Home cooking and St. Emillon

Ah, le weekend.

I have a couple days off so time to get caught up (dad already emailed to ask if I'd been posting because he couldn't find anything new, hah).

Well let's see.  On Wednesday morning Michele took me to the local market in Creon, which so far I like the best.  There I picked up a baby pumpkin, some olives, some peppers (which may or may not be spicy), fresh bread, fresh local goat cheese, and some gorgeous giant fresh ravioli with ricotta and lemon.  There are not one but TWO pasta stands at the market and I had to choose from something like twenty different kinds of pasta.  And the adorable man running the place patiently walked me through my choices and then told me not only how long to cook it but what to serve it with.  Nobody is impatient.  You could spend twenty minutes chatting up the local olive vendor and tasting samples and the lady in line behind you doesn't get the least bit worked up.  Why rush?

After the market Michele and I prepared some fresh mackerel with sautéed greens.  Yum.

Upon her departure I spent an inordinate amount of time fighting with the fire before it really caught (it was drizzly and the wood was damp, which didn't help) but eventually I won and have been making fires most evenings for both the ambiance and the additional warmth.  The heat is distributed through the floors in the cottage so while my toes are never cold the rest of me begs to differ occasionally.  C'est la vie.

And the olives I bought?  Holy moly, they are straight from heaven.  I had to forcibly restrain myself from taking out the entire bag in one go.  Green olives marinated with garlic and anchovies?  I'm ruined for life.

And for those of you that think you don't like anchovies; I'm very, very sad for you.  

The local markets here are utterly amazing.  Eating this well absolutely SHOULD be as affordable everywhere as it is here.  Not to mention that you can buy a perfectly delicious bottle of wine for, I don't know, five bucks.

We really are suckers.

I mean, just look at this bread.  

I can hear the choir now.  

But anyway, Wednesday night I occupied myself making a shrimp stock with the heads and shells of the shrimp I bought a few days prior, leek tops, garlic, and thyme, which is currently hanging out in my fridge since I have no idea what to do with it.  I keep thinking chowder but haven't made it to le poissonerie yet.

My house smelled so, so good.

Eventually got around to prepping myself dinner, which consisted of fried polenta with sautéed greens, cauliflower, onions, and garlic, with a side of cheese and bread, and local red wine.  Winning.

Not bad for a solo dinner, eh?

The next afternoon I made myself the fresh pasta, with a quick shrimp stock/butter/lemon/garlic sauce, before heading to St. Emillon with Michele.  Brunch of champions.

 

Ah-mazing.

Then, St. Emillon.  

Talk about a gorgeous town.  Michele and I first made our way up to the tourism office, where a very nice (but rapidly speaking) young man gave us a map and pointed out various points of interest on it.  Here are the photos from our exploration.

One of the old towers used to watch for approaching (mostly unwelcome) visitors.

This is basically what all the streets looked like.

The town is on a hill so everything is up flights of stairs.  So many stairs.

One of my favorite parts of town.

Yep, it's the holidays.  I bet it's pretty at night!

These used to have defined carvings, now they're so old they look like they've been underwater.

Inside one of the churches.  I love stained glass.

And that unnatural green light?  Yep, that was real, all the main stained glass windows are green.  It was pretty eerie.

These guys had an excellent location in terms of defense.  

Fading light in St. Emillon.

There are caves everywhere built into the mountain, accompanied by lots of steep, scary stairs.

Now, in case you don't know anything about St. Emillon (I didn't really), it's the big cheese when it comes to wine.  I saw no fewer than 20 different wine shops, and it's not a big town.  No shortage whatsoever of local booze.  They are also known for macarons.  I did not buy macarons, for no reason that I can fathom now.  I did, however, buy a bottle of Bordeaux for 3 euros.  That's right folks, 3 euros.  The land of plentiful, cheap, and delicious red wine.

After our afternoon of walking up flights of stairs (for some reason it seemed like we were always walking up, not down) we took a little drive around the neighboring chateaus before heading home.  

Friday morning Carol and I headed to Michele and Vero's to go out for my first meal since being here.  After a leisurely drive through the countryside we made it to the restaurant where we had a three course meal and a bottle of red wine.  Speaking with Michele is interesting enough, but three lovely ladies babbling away in a language I barely understand after a large glass of red wine?  Priceless.  I also have a tendency to mentally disengage in group settings, which is not exceedingly helpful when spontaneously asked a direct question.  *Insert blank stare as Julia mentally attempts and fails to translate suitable answer*

But, I survived, mostly intact.  And the food was excellent: beet soufflé with salmon cream cheese, local fish on a bed of noodles and those little kelp noodles, and a dessert of some sort of rolled biscuit filled with jam and accompanied by whipped cream.  

Upon our return to Michele and Vero's, Carol headed back to la forge while Michele and I took a walk with Chiquita, their very enthusiastically friendly pup.  It was such a relief to speak one on one, and to be able to 100% follow the line of conversation.  It was a lovely day for a little hike and kept me from falling asleep immediately after lunch, which was a good thing.  

Friday night I munched on leftovers in front of the fire, which was lovely.  Which brings us up to yesterday, which was totally uneventful and all I succeeded in doing was making a pumpkin soup using a recipe faithfully dictated by Michele.  Here it is, en Français (Michele has some really funky handwriting so bear with me, I am copying it down as it appears so whether or not it's grammatically correct, spelled right, whatever, is beyond me).

- potimarron

- 1 carotte

- 1 gousse ail

- bouillon de légumes

- 1 feuille de laurier

- 1/2 c. á soupe de thyme

- gingembre râpé

- luille olive

- sel et poivre

Eplucher potimarron et carotte en morceaux.  Mettre l'luile dans la cocotte et faire *unitelligible word starting with R here* les morceaux avec l'ail, le thyme, le Laurier, le gingembre, le sel et poivre.  Ajouter le bouillon de legumes et faire cuire á feu doux pendant 30min.  Enlever le Laurier puis réduire.

I added too much water to the bouillon so my soup was a little thinner than I planned, but it was excellent.  The addition of the ginger and thyme is what really makes it for me.  Potimarrons are very popular around here but you could use any small squash or pumpkin you like.

Oh, and in English, basically take cut up squash, carrot, grated ginger, minced garlic, a small bundle of thyme (de-stemmed), a bay leaf, salt and pepper and cook a bit in olive oil to get some color, then add veggie broth and cook 30 minutes and blend (take out the bay leaf first).  I used an immersion blender for the first time.  Go Swan!  

I also made some Brussels sprouts with sausage, and had bread and cheese to round it out.  Excellent.

As for today so far I've done zilch, except take a shower, which is something I suppose.  I'll probably read, and book train tickets once I figure out where exactly to go next.  I still can't get my sleeping patterns quite right, I wake up tired but can't fall asleep most nights.  Last night I spiraled down anxiety lane at 2am trying to decide where to go next, which was totally useless and ultimately got me nowhere.  I've been debating whether to heads straight to Montpellier or stall on the way; I was considering Les Eyzies but I don't really want to deal with renting a car just yet.  I'll likely be passing back up this way when I head north in the spring and the weather would be nicer then too.  After Montpellier I want to head to Spain and I have a general idea where I want to go.  Now if I could make a damn decision about this week since I am leaving Thursday I'd be in good shape.  

Too many options for someone as indecisive as me.  Wishy washy central here.

Anyway, off to distract myself with cooking and reading.

~Swan