Le Barroux

Le Château de Barroux.

After lunch we headed for the Mont Ventoux. Along the way we passed by the Dentelles de Montmirail where there are several small towns perched here and there. They're all worth visiting, and I think I've seen most of them over the years. One is called Le Barroux, and on this trip we stopped to have a brief look.

The view from the château's terrace.

We just wandered around a bit and didn't even try to visit the château. But the views of the valley were nice. I really don't remember much else. In fact, if I hadn't happened to snap the sign on the château, I don't think I'd know where I took these pictures.

A cat relaxing in Le Barroux.

La Fontaine-De-Vaucluse

Provence's northeastern border is approximately where the foothills and plateaus of the Basses Alpes give way to the plains and the valley of the Rhône River. You will forgive my gross geographical generalization.

It is in these foothills that many tributaries of the Rhône find their sources. The river Sorgue emerges from the earth up on the Plateau de Vaucluse. The site of the spring is aptly named Fontaine-de-Vaucluse.

The only photo I have of the green waters of the Sorgue at the Fontaine-de-Vaucluse.

Our plans for this day were to make our way up to the peak of the Mont Ventoux, the tallest of the mountains in these foothill chains at 1,909 meters, or just over 6,200 feet. Before the ascent we naturally had to stop for lunch, so we chose the park at the Fontaine-de-Vaucluse. The place was practically deserted and we had our choice of picnic tables in the park around the spring.

Our picnic lunch - yum !

Lunch consisted of a tarte provençale that we bought along the way that morning, des olives vertes et noires, une saucisse fumée (smoked sausage), du fromage, du pain, and une bouteille de Baumes de Venise, a local red wine. I'm sure we had a dessert of some sort, but that's not in the photo.

After lunch we were ready to tackle the Mont Ventoux.

Puppy Pic Of The Week

Callie "made a statement" yesterday morning by calmly jumping up on the bed, ripping open a pillow case, chewing a tiny hole in a pillow, pulling most of the stuffing out of the pillow, then retiring to the sofa for a nap.

All because I forgot to close the bedroom door.

If she wasn't so damned cute I'd have to kill her.

Preparing For Winter

L'hiver is on the way. There are lots of things we need to do to winterize the yard this fall, not the least of which are trimming the hedges and tilling up the garden. But most of it can wait for a couple more months.

This is the workspace where I cut and store firewood. The pile on the left is the meter-long wood that needs to be cut into thirds.

Something that can't wait is getting the firewood cut up and stacked for burning in the wood stove. If I wait too long, it will be cold and wet outside and the task will turn into a chore. I decided that this year I would start early and try to get all of the wood cut and re-stacked under the little shelter next to our driveway before we actually need to burn any of it.

These piles were outside of the shelter and covered with plastic. The pile of oak on the right is gone now, cut and stacked. The pile on the left is kindling that I'll wait to cut last.

We got the wood delivered two years ago. Since we only got the stove installed last year, we haven't used much of it at all. The wood comes in meter lengths but our stove will only take a 40 centimeter log. That means I have to cut each of the logs into three pieces to fit the stove.

This is all that remains of the oak to be cut and stacked before fall.

I got started a couple weeks ago but quickly realized that the chain on my saw was seriously dull. I went to the hardware store for a new chain and the guy said ok, but my old chain was still good, it just needed sharpening, which he would gladly do. So I got one new chain and one sharpened chain, all for the sum of six euros. I should be set for the season.

Here's the cut and stacked wood so far. Some of it will have to be split with the ax, but I'll do that as necessary over the course of the winter.

I do a little bit each day, and now I can tell I've made good progress. There's still about half to do, but it's only the middle of summer. It won't be long before the wood is all cut and stacked and we'll be set for cold weather. Like our neighbor Bernard says, petit à petit, l'oiseau fait son nid (little by little, the bird builds its nest).

Word Of The Week

gnôle

We were invited to lunch twice in the last week. The first time, last Friday, we sat outdoors at our neighbors' place across the street for apéros. Our hosts had bought a foccacia made with cheese and lardons (smoked bacon) that they served with sparkling wine from Saumur. They served the wine naturel or with crème de cassis to make a kir.

Then we all moved inside for lunch. We were eight and lunch was a very good set of courses that included fresh tomato salad, fresh melon (cantaloupe), roasted beef, bettes or blettes (beet greens), boiled potatoes, cheese, and plum clafoutis and a big bowl of fresh framboises (raspberries) for dessert.

The wine was a local red gamay. In fact, the grapes were likely grown right outside our back yard. Then, after coffee, our host brought out a big magnum sized bottle of marc, the eau-de-vie that's distilled from the skins of grapes after they've been crushed for wine. The only label on the bottle was a little sticker with the word marc hand-written on it. Obviously not bought in a store. None of the women wanted any, so it was just the guys who partook. I love marc, but then I like most of the French alcools, brandies, that I've tasted in my life.

At one point, one of the women mentioned that us guys were enjoying our little gnôle, a word I had never heard. According the dictionary, it's an old franco-provençal word which means eau-de-vie, alcool, or brandy in English. It's almost a slang or familiar term for brandy, used by local people talking among themselves. It can also be spelled gnaule, gniôle, or even niôle.

I certainly enjoyed my petite gnôle.

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This morning while walking Callie I noticed something. Silence. Today's a holiday here in France, but I didn't think anything of it until I was out in the vineyard.

The only sounds I could hear were our footfalls, the wind moving through the trees, birds calling, and the occasional crowing of a rooster in the distance. No faint hum of traffic on the road in the valley below, no train whistles. No tractors in the fields plowing, trimming, or spraying.

It wasn't hard to imagine how it used to be before the invention and widespread use of the internal combustion engine. Quiet.

Marc de Bourgogne image from : www.shopping.orange.fr

Kitchen Collection [35]

Do the Mashed Potato ! This is one way, a twist (as it were) on the classic hand-held potato masher. This one's all stainless and has an artfully twisted rod to do the work. If I remember correctly, the classic ones are made with a steel sheet that has holes punched in it.

Of course, there are many ways to mash potatoes and other vegetables. We use our food mill sometimes (see Kitchen Collection #12), and a ricer that works pretty well, too.

Sunrise Walk

This morning's sunrise.

You know if you've visited this blog before that nearly every morning one of us walks the dog out in the vineyard. It really has to be raining hard for us not to go. I've been doing this for nearly fifteen years (although not always in France), first with Collette and now with Callie.

The storage cabin out in the vineyard reflects the sunrise.

There are several different routes we can take depending on how wet or dry it is, or our mood, or where the dog wants to go. Whichever route we take, there is always something interesting to see, even if we've seen it a hundred times before.

A wide shot of the vineyard looking east, with our house in the background. You can see how the vineyard is at the crest of a hill with woods filling the ravines on either side.

Once in a while I'll think to bring the camera, as I did today. This is some of what I saw.

Steam rises from the cooling towers at the nuclear power generator on the Loire River to our north.

These are sauvignon blanc grapes. I can tell because the other grapes are turning red now, and these are staying white.

The grape vines are still growing and sending out their little tendrils.

There are a couple big woodpiles out in the spaces between the woods and the vines. It's all very neatly stacked. I wish it were mine.

The sun shines through the vines.

I have no idea what these little yellow daisy-like flowers are called. The diameter of its blossoms is about the size of a euro, or a quarter.

There are many blooms on a single plant. This one is still blooming at the top while the older flowers have set seed.

Another flower getting ready to open.

Apples ripening on one of the many apple trees around the edges of the vineyard.

It's still mid-summer, but because of the cool weather it's starting to feel like fall. Some plants are in seed stage, while others are just starting to bloom. It's a weird year.

There are whole fields full of Queen Anne's lace that are just beautiful, but my photos of them never really turn out the way I want them to. I'll have to make it a project to get out there again and try to capture them before they're all gone for another year.