RIFA I PASSI: CONCERT IN THE ABBAYE DE QUARANTE

This Friday night, 19 September, 2014, as a part of cultural programming that takes place throughout the year in several small towns like our Quarante that cooperate regionally, the tourist office presented a free concert in the Abbaye de Quarante performed by the seven female singers comprising the group Rifa i passi. The above Youtube video was not taken Friday night but both the setting and the sound quality approximate our local abbey, built 1,100 years or so ago, just a few steps from our front door. Pictures of the abbey available on the web appear below.

This was plainsong singing at its best in the proper setting and the ladies received two well-deserved standing ovations, one at the end of their main set and one after their encore, during which they brought out their first instrument, an accordion used just for chords, then sang a final chant as they moved down the main aisle of the abbey from the altar to the exit. The pews were full and folks stood along the walls and in the back. It was a magical evening. 

VENDANGE IN THE LANGUEDOC: A MORE COMPREHENSIVE VIEW

For more pictures of the vendange and a bit of history and statistical info, click over to my FRANCE PAGE.

LA VENDANGE: GRAPE HARVEST TIME

The very air is electric. Every morning, you awake expecting to hear the sounds, smell the smells, feel the stickiness, get bitten by the yellow jackets, get stacked up in traffic, and in general curse up one side and down the other of that best/worst of times, the vendange. 

As summer ends and fall approaches, the vintners begin to go to their vineyards earlier and earlier in the morning. The first grapes that are ready to be harvested are the whites, the chardonnay. If you know your local viticulture, you may even be able to predict which vineyards will be ready first. But in short order, everyone will know. 

The vintner decides. The big, honking mechanical harvesters hit the road. Cars and trucks jam the verges of the vineyards that are to be hand picked. Tractors with trailers that are numbered to identify to which section of which vineyard their contents belong make their stately way to the co-ops, leaving trails of grape juice at every curve along the two-lane blacktops that they travel. They dump their loads and they go back for more. And if you have to be anywhere during the vendange, you'd better add a half hour to your travel time. At the end of the day, the tractors bring their trailers to washing stations. The gutters run with more of the juice, keeping the ready supply of buzzing, biting insects happy.

And who knew that grapes in bulk could smell that strongly from that far away?

But it's worth it. It's worth the trouble. Because soon, not too soon but soon, we'll be sitting on the terrace. enjoying the sun, eating the cheese, and drinking the end result, the wine.

It's the south of France. Life is good... 

Le New Port Snack Bar, Port Plaisance, Colombiers, France: Restaurant Review

Not far past the town of Colombiers, a couple of dozen kilometers away from us in Quarante, stands Brico Marche, the local equivalent of Home Depot. We travel there often to purchase shelving and hardware and such while we've been setting up housekeeping here in France. Going through Colombiers, you can't help but notice that the town has used its positioning on the Canal du Midi to great advantage. Relatively new and refined port facilities greet the recreational boater with restaurants and shopping, camp grounds, and other amenities. An amphitheater faces the Canal and, on a recent weekend night, saxophonist Pierre Schirrer et l'Orchestre Louisiana performed a free New Orleans jazz concert, playing the music of Sidney Bichet and Louis Armstrong from an old post boat anchored in the Canal. Our friends Simon and Julia invited us to join them for dinner and the show. So follows my review of Le New Port Snack Bar.

Le New Port benefits from its overview of the port, both from inside the glass-enclosed bar/dining area and from the outdoor patio with its bright blue and white striped awnings. It's simply a pleasant space, a place to spend an hour or more lingering over a midday meal.

We didn't see the full menu. Because of the concert, everyone was anticipated to come charging in at the same time. Limited choices were available. For starters, one could choose either a full plate of  garden salad sprinkled with little chunks of cheese that looked a lot like cheddar or else a wedge of country terrine (coarse pate), a couple of thin slices of smoked ham, and a small, less complex side salad. I chose the latter as did the two ladies. We were all pleased. Simon chose the salad and enjoyed the cheese.

For our main course, the choices were either shrimp (in the shells) or duck (braised with olives) with rice or frites on the side.The ladies went for the shrimp, Simon and I took the duck, only Julia chose the rice, and all was satisfactory. The shrimp were a good size and well seasoned. The duck was braised properly without being falling-apart mushy, completely infused with the fresh olives. And the French know their frites.

For dessert, the men had ice cream, Cathey had fruit salad, and Julia tried the fromage blanc, cheese just this side of yogurt. Just OK for all.

The service was cheerful and as responsive as was reasonable given the full house. With a couple of carafes of wine and coffee for Julia and me, we dropped just under 100 Euros. That's a bit much for a fairly simple set menu except for the fact that we had comfortable seats for a concert and stayed for over three hours.

In the final analysis, I'd only choose Le New Port for this type of event. Perfectly satisfactory. But I wouldn't choose to stop for a meal here under ordinary circumstances. Too many fine little cafes in the region offer surprisingly fine dining to have to settle for bar food that's just satisfactory.

Read more of my reviews HERE.

JACKIE ROBINSON, MICHAEL SAM & DANICA PATRICK: BEING FIRST

Sportswriters have a more difficult job than most journalists.

As is the case with news reporters, the object of the exercise for sportswriters is to get the facts straight while displaying a modicum of facility with the English language. In order to be considered elite, particularly in the case of investigative journalists, kudos specifically derive from getting the tough story and getting it first. Simple enough.

But in order to be considered elite in their field, sportswriters have to do more. For instance, the elite sportswriter has to have more than a facility with the language. The legends of the genre include the likes of Ring Lardner, Damon Runyon, Shirley Povich, Grantland Rice, and Red Smith, masters of story telling. They saw the same contests at the same time as their contemporaries. But few could compete with the scintillating rhythms of their prose.

One way for a  less than poetic sportswriter to compete with the greats of the genre is to demonstrate an encyclopedic knowledge of the history of not only the sport under discussion but of any related story in another sport that might shine a light on the subject of the piece. So when I come across a work that represents that sort of original thought, I rejoice. Take the case of a recent article by a guy named Dan Wetzel for Yahoo! Sports.

Others have rightly pointed out that it's simply too easy to conflate Michael Sam's draft selection by football's St. Louis Rams, becoming the first openly gay professional football player, with Jackie Robinson's joining the Brooklyn Dodgers as the first black MLB player. (I use the term 'black' instead of African-American advisedly. As a friend has said, "I'm an American but I have no real connection to Africa.") Times have changed. The civil rights struggle was just beginning in Robinson's day. The disgusting and disgraceful jeers and taunts which Robinson regularly endured would be unthinkable today. Indeed, a fan in the stands who called a player the N-word today would have reason to fear for his/her life.

Today, LBGT rights are at the forefront of just about every news cycle and are recognized by courts, state legislatures, and federal agencies. While still a pioneer, Sam has come along at a point in time when just about every American family has knowingly hosted an LGBT member or friend at the dinner table. Even today, the same may not be true of African-Americans.

But on the day after the Rams cut Sam, Wetzel made the point that the fact that Sam is not of the same Hall of Fame caliber as Robinson was bears some consideration. The Dodgers made the conscious, strategic decision to wait to sign a black player until that player was a can't-miss prospect. In doing so, the Dodgers may have made a prudent political move. But at the same time, any number of black players who could have carved out a career in The Show as everyday players, or even utility players, lost that opportunity. On the other hand, now that Sam has broken the barrier, been given a full shot, and demonstrated that his mere presence in the locker room was not disruptive, the gates are open. The onus didn't fall to Michael Sam to be great. Michael Sam didn't need to be Dick Butkus. He just needed to be Michael Sam. The Rams needed to give him his shot and let the chips fall where they may. The Rams did. The chips did. And that's that. No drama necessary. 

What has Danica Patrick to do with all of this?

Patrick is not a Hall of Fame driver. Given her equipment (the cars, you salacious

voyeurs, the cars), she should be a contender every week. She has shown some improvement and, given sufficient time, she may someday live up to the potential of her ride. But again, that's good for women and the sport. If she'd hit the scene like Jeff Gordon, winning races and championships from the get-go, she would have been considered a freak, an exception to the 'rule' that a woman can't compete with the good ole boys on the track. Instead, Patrick is doing just good enough to tantalize, to allow folks to reasonably wonder what a 'really good' woman driver might accomplish given a competitive ride. As a result, the next woman driver in NASCAR will be given a Michael Sam chance to succeed, a fair and square shot at the brass ring.

In professional sports, as in life itself, getting a fair deal all anyone can ask.