Boeuf Bourguignon, baby!

If it was ever a good time for boeuf bourguignon, it is now. It has to be one of my favourite french classics, essentially a beef stew cooked in red wine. The beef is braised, flavours of bacon, onion, garlic and bouquet garni are added. Carrots for good measure. Then add entire bottle of red wine (preferably from Burgundy as the name suggests) and slow cook for a good 3-4 hours.

While the house filled with the most delicious aromas, we headed out on a walk through the countryside. The sun was setting and it was cold, but the colours of Autumn were spectacular. Elliot and I foraged for wildflowers, berries, pinecones and nuts. We could hear gunshots in the mountains behind the house, and we came across two seemingly friendly hunters, in all their camo gear, hunting dogs in tow. Must be after those wild boar I've read about! They smiled and tilted their caps and seemed just as amused at us picking weeds and taking photos of dead vines!

It was getting late, and cold, and my beef bourguignon was calling. In went the sautéed mushrooms and we were ready to serve (tip from Julia Child - never add raw mushrooms to a casserole, always sautée in butter first!)

A little potato gratin and green salad on the side, some crusty bread for mopping the plate, and of course, (another) bottle of red. Bon Appetit! 

A xx

G.R.A.P.E.S

"They're muscat grapes. They are absolutely delicious, and when they are ripe you are welcome to help yourself to as many as you can eat!"

We were excited to hear that the summer house we had booked in Provence had a small vineyard on the property, and that we were free to eat as many as we pleased as they should ripen toward the end of September, which was just before we were due to depart.

I thought maybe we'd enjoy a bunch or two with some cheese toward the end of our stay.

What I didn't expect was the obsession that developed around said grapes, the daily visits to check their progress, starting in June, with the tiniest of morsels.

Early July saw good growth, some taste testing (fail) and more anticipation building. Elliot's patience was being well and truly tested, despite the sour taste he'd still try and sneak a few in.

Come late July the colour and flavour came in and we knew we were in trouble. Every day we visited the vineyard and would eat a few grapes as we walked through.

In August they became bigger than life itself. I'd often go to the grapes myself, sans toddler, to enjoy a few grapes in the sun, before sneaking back through the yard undetected.

It didn't take long before they became an every morning occurrence. A bunch, large, picked, washed and put in a bowl alongside our baguette, jam and coffee. The most amazing muscat grapes we've had, in abundance, 50 steps from our front door.

It was fantastic to see them grow, although we didn't have a to lift a finger as the grape gypsys would come at night and tend to the vines, we felt a connection to their petit journey over the summer, from their early start, all the way through to the local grocer selling them for 5€80 per kg.

At that price I am guessing we enjoyed around 217€ worth.
(68 good grape eating days x 500g per day + 10% spoilage @ 5€80 / kg)

Scott.

We're back in Provence!

It's been almost 2 weeks since we arrived back in Provence and the days are just flying by. After two weeks in London within a month of travel, we are happy to be back to the quiet solitude of the Luberon. This time we have found ourselves in Ménerbes, the once home of Peter Mayle, author of A Year in Provence.

Driving in past the Luberon mountains and the vineyards we have come to know so well, we knew we had made the right decision to return and within 24 hours we were all sleeping better, eating better and feeling at home, once again.

The converted farmhouse we are staying in is fabulous and even though there are 4 seperate 'gites' on the property, we have the entire place to ourselves. The joys of travelling in the off season!
Gorgeous gardens, a pétanque court, a tennis court, pool and plenty of pine cones, acorns, and autumn foliage for Elliot to collect.

Arriving on the 1st of November to a glorious sunny day may have given us a false sense of a warm Autumn. It didn't last. Within a week the Mistral winds were upon us, raging over 60 km/h and sending the temps to near freezing. They say the winds send the farmers crazy and the kids even crazier. A few quick trips outdoors and I can see why! A woman was blown right over onto the road up in Gordes I was told. 

We even bumped into our old neighbours, the Mayor of Saint Pantaléon and his lovely wife last week and we've been invited around for an aperitif tomorrow night ... I assured her the length of time we have spent in France has done nothing to improve our French language skills, so wish us luck!

A xx

London calling

I love a cliché. I could wear stripes every day, carry a basket and eat my baguette as I stroll through the french countryside and I'd be a happy little francophile.

So two weeks in London was going to be no exception.

Think champagne at the Ritz, scones at Harrods, posing in front of the red telephone boxes and eating bangers and mash in an old pub .... and getting excited over double decker buses (ok, that's for Elliot). London was calling, and the thought of 2 weeks speaking English was enough to get us across the Channel. Of course, the cliché did not end with my needing to say 'mind the Gap' every time a tube pulled in, London put on the grey, wet and drearily cold weather for us too. But we had a great time, caught up with lots of friends and family and downed a few pints along the way.

In keeping with clichés, we treated ourselves to a some modern British fare at the Corinthia Hotel. Scottish salmon, Fish and Chips with proper mushy peas and Pimms Jelly.

And with one more suitcase in tow, we were in a black cab on route to Gatwick and back to France!

A xx

In Bruges

Home to waffles, chocolate, pomme frites, beer. And for 5 glorious nights it was home to us too. 

What a fantastic city we discovered, we went in with no real expectation as we were just planning to visit Belgium for the history on the 100 year anniversary of Passchendaele. We picked Bruges as it was well located about an hour from most of the sights, and an hour from Brussels. 

It has quickly risen to one of the nicest places we have visited. The four elements above contributed a lot to this, but the city offers much more. Beautiful architecture, rivers winding through the city, horse and carriage rides (with Claratyne), city squares full of Belgian (beer-fuelled) cheer. 

We were either lucky or stalked, and managed to time our visit with Em and Stew and enjoyed the first day with them. This was Alison and Em’s second last farewell. Quite an emotional time. 

  
We spent the remainder of our days there both exploring the city and the gorgeous countryside, and devouring what was probably the best ever breakfast buffet known to man. 

All the usual stuff, done exceptionally well, then add wedges of dark, milk and white Belgian chocolate and a cool knife cutty thing, accompanied by endless bottles of champagne because why not. 

Thank you Bruges for surprising us.

Scott.