Déjeuner de mercredi

Today was crunch time for getting my October article written for the Durham Herald-Sun newspaper.  After the computer crash on Monday, I got behind schedule.  Imagine... moi  running behind schedule.  Lord have mercy is the best I can say somedays.  (And I swore that I was never going to multi-task ever again when I returned from sabbatical-  ha!)  Anyway, it is finally done and sent out into cyberspace to my editor (that still gives me a thrill to write- makes me sound somehow important, if only in my own little mind!  And I do not even have a press pass... hmmm, need to check into that detail- Carol, the Paris Breakfast blogger and macaron lover used her business card to get into a fashion show in Paris recently- she's my hero!).  Off went the article, along with photos of goats and recipes using goat cheese.  Dave Artigues and Elodie Farms goat cheese are my latest victims.  Once again, what homework I must do for these monthly articles.
And today during lunch, more homework had to be done!  Of the most serious kind.  The eating kind. Daniela, my colleague and next door neighbor at school, brought in goodies and we whipped up some goat cheese hors d'oeuvres because I would never use recipes that I have not personally tested and tasted.  She brought in goat cheese, multi-grain bread, figs, tomatoes, fresh basil, fresh mint, and olive oil and we set about our research.  Even my 7th graders were jealous as they smelled the basil, mint and goat cheese.  The results were délicieux, if I do say so myself.
Then, during my free period following lunch, my BFF came to pick me up and we headed to the Wine Authorities for another tasting.  Not wine this time.  We are not in France, after all, so no wine is allowed for teachers in the middle of the school day.  (It is perfectly fine in France... the first time I visited my friend's school in Senlis and made a comment about the bottle of red wine on the table in the teachers' dining room, my friend's comeback was "There is beer and cider in the refrigerator if you'd rather have that.")  No, we went to taste Seth's crème brûlée.  This is Seth, graduate of the CIA.  The proud owner of a torch that he used today to put the perfect crunch on the top of a beautiful little dish of crème brûlée.  I seriously tried not to eat it too fast, to savor the true vanilla flavor (real beans used here, none of that flavoring stuff), to let the crunch melt on my tongue.  But, true to form, I finished mine first.  I did show great restraint and I did not lick the dish.  The BFF did-- but she did it by dipping her finger in the bowl and licking her finger.  She said her mother would be appalled and I promised not to tell Helen.  (I am quite sure that Helen is not a blog reader...)  Ah, she is such a Southern Belle.  I think that Mildred, my mom, wouldn't have minded if I'd picked up that dish and licked it clean! 
In spite of the rainy cold weather, it's been a delicious kind of day.
If anyone out there has a recipe for a goat cheese and caramelized onion tart, I'll test it for you.  And then write all about it.  More homework...

Daniela's Tomato and Chèvre Appetizer

Soft fresh goat cheese, plain or flavored (garlic or herbes de Provence)
Tomato (heirloom or other very flavorful type)
Sea salt
Fresh basil
Olive oil
Sliced bread (French baguette, sourdough, multigrain)

Spread the goat cheese on the bread slices.  Slice the tomato and place it on top of the cheese.  Sprinkle with sea salt.  Snip the fresh basil and place on top of the tomato.  Drizzle with olive oil.  You could toast it under the broiler, if you wish.

Fresh Figs and Chèvre

Fresh soft goat cheese
Fresh figs, halved
Fresh mint
Honey (sourwood would be good, but any natural unprocessed honey), optional
Sliced bread (French baguette, sourdough or multigrain)

Spread the goat cheese on the slices of bread.  Place figs on top of cheese.  Drizzle with honey, if desired.  Snip the mint and sprinkle on top.
 
Bon appétit!

Feliz cumpleaños, Señor!

It is only Tuesday, but the week has already been a bit stressful.  It started with a 7:30 am Monday morning meeting.  I love my 7th grade colleagues, but getting myself ready and out the door by 7:10 (in time to print the meeting's agenda and make copies) is not an easy task for moi even if I am not real high maintenance.  Then my computer died a quick but painful death in the early afternoon.  It was my well-loved school laptop in it's third year of life.  It was my companion and lifeline home while I was on sabbatical in France last year.  Luckily, I learned my lesson a couple of years ago about backing up my files when I somehow trashed the file with my whole year's work on it back in 2006-- and no, I had not backed up to our school server in a long time.  Loser move.  I had backed up about a week ago.  All my music, pictures and most of my work was restored and now is safely living on my new MacBook Pro.  Trevor and Karl, our computer gurus, are my heroes!  So, I am typing away again.  Then last night we got word that someone had spilled a drink all over our son's laptop at college.  Not good for him.  All his school work is on that laptop, not backed up anywhere.   After an emergency trip to the Apple Store to find out if his computer (bought in 2006 as a graduation gift) was salvageable, we found out it is not.  It would cost almost as much to repair it as it would to replace it.  So, get out dad's Visa.  Hopefully, the young lady in question will pay what it would cost to repair the old one without a fight.  I am now trying to think happy thoughts about it all.  Dad is too busy getting games going this afternoon to think about Visa bills, I hope. I do not think that the money tree we recently planted on the deck next to the dying tomato plants and the pot of lavender even has blooms on it yet...
Happy thoughts... how about my neighbor at school, Señor Glass.  He celebrated a birthday over the weekend and brought a cake he made in for us to sample.  My grandfather used to always bring birthday cake and ice cream to us, his little crumb crushers, on his birthday.  He was born on the 4th of July and I grew up living right next door to him.  I loved him dearly.  So, today's photo is of Señor's cake and the recipe follows.  It was truly another gâteau délicieux!  Here's to a great year, Señor!  Thanks for sharing.  You can bake me a cake anytime!

Tarta de Naranja (Spanish Orange Almond Cake)
"This is the first time I have ever made this cake.  I don't bake very often, but I do love oranges and I do love cake, so I thought for my birthday I would give this recipe a try.  I haven't tasted it yet, but I can tell you the kitchen smells wonderful, and the cake was very easy to make."-- Señor Glass

The cake:
4 eggs, separated
1/2 c. sugar
Grated rind of 2 oranges
1/2 c. blanched almonds, finely ground

The syrup:
Juice of 2 oranges
1/3 c. sugar
1 cinnamon stick
1 tsp. Cointreau (or any orange liqueur)

Preheat oven to 350F.

Beat the egg yolks, sugar and orange rind until fluffy and lemon colored.  Gradually beat in the ground almonds.  In another bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff but not dry.  Fold them into the yolk mixture.  Pour the batter into a buttered and floured 8-inch cake pan.  Bake for about 40 minutes or until the cake is well browned.  Cool slightly, then remove the cake onto a serving dish.

While the cake is baking you can make the syrup.  Mix together, in a sauce pan, the juice of 2 oranges, the sugar and the cinnamon stick.  Bring to a boil, then simmer for about 5 minutes.  Remove from heat and cool for about 10 minutes.  Stir in the Cointreau.  Cool, then brush or pour evenly over the cake.

You can garnish the cake with orange slices, sliced thinly and cut in half.

Bono appetit!

Art and artists

Before I left Arles last December, Chef Érick gave me a box of watercolor pencils and a small sketchbook of watercolor paper.  We also made a trip to an art supply store he loves in a nearby village.  I came home with brushes, paper, paints and my pencils.  He also gave me one of his sketchbooks with what I have titled "Van Gogh à table" (above) in it.  I haven't framed it yet.  Nor did I get him to sign it...  When I asked him about it and if I could keep it, he just shrugged and said bien sûr.  Of course.  As if anyone can just pull out a pencil and paints and do this.  I was flattered that he had that much confidence in my capacity to learn to paint.  Do all artists think that the rest of us can do it if we just try?  But I am very realistic about my limited ability.
In 5th grade, I was placed in a special language arts class.  This was the closest thing we had to gifted education at Harris Elementary School.  I joined the class a few days after everyone else.  I suppose I hadn't shown my innate brilliance enough at that point to be placed in the class at the same time as everyone else. Ha!  I vaguely remember taking some sort of test (IQ, maybe?) and then entering this class.  I knew everyone, of course, because it was a small school in a small town.  We stayed together in this class for four years.   I owe my mastery of English grammar to Mrs. Sproles, our teacher, and her love for diagramming sentences.  Label another part of speech a verb and she would have you stand up in front of class and ask you to perform that action.  "Stand up, Teresa, and ____ for us, please."  That made a lasting impression on me.   I think that we were all able to laugh at this or at least I do not remember being publicly humiliated.  (I can also read just about anyone's handwriting thanks to exchanging papers across the aisle with a certain boy for 4 years... thank you, Steve Snider!)
Mrs. Sproles also attempted to make artists of us.  I struggled mightily with drawing trees.  I've been scared to even try since then.  I took one other art class in Spruce Pine, but I really do not remember much about it.  That has been the extent of  my art career.   Well, with the exception of going to an art workshop with my friend Ghislaine last November.  She is very talented.  I attempted the Eiffel Tower and Steve has framed that work.  I call it "The Leaning Tower of Eiffel."  It's home is in our bedroom-- I'd rather it not be on display, truth be told.
My art supplies are safely tucked away in a desk drawer.  Once in a while I pull out the watercolor pencils and attempt something.  Well, I've done it three times so far in the past 10 months.  I've drawn a pot of lavender twice and a beautiful pitcher made by Véronique, the potter in Le Cailar, once.  I sent the lavender to Érick just to prove to him that I've tried.  I gave the pitcher to my BFF.  I mostly just daydream about painting lovely watercolors.  In my next life, maybe?

Ghislaine's painting

My Lavender #1

One of my 8th graders brought in a treat for us today.  This is a recipe that she and her sister developed.   She told us they created it one day after they found brie on sale at the grocery store and their mom just happened to have some lavender grains in the spice cabinet.  It was délicieux!  I just bought some brie so I will try it myself this weekend.  I sure wish I had some of Sophie's lavender honey left...

Lavender Brie

8 oz. Brie

1 box Filo dough

2 Tbsp melted butter

1/3 whole grain lavender

2 tsp honey

2 tsp lemon juice

Note:  Read the directions on the box of filo dough before beginning.

1.  Preheat oven to 350F.

2.  Coat a cookie sheet with the melted butter.  In a small bowl, combine honey and lemon juice, stirring until mixed well.

3.  Following directions on the box, place one sheet of filo dough on the cookie sheet and coat with melted butter.  Repeat this process three times.

4.  Drizzle the honey-lemon mixture over the center of the dough (where the brie will be placed), and then (grinding with your fingers) sprinkle the lavender over the honey-lemon mix.

5.  Place brie in the center of the dough and wrap up the sides, bunching the end of the dough in the center of the brie.

6.  Place cookie sheet in the oven and bake for 10 minutes or until brie is melted and tips of dough are golden.  Serve warm with crackers.

Bon appétit!  Et merci, Christen.  Très bien fait!

I love Lucys

Finally a photo of all three of us from our grape stomping day at Grove Winery!  Do you think we were having fun?  Just a little bit...  Maybe next fall we could rent ourselves out at the NC vineyards for their harvest festivals?

I have always loved dressing up in costumes.  I am now working on Halloween.  At school, a lot of the teachers dress up, as well as the kids.  Mine is going to be incroyable.  I got the idea last Halloween while in Arles. The French have attempted Halloween, but it just isn't French.  Chef Érick did stop at a little vegetable market last fall and buy a pumpkin for me to carve with his sons, Leo and Jonas.  Leo wasn't really into it, but Jonas came up with his own design, we carved it and then we proudly displayed it in the B&B window with a candle burning inside.  One dad and his little boy came by all dressed up.  Leo did help Jonas eat the leftover candy I had bought at Monoprix!

Eating and writing adventures continue here in Durham.  I had dinner at Pop's with friends last week.  Here are my mussels...

They were vraiment délicieuses.   Brought back very nice memories of buying them at the Arles market and having them for lunch or dinner.  I think I probably ate my weight in them while there for 6 months.

I am researching my next column for the Herald-Sun.  I got up really early to drive out to Elodie Farms in Rougemont a couple of mornings ago to watch the goats being milked.  More research this weekend!  Yum!  I love the homework for my writing assignments.

Last night, Dorette invited me to dinner at her house.  She prepared Chef Érick's Fricôt des Barques, a meat dish that is divine.  Just walking into her house tickled my nose!  The savory aroma a mis de l'eau dans ma bouche (made my mouth water-- I just learned this expression!).  She used boneless ribs to make it and the meat just fell apart it was so tender.  She also made socca, a chickpea crêpe that is a speciality of Nice.  We filled them with caramelized onions and the shoots from sweet peas (I didn't know they were even edible... my education continues!).  Ben, Noah and Darryl from Fickle Creek Farm were there, too, as well as Dorette's husband Rich.  I took a bottle of Vieux Clocher red wine as my contribution.  This wine comes from the Ventoux region of France (the famous mountain that is climbed each year during the Tour de France-- it was covered in snow the last time I saw it in December 2008).  It is a steal and available at Wine Authorities.  The wine, not the mountain!  We also had Tarte Tatin for dessert.  I did not take a photo-- I lost all constraint and ate it along with a lovely little glass of Sauternes.

Fricôt des barques

Socca

Bon, mes amis.  À bientôt!

Socca de Nice

300 grams or 1 1/4 cup chickpea flour

500 ml or 2 cups water

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 tsp sea salt

pepper

Pre-heat oven to 300 F.

Whisk together the chickpea flour, water, olive oil and salt.  Mix thoroughly to remove any lumps.  The batter should be slightly more runny than typical crêpe batter.
Lightly oil your pan.  Pour the batter into the pan, spreading it evenly.
Slide the pan into the pre-heated oven and cook until the top browns nicely, possibly even going black where the bubbles rise.
Remove, slice if you wish, and serve hot, peppering to taste.
I have also cooked them in my crêpe pan on top of the stove, too.  Just oil the pan and cook them until browned, flipping over once.  Keep them warm until you are ready to serve them.
(We ate them like crêpes, placing the filling in the middle and rolling them up!)

 

Bon appétit!

7th grade chef

I encourage my students to learn to cook.  We do not teach home economics at my school and I firmly believe that everyone, boys and girls alike, should learn his or her way around the kitchen.  My own two boys, however, are not the least bit interested... They tell me they are eaters, not cookers (just like their dad!).  Maybe someday.
The deal I have with my students is that they can make something for their classmates or for their families.  Something French.  Parental help is fine, but they must be involved in the process as much as possible.  I give them extra credit points for their efforts.  They bring me the recipe and briefly explain the process to their classmates.  And if we are lucky, we get to sample the finished product.  Let's face it.  Savoring a madeleine au chocolat makes French class a bit more interesting, n'est-ce pas?
Just as looking at Paris Breakfasts posts once in a while sweetens up a lesson plan. Carol, the PB blogger and artiste extraordinaire, is in Paris at this very moment... snapping up photos of macarons and hopefully taking in the magnificent view of Paris from the top of La Tour Eiffel at dusk as I suggested!  It is her 120th birthday -- not Carol's,  the Eiffel Tower's!
A madeleine is a small cake baked in a special  pan that gives it a shell-like shape.  Its flavor is similar to that of pound cake, but lighter.   Marcel Proust in À la recherche du temps perdu (Remembrance of Things Past) wrote this about madeleines--
"She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called petites madeleines, which look as though they had been molded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell.  And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake.  No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place... at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory..."
So, here is the recipe.  Make them and who knows?  Maybe someone will give you extra credit of some sort...  or the day's problems will wash away as you nibble on one of these delicious cakes- ces gâteaux délcieux.

Chocolate Madeleines

(yield 36 madeleines)

3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 c. unsweetened cocoa
Pinch of salt
4 large eggs
1 c. vanilla sugar
12 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted and cooled
Butter for buttering the madeleine tins

1.  Sift together the flour, cocoa and salt.
2.  Place the eggs and the sugar in a large bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer and whisk until thick and lemon colored.  Fold in the flour, then melted butter.
3.  Butter the madeleine pans, then spoon in the batter, filling each one about 3/4 full.  Refrigerate the filled madeleine pans and the remaining batter for one hour.
4.  Heat the oven to 425 F.
5.  Bake the madeleines just until they are firm and puffed, about 7 minutes.  Turn them immediately from the molds; wipe out the molds, let cool and continue baking the madeleines until all of the batter is used.  The madeleines are best when eaten slightly cooled or at room temperature the same day they are made.

Bon appétit, mes élèves!  Merci, Alexandre!

recipe from http://www.epicurious.com
Marcel Proust translation by C.K. Scott-Moncrieff found at:
http://en.wilipedia.org/wiki/Madeleine_(cake)

The Sabbatical Chef begins

A colleague recently brought me a copy of the first article that I wrote for the Durham Herald-Sun while I was on sabbatical last year.  I am also working on my annual 8th grade trip to France.  I will take my students to Paris and to Arles in March 2010.  So, my sabbatical, although never far from my thoughts, is on my mind these days.  I have decided to take a trip down memory lane and share my beginning.

Towards food and friends in France

     For as long as I can remember, August has signaled the beginning of a new school year for me.  August 1964 brought me to Miss McBee's first grade class in Spruce Pine, NC.  Since 1980, I have been teaching French at Durham Academy Middle School.  Each new school year has brought excitement, anticipation and, to be honest, a fair dose of nervousness.
     This fall, however, I did not join my colleagues for the opening faculty meetings nor will I be there to greet my advisees and their parents.  After 28 years at Durham Academy, I am on sabbatical leave for the first semester of 2008-09 school year.
     I am in Arles, France, in Provence.  I have been here since mid-June.  I visited Arles for the first time in 1987 with a group of students and was fascinated by the Roman history and architecture.  In the summer of 2005, I came back to Arles for two weeks.  I had read quite a bit about Vincent Van Gogh's stay here, and Dorette Snover of C'est si Bon! cooking school in Chapel Hill told me about Chef Érick Vedel's cooking school, Atelier Cuisine et Traditions.  Food and art.  Perfect.
     I returned once again to the cooking school in the summer of 2006 with a group of friends as their translator and guide.  Later that year, I was offered room and board for the summer of 2007 if I would be Chef Vedel's assistant.  That was an offer too good to refuse.  Now, with the sabbatical leave, I am back in Arles working once again, this time until December.
     My days here begin early since Chef Vedel also runs a five-room bed and breakfast.  I have learned to make crêpes from scratch and am now perfecting my own orange brioche recipe.  I have developed a decent kitchen vocabulary.  Last summer, I was completely lost the first time I was asked to fetch une louche.  I dumbly stared at Chef Vedel while trying to make up my mind whether or not to fake it or to confess that I had no idea what he wanted.  Trust me, I will never forget the word for ladle!  I am still not very good with the names for the seemingly endless supply of fish and seafood found in the market that comes from the Mediterranean Sea.  However, I now have a food dictionary and can look up morue, poulpe and daurade when need be.
     I wash dishes, do laundry, clean rooms, and work with room reservations.  In short, I do whatever needs to be done, in addition to assisting the chef in the kitchen.  We have a washing machine, but no dryer.  Sheets, towels and clothing are hung from the second story living room window.  The B&B rooms are found on three upstairs levels, linked by a winding staircase, no elevator.  The family side of the house and the guest rooms are joined by a large kitchen.
     Shopping for food, preparing meals and eating have taken on a completely new meaning for me.  Each one is a pleasure in and of itself.  The Wednesday and Saturday markets in Arles are an explosion of colors and smells.  Listening to vendors and customers discuss how a particular item should be prepared and served is a joy.  Cooking is a continual experimentation and exploration to find the perfect combination of ingredients.  The French say that flavors se marier bien, or marry well.  I love that!  Meals in France are an occasion to talk, share ideas, laugh and feed friends and loved ones.  Dinner can, and often does, take three hours here, ending near midnight.  I feel as if all I do is think about what I will have for my next meal!  Provençale cuisine is amazing, yet so simple.
      My students should know that I am indeed once again on their side of the fence.  Friends correct my pronunciation and help me find the words I need to express myself halfway coherently.  They are endlessly patient when I ask the same questions over and over.  I am, of course, learning words and expressions that are not in any textbook I've ever encountered.  My knowledge of gros mots or dirty words has increased, as well as my food vocabulary.
     I miss my children, family and friends, but this experience will leave me forever changed.  I will return to the classroom in January invigorated by having lived here for six months.  I am indeed very fortunate!
 
Written August 14, 2008
Arles, France
Published in the Durham Herald-Sun September 2008

Memory Lane

 Gordes

Alex

 Pat and Joan in Giverny

Yolanda in Provence

 

Me with my favorite landmark

The Arles 6 minus 1 (Richard) plus 1 (Steve) gathered Friday night for dinner at Pop's here in Durham.  Betty was back in town and we hadn't all been together since our reunion trip in June 2008.  This top photo is from our first trip, in 2006.  We are in Provence, with the village of Gordes in the background.  Yolanda brought her computer to Pop's and Pat and Joan were able to watch the slideshow of the 2006 trip for the first time.  What wonderful memories.  It was, without a doubt, a trip that could never be duplicated...
Betty, Yolanda and I met up at RDU.  Yolanda and I have worked together for years and we were nervous that Betty would think we were a couple of goofballs (do the nicknames of Lucy and Ethel mean anything??).  We discovered, however, that Betty was exactly our type of traveler when we arrived in Paris and got stuck in the turnstile as we attempted to leave the airport and board the train for Paris.  Betty stayed calmer that we did and finally the three of us and our bags got over, under and around the turnstile and on the train.  We found our hotel, Les Jardins D'Eiffel,  on Rue Amélie, in the Rue Cler area and the adventure began.  Betty introduced Yolanda and me to Veuve Clicquot yellow label champagne late one night in a little café on Rue Cler and we were forever bonded.  (We discovered why she always carries a large Longchamps bag...)
Pat and Joan joined us on Bastille Day, arriving in time to check into the hotel and trek over to the Champs-Élysées with us for the parade.  By this time, Betty's son Alex had also joined us.  I had never been in Paris on July 14 and was so excited about the parade.  It is very military in nature, with tanks, soldiers, and planes flying overhead.
Alex found wonderful restaurants for us and we picnicked one evening down by the river.  This is a group that loves good food!  We went to the shops on Rue Cler, as well as La Grande Epicerie at Bon Marché, for provisions for a picnic in the gardens at Giverny, Claude Monet's home.  We took a bus tour there on a beautiful sunny day.  We had enough wine to have a glass on the way there, toasting our new friendships and memories in the making.  Betty accidentally spilled her red wine on the very well-dressed Alex (a white polo and khakis) and Yolanda and I were very curious to see his reaction.  He took a deep breath and didn't say a word.  Our picnic was the envy of everyone who walked by.  I distinctly remember very ripe cherries, creamy cheese, crusty baguettes and chocolate.  Yolanda was asked to photograph a young man from Texas proposing to his unsuspecting girlfriend.  We had all gone our separate ways at that point, wandering around the house, gardens and workshop/giftshop.  When we met back at the bus, Yolanda was in tears as she began telling about the proposal.
We left Paris on the TGV to head to Arles and Chef Érick's B&B and cooking week.  I had been there the previous summer and was very anxious to get back.  My room that summer was the yellow one-- a swimming pool sized bathtub and a gauzy netting over my bed.  Yolanda and I became roommates this time, safely ensconced in the blue room, surrounded by the smell of lavender (I later found out that this room just naturally smells of lavender... there are no hidden grains or sachets).  One evening we discovered Leonardo da Vinci staring back at us from the painted shower.  (I voted for Victor Hugo, though, just for the record.)  We even confessed this to Erick at dinner one night and he very quietly went upstairs for a look.  He is the one who painted that wall.  When I returned the next summer, he had painted a frame around the mysterious visage.
This is where we picked up Richard.  We discovered that another "chef" had been added to our Mini-Gourmand cooking stage.  At first, we weren't sure we wanted anyone else.   Richard, however, very quickly endeared himself to each and every one of us, especially after he responded so well to the hot water incident at breakfast the first morning.  Yolanda swears that she did not scald him and we have not seen any scars, truth be told.

We had Erick all to ourselves that week.  His wife, Madeleine, left us to attend a workshop, taking their younger son Jonas with her.  Leo, the older son, was in Michigan visiting his grandmother by the time we arrived.  Erick took us on his own personal tour of Arles, including the library where he has researched many of his recipes.  We visited the lavender fields at the Abbaye Notre Dame de Sénanque, picnic in hand.  One day we went to visit a potter friend in the village of Séguret.  We visited an organic winemaker, Jean-David, and his wife, once more with a picnic to enjoy in the shade of a large pine tree on his property.  The only problem there occurred when we locked ourselves out of the house for the second time while visiting the bathroom.  This really tried the winemaker's patience.  The chocolate shop of Joël Durand in Saint Rémy de Provence was a must on our list.  (We had seen photos of the handsome chocolatier...)  Only Yolanda got to actually meet him that day.  The rest of us had elected to stay in the van, napping, if memory serves me right, when we made our second stop there to pick up the chocolates we had bought earlier in the day.  I have since been back there several times, most memorably on my 49th birthday.  I have a photo to prove it!
At the end of our cooking week, we bid Erick, his assistant Barbara, and Richard good-bye, picked up our rental car, packed it to the hilt and set off for Aix-en-Provence.  With me behind the wheel, no less.  We only took a couple of wrong turns leaving Arles and were soon on our way past Mont St. Victoire, the white mountain that Cézanne painted so many times.  Yolanda, my navigator, was instructed to put the damn camera away by someone in the back seat as we passed the mountain and pay attention to the route.  She and I stiffled our giggles and we made it to Aix in an hour.
Our hotel, chosen for its central location and parking garage, was easy to find on the Cours Mirabeau.  Yolanda and I dropped off the luggage and other passengers and set off to park the car.  That was an adventure and the main reason why I do not like to drive in France... many very narrow streets and confusing entrances to those streets.  We did indeed finally get the car parked, only scratching the mirror a little on the way in to the underground garage.
The main reason we chose to spend a night in Aix was to see a Cézanne exhibit at the Musée Granet.  We did not get tickets in advance and were so scared that we would not be able to see it.  This was my one truly anxious moment as the organizer of this trip.  However, we walked right up to the window and got the tickets for that afternoon.  So, after a lovely lunch at an outdoor restaurant (my first warm goat cheese salad), we spent a few hours wandering around the exhibit.
Our last stop of the trip was two nights in Nice.  Our hotel was just a couple of blocks back from the Promenade des Anglais and the Mediterranean Sea.  We ate dinner at a restaurant in Old Nice owned by M. Alziari.  Divine.  Pat had found this one in an article in the NY Times.  It was simply charming.  We decided to drive to Vence to visit the chapel decorated by Henri Matise there and to have lunch in a nearby restaurant that a chef in Durham had recommended to Pat.  We had even planned to go to mass at the Chapel of the Rosary and then take the tour.  However, Yolanda and I had a very difficult time retrieving our car from the paid garage and then we completely missed the exit and were almost back to Aix before we turned around.  Betty and I were convinced that the French must number their exits differently.  No one who knows me well would believe me if I said that, but Betty is much more believable.   We made it just in time for the tour, though, led by one of the sisters, delivered in the most beautiful French I have ever heard.
We found our lunch destination, La Table d'Amis de Jacques Maximin, just outside of Vence, without much difficulty.  This restaurant is called "...one of the Riviera's grandest treasures" by Frommer's.  Robert de Niro is known to dine there when he's in town.  Unfortunately, he was not there that Sunday afternoon, but we were convinced that we had found a corner of paradise as we ate outside, surrounded by beautiful flowers and very attentive waiters.
We made it to the Nice airport in plenty of time to miss the turn at least twice and get all the bags checked and through security.  The woman who took the rental car back didn't seem the least bit upset about our scratch.  The car next to us was the exact same color and model and had a large scrape all the way down the passenger side, making ours seem very minor indeed.
So, my Arles 6 Gang, here's to all of you for giving me ten days that I will never forget.
Much love,
Melanie