Road trip

We drove back home from Mum and Dad's on Sunday.  They live in South-West France, so it's one heck of a drive.  The part through France takes eleven hours, and when the ferry and the drive up through Kent and into East London are included, the whole journey takes around sixteen hours.  

I've always rather enjoyed long road-trips.  I did a few when I was at University and studying in America for a year, although I still have the classics on my to-do list: Route 66 from Chicago to LA, and the full East to West Coast trip, New York City to San Francisco.  When I was living in Australia, in my early 20s, I drove from Brisbane up to Cairns which is still my longest road trip (nearly 24 hours in driving time, although we spread it over three days).  In 2010 the children and I took a road trip from France to Switzerland, and then back along the German border to northern France and home.  That remains the longest trip I have done without someone else to share the driving.

We're used to the long drive down the length of France.  It starts with rolling off the ferry very early in the morning, and then we drive down the Calais peninsula, admiring all the wind turbines along what the French call the 'Autoroute des Anglais', because every other car (at least) is English.

 

All along our journey, the main role of whoever is navigating is to avoid Paris AT ALL COSTS.  I am well used to the mad, fast, often intolerant driving that goes on in a capital city, and I actually used to drive around Paris a fair bit when I was younger and working there, but I wouldn't want to do it now.  Paris traffic is either at a complete standstill, or moving eye-wateringly fast, and you need to be unhesitating and precise in your navigational skills at all times.

Much of our drive through France is on the autoroutes.  French autoroutes are owned by private companies, and most charge tolls to drivers.  However, the tolls are pretty modest - our eleven hour drive costs around £30.  I'm more than happy to pay because the autoroutes are such a pleasure to drive on - quiet, incredibly smooth and well-maintained, and well supplied with 'aires' (service stations).  Some of the aires sell petrol, food, magazines and are parked up with hundreds of trucks and cars, but others are just a selection of picnic tables and parking spots in a little forested glade, set back from the motorway.  On our way down we found a particularly nice one somwehere south of Orleans, where Olivia did some sunbathing and Graham did some yoga stretches (our journey down was the day after his marathon, so sitting in the car for 16 hours was tougher than it would otherwise have been for him).

We have flasks of coffee and bottles of water for drinking on the go, and a plentiful supply of chewing gum (neither Graham or I like long drives without chewing gum - is this strange compulsion just us?).  The children are plugged into their iPods, and spend the whole time reading.  Whoever is driving gets to choose the music for the front, and the passenger is not allowed to argue with the driver's choice.  Graham and I take it in turns to drive/choose music for about two hours each. 

The temperatures rise steadily as we get further south, and finally we turn off the autoroute and drive down small, rural roads for the final forty minutes or so to Mum and Dad's house.  We all know these roads so well, and Graham and the children and I all look out for the landmarks that tell us we are so very nearly there.  Coming back home, there is always a strange moment of disconnect when you get off the ferry at Dover, and England now feels like a strange and foreign land - so used are we to French voices, driving on the right and the sight and smells of the French landscape.

And then it's done.  The car engine is turned off, we all get out, have a stretch and start unloading bags.  If we are arriving at Mum and Dad's there are excited hugs, delicious wine and a hot meal before bed.  If we are arriving back in London there is the excitement of seeing the hens again, the comforting familiarity of being back home, and a mental calculation of how many more months it will be before we can get back in the car and do it all over again.

    

The French spring green shawl

Yesterday evening, as the temperature hovered somewhere around 29 degrees, I finished knitting this very thick, heavy, textured shawl. 

I have called it my French spring green shawl, because I bought the yarn in France at Easter (and wrote about it here) just as the vivid green oak leaves in Tarn-et-Garonne were coming out.  I used all the yarn I had, and have a sumptuous shawl for my shoulders now.  I love it.

All the details on Ravelry, here.

Madeleines for everyone

I have some silicone madeleine tins, which are among my favourite pieces of kitchen kit.  The sweet shell shape of madeleines, and their perfect one mouthful size (or two mouthfuls if you are being super polite) is appealing to everyone.  The silicone means that you don't need to use any cake-release or grease on the tins, and the madeleines just pop out perfectly every time.

Today I made some savoury madeleines, and then Cam made some sweet ones.  The process of making madeleines is so quick and easy, that it can become slightly addictive.  Almost as addictive as eating them.

My savoury ones were adapted from a recipe in the lastest issue of Marie Claire Idées, and are made from goats cheese and thyme.

Goats Cheese and Thyme Madeleines

Makes 15.

• 30g butter, softened
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 2 eggs
• Half a small goats cheese  - approx. 50g, but no need to be particularly accurate here.
• 50g plain flour
• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 tablespoon chopped, fresh thyme
• a big pinch of ground black pepper

In a large bowl, mash together the softened butter and olive oil with a fork.  Add the eggs and beat vigorously until slightly frothy.  Then stir in the remaining ingredients and mix gently until combined.

Spoon the mixture into madeleine tins and bake at Gas 6 for fifteen minutes, but start checking after 10.  Nothing dreadful will happen to the madeleines if you open the oven door and inspect them a few times.  They are ready when they are firm to the touch and lightly golden around the edges.  Remove from the tins and allow to cool on a rack.

We'll be having these as nibbles this evening with some slices of saucisson and a glass of white wine.  We brought several saucissons back from France, and they are currently hanging from my saucepan rack, giving a nice garlicky aroma to the kitchen.

Saucissons and garlic, hanging with the pans in my kitchen

These savoury madeleines can be made with garlicky boursin, instead of goats cheese.  As you can see, I also have a string of French garlic hanging up with my saucissons - we are all big fans of garlic here as well.

Once Cam realised I had the madeleine tins out, he wanted to get in on the act too.  He had a recipe for Nutella madeleines which he wanted to try.  They are as divine as they sound.

Nutella Madeleines

Makes 36.

• 150g plain flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 125g butter, softened
• 150g caster sugar
• 2 eggs
• 2 tablespoons of milk
• 1 large, heaped tablespoon of Nutella, plus extra for dolloping.

Beat together the eggs and sugar until pale and slightly frothy.  Add the remaining ingredients and mix gently but thoroughly.  Spoon the mixture into the madeleine tins - unless you have loads of tins, you will probably have to do this in two batches.  Finally, add small dollops (roughly half a teaspoon) of nutella to each madeleine.

Bake at Gas 6 for 15 minutes, then check to see if they are firm to the touch and lightly browned.  If not return to the oven for another 5 minutes or so.  Remove from the tins and allow to cool on a rack.

~~~~~~~~~~

My silicone madeleine tins were a birthday present from my Mum, and she bought them from her local supermarket in France.  However, if you don't have a French supermarket handy you can also buy them from Amazon.  Lakeland sell non-stick ones, which get great reviews, but I personally think silicone is even better than non-stick for madeleines, because you can pop them out so easily.

Cam's recipe came from this wonderful French recipe book I bought for him this Easter.

Nigella has a recipe for rosewater madeleines in her Domestic Goddess book, which is delicious too.  However, in general, I find that few English recipe books have madeleine recipes - I still think of them as particularly French delicacies, despite being able to buy the tins in Britain.

The Cook the Perfect series on Radio 4's Woman's Hour, had a feature on, and a recipe for, madeleines which you can read about and listen to here.  However, I do think that the chef in this episode makes them sound far too complicated - I don't rest the batter for an hour, nor do I use beurre noisette - they're almost foolproof in my experience, and part of their charm lies in the fact that you can whip up a batch from start to finish in less than half an hour.

Savoury and sweet - perfect with a chilled white wine, or a nice cup of tea

Happy times!

Spring greens

It is raining outside.  A constant drip-drip-drip for pretty much the past ten days.  Living in East London this is a novelty because we haven't had any significant rainfall all winter, and we are now officially in drought.  I am rather excited about the rain, because I haven't seen it for so long.

The garden is green and lush - I'm not allowed to use a hosepipe any more because of the water shortage, but I don't need to at the moment.  I've been buying geraniums, herbs and lavenders for the garden, and potting them up a few at a time, when the rain eases to a drizzle.  The vivid pinks of the geranium flowers, mixed in with the bright, wet greens of all the grass and shrubbery, is very pleasing to the eye.

And when the rain gets too heavy, I come back inside and pick up my knitting, which is in the same shade of vivid spring green. 

French spring green shawl

I am knitting myself another shawl from this pattern, but instead of the multicoloured sock yarn version I did last time, I am making this one from a green linen and wool handspun yarn that I bought with Mum in France over Easter. 

Walking through Bruniquel to the castle.  We filled Mum's basket with yarn.

A poster for Bruniquel's textile fair

We heard that there was a textile fair at a local castle, and went along on a cool, wet day much like today, not really knowing what to expect.  What we found was the most amazing selection of hand spun and hand dyed yarns and knitted and felted garments from right across the South of France.  Mum dived in to the mohairs, alpacas and angoras, and I was captivated by the linen blends and the bright colours.  We filled Mum's basket with yarn - a modest three skeins each - and came home with hastily scribbled notes about needle size and yarn blends stuffed into our pockets.

The colour of this green yarn was exactly the same shade as the new oak leaves bursting forth in the French forests while we were there, and now it is the exact same shade as the geranium leaves in London.  Perfect.

Seen on the ferry

P&O, Calais to Dover

The White Cliffs of Dover, seen from the ferry

• A tired Dad making a cosy nest on the floor for his wriggly toddler, out of coats and a beloved blanket.
• Two teenage French girls tucking into a breakfast feast of ham baguettes, boxes of salad, cheese and crackers, pains au chocolats and Evian water.
• A middle-aged man with a sun tan, sitting next to the window and working his way steadily through a wordsearch book.
• An extremely pregnant Dutch lady buying five different bottles of perfune in Duty Free.
• A rather harassed looking school teacher trying (and failing) to round up a class of Year 7s wearing matching purple hoodies with Ski Trip Austria emblazoned across the back.
• A woman in pyjamas and a slouchy woolly hat telling everyone how seasick she felt.
• A grandfather saying to his grandson, "Everything's all right now I've got my Sunday Times."

Waiting to drive off the ferry and back into England

Dix choses

• C's favourite French pudding is Iles Flottantes, but he also enjoys a caramel ice cream.

• Mum and I found orchids in the village after all - they are sneaky, and like to hide down steep banks and amongst the other undergrowth.  They have just come into flower this week.

• I love orchids - they are just too weird for words.
• The cowslips are still out, and I love them too.  Rural France is full of flowers at the moment.
• We have bought some local Gaillac wine to bring home.  When I say 'some', I actually mean 'quite a bit'.  The children will be more cramped in the back of the car on the journey home than they were on the journey down.
• I found some lichen which matches my hat.  It is now known as The Lichen Hat, rather than The Mustard Hat.

• France has Presidential elections coming up in a couple of weeks.  The boards for political posters have been erected in the village, but so far only one candidate has put up a poster.

• It has been a wet and blustery couple of weeks, but we haven't cared at all.  This is still a wonderful part of the world to be in - perhaps especially when there is thunder and heavy rain in the sky.  Even the clouds are gorgeous here.

• G and I have done some good long hikes together, and we love going for a stroll around the village before supper, with Mum and Dad.  The children prefer to stay at home with a glass of orangina and the tele.


• I love France.  I'm not ready to come home.

For my friend

Because I know Alice likes her French patisserie, I went to the boulangerie this morning.

I wasn't sure if she would prefer a croissant, a toursade au chocolat or a pain au raisin.

So I bought all three, and made the family wait while I photographed them.

Bon appetit!

All things old

Some buildings here are very old and in ruins.

A ruined house at La Garouillade

Ruins at La Garouillade

Other buildings are very old, but still inhabited and used.

Old houses in Varen

The 14thC Mairie at Varen

Walking through the cobbled streets of Bruniquel

Bruniquel Castle

There are ancient walking signs, and very old cauldrons recycled as plant pots.

Ancient walking sign

Plant pot in Varen

Everything here is aged - and after a walk up and down one of the mountains, my legs feel pretty ancient as well.

Hot and tired, on the plateau above Varen

Cowslips

Last year I was obsessing about all the orchids in South-West France, but this year we are here a couple of weeks earlier, and this part of France has had a very harsh winter, so there are no orchids about yet.

Instead, I am obsessing about cowslips.  These beautiful spring flowers are endangered in the wild in the UK nowadays, because of the loss of their habitat.  I don't know if they are officially endangered in France too, but they are certainly thriving right here in Tarn-et-Garonne.  Along all the verges, and in all the fields up the sides of the mountains, there are big patches of these acid yellow-green flowers.

They look shy, and bashful, as they raise their little flowers just ever so slightly towards the sun.

They are bright, jolly, sweet little flowers - the essence of springtime.

Spring jobs

South-West France in springtime is lush and rampant. 

We have been helping my parents clear up the dead autumn leaves and stalks, and get everything neat and tidy for spring.

We raked, swept, tidied, lifted, wheeled barrows, dug, sorted and carried.  We burnt probably 40 barrow loads of leaves on a big bonfire.

Meanwhile, C has been baking again - he made us an enormous black forest gateau from the Hairy Bikers Bakeation book, which was just the thing to put back some of the calories we had worked off in the garden.