mixture and finished with finely chopped spring onion.

The steaks were augmented by lambs' kidneys in a creamy, rich, dijonnaise sauce.

We opened a bottle of Pomeral Merlot/Cabernet Franc but it was too young and a disappointment.

Dessert was a home-made tart tartin aux poires (pear tart) with caramelised sugar, served with vanilla ice cream.

The produce I harvested from the garden ...

pears
tomatoes
potatoes
mint and
parlsey.

I am growing aubergines, peppers and chillis but they are not yet ready to pick.

Reflecting on last night's alfresco dinner, by the garden, lamp-lit and cooled by a breeze that brushed the leafy canopy of the mulberry trees, I pose the question .... Who needs to go out and spend money in a restaurant when eating at home is this good?

A mid-August day at Ellesmere

It started with a half-hour on the cross trainer.

This was hard, as I'd done virtually no exercise for three weeks.

That done, I watered the potted plants and the veggies in the raised beds, a task I perform early in the morning before the heat of the day.

Breakfast was two croissants with home-made marmalade ... and two mugs of coffee.

Cliona went off to pick plums at our friends Herb and Carols' place. She came home two hours later with 20 kilos of Damsons. She'll use them to make plum membrillo and chutney, lots of chutney.

When she got home, we noticed more tell-tale dust on the floor under the antique sideboard. I applied copious quantities of wood-worm poison and opened all the doors and windows.

Back in the barn, I cleaned the grass from the underside of the ride-on mower as layers had built up over many weeks.

Then, it was off to the recycling bins down at Bazens ... with a big load of stuff that included a ton of bottles from a debauched family visit.

Grass grows quickly with this weather so it was time to mow the lawn around the pool.

After hitching the trailer to the car I drove over to Prayssas, just eight minutes down the D118, to see Laurent at his horse stables.

He helped me load the trailer with aged hay from a large pile in his paddock ... a perfect mulch rich in organic fertiliser.

This is pitch-fork work and it raised a sweat. Back home, I off-loaded the hay into one of my compost bays, made out of pallets. More sweat.

The Sir Charles Litton Memorial Pool is what I call the reward. Its surface shone brilliantly like teal-coloured glass. Water was cold, but sun was warm. Clouds were like whisps of smoke across a cerulean sky.

Swimming, sunbaking and reading under the parasol whiled away the time. Then it was back to the garden.

I had buried coriander seeds in two planter boxes filled with manure-rich soil. It was now time to gently remove the new seedlings and transfer them, with equal care, into compost-filled pots.

I had collected 50 or so seeds from a failed attempt to grow this fragrant herb in the stone garden. The plants had bolted almost immediately ... due to the early summer heat. Unlike the hardier parsley, which continues to flourish in tough conditions.

By now the angled rays of the sun were streaming in from the west.

This is the best part of the day, sitting with an ice-cold beer and a bowl of home-grown, home-cured olives, on my favourite garden bench, in the shade of the massive lime tree.

A breeze had sprung up and was sending helicopter seeds rotating earthward around me. The sound of the rustling branches reminded me of the beach, with the whoosh of retreating waves over sand.

It is satisfying work in the garden of Ellesmere, but the quiet contemplation of what has been achieved is even more enjoyable.

Fources

We drove an hour south into the Gers department to visit the medieval town of Fources.

It is an enchanting, circular village, wrapping itself around a cool, green square of plane trees.

There were intriguing little side-streets of columbage (half-timbered) houses and pretty flower boxes.

A 13th century clock-tower dominates.

Summer in the South-West

The French emerge from their winter ensconcement to revel in summer life.

They frequent their local night markets (village food stalls with music).

They gather for long Sunday lunches ... beneath shady trees.

They are out in their potagers (veggie patches) and their flower gardens ... all the colours of the  rainbow.

They go to the beach, or into their pools, to seek refuge from the waves of heat.

They flock to cultural and music events.

So here at Ellesmere, we do what the French do ... enjoying those summer rituals that make life so pleasant.

tomatoes, eggplant, peppers and basil

the gardener's reward 

ready for Sunday lunch

a summer ritual

Valedictory lunch

We had such a wonderful time with my brother John and his wife Karen, who stayed with us for three weeks.

They are continuing their European holiday before returning to Australia.

What better place to enjoy a valedictory lunch than Chez Jeanne in the hamlet of Pomarede, in the Lot department, made famous by Australian journalist and author Mary Moody.

She wrote a book and made a film about the restaurant, on the occasion of its 100th anniversary, about fifteen years ago.

It has been in the same family all this time.

It offers traditional cuisine bourgeoise, with soup, entree, main course, cheese and dessert ... with bread, water and a bottle of wine.

Madam Murat is now in her eighties and her daughter Sylvie has taken over the running of the business.

Sylvie's daughter, apparently, is not interested in carrying on the family tradition, so the long-term future of Chez Jeanne is under a cloud.

The book that Mary wrote

The restaurant sits in a quiet hamlet

The mural of Madam Murat and her father

The menu for today

Goodbye and bon voyage, Karen and John

John and Madam Sylvie

Chez Jeanne offers a particularly warm welcome to Australians.

We always try to take visiting family and friends there.

Summertime and the river

Cultural activities and catching up with friends are among the great pleasures of summer in France.

Yesterday afternoon we participated in a cruise along the Lot river with others from the Temple-sur-Lot French/English language group.

Last night our Castelmoron-sur-Lot French language group held a "best plate" night at the home of Alistair and Kate Forbes, who own a beautiful property right on the river, about five kilometres from the village.

My brother John and his wife Karen are visiting from Australia and they have been getting a taste of our dolce vita in the Lot et Garonne.

Here are some photos from last night ...

Alistair entertaining the guests

It was a gourmet night and Alistair, as usual, provided the music. He included in his repertoire "Les feuilles mortes" and "Champs Elysees" for our French friends.

The old blanket chest

At one of my many visits to the nearby dechetterie (tip) at Nicole, I spied this old trunk, painted a dirty brown and looking neglected amongst the mountain of broken pallets and rotting boards.

After scraping the paint off, I could see the chest was made of what looked like Baltic pine.

The interior was papered.

The trunk was sanded in preparation for finishing. I removed the inside paper.

The pale pine was stained to match our decor, particularly the ancient, oak beams and wooden doors in our living room.

I applied a traditional finish of linseed oil, beeswax and turpentine.

Once a discarded relic, the century-old trunk now boasts a new life as our coffee table.