WALK AMONG THE POPPIES - MAY, 2020

The poppies explode in the fields outside of Quarante about every two or three years. Mostly appearing in fields of grain, suddenly we become aware that this will be a poppy year. Drives to the market or to visit friends, or just rambles through the country, reveal fields  decorated with unexpectedly bright slashes of red. Just one of the many reasons that this corner of Occitanie has captured our hearts. Let's take a walk.

An old friend. There's a mare and a gelding in a pasture just outside of town. They know that we bring carrots.

An attempt to capture the dominant colors - the amazingly blue sky as background to the poppies.

The vines are fully leafed out early this year, while the nasty yellow broom's pollen seeks out my nose with a vengeance.

Picture taking slows me down.

Poppies from the level of the path...

...and from above.

Poppies or not, the views from just outside the village are worth a quick promenade.

We often have to make way for cars or tractors or...

It's been a good year for all sorts of weeds and wild flowers.

LEAVING THE UNITED STATES, PART 2: CHOOSING A DESTINATION

LE CHAT QUI PECHE (THE CAT THAT FISHES), ARGELIERS: RESTAURANT REVIEW

You would think that after over five years of searching for restaurants serving good food at reasonable prices, I would have made my way to Le Chat Qui Peche before now. After all, it's only about ten minutes from our house, in a beautiful spot along the Canal du Midi. But it took a friend to suggest that we would like the place. So we went. And we did.

Port-Argeliers isn't much a port, just a spot along the Canal du Midi that boats use as a stopping place. Like a town that might be described as just a wide spot in the road, there hardly seems to be a reason for it to exist other than the fact that it does. So Le Chat Qui Peche, at the foot of a narrow but driveable bridge over the canal, commands a view of the canal that can't reasonably be described as bustling and scenery that might best be described as bucolic.

We were among the first to arrive on a lazy summer day, breezy so we chose an outdoor table with less of a view but sheltered. Our server practiced his English while we practiced our French. While we sipped rosé, he brought over a slate and explained the menu and the prices - some interesting choices that did require explanation, 19€ for a start and a main, 24€ to add dessert.

Cathey started with carpaccio, filling the plate, fresh and sweet and colorful. Liz's salad with thin slices of smoked duck breast was also fresh, tasty and a full portion. Nicola and I tried different twists on the same dish. Small ceramic pots with a radius of a fried egg came filled with a cheesy cream sauce, croutons, and bits of chorizo in my case, veggies instead of chorizo for Nicola. There may have been a name for the dish but I don't remember it. In any event, look at the picture. The surprise was that the egg yolk was not even warm while the filling that it covered was piping hot, an indication that the egg was precooked and plopped on top, I suppose. But an interesting and enjoyable dish nonetheless.

My knife-chopped tartare de boeuf with bits of shaved cheese and the occasional pine nut was, like the carpaccio, nice, sweet beef. Cathey had the catch of the day, back of cod. She cleaned her plate. Nicola and Liz both ordered a Charolais rib steak sangnant (rare), cooked to order but, as is the case with much French beefsteak, cut a bit thin for our taste. And, again typical, just a bit chewy. Not the fault of the chef, the fault of French beef. But that's my common, constant complaint. Let's just say that the serving was above average for French beef.
 
We passed on dessert...well...I had two scoops of fine chocolate ice cream.

With coffees and two carafes of rosé, the tab came to just over 25€ per person. A pleasant way to spend two and a half hours with friends and family on a lazy summer day. Recommended.

Le Chat Qui Peche is on Facebook. You can check out more of my restaurant reviews HERE. If you haven't already, why not subscribe to my blog?

WINE TASTING FOR PLEBS

I don't know a darn thing about wine. So I warn you. Don't listen to a word that I say. Why? I'm an American, born in the Northeast USofA, not exactly a hotbed of boutique wine making even today when the folks in places like the Finger Lakes of upstate New York have been trying to establish their creds for generations. All that I knew of wine as I was growing up came from my experiences with my grandmother's concord grape wine. Oddly enough, straight out of the barrel in the basement it wasn't too sweet. If you liked sweet wine, though, Nana didn't mind. She'd just add a dab of maple syrup to the carafe and shake it a bit.

See what I mean? Don't listen to a word that I say.

Like many of my fellow English-speaking expats, I have come to enjoy sampling the great variety of wines available to us in here Occitanie. We live in the midst of a terroir that is transforming itself from a region known for sheer quantity to a region dotted  with an ever-increasing cohort of quality producers of light and sunny rosés, clean and subtle whites, and hearty and complex reds. Signs dot every two-lane blacktop directing travelers to domaines with wine for tasting and for sale, often along with olive oil, honey, saffron, or other bounty of this ancient land.

We all have our favorites, from affordable but reliable standards to bottles laid in for special company. Domaine Pain de Sucre, with vineyards just down the road from us along the Canal du Midi, supplies us with an inexpensive rosé that has sweetened our sunny summer afternoons ever since we moved here.full-time several years ago. Laurent Miquel's Cazal Viel estate, another early discovery located between Cazouls-les-Beziers and Cessenon-sur-Orb, produces a range of viognier and chardonnay-viognier to suit any taste. And we're learning to navigate the reds, sampling and/or laying down bottles from Domaine de Pech-Ménel, Domaine Moulin Gimie, and Domaine Saint-Georges d'Ibry among several others.

Early on, we discovered vrac, bulk wine. Our English-speaking friends know of it. But our French friends are the ones more likely to buy it. After several years standing in line, waiting to get my hands on the stainless steel hose from which pours that cheap product in bulk like petrol into the tank, I can scarcely remember hearing English spoken. (Yes, I said petrol. Life among British expats...) I can't think why not. After a pleasant evening of sips and nibbles, and more sips and nibbles, and an extra sip or two, when all of the chilled bottles of rosé in the fridge have met their maker, we have on occasion been forced to pour from an unlabeled bottle of local vrac. No one has seemed to mind, although at the point that we bring it out, taste buds have already been dulled beyond repair. Of course, 95% of the time, our guests don't get anywhere near vrac rosé. But it's what we drink for dinner when we're by ourselves. And for us, it works.

Does this mean that we cannot discriminate one wine from another? Pas de tout! Three of the local cooperatifs offer vrac at prices averaging about €1.50 per liter, the caves in Capestang, Cebezan, and Argeliers. We periodically sample each in turn to check out which pleases our naive palates best at the present moment. Our current choice is Argeliers. We have a sneaking suspicion that the taste is dependent on how carefully they separate the snails from the grapes as they are unloaded. But they're not talking and we're not asking. 

So there you have it. 10 liters at a time for €15. Ah, France. Ya gotta love it.

 

LISA SIMONE: CONCERT REVIEW

Music in the vines...

Billed as a private party, we joined about 200 lucky souls who spent a most pleasant summer evening on the grounds of Mas de Daumas Gassac, one of France's most unique wineries. We nibbled a variety of hors d'oeuvres, drank as much wine as we thought prudent, enjoyed bits of salmon and herb-encrusted tuna from the plancha, dressed rounds of bread with freshly sliced ham and aioli, gathered around cheese boards that were at least two meters long, and if that wasn't enough, spent an hour and a half or so listening to Lisa Simone both being herself and channeling her mother Nina.

First, a word about Mas de Daumas Gassac. You can read the history HERE. It's the story of a family that just wanted to produce the best wine possible without regard to the rules of French classification. Matching great vines from other areas of France to their impeccable terroir, they proved that the Languedoc was capable of producing wine that challenges the greatest vintages of the rest of the country. If that meant that their wine had to be labelled vin de table or vin de pays, so be it. They would simply produce the best wine that they could produce and let taste decide its worth. As a result of their dedication to craft, their winery is a destination for wine lovers from around the world, offering bottles ranging from under 10€ to over 40€ and more.   

Given that their dedicated following has lifted up Mas de Daumas Gassac perhaps beyond expectation, it's fitting that the Guibert family has decided to provide their friends with something special in return. We were fortunate to have discovered the concert on Lisa Simone's website and knew the venue. We arrived just after 8pm and enjoyed what was billed as a cocktail dinner until the sky darkened. The ropes dropped, we found our seats, and the concert began with an intro from one of the Guibert boys. The musicians came out one at a time, giving us a sample of their individual skills, and then came Lisa.

"Vous etes vous," shouted one of our neighbors in the audience as Lisa talked about her mother. (You are you!) But although Lisa displayed due deference to the memory of her mother, covering Leonard Cohen's Suzanne as her mother did and closing with a rousing rendition of Nina's classic The Work Song, Lisa was Lisa. She's basically a pop singer with a strong voice that contains overtones of blues and folk along with jazz. She plays no instrument but she plays the audience, and does it well, at one point coming down from the stage and roaming up and down the aisles, shaking hands while singing.

Her backing trio displayed their talents individually at various times during the show - an amplified acoustic guitar player, a bassist who played both electric and upright bass, and a drummer with an electric smile and a facility with the variety of rhythms in Lisa's songbook.

In sum,if you have the opportunity to see Lisa Simone, don't delay. She's a treasure.

Not a bad seat in the house, if you don't mind plastic...

Men in blazers and men in shorts, ladies in Capri pants and cocktail dresses...

Fish on the plancha...

Ham like you can't often find in France...

Nothing flashy, just the music...

Into the audience...

Yes, a bit of her mother in that face...

More about our life in France, including concert revues, HERE and HERE.

LE DOLMEN, CEBAZAN: 9.6 KM WALK IN THE WOODS AND THE VINES

Our grey and chilly spring means that it's difficult to decide how to dress for one of our group jaunts. And so it was this past Monday, the last day of April, 2018. Grey and chilly as we headed out on a walk that most of us have taken before, starting in a little parking lot on the north side of Cebazan. Seven of us wore tees or polos, down or fleece, Pants or shorts. Layers of one type or another, certainly. Eventually, the day heated up and so did we.

But it's not about fashion. It's about the exercise and the views. And so, here are the pics. More walks and other observations on French life HERE.

Seven walkers. Two cars.

The 'official' walks generally have these signs at the start. And they are very well marked with color-coded dabs of paint along the trail for walkers, mountain bikers, and horses, fresh this year.

Through the alley is not a very promising start.

But things open up fairly quickly. On this walk, the Sleeping Lady was often in view. This is not her best profile.

Climb. Take a picture.

Climb. Take a picture. (Better profile.)

Climb...

Stop and talk...

...and point stuff out.

It seems that no matter where you go, you aren't far from the vines.

No, not a car in the ditch. Just a bumper complete with tag.

More climbing and more vines.

And more vines.

Entering the woods, now. Shedding layers. In the distance, the last of the climbs...of the first half of the walk.

After crossing the road that could have taken us back to Cebazan, we continue. Continuing means another climb, this time single file.

You see these ruined stone walls and building shells everywhere. I keep threatening to bring a shovel, find an old trash pile, and see what I can dig up. I'm not certain that it would be legal, though.

A long stretch of scree not good for weak ankles or poorly shod feet.

There's bound to be a trash pile somewhere near a ruin like this. At least, that's what I tell myself.

You don't usually see these sorts of signs but several trails intersect this one.

One day I WILL bring a shovel.

Ooops. More inadvertent art photography...

At the top of the second half of the walk. We are assured that it's all downhill from here...and it mostly is.

For all of my friends in eastern Pennsylvania, check out the old lime kiln...

...complete with picnic area...

...because there's another intersection right there.