"Teresa tried to kill me."

"Teresa tried to kill me." I heard those very words from across the table at Fanny's dinner party last night. Naturally, my ears perk up whenever I hear my name mentioned, but to hear that accusation from the BFF after our lovely morning of kayaking under Gardon river... I had to jump in and tell the real story.

Six of us drove to the little village of Collias, dressed in the grubbiest clothes we brought. (Arles Betty stayed behind to explore the city of Avignon and do a little shopping.) We parked the cars, hopped into the van and were driven down to the river by a very enthusiastic cute young French girl. I signed the forms, we were shown the route, we zipped ourselves into life jackets, grabbed our oars, put our belongings in the white bidon, strapped it in, and shoved off. Blue skies, singing cicadas, a gentle breeze, and 8 km of river ahead of us. What could be better? A few teeny tiny "rapids"-- just enough for someone who likes very low key adventures of this sort. (The BFF was in the back of my boat, the steering position, I have since learned.) Not long into the trip, we came upon an little island and from behind us, we heard Iron Woman shout "Go to the left." So we did. Then she and Sister-in-law went right. Only seconds into it, we were headed straight into a wall of rock. I tried to push off from it with my paddle, but all that did was knock it out of my hands and send it on down the river. The BFF yelled at me to watch my head and I turned to make sure she was watching hers as the boat tipped over. All I saw was her cute little head heading straight for the rock and then she went under. She popped back up saying "I'm okay" and the she went under a second time. I grabbed ahold of the kayak as best I could, but the oar and one of the BFF's shoes which was supposed to be on my foot (except that I had taken them off to try to get some sun on my very pale feet) were quickly out of reach. I kept yelling for the BFF and promised her I would buy her a new pair at The Rack Room where they are Buy One Get One Free (BOGO). That isn't totally true- they are Buy One Get One Half-Off. All's well that ends well, though. Iron Woman and Sister-in-law recovered the shoe and the oar, the BFF and I made it to the little island with the kayak, Arizona Tammy and Ms. Louisiana came ashore to check on us. A Frenchie and his little boy, who were fishing, helped us out as we got back into the boat, repeating tranquillement tranquillement. We continued down the river, floated under the magnificent Pont du Gard, and continued with no further incidents.

At Mme P's dinner party last night, all the Frenchies who had been down the river knew the exact spot of our incident and had stories of their own. There were no injuries, I am happy to report.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I wish that I had photos, but if I had had my camera with me, it would now be on the bottom of the river.

More on the amazing dinner party later. Today's photo is M. P's gift to his wife and me. He wrote that into the fleshly poured concrete by the pool. A very touching moment.

 

Bon appétit!

Posted with Blogsy

Paradise?

L

 

The chances are really good that I have landed in paradise. We all have our visions of what that place will be, n'est-ce pas? For me it is the south of France, surrounded by singing cicadas, in the evening, surrounded by a group of people who are enjoying each other's company immensely.

I am in Villeneuve-lès-Avignon now and this is the courtyard, le jardin, of the house we are renting. I am sipping my coffee and eating yogurt in between sentences. (I do not need that ashtray, but didn't think to move it! Non, je ne fume pas.). We arrived from Paris on the TGV. We were greeted by the hot Provence sun and Olivier and his son. He led us to our house, thank goodness, since I could have figured out how to get us here on foot but not by the rental car! We settled in and then went to Olivier's for dinner. There were probably 20 of us assembled in his jardin. I already knew most of the guests and some I only knew from email. Sister-in-law sampled her first pastis and Olivier had prepared a feast of salads and savory tarts. Mme P, aka MLQ, was there with a huge bowl of the best mousse au chocolat in the world. After dinner we were serenaded by Connie Fredericks Malone. (Pictures will follow as soon as I download them from my camera.)

But for now, I must say à plus because we are headed to the market in Isle sur la Sorgue. And then to the lavender fields!

 

Bon appétit to all my friends!

 

Posted with Blogsy

Departure Day

No, the suitcase isn't quite ready to boucler, but it will be soon.  Have to add all the lotions and potions I use on a daily basis to make myself presentable.  The sister-in-law arrived safely yesterday afternoon and is still asleep, as is the Ex-Ex.  He is taking us to the airport in a few hours.  Two of the BFF-ers have already arrived in Paris and have the keys to our apartment in hand.  (I got a text-- modern technology continues to amaze me.)  Just the cats and I are up and about.  But Rusty seems to have taken over the Ex-Ex's spot on the sofa.  There may be a duel in my living room while I am gone...

Oui, Rusty is the male cat.  Callie, the female, is like me.  She rarely touches the remote.
Rusty is generally quite shy.  But he came out of hiding place last night after dinner and let sister-in-law and Marie-Jeanne, our French dinner guest, pet him.  I guess he can sniff out cat lovers-- even from under the bed or wherever it is he ducks for cover.
I discovered that Carol from Paris Breakfasts will be in Paris, too.  One of these days I will get to meet up with her.  This time I will not be living vicariously through her.  I will be having my own adventures.  Maybe we will run into each other at Pierre Hermé's shop while drooling over the macarons.  But it will be fun, as always, to read about her adventures, too.  She sounds like my kind of traveler.  Maybe one of these days she will join my BFF trip to Provence...  hint hint, Carol!
Last night's dinner was very simple fare.  It has been just too darned hot here to do much real cooking.  I bought some really good Provence-style black olives from Harris Teeter and added the crackers that Marie-Jeanne brought to me.  Then I put together a Caesar salad with rotisserie chicken.  Some really good Brie, served at just the right temperature, that I got at A Southern Season (my advisees gave me a gift certificate at the end of the year! ) and a fresh baguette from Whole Foods. Since blueberries are in abundance right now, I pulled out one of  my cookbooks and found a recipe for a blueberry cake.  So our dessert was maison, homemade.

Fresh Blueberry Cake
from Even More Special by the Junior League of Durham and Orange Counties
6-8 servings

1/4 c. butter, softened
1/2 c. sugar
1 egg
1 c. all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
Pinch of salt
1/3 c. milk

Topping:
2 c. fresh blueberries
1/2 c. sugar
1/4 c. butter, softened
1/3 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. cinnamon

1. Preheat oven to 375˚F.  Grease a 9-inch square pan.
2. Cream 1/4 c. butter and sugar.  Add egg, flour, baking powder, salt, and milk.  Mix until smooth.
3. Pour into prepared pan.
4. Mix ingredients for topping and pour over batter in pan.
5. Bake for 35 minutes.  Cool in pan or serve warm. 

Bon appétit et bon voyage!

A very big week!

My very exciting week started last night about 11:15.  Marie-Jeanne arrived at RDU from Cavaillon, France, via Marseille, Francfort, and Washington, DC.  She is in the middle.  She is mom to my Frenchie friend Olivier.  We met three years ago on the New York in French social networking website.  He introduced me to Mme P

who is now my very good friend.  Our students are pen pals and now we have an exchange program (her school board just approved our 2013 plans!).  Olivier came to Durham with the group in 2011.

His son participated in the exchange this year.

And now his mom is here!  Marie-Jeanne is an amazing woman.  She loves to travel and often does so solo.  She has seen more of the US than I have.  A retired English teacher, she has exchanged homes with Americans many times.  (Anyone out there in New York or Alaska... those states are on her list next...) My friends, Lyn and Dave, are at her house in Cavaillon for the next six weeks, while M-J is here.  Dave's sister, who recently moved to the area, rounds out the trio in the first photo.  Bonnie speaks French fluently, having spent a year in Belgium and several summers in Avignon at the summer festival.  I will see Lyn and Dave in one week because Olivier and his wife are having dinner for a whole group of us at their home.  
My sister-in-law arrives tomorrow from Brevard.  She is spending the night chez nous so that the Ex-Ex can take us to the airport on Tuesday.  Then the adventure begins!  Paris, here we come.  I will feel like doing this--

Not the kissing, but the leaping for joy, even if I have to do it with an umbrella, in the rain.  (My travel mantra:  We have no control over the weather or the exchange rate.)  But I do expect les bises from the Best Guide in Paris when we meet him for lunch and a walking tour of Montmartre.  Charcuterie, fromage, vin rouge... music to my ears.
I did manage, at the urging of JC, one of the BFF-ers traveling with me, to get tickets to the second floor of Mme Eiffel for 9am Thursday morning.  The last ones available, I think, because I checked the website again immediately after I got ours and no more were to be bought.  Bravo!  Go moi!
After three glorious days in Paris, we will head down south on the TGV.  M-J delivered the train tickets to me this morning.  I gave Olivier euros in March and he bought them for us on the first available day for un prix intéressant (a good price) on the first day he could, 90 days in advance of travel.  It's hard to believe that in one week I will be back in Provence.   But it's true!  Pinch me.  And pour me an apéritif, please.  The aforementioned sister-in-law is anxious to try the preferred drink of Provence--

Pas de problème! I bet Olivier will be only too happy to pour one for her.

I made these for Marie-Jeanne's first breakfast--

Bienvenue Chez Moi Blueberry Muffins

makes 12

1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/3 c. sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 beaten egg
3/4 c. milk
1/4 c. vegetable oil
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon peel
1 c. fresh blueberries

Preheat oven to 400˚ F.
Prepare 12 muffin cups either with paper liners or by greasing them.
In a medium bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt with a whisk.  Make a well in the center of flour mixture.  Set aside.
In another bowl, combine egg, milk, and oil.  Add egg mixture all at once to flour mixture and stir just until moistened.  Stir in lemon peel.  Gently fold in berries.
Spoon batter into prepared muffin cups, filling each two-thirds full.  Bake for about 18 minutes or until golden and a wooden toothpick inserted in centers comes out clean.  Cool in muffin cups on a wire rack for 5 minutes.  Remove from muffin cups.

Bon appétit, mes amis!!  Time to start packing!

The tastes of summer

So, today's riddle... What do you get when you cross fresh from the garden tomatoes, Duke's mayonnaise, and white (or light) bread?
The answer... my 10:00 am snack.

There are few things better than a "mater sammich" in the summer.  I only ate one.  It was, after all, break, not lunch.
We grilled steaks last night on the deck at Son #2's request.

Mine had this mysterious marking... not the Virgin Mary or Jesus, but cute nonetheless.

The Ex-Ex's grilling station, complete with a chilled glass of Italian Vermentino.

I made a strawberry salad to go with the steaks.  Spring mix lettuce, baby spinach, strawberries, goat cheese, and almonds dressed with sweet and sour poppyseed.

Today, on my desk, I found some supplies left by my "dealers"--
Yellow squash

and blueberries.

A couple of days ago, cherry tomatoes appeared.  I've eaten most of them...

Last week, I found a bag full of green beans, but I didn't photograph them before eating them.
And here's the best summer advice I've seen in a while-- this from a bag holding the second two books in the Hunger Games series (from Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill)-- gifts for Mme P when I see her July 7 in Villeneuve-lez-Avignon.

I shall now take that advice, along with my cup of blueberries, and get comfy.  Flyleaf has used books, too,  and I picked up one by Ruth Reichl, Tender at the Bone:  Growing Up at the Table.  Perfect for a hot, summer afternoon.


Bon appétit, snackers, nappers, and readers! 

T + 7

Me voici!  Sipping a little Côtes du Rhône rouge while enjoying a picnic after roaming the market in Uzès this past March.  Note the twinkle in my eyes.  A little wind blown from fighting with M. Mistral, the wind that didn't stop for 7 solid days.
My BFF group and I take off for France in one week.  I have an itinerary that gets tweaked daily... Paris and all the usual wonderful sights to see, then off to Provence for markets in Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, St. Rémy de Provence, and Villeneuve-lez-Avignon, a visit to a goat farm (courtesy of Mme P and her brother), Tavel rosé tasting, dinner with the Allemand family,  lavender fields near Gordes, canoeing under the Pont du Gard, perhaps a visit to meet Kristin Espinasse and Chief Grape at their home, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the beach in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer and dinner at Chef Érick's cousin's restaurant, Le Mazet du Vaccarès, in the Camargue.

La France, je t'attends avec impatience!


Bon appétit et bon voyage!  Pack those bags, ladies!

The Book Doctors, Algonquin, and Pitchapalooza 2012

Friends, fans, followers, I DID IT!  In front of a panel of judges and a room full of strangers, I pitched The Sabbatical Chef.  Oui, oui et oui!  Last weekend, I saw an article in the Durham Herald-Sun about  an event to be held at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill.

Come, buy The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published:  How to Write, Sell It, and Market It... Successfully by Arielle Eckstut and David Henry Sterry, aka The Book Doctors, and possibly get the chance to pitch your idea for a book to a panel of judges.

My ticket was #35 and halfway through the two-hour event, I started to lose hope.  I was disappointed big time at the thought that my name might not be called.  They were only going to call 20 would-be writers at the most to make a one minute pitch.  But it happened for me.  Now, truth be told, when I was in school, I was the nerd who wanted to go first and get it over with.  No worrying, no comparisons, just over and done.  But it wasn't a volunteer kind of thing.   And all of a sudden, I realized that my number had been called and I was to wait "on deck" for my chance.  I was sure that the judges could see my heart pounding through my bright pink Target sweater.  The three judges rounding out the panel were from Algonquin Books.  Truth be told, I was just thrilled to be in the same room as the staff from Algonquin.  Thrilled and shaking in my new Teva sandals that I bought a couple of days ago for my trip to France.  When it was my turn, I read my pitch, calmed by the knowledge that the Ex-Ex was in the room for moral support, received some great feedback from the panel...  a genre with lots of entries, who is The Sabbatical Chef?, is this fiction or non-fiction.  I had a really hard time admitting that it is non-fiction (please, who wants to read about my life?  Really?) but loved getting feedback from the pros.  French Dirt by Richard Goodman was mentioned by an Algonquin judge.  I read it several years ago and loved it.  Peter Mayle and Frances Mayes were also mentioned.  Just hearing their names when my book was critiqued was pretty cool.  I read everything in this genre I can get my hands on.  I walked out of the room with a date to talk to the Book Doctors for a personal 20 minute session and the promise of help to get this book out of my head and on paper.  Thank you-- merci mille fois-- I will get back to work on my book.  The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published will be a big help.  It's easy to read, funny, yet serious about the book writing and publishing business.  I am currently on the section devoted to the importance of social networking on the internet.  Here I am.  Tell your friends.  Send my link.  Read on, s'il vous plaît!

Here's the pitch--

The Sabbatical Chef is the story of a seemingly sensible woman who fantasizes about living in France, what happens when that fantasy becomes a six month reality, and the unexpected aftermath.  It's the mixture of a 40 year long love affair with anything French, the end of a 22 year marriage, two children who don't seem to need their mom anymore, an invitation to assist a chef in Provence with his cooking vacation business, a semester's leave of absence from the job where she works with a very angry ex, a postcard hinting at romance, a round-trip ticket to Marseille, and one suitcase.  It's giving up little league baseball for pétanque, sipping (or guzzling) rosé in place of sweet iced tea, and cooking with olive oil, mussels, and eggplant instead of Crisco, ground beef, and Hamburger Helper.  It's also the hard hitting realization that she'll never look or sound French (the best she can hope for is Canadian), that she desperately needs her children, and that she isn't as angry at her ex as she thought she was.  It's a cast of characters, a collection of recipes, and the (mostly) delicious adventures behind them.

And here's the celebratory glass of rosé and goat cheese salad enjoyed afterwards at Top of the Hill--

The Ex-Ex had beer and nachos.

Bon appétit, writers everywhere!  Write on!