Waiting for the storm

We knew she was coming. Who? Xynthia! That’s what she’s called, the storm that since a few days is raging over Europe. She came on land in Spain and is now making her way through France. I just heard on the 11 a.m. news that 5 people have already been killed in France and that over 1 million are without electricity! I just hope that all my friends in France are well!

And you can tell that Xynthia is moving in. My barometer – a classical Torricelli – has been climbing steadily since last night. It now reads slightly under 735 mm or 940 mb. That’s bad, very bad. Because, contrarily to a conventional barometer, this means that the air pressure is going down and that a heavy storm front is coming in.

Torricelli barometer.

The worst storm I’ve ever lived in Belgium was on August 9th 1992. I was living in an apartment on the 4th floor facing South-West with a large open space in front of it. It had been a very hot summer’s day and the weather forecast had mentioned that there was risk of some thunderstorms overnight. Nothing alarming though! You know, your regular thunderstorm after a hot day.

I woke up at 2 o’clock in the morning with the winds and rain gushing against the windows. I went into the living room and put my hands against the double glazing of the large sliding doors that gave access to the terrace and felt them moving each time a wind gust hit the building.

The barometer at 11 a.m. today: between Heavy Rain and Storm and still climbing!

As all the rooms and windows were facing South-West, there wasn’t a place in the apartment that was not exposed to the storm. The wind was howling and the building was actually trembling. It was sticky hot and opening a window was certainly no option. I was scared to death that one of the windows would break and that I would get the glass thrown straight into my face. I therefore sought refuge in the hall. I took the cushions of the couch and tried to make myself a comfortable bed on the hallway floor. I closed all the interior doors and settled down. Of course, I didn’t sleep a wink. The wind kept howling and outside I heard some crashing noises.

By four o’clock the storm had finally blown over. It was still unbearably hot in the apartment and outside I heard people starting to run around. I opened the front door and bumped into my neighbour who said the garage, where we parked our cars and which was halfway under ground level, was flooded. Close to the building was a small park with 30 or so tall trees, 10 of which had simply snapped and fallen over. In the house across the street, the muddy water from a nearby field was coming in by the back door and coming our again by the front. When I walked into my living room I saw that the water had come in under the sliding doors. The wall-fitted carpet was soaked! This was also the case in the two bedrooms. Luckily the double glazing had resisted and nothing was actually broken.

The flooding of the garage hadn’t done any harm to the cars and I was able to go to work by eight. When I told my manager what had happened, he sent me home. “Go and clean up and open some windows so that your carpets can dry.” he said. It was a very nice gesture and I didn’t even have to take the day off and got paid as if I had been in the office all day.

In May 2001 I moved into my current apartment. Being on the ground floor means that the wind is less frightening and dangerous. However, heavy rainfall can cause the drains to overflow … Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that today!

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If you like garlic

Tomorrow's lunch will be: steak, boiled patatoes and string-beans with garlic butter. Not really sensational, but awfully tastefeul, especially if you like garlic butter.

You can of course make your own garlic butter and that is what I usually do in summer when I can use the fresh herbs that grow in my mother's garden. I winter (or should I say spring?), however, I don't bother to buy fresh herbs at the supermarket as the standard quantities are too large and I always end up throwing away more than half.

This time of year I buy ready-made garlic butter. There are several brands and the 'oldest' is probably Meggle. It's German and comes in 4 inch long sausages. When it's time to serve the butter, you just slice the 'sausage' in 1/2 inch slices. You remove the plastic skin and put the butter on a small side-plate for your guests to help themselves.

String-beans, lightly salted Carsbourg butter and individual cups of garlic butter.

Recently, however, one of Belgium's best known butter manufacturers 'Carlsbourg' (no not, Carlsberg, probably the best lager in the world!) has his own 'garlic butter'. It comes in little one portion cups. This means that they will keep a lot longer than the Meggle which, once you've broken the plastic wrapping, will dry out and turn bad in a few days time.

I serve this garlic butter with string beans. I slice the beans diagonally. In the meantime I bring a large pot of salted water to the boil. When the water is steaming hot I throw in the sliced beans. I let them cook at high heat for about 5 to 7 minutes. I like my beans to be 'al dente'! If  you want to try this recipe, you should know that you have to 'blanche' the beans at the very last minute, just before serving the meal. Once you've drained them, you put them on the table in the same pot in which you've cooked them so that they remain really hot.

You serve your guests a nice helping of beans and invite them to put a generous knob of garlic butter on them. The butter will melt immediately, oozing over the hot beans. You can't imagine how good it is.

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Nights in white satin

During our many travels in France, we mainly stayed in hotels … until 2007 when I won first prize in an internet quiz on the website of the Touraine tourist board. You can read all about it here. The prize included an overnight stay in a ‘Chambre d’hôtes’ called ‘le Château de Pintray’ in the village of Lussault-sur-Loire, some 10 km from Amboise.

Although the idea of staying at a ‘Chambre d’hôtes’ didn’t appeal to us at first, we decided to give it a try, just for the one night. We spent the remaining four nights at our usual hotel: Le Château de Belmont. The reason why I haven’t mentioned this before in a post is that I don’t want you to think that we are snobs! Ever since we discovered the ‘Relais et Châteaux’ hotel chain in 1985 we have been big fans of these hotels. I admit that they can be outrageously expensive. But given that we only take one full week of vacation per year – besides our little weekend and mid-week trips – more or less justifies the expense. Moreover, we always book the smallest and less expensive rooms.

Over the years we’ve stayed at many RC hotels and have been disappointed only once. All the other times were just sheer magic.

2005: the terrace of the 'Château de Belmont' by night.
The huge dog in the photo belongs to the owner and his called Hugo.

The Château de Belmont is situated in the Northern district of Tours. In fact I should say ‘was situated’ as the owners retired in February 2008, selling the property to a real estate development company that is turning the place into a residence for affluent senior citizens.

Our first stay at Belmont coincided with our first stay in the Loire Valley in 1999. That year we visited almost every other RC hotel in the region, with the intention of trying them all one day. But by the end of our stay at Belmont we were so smitten with the place, that we almost immediately decided to go back there the next year, and the next and the next … till June 2007. When leaving the hotel after a four-night stay (for the ninth consecutive year), we didn’t realize that it was the last time we would see the place.

In November 2007 we had booked our regular room for our next stay in 2008. In January, however, I received an e-mail from a friend of mine who lives near Chenonceau. Her message sounded ominous: ‘This may interest you!’ Worried, I opened the attached PDF file. It turned out to be a scan of a newspaper article announcing the closure of Belmont for the end of February 2008. Having received a confirmation of our reservation I thought the article was a hoax. However, three weeks later I received another e-mail, from the hotel this time … confirming our worst fears. It also recommended some other RC hotels in the area, but we knew that in spite of all the splendour and charm, we would miss the welcoming feeling we had experienced at Belmont, where we felt especially at home and were known and recognized by the owners and staff.

So we made a daring decision … we booked at room at a Bed and Breakfast in Vouvray … After our short and yet pleasant experience in June 2007 at Pintray, we had stayed at several B and B’s in the Alsace and the Somme Bay. Those were all short stays, though, of maximum two nights. This would be our first full week at a Chambre d’hôtes and we were very curious and slightly nervous about what it would be like.

And just to put things straight … the beds at the hotel didn’t have satin sheets, but it makes such a nice title!

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The joys of public transport

Well, I’ve made it! Tuesday’s public transport ‘adventure’ didn’t turn out as bad as I'd expected.

I decided to take the ‘bus-taxi’ option. This involved catching the 7.36 a.m. bus that goes from Leuven to Brussels. Normally the ride to the centre of Brussels takes less than 40 minutes. Because of the heavy rainfall on Tuesday, however, the bus got stuck in a traffic jam after less than two minutes. So it hobbled on for over an hour before reaching its destination. On the way, more and more people boarded the bus and after a while we were packed like sardines in a can. The windows steamed up and pretty soon I lost track of where we were.

A 'De Lijn' bus similar to the one I took on Tuesday morning.
Photo : www.bus-and-coach-photos.com

On the outskirts of Brussels people started getting off and I was lucky to have a seat for the last lap of the ride. It was almost 9 a.m. when we reached ‘Rogier’ square, right across the road of Brussels’ main shopping street ‘La Rue Neuve’ (New street). For an instant I considered the underground option, but seeing the time, I thought it wiser to take a taxi. The seminar was scheduled to start at nine and I still had another 5 km to go.

There was a line of taxis waiting by the bus stop and I got into the first one. The driver, who was of Indian origin, was very helpful and talkative. During the ride, which took little over 10 minutes by the main boulevards of the city, he told me that he had been a taxi driver in Brussels for more than 20 years. When I asked him where I could get a return taxi later that day, he helpfully indicated me the best places. He also warned me about the dishonesty of some taxi drivers. “Make sure that the meter indicates ‘rate 1', he said. “Some drivers try to cheat by applying ‘rate 2’, which only applies outside the city centre.” “And always ask for an electronic receipt. Don’t accept a handwritten one, as they can put whatever they like on those.” So, hereby you’re warned … if ever you come to Belgium and take a Brussels’ taxi!

The ride cost 10.90 euros (the bus fare was 3 euros) and I gave the man a 10% tip. (BTW, tipping is no obligation, as the tip is included in the fare). I was slightly late, but apparently I wasn’t the only one. The location of the seminar was an old industrial warehouse that had been nicely done up – with a lot of glass and large open spaces. In the meeting room 2/3 of my colleagues were already sipping coffee and eating mini croissants. There was orange and apple juice, fruit salads, whole grain baguettes, jams and Nutella. By 9.20 a.m. almost everybody had arrived and the seminar could start. By 10.30 a.m. the last participants had arrived. Apparently most of them had chosen some means of public transport to come, and had miscalculated the time it took and the influence of the weather on the traffic conditions.

In the evening I was lucky to get a ride from a colleague who was partly going my way. She was one of the rare ones who had ventured into the city by car. Getting out of the centre in the evening was just as bad as getting into it in the morning. When she dropped me off at a bus stop on the outskirts of town, my bus was just coming up the road and I had to run to catch it ... just in time. It was not too crowded and I got a nice seat by the window.

I got home just in time to watch the 7.30 p.m. news on TV. I had been away for exactly 12 hours, 25% of which I had spent enjoying the amenities of public transport.

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Silent Wednesday

Last week the photo featured bright green bitter melons ...
today's star is a dark brown ...?

You probably know this 'forgotten' vegetable.
Why the plastic gloves?

Well, you really need those if you don't want your hands
all black, dirty and sticky by the time you've finished
peeling this root vegetable.

Any idea?

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Trains and boats and planes ...

The last time I’ve taken a train was in November 1994! It was only a few weeks after the official opening of the Eurostar line to London. At the time I was working for a light bulb manufacturer and our manager had entrusted me with the edition of the new international sales catalogue. This involved some travelling, mainly to Geneva in Switzerland where the company’s HQ was located. At the time, airport security wasn’t as tight as it is nowadays and taking an aeroplane was real fun.

I won’t easily forget my very first visit to Geneva. At the airport I was met by the international marketing manager who drove me in his cabriolet red Mustang to the head office and later to the Mövenpick hotel where I would stay overnight. In the evening he invited me to one of Geneva’s most famous restaurants: ‘Les Armures’. A few weeks earlier US President Bill Clinton had eaten at the same restaurant and my host, who was a very courteous man, managed to get us the ‘president’s table. We had a traditional ‘raclette’ meal which was beautifully served with jacked potatoes, cured ‘grison’ meat, gherkins, sweet and sour onions and a local ‘Fendant’ white wine.

Photo: www.deredactie.be

But back to my most recent train experience! The advertising agency which had been chosen to produce this famous catalogue was located in London. This meant that I had to travel across the Channel too. The Eurostar Brussels-London line had officially been inaugurated on November 9th, and I thought it would be fun to be one of the first to try it out. Early in the morning I drove to our local train station where I caught a train to Bruxelles-Midi, from where international trains such as the Eurostar to London and the Thalys to Paris and southern France operate.

Back then, the journey took a lot longer than it does nowadays. The tracks outside Brussels and in the UK had not yet been upgraded to the high standards required by High Speed Trains. But it was a pleasant journey, yet slightly stressing as I wasn’t sure about what it would be like crossing the Channel through a tunnel under the seabed. The last time I had made the crossing was in the early eighties and then I had taken a ferry!

However, there was nothing to be afraid of. The ride through the tunnel took a mere 20 minutes and the train was travelling so fast that I hardly saw the wall lights flashing by. I was met at Waterloo Station (yes, in those days it was Waterloo, not Saint Pancreas) by the manager of the agency. We took a typical black London cab to drive to his office. On the way we crossed Waterloo Bridge which reminded me of that classic movie with the same title featuring the lovely Vivien Leigh.

On the return journey I travelled first class and was served a delicious supper by a very kind train hostess. It was almost 8 p.m. and already very dark outside when I arrived in Brussels with my precious ‘cargo’: a large folder with the graphical designs of our new catalogue. A local train ‘delivered’ me safely at the station of my home town.

Why am I telling you this? Well, tomorrow morning I have to get to the other side of Brussels to attend a seminar. Taking the car would be a complete waist of time and energy and I’ve therfore decided to use an alternative means of transport. I have two options: car-train-underground or bus-underground (or taxi). I'm not really looking forward to this as the weather forecast is predicting rain and strong winds. Moreover, the location is not a very nice one, in a not-too-secure area of Brussels. Maybe I should take a large umbrella to protect me against the rain and possible aggressors ... Full report on Thursday!

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Writer's blog or block?

Today it's definitely the second! Maybe this cute Swedish 'troll' can come up with a new, fresh and interesting subject! Or you may have a suggestion or a request ...?

Enjoy what's left of the weekend!

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Les Pavés du Nord

Recently Jean from A Very Grand Pressigny posted about the Tour de France coming through the village where they have their holiday home and the commotion it stirred in this sleepy Loire Valley village.

This reminded me of another great cycling race that once a year attracts hordes of cycling fans to the French Flanders, near the Belgian border. The race goes from Paris to Roubaix and is always held in early spring when weather conditions are still very unpredictable. The most famous and spectacular part of the race is ‘Les Pavés du Nord’ (the cobblestones of the North). There is one stretch that really sticks out: ‘Le Carrefour de l’Arbre’!

This time last year we visited the notorious ‘carrefour’ during our first midweek stay in the French Flanders. At this particular spot several country roads meet in what can be considered as the middle of nowhere. Most of these roads are still paved with bumpy and slippery cobblestones. The road isn’t completely flat, but slightly slopes down towards the edges. During the year these roads are used by the local farmers to drive to their fields which are omnipresent. The heavy tractors and other engines cause a lot of damage to the roads, creating potholes and loosening the cobblestones.

And here, also in the middle of nowhere, at the crossroad of the field roads, is located … a gourmet restaurant, called ‘L’Arbre’, because of the tree marking the famous crossroad.

Having booked a table there for dinner, and knowing about the odd location, we decided to check out the ‘route’ during daytime before checking in to our BandB in the nearby village. It turned out to be a very wise decision as we would never have found the place in the dark February night. The drive was quite an adventure and later that night my friend noticed that the bumpy and shaky ride had even ‘killed’ one of the car’s headlights.

Thanks to our afternoon reconnaissance trip, the actual night drive to the restaurant was uneventful and we spent a splendid evening enjoying the restaurant's specialty: seafood. We had oysters to start with, followed by a scallop risotto for me and a nice piece of cod for my friend.

One of the wall paintings featuring a Belgian cycling champion.
I can't remember whether it is Johan Museeuw or Freddy Martens,
as they both won the race in their glory years.

After the meal we sat in the little salon sipping coffee and pousse-cafés while we watched how three large North Sea crabs tried to escape from a large fish tank. One actually managed to climb up the rocky wall lining part of the tank. Suddenly, however, it lost its grip on the slippery surface and tumbled down, landing on the floor beside the tank. We called one of the waiters telling him what happened. He didn’t seem surprised. “Cela arrive tout le temps.” (This happens all of the time), he said and put the crab back in the water. He explained that sometimes, when arriving early in the morning, after the restaurant had been closed overnight, he found up to five or even six crabs lying on their back on the floor or crawling around in the restaurant.

During our after diner drink we also had a closer look at the wall paintings featuring the cyclists who over the years have won the Paris-Roubaix race. It was nice to see that many of them were Belgian and we left the restaurant being proud of our fellow countrymen’s achievements.

This year the Paris-Roubaix race will be held on my birthday. But according to the newspaper the ‘Carrefour de l’Arbre’ will be sealed off completely for cycling fans to avoid accidents. Apparently, last year the cyclists were pushed and shoved around by drunken fans that blocked the already dangerous, slippery and bumpy roads. Although I’m not a cycling fan, I’ll certainly be watching the race on TV, if only to relive the memory of that lovely dinner.

BTW and just in case you're interested: the restaurant 'L'Arbre' is located in the village of Gruson.

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Beach picnic

It’s another dreary day here in Belgium. Although the thick layer of snow has finally melted, the air is still very cold and the sky dark and overcast. So to cheer myself up, I’ll post another Brittany story from 1996. No rain or gales blowing this time, but a nice and sunny day, perfect for a beach picnic!

The beaches in Brittany are full of driftwood and rocks, and therefore supply ample material to build a small fire. And that’s exactly what we did. We had bought two fresh mackerel, six small oysters and six ‘petoncles’ (tiny, scallop-like shellfish) from a fishmonger at a local market. We drove around for a while, following the coastline, until we found a secluded stretch of beach. My friend did some beachcombing and returned with a nice supply of dry wood.

While he was trying to get the fire going, which wasn’t as easy at it sounds because of the stiff sea breeze, I laid out the mackerel on one of our disposable grill-trays. I managed to put some salt into the cavity of the gutted fish. But when I tried to add some pepper, it was blown straight back into my face by a sudden gust of wind … triggering a violent sneezing spell!

Finally, we got the fire going and grilled the fish until the skin was nice and crispy. It was delicious. While we ate the fish, we put the twelve shell fish on the little grill until they opened up, releasing their delicate flavours and juices.

Grilling mackerel on a beach in Brittany

It was a lovely meal and we thoroughly enjoyed it. After we’d finished, we put out the fire by throwing some sand on it. We decided to return the fish bones and empty shells to the sea, and disposed of them between the rocks where they would be washed to sea by the tide.

A few minutes later, however, a dog - I think it was a Jack Russell - appeared from behind one of the bigger rocks. He was followed by a young couple. The dog was frolicking and sniffing around and jumping in the little puddles of water. We heard the owners calling “Victor, reviens!” (Victor, come back). But the dog took no notice and continued exploring the rocky soil, barking at little crabs and other tiny shell fish that were hiding beneath them.

The owner continued calling the dog, but something lying between the rocks had caught the animal’s attention. It stuck his head between two rocks and re-emerged with the bones of one of the mackerels we had had for our lunch. His master approached him to try and take the bone away from him, but the dog ran off in a frenzy trying to get his ‘catch’ into safety.

With his master chasing after him, the agile dog jumped from rock to rock, sometimes hiding behind a big boulder. Finally his ‘master’ stopped and, panting heavily, sat down on a stretch of sandy beach. Victor – the dog, remember – raced around for another minute or so, but quickly found out that the game was over. He dropped the fish bone and sulkily returned to his master.

By that time we had packed up our picnic hamper. When we left a few minutes later, the young couple was sitting on the beach, with Victor running up and down fetching the sticks that his master was throwing into the incoming tide.

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Sardine picnic and Seafood pizza

On Tuesday Walt from Another American in France posted about making pizza dough. This reminded me of an utterly delicious pizza we had in Brittany in 1996.

One of our favourite daytrip destinations during our stay on the southern coast of Brittany in 1996 and 1997, was the little port town of La Turballe. La Turballe has a busy fishing fleet and a lively ‘Criée’ (fish auction). We never actually witnessed the arrival of the boats, the unloading or sale of the fish. However, we did visit the retail fish shop situated over the auction hall on several occasions. It carries a vast assortment of (shell)fish some of which looked really very peculiar and not very appetizing!

The harbour of La Turballe seen from the 'Café du Port'.

One day we bought 12 fresh sardines and drove to the banks of the Villaine River, further north near the town of La Roche Bernard where we had a ‘riparian’* picnic. While my friend gathered the necessary wood and built a small fire, I gutted the fish. I sprinkled some salt and pepper on them and laid them on an aluminium tray or ‘portable’ and throw-away grill. A little olive on the fish… and the tray was ready to go over the fire.

During the 5 or 10 minutes that it took to grill the sardines, I improvised a tomato salad using two tomatoes, a couple of spring onions and a clove of garlic. I mixed all these ingredients together adding some olive oil, pepper, salt and a splash of balsamic vinegar.

The sardines turned out to be very good. Their saltiness went well with the sweet/sourness of tomato salad, the baguette and the white wine we had bought to accompany them. Whilst preparing our meal, we had put the bottle for half an hour in the cold streaming water of the river and it was chilled almost to perfection.

During our next visit to La Turballe we wanted to repeat this pleasant experience, but the whimsical Brittany weather forced us to seek refuge in a local pizzeria. And there I had the best seafood pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life! The crispy crust was topped with a spicy tomato sauce, shrimps, mussels, cockles, calamari, tiny clams, strips of smoked salmon and two gigantic scallops cut into thin slices. Some grated mozzarella, which had been sprinkled over the top, had nicely melted into a fine, golden brown crust.

Although it was June, a strong and icy gale was blowing. But the restaurant was cosy and warm. We were in no hurry and took ample time to savour our pizzas and the nice red wine we had ordered. We stayed longer than was strictly necessary, hoping that the rain would stop. But it didn’t. In the end, we were forced to brave the heavy gusts of wind and rain. The car was parked at less than 100 metres from the restaurant, but we were soaked to the skin when we finally got there.

We spent a pleasant evening at the hotel, dining and chatting with the owner and his wife. Outside the storm lasted well into the early hours of the next morning. That’s the weather in Brittany for you! But without it, I would never have tasted that exceptional pizza!

(*) If you are familiar with the BBC comedy series ‘Keeping up Appearances’, you’ll know that ‘riparian’ is one Hyacinth Bucket’s – the snobby main character – favourite fancy words.

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Silent Wednesday

Seen on a market stall in Phalsbourg (Alsace) in September 2008.

No trick question this time ...

I haven't a clue what this is. And I mean it! I really would appreciate it if somebody could tell me what this bean-like vegetable is called
and how to prepare it.
Any idea?

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Village scene

The best place to be on these cold winter days is at home, with a nice glass of wine and some good music on the radio or a classic movie or comedy series on TV. It’s also an excellent time to rummage through some old holiday photos. And this is how I came across this charming village scene.

I remember taking it in 2007. We were sitting on a terrace of a ‘Winstub’ (wine bar which also serve beer and soft drinks = regular village bar) in the village of Boxweiler in the Alsace. The bar was on little square, facing the local château. We were on our way back to our hotel in Saverne after another exhausting day of sightseeing in the area, when we decided to stop here for a refreshing beer.

The cat in the photo seemed to have come out of nowhere. It first settled down for a while on the windowsill of the former souvenir shop. It was basking in the evening sun, but quickly got up when I got out my camera and tried to approach it to capture its photo. It took some coaxing to prevent it from scurrying away and I just managed to get this shot.

When it was gone, I took a closer look at the shop window. There were still some ‘souvenirs’ sitting on the inside windowsill and it looked as if the place had closed down just some weeks before. I felt slightly sorry seeing this lovely old shop that had probably done great business in the past, being closed down and transformed into a regular house. I wondered whether the former shopkeepers were still living there and why they had closed down their pretty shop.

But then I looked around and noticed how calm and almost deserted the village was. Apparently the village was no longer a tourist attraction – in spite of the château, which was now the town hall – and selling souvenirs was no longer a profitable business.

You see many of the former ‘bazar’ and ‘souvenir’ shops all over France. Some of them are in pristine condition, like this one, with the old sign still hanging over the door. But most are just left to fall into ruin. What a shame …

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Salt anyone?

With the long and harsh winter we're having and the persistent snow fall Belgium is out of salt! And by that I don’t mean table salt to put on our French fries. No, I mean coarse, de-icing salt to make the roads ice and snow free.

My personal supply of de-icing salt.

Last Friday the situation had become really critical and the authorities in charge of road security decided that there would be no de-icing during the weekend, in spite of the forecast of more snow. They wanted to keep the little salt that was left for Monday morning, when people went back to work.

And then the snow came … It snowed a little on Friday night but fell steadily for the best part of Saturday. The familiar salt trucks and tractors didn’t show up and by 4 p.m. the roads were all covered with a layer of 3 to 5 cm of snow. Nothing dramatic and peanuts compared to the tons of snow on the East coast of the US, but enough to cause road accidents and traffic jams. Therefore, the authorities decided to send out the salt trucks anyway, hoping that there would be no fresh snow on Monday morning.

Last night, when I went to bed, it was snowing again, but this morning, when I got up, the roads were clear. The traffic jams weren’t any longer than usual on a Monday morning.

I guess I’ll carefully guard my bag of de-icing salt that I bought in January to make the entrance to my garage ice and snow free. All of a sudden salt has become as valuable and sought after as it was in Roman times when soldiers’ wages were paid in salt!

A while ago the sun came out, but now it’s gone again. And I just heard the weather forecast on the radio … Warmer temperatures and rain are expected. But rain on a frozen soil? That sounds like more trouble.

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The Casanova of the Seas

As it is Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d write a post about the Skrei, also known as the Love Fish! What’s so special about this little cousin of our familiar cod?

After five years in the Barents Sea, as far north as Svalbard, millions of Skrei flood in every winter towards the Lofoten islands, on the Northern coast of Norway. The Skrei that migrate this far south (to their standards) are all minimum five years old and desperately looking  for a partner. In spite of their despair, however, they like to court …and they really take their time for it. This is why the Norwegians lovingly call him ‘the Casanova of the Seas’. If you want to know more about it, just check out the website of the Norwegian fishing industry.

The Casanova of the Seas ???
He certainly doesn't have he looks for it!
Unless you're a lady Skrei !

The arrival of the first Skrei in the waters around the Lofoten islands is a yearly event, which draws many fishing trawlers to these grounds. It’s also a race to be the first to land the first catch of Skrei. You could compare it to the first grouse in Scotland. I’ve seen a documentary on TV about the Norwegian community in and around Antwerp, here in Belgium. As soon as the first fish are landed in Norway, a guy loads up his four-wheel drive jeep with as many fish as possible and races down to Antwerp where the Norwegian housewives living here are waiting to prepare the fish in the traditional way. Everybody skips in to prepare the meal, which is served in the community hall of the Norwegian church in Antwerp... Apparently the best bit is the Skrei’s tongue!

Now what makes Skrei so special, you’ll wonder? Well first of all it’s only available from the end of January till Mid-March. And then the flesh of the Skrei is snow white and – when cooked correctly – almost translucent like polar ice. The taste and texture are delicate and exquisite. It’s full of healthy protein and omega-3 acids.

Last night, my friend invited me to our newly discovered local restaurant for a Valentine’s dinner. To our surprise the ‘poisson du jour’ (fish of the day) was a lovely filet of Skrei, served with a light creamy sauce enriched with finely dices vegetables and a tasty watercress puree. Needless to say that we had a lovely evening in the candlelit restaurant!

P.S. This wasn't our first Skrei experience. We ate it for the first ime in the early nineties and have been on the look-out for it ever since. This time, however, it came as a complete surprise ... and it tasted even better for it!

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Simple and delicious

The day before yesterday I told you about our visit to Mr. and Mrs. Lucas’s workshop and ‘bee museum’ in a little village in the French Flanders. I also promised I’d post a very tasteful recipe using the ‘Miel Vanillé’ that bought on that occasion.

It’s a great French classic that has made its way to gourmet tables all over the world: ‘Salade de Chèvre Chaud’ (Warm Goat’s cheese salad).

This is what you need:

- a medium dry goat’s cheese. The original recipe calls for a Crottin de Chavignol, but any medium dry goat’s cheese will do

- liquid honey: the vanilla honey adds a touch of glamour but you can use any kind of honey

- thyme leaves or – even better – fresh thyme flowers if you can get them

- a couple of slices of bread – preferably wholegrain

- a mixed green salad

This is what you do:

Cut the cheese length-wise in two halves. Grill the slices of bread on one side and cut out two round pieces that are slightly larger than the diameter of the cheeses. Put the bread, grilled-side down on an oven-proof plate. Next put the halved cheese on the bread, cut-side up. Take a tablespoon of honey and delicately put it on each piece of cheese. Sprinkle some thyme leaves or flowers on top of the honey, and place the plate with the cheeses under the grill. Leave about 5 to 7 cm centimetres between the grill and the top of cheeses.

The honey will melt and caramelize and the cheese will become nice and soft. When the honey has turned golden brown, remove the plate from under the grill and carefully place the slices of bread with the cheese on a serving plate on which you’ve arranged the mixed green salad. Make a classical vinaigrette or simply sprinkle some olive oil over the salad. Add little dash of freshly ground pepper over the plate … et voilà.

You can also add some diced tomatoes or even halved hard boiled quail’s eggs.

Depending on your appetite, you serve one or two halves of cheese per person. I usually serve one half as a starter and two halves as a supper. But I’ll leave that to your discretion.

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Villandry revisited

One of the few Loire castles that we’ve actually visited twice is the one in Villandry. The first time, in 2000, we spent several hours exploring the vast gardens.

The reason why we returned a second time had not so much to do with the castle itself, although we did visit the interior on that occasion. What struck us most was the art gallery showing an impressive collection of very gloomy paintings. In one way or another they were all related with sickness and/or death. Although individually they were certainly great works of art, the fact of putting so many of them together had a very unnerving effect on the visitors.

During that second visit we also climbed up the winding staircase leading to the top of the donjon. Here you have a breathtaking view of the castle’s gardens and fountains … that is if you can get to the edge of the tower. The château is usually very busy and people tend to monopolize the spots offering the best view. When we finally managed to squeeze ourselves between two men both handling video cameras, we hardly got the time to shoot two or three photos before being pushed away by some newcomers. On our way down, we met at least thirty people making their way up and we realized that we’d left the roof platform just in time.

After this visit we set out to the place we really had come to see. Just down the road from the castle, in a narrow street opposite the château’s main car park and ‘office de tourisme’ is a small Auberge called ‘L’Epicerie Gourmande’. It’s located in an old house on a street corner and looks a little like the gingerbread house in the fairy tale ‘Hans and Gretel’.

"L'Epicerie Gourmande" in Villandry in 2006

The front room offers a colourful display of trinkets, perfumes and soaps, local specialities, a large collection of teas and tea pots, and a very appetizing assortment of sausages and cheeses. In a side room tables and chairs await the hungry visitor. The ‘auberge’ serves savoury and sweet crêpes, assorted cheeses and sausages, salads, etc. The back room is a wine cellar, offering a large selection of Loire and other wines. At the back there is a door leading onto a small terrace with two tables. It’s very secluded. The orange coloured walls and big pots of lavender make it look like a picture postcard from the Provence.

The landlady is a young English woman who has come to live in France with her friend to realize her dream. As a trained wine waiter she wanted to import French quality wines into England. In the process of setting up her business she found out that it was much easier to export French wine to England, than it was to import French wine into the UK. We had a pleasant chat with her and bought some ‘gunpowder’ green tea and – bearing in mind the Tea-for-Two song – a nice Chinese teapot and two miniscule cups.

On each visit to the Loire Valley we try to stop at the Epicerie in Villandry, but on our most recent visit the shop was closed. I don’t think it had gone out of business, but it was just their weekly day off. I don’t know whether the young English woman is still there or whether the place has changed hands since. We’ll have to check it out the next time we’re in the area!

Maybe you want to drop in too and have a light lunch in the cosy side room or on the sunny little terrace in the back? Just in case, here's the address:

L' Epicerie Gourmande

6, rue de la Mairie

F - 37510 Villandry

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When the bee stings …

About a year ago we made our first trip to French Flanders, in northern France. As you may recall we returned to the same area last October with our friends B. and J.L. to share a nice meal of Potjesvleesch and some other local specialties. You can read all about it here.

The first place we visited during our February trip, however, was the workshop of a beekeeper in the village of Neuf-Berquin, half-way between Lille and Dunkirk. Besides the actual beekeeping activity, Mr. Lucas and his wife have a small museum where you can learn everything there is to know about bees: the way they live, the different substances they produce (there is more to it than just honey) and the way these product and by-products are obtained and treated.

Although there is more to it than just honey,
this assortment is quite impressive.

The reason why I’m posting about this today is because yesterday, while going through my medicine cabinet to find an ointment or gel to put on my sore knee (tendonitis!), I came across two products that I had bought at Mr. Lucas’s shop last year. The first was a bottle of Propolis syrup. Propolis is the substance that the bees use to insulate the hive. It is applied on the inside walls like some kind of plaster. The propolis is recognized for its medicinal virtues, and is frequently used in homeopathic treatment. I remember drinking some of the syrup last year when I had a sore throat and was surprised by the almost instant relieve it gave.

The other item I found was an ointment containing small quantities of bee’s venom. It has scientifically been proven that bee stings are beneficial for people who suffer from arthritis and rheumatism (as long as they are NOT allergic to them, of course). The bee’s venom relieves the pain and reduces the symptoms. It is even injected on people who suffer from multiples sclerosis.

During our visit Mrs. Lucas explained how the venom was collected. A tiny electrical cord is put across the entrance of the hive. When the bees make their way in, the cord releases a very weak electrical shock inciting the bees to sting the linen cloth that’s lying beneath it. Rest assured, this does not kill the bee! This releases a small quantity of venom that is absorbed by the fabric. When the cloth is saturated with venom, it is put in alcohol which is left to evaporate. What remains is a very poisonous white powder … the bee’s venom! It is then used to produce the injection liquid or – in very tiny quantities – added to the ointment, which also contains herbal extracts that are known for their rheumatic pain relieving qualities.

I applied some of the ointment on my sore knee, and immediately experienced a tingling feeling; as if I had been stung by a baby bee! And the pain partially ebbed away. I guess I will have to continue using it for a while, before it will have a permanent effect and/or the tendonitis is completely cured. And if the natural methods don’t work, I can always decide to swallow some ibuprofen capsules!

The Lucas’ also have a large assortment of different kinds of honey for sale. We got to taste several of them and I must say that some of them were really peculiar; thyme and sage for instance. They have a very strong aroma and are not really fit for regular consumption. They make great ingredients for savoury dishes though. I bought about four different jars … and one very special one: a golden syrupy vanilla flavoured honey. It is absolutely exquisite. And very easy to make yourself! Just take a vanilla pot and put it in a jar of fresh plain field flowers or acacia honey. Let it rest for about three weeks before opening the jar. I’ll be posting a very classical recipe using this extraordinary honey presently.

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Silent Wednesday

Although it isn't Easter yet ... !
Do you have any idea where I shot this charming scene?

Makes a nice change from the traditional lions, doesn't it?

I'll give you a hint. It's in France, but not in the Loire Valley.

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Cheese soup – the recipe

Last Saturday I posted about my improvised lunch using Old El Pasos flour tortillas and Maredsous melted cheese. I also mentioned that this cheese can be used to make a cheese soup. The first time I had Maredsous soup was at my friend B.’s house last November. We had no idea what it was, and it took several hints and guesses before we managed to identify the ingredients.

The idea of using cheese to make a soup may be a bit unusual, but I can assure you that it is really very good. Moreover, it is very easy to make. You need:

- three medium-sized potatoes

- three medium-sized onions
- one to three cloves of garlic (according to taste)
- 250 gr. of double cream Maredsous cheese (or any melted cheese, e.g. Vache qui rit or Philadelphia)
- a small tin of tomato puree
- a stock cube (chicken or beef)
- 1.25 to 1.50 litres of water
- salt and pepper
- olive oil
- parsley (optional)

This is what you do:

Peel the potatoes and cut them in half-an-inch-size cubes. Peel the onions and garlic and roughly chop them. Heat some olive oil in a pot and put in the potatoes, onion and garlic. Stir well until the onions are slightly transparent and the potato cubes are coated in oil. Add the water, the stock cube, the melted cheese and the tomato puree, salt and pepper. Stir well and bring to a boil. Let it simmer for 30 minutes or until the potatoes are tender. Run the mixture through a blender until you obtain a creamy, slightly pinkish soup. Sprinkle some finely chopped parsley over the top and serve steaming hot with grilled slices of baguette. Your guests will be delighted!

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A present from the government

The other day I found a small envelope in my letterbox. As it looked rather insignificant, I almost threw it away unopened, thinking it was some commercial mailing letter. Luckily a colleague at work had told that she had received the much talked about ‘eco-cheques’ by post! So I retrieved the envelope just in time, and discovered these vouchers.

Like most countries worldwide, Belgium has suffered the impact of the 2008-2009 financial crises. As a result of it inflation has turned into deflation. As workers' and employees' salaries are linked to the evolution of the index of consumer prices, we’ve lost quite a bit of our ‘consuming’ or ‘purchase’ power (or whatever you call it). Anxious to keep consumption going, the government* came up with the idea of giving the active population (excluding the self-employed) a one-time extra bonus.

In general these bonuses are subjected to very high taxes, up to 70% !!! So what’s the point of giving people a bonus of, let’s say 100 euro, if in the end they only get 30 euro to spend? So one of our bright MP’s (Member of Parliament) came up with the brilliant idea to pay this bonus in ‘eco-cheques’. They are similar to meal-vouchers which are often included in the employee benefits’ program. However, this brilliant MP happened to be a member of the ‘Green’ (ecological) party and therefore thought it would be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone (Oups, An unfortunate choice of words, considering the man's convictions). Finally, it was decided that all ‘professionally active Belgians’ would receive a one-time bonus payable in ‘eco-cheques’. This way he hoped to incite us to consume more nature-friendly!

I personally applaud the initiative, from a financial as well as an ecological point of view, but find it rather difficult to make good use of these vouchers. Although the envelope also contained an extensive list of shops that will accept them, I am at my wits end. For instance, the list suggests: solar panels, new central heating burner, double or triple glazing, low consumption dishwashers, fridges, washing machines and driers … All very nice, but slightly over budget when the vouchers represent … 150 euro (and I live in an almost fully-equipped rental apartment)!

Then of course there are suggestions, such as: garden tools (no power tools, of course), a compost machine, - but I don’t have a garden - a bicycle (considering the amount that would be a child’s plastic tricycle). Oh and then there are the economical light bulbs! Excellent idea! But … In this case the amount is too important. Why not buy a whole supply of them, you’ll say! Actually, that’s useless. I used to work for a company making these light bulbs and have plenty of them at home. As they last for about ten years, your stock of light bulbs will be completely outdated by the time you have to replace one!

Am I being too negative and cynical? Yes, I suppose I am. Maybe there is a possibility though. What would you say if I were to use them at my local supermarket to buy biological vegetables? I wouldn’t mind that, as these bio veggies usually taste a lot better than the industrial stuff. However, I’m not sure the cashier lady will be delighted if she has to split up the bill into ‘green’ and ‘not-so-green’ items.

Maybe you have some tips of how to use these ‘eco-cheques’ in a constructive and useful way?

(*) The cheques are actually paid by the employers.

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A touch of spring

I've been waiting for them for a while now: the first signs of spring. And finally, here they are.

Here's from me to all of you who are looking forward to spring! Spotted yesterday in my mother's garden.

Crocuses

Narcissi

Snowdrops

Any sign of them yet in your garden ?

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Improvised lunch

Friday being my extra day off from work, I usually spend it with my friend, doing the weekend shopping and having lunch at a local restaurant. Yesterday, however, my friend had some business to attend to, and so I spent the best part of the day on my own. I had done most of the shopping on Thursday on the way back from work and had just some bit and bobbles to buy to get through the weekend. Friday morning was grey and dreary, though, and I therefore decided to stay in and catch up on my correspondence and administrative tasks.

I slept late and it was noon before I even realized what time it was (I didn't actually sleep till non, you know!). Suddenly I felt very hungry and realized that there was no bread in the house to make a quick sandwich for lunch. So I rummaged through the fridge and found the next items:

- a fresh package of Old Paso Tortillas
- some smoked salmon
- Maredsous cream cheese

I also had some fresh tomatoes, spring onions and a bag of mixed young salad leaves. Okay, I know they are out of season, but it had been a long time since I had bought some, and I just couldn’t resist them while I was doing my Thursday shopping. Moreover, temperatures have all of a sudden gone up to a very comfortable 8°C (that is + 16°C compared to last week) and it almost felt like spring.

But back to my lunch. I chopped a tomato and three spring onions and slightly warmed up two tortillas in a pan. Next I spread a layer of Maredsous cream cheese (fromage fondu or melted cheese) on the tortillas. Then came a layer of spring onions and tomatoes, topped with two slices of smoked salmon and a generous helping of mixed salad. And this is the result! Can you tell that I had already taken a bite before taking the photo?

 

About the so-called ‘melted cheese’. Maredsous is the name of an abbey in the southern part of Belgium where the monks make delicious Trappist beer and cheese. The cream cheese or ‘fromage fondu’ is similar to the ‘Vache qui rit’ cheese, but has a more distinctive flavour. It comes in a ‘full cream’ version’ (in yellow packaging) and the blue coloured ‘light’ version. The yellow one can also be used as the main ingredient of a ‘cheese soup’. That’s right, a cheese soup! Anyone interested in the recipe? Just drop me a line. I can assure that it is delicious!

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The Sun King, Béarnaise sauce and a squirrel

Louis XIV, the Sun King, was the last French monarch who ordered building work to be done to Chambord, the Loire Valley’s most famous castle. Soon after that, he abandoned Chambord and focused his attention on the construction and embellishment of the Palace of Versailles. But did you know that Louis XIV was also the last king to be born in the castle of Saint Germain-en-Laye, located some 25 km east of Paris, in the Yvelines department.

Château 'neuf' in Saint Germain-en-Laye
Photo: Wikipedia

We were completely unaware of this fact when we visited Saint Germain-en-Laye in the early eighties. The construction of the current ‘château-neuf’ started in the first half of the 16th century under the reign of François I, who also initiated the construction of Chambord. It remained the royal residence till 1682. Three French kings were born here: Henri II, Charles IX and Louis XIV. The latter left Saint Germain in 1682 and moved the royal court 15 km further south to the Palace of Versailles.

Over the centuries, the castle served as a prison, a cavalry school and a military penitentiary. Since 1867 it hosts the ‘Musée d'archéologie nationale’ (National archaeological museum). The typical geometrical gardens were designed by the famous landscape architect André Lenôtre.

During our weekend stay, we spent a lovely afternoon discovering the village. Apart from the château, the two main attractions are the ‘Grande Terrasse’ and the Henri IV Pavilon. The first is a 1950 metres long terrace overlooking the Seine Valley. It was built in the 17th century and is lined with linden trees. On a clear day you can see the Eiffel Tower and the skyscrapers of the La Défense business district.

The Henri IV Pavilon, which is now a luxury hotel and restaurant, is one of the last remains of the ‘château vieux’ that occupied the grounds before the present ‘château neuf’ was built. In the first half of the 19th century the pavilion was renovated and let to the chef Jean-Louis-François Collinet who turned it into a restaurant. This man gave France and the world two of the greatest gastronomic creations: the ‘pommes soufflés’, which he accidentally invented in 1837, and the utterly delicious and my absolute favourite sauce, la sauce Béarnaise. A bronze plaque at the entrance of the Pavilon commemorates these culinary events.

We spent the night in a country house style hotel on the edge of the Saint Germain forest. Compared to our earlier weekends in Honfleur and Rolleboise, our stay was quite uneventful. No quick sand or ‘trespassers’ on our terrace here! However, the next morning we were awoken by a scratching noise at the window. Our room being situated at the back of the hotel with a view of the garden, we thought it was a branch of a tree brushing against the window. And then we also heard a faint squeaking noise. My friend got up and opened the curtains.

To our surprise, we saw a cute red squirrel sitting on the windowsill, scratching the wood with its little paws as if to indicate that it wanted to come in. When my friend put his finger against the glass, the squirrel pressed its little quivering nose against the windowpane. It didn’t appear to be scared and continued looking into the room with its big beady eyes. Only when we opened the window to give it a piece of biscuit, it shook his feathery tail and hopped off in the nearby bushes. We waited for a while. But when we saw it scurrying up a tree, we knew our friendly little visitor had returned to its own 'folk'.

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