80,000 hits

In the early hours of today the stats on my blog, which I started in May 2009, hit the 80,000th pageview mark!

Pageviews since May, 2009.
Image: blogger 

I didn't actually see it happened, because I was in bed, warmly tucked in, listening to the rain that was hitting the window with gale force. Don't worry, it wasn't as bad as Joachim, that struck France a couple of weeks ago. It was pretty rough though. On the morning news I heard that the busy road on which I live had been cut off for several hours during the night some 5-6 kilometres east from my home, while firemen were cutting up and removing a big tree that had fallen across it.

But back to the 80,000th hit. I remember being in awe when I saw that same number appear on Ken's blog in 2008 (today almost 400,000 pageviews !!!) . I even suspected/hoped that I was the 80,000th visitor and I posted a comment asking whether there was a prize attached to it. Silly me!

At the time I wasn't even thinking about writing a blog myself. Today, I'm glad I did, because through it I have met so many lovely people. Thank you all for being such loyal readers and commenters!

The next target? 100,000 I guess ... I'm looking forward to celebrating it with you!

Back in time

Since Christmas Day, Radio2, one of the many radio channels in Belgium is broadcasting the International All Time Top 1000. The channel is very popular with people born before 1970. During the year it has an interesting and varied offer of music, daily news, sports and lifetime items. Every now and then, usually when we have a long weekend, they broadcast the Top 60 of the sixties, the Top 70 of the seventies, the Top 80 of the eighties … For which people can vote in advance.

Image from the www.radio.be website.

But the really BIG one is between Christmas and the start of the New Year: the All Time Top 1000. They broadcast 24/24, with a rerun of the day’s charts between 6 p.m. and 6 a.m.

The program is immensely popular; especially because every hour there is a very simple quiz question. The prize is the entire CD collection of the current year’s Top 1000!

For as long as I remember – except in 2009 and 2010 – Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen was number one. In the two previous years it was The Rose from Bette Midler, in the version of Ann Christy, a Flemish singer who died in 1984 from cancer. She was only 39 at the time and has become a real icon. Her version of The Rose is often played at funerals.

Other candidates to the title are: Dancing Queen by ABBA, Child in Time by Deep Purple and You’re the First, the Last, my Everything by Barry White. What would be your favourite if you had to choose your All Time hit song?

Feel like listening in on our Top 1000? Click here. You won’t regret it … Btw, there is a news bulletin every hour and traffic information every now and then … So you’ll have to sit through those … as well as the odd Flemish classic. But who knows; you may get to like them!

In danger of extinction

Since the introduction of a new law on July 1st, part of our National Heritage is in danger of extinction. Maybe it’s a part that some people would like to see disappear altogether. I’m not one of them, though, because it would mean the end of something Belgium is famous for. No it isn’t chocolate, frites, lace or even beer; although the latter is unavoidably linked to it. I’m talking about our small, local village cafés. I admit that they have lost of their former charm and function in the old days when village people used to gather there once a day to exchange the daily news, have a few drinks and play cards.  And yet ...

Adolphe Sax - to find out where this famous man comes in,
you'll have to read the whole post!

Photo: www.itravel.com

Rural villages are getting smaller because the young people get married and move away towards towns and cities, while other villages slowly but surely develop into small towns with newcomers who have their own social circle and rarely mingle with the locals. In order to survive, local cafés in these new 'towns' at one point started serving food. At first it were just some cold snacks, sandwiches and spaghetti Bolognese. But gradually more culinary dishes started to appear on their menu cards.

This phenomenon as well as the growing consensus on the negative effects of tobacco has led to a smoking ban. At first the new rule only applied to cafés serving food: a rule I loudly applaud since the time when I was forced to eat a delicious casserole of mussels sitting next to a lady who apparently had a craving for' smoked' mussels. In between mussels she puffed at her cigarette which she kept in her left hand while picking up the mussels with her right hand. It was disgusting!

However, after a transitory period of about one year, the government officials in charge of controlling whether the new law was respected found that there was a very fine line between ‘food’ as it had been described in the law on the one hand, and the way in which it was presented in daily life situations on the other. Fining the offenders – the café owners who allowed people to smoke in their establishment – turned out to be a problem, as there appeared to be a lot of loopholes in the law text.

Therefore the government decided to ban smoking all together, including in the small village cafés where only a few elderly and locals come to exchange the local gossip and to play cards. After hardly six months, the new rule has turned out to be lethal, not to the smokers, but to the cafés! Settled into their long-time habits, sitting at the same old table, glass of beer in one hand and a self-rolled cigarette in the other, the regulars can't seem to cope with the chance and the new rule that forces them to go outside to smoke their cigarette, thus missing a good hand in a game of whist or a juicy piece of gossip! So, they prefer to stay at home ...

As a result 2,500 village cafés, where never an item of food has been served, have closed down since July 1st. Is it worth it? I have mixed feelings about the whole matter. I don’t approve of smoking and I’m glad that I can now enjoy a meal – simple or gastronomic – without having to look for my food through a cloud of heavy and smelly smoke that is hovering over my plate. However, why deprive some elderly – and sometimes not so old – village locals of their ‘watering hole’: the place where they used to meet their friends to stay in touch with village life?

My favourite café in our village (a village that had now become a small town) serves food and so smoking is no longer allowed in the main room. They have a back room though that opens up to the garden where you are allowed to smoke and where no food is served. When I go there once a week with my friend (who occasionally smokes), he disappears into the back room once or twice to have a cigarette, while I wait for him. I use this ‘time-out’ to practice my favourite pass-time: watching people!

The café is called ‘The Saxophone’. In the back of the café, safely protected in a large glass display case, hangs a real brass ‘saxophone’, an instrument invented by Adolphe Sax (1814-1894) who lived in the city of Dinant south of Namur, in the southern part of Belgium.

What did Santa bring?

My personal Rudolf!

1) An extra day off from work
Normally, Boxing Day isn’t a holiday in Belgium. But because Christmas Day was a Sunday, the majority of working people are having the day off today. Our offices are closed too, like many other companies and government services. My friendly butcher is closed too, but our local supermarket will be open this afternoon. I don’t need to go out though, as I did all my shopping on Friday and Saturday. And although there are no leftovers from Christmas Day lunch, there is ample food in the house to keep me happy and fed for two or three days.

2) A simple but pretty Christmas table and a delicious Christmas Day lunch
Although I didn’t do much cooking – I left that to the professional chefs from Rob Gourmet Market’s caterer counter – we had a glorious meal of Champagne with stuffed puff pastry zakouskis, oven grilled scallops in an creamy Champagne sauce, hare fillet with a light ‘grand veneur’ sauce and a dark glossy gravy, apples and pears with cranberry stuffing and a bottle of red Menetou Salon and finally a traditional ‘bûche de Noël’ with coffee.

3) An intriguing book by Belgium’s best known war journalist
I admit that a book about the 10 years since 9/11 does not really fit in with the Christmas spirit. However, ever since I heard an interview with Rudi Vranckx and saw a documentary on him and his work in Afghanistan, Iraq, Palestine, Israel and most recently in Egypt, I’m really intrigued by this man and the way he copes with the horrors he sees every day. He has a master degree in modern history and has been working with our national television channel since the fall of the Rumanian horror regime. He became really popular during the recent crisis in Egypt, where he was one of the last Western journalists to leave the country.

4) A surprise telephone call from the US
At half past seven last night, my mobile phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number – which was much longer than our Belgian 9 digit telephone numbers. Imagine my surprise when I heard Bob’s and Pat’s voice. My blog friends were calling from Georgia in the US to wish me a Merry Christmas. A lovely and thoughtful gesture! Thank you Bob and Pat!!

This afternoon I’m going to plunge into that book and write some more Greeting cards while I listen to the All Time Top 1000 on the radio. Fantastic music that will bring back many happy and emotional memories of years and events gone by. It’ll be on every day of the coming week. As I have the week off from work, I will be able to enjoy all 1000 songs!

What did Santa bring you and what are your plans on Boxing Day?

When I was small … and Christmas trees were tall

When I was a little girl, I couldn’t wait for my parents to bring in the yearly Christmas tree. While my father ‘planted’ the tree in a bucket filled with earth from the garden and moved it into a corner of the living room, my mother went up to the attic to get the worn and dusty cardboard box in which the Christmas stall, its figurines and the glass decorations for the tree were kept.

The small wooden stall had been handmade by a blind neighbour and was a perfect example of exquisite craftsmanship. It was set up under the tree with a fluffy layer of cotton wool to make it look as if the roof was covered in snow. The 8 centimetres figurines where carefully placed in and around the stable. The ox and the mule went in the back on a layer of fake straw. The crib with baby Jesus was placed in the middle, in front of the animals, because their breath was supposed to keep him warm. Joseph and Mary stood or kneeled beside the crib.

There were three sheep, one of which had only three legs. I don’t know who was responsible for the animal’s handicap. Two shepherds, one carrying a small lamb on his shoulders – maybe he should have carried the lame sheep? - usually occupied the left part of the stable, while the three wise men, stayed outside, as if they were just arriving after following the star that had guided them to their destination.

All the figurines were made of polychrome plaster, except for baby Jesus, who was made of plastic, which made me think that he was probably adopted. Later I learned that the original figurine, being very tiny and fragile, had lost both arms over the years. It had therefore been replaced by a plastic copy.

The tree itself was decorated with glass ornaments and multi-coloured lights. Most ornaments were sphere-shaped but there also were a small beautifully shaped silver teapot and a gold and red lantern. They were my favourites! Sometimes my mother would drape ‘angels’ hair’ over the tree which gave the tree a beautiful frosty glow. The downside however was the itchy feeling you got when handling or touching this ‘angels’ hair’, because was made of glass fibres.

This year's tree with the camera on 'candlelight' settings.

Over the last thirty years my taste in Christmas trees has changed: from a two metres tall life specimen in the eighties, to this year’s wooden cone, decorated with white led lights and shiny silvery stars. Die-hard Christmas tree fans may consider this as a sorry excuse for tree, but I like it. It’s small, simple and yet stylish. And, most important, it does what a Christmas tree is supposed to do: bring light into our homes. After all, in B.C. days, Christmas was a pagan feast, celebrating the winter solstice and marking the return of the light.

The same tree with the camera on 'party' settings.

Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones!

* * * * *

To go on strike or not to go on strike …

I don’t like to write about political or social issues, because that’s not why I started this blog in the first place. Today, however, I would like to make an exception. I promise you I won’t make a habit of it.

If you’ve been following the international news, you’ll probably know that Belgium went without a proper government for over 500 days. A ‘government of current affairs’ that in 2009 had ‘fallen’ over language-related issues stayed at the helm for one and a half year, trying to keep the country out of stormy international waters. It must be said that they were rather successful and in the end everybody was beginning to wonder whether we actually needed a new government. Especially as the coalition of initially eight and later six political parties that had been trying to form a new government didn’t seem to make any progress. It wasn’t until the international rating bureaus Standard and Poor’s and Moody’s lowered Belgium’s rating, that the negotiators realized that they were toying with the country’s (and its population’s) future.

Despite de national strike, no traffic jams on this quiet country lane.

Apart from the language issues, the budget and the savings imposed by ‘Europe’ proved to be problems that were hard to crack, especially as the left and the right wing parties had completely opposite views on matters like employment, retirement, taxes, etc. Everybody knows that our social security system - which is very generous and therefore subject to a lot of abuse – is threatened and requires a serious reform. I’ll spare you the details, but the touchiest issue was the legal retirement age. Under the current legislation it is in some exceptional cases possible to retire at the age of 55. The average nowadays is 59, while the legal retirement age is 65. A career of minimum 35 years is required to enjoy full pension benefits.

Before the end of this year (2011) the new government wants the parliament to vote a law gradually increasing the minimum age to 62 by 2017 and a minimum career of 40 year to be entitled to the same benefits. It goes without saying that the Trade Unions are extremely upset, especially as the minister in charge refuses to negotiate the terms of the new law with them. As a result the civil servants have gone on strike today and the whole country has come to a standstill … except for people like me who work in the private sector.

There are no trains, buses, trams or metros. Village and town halls are closed, public hospitals and fire stations are running on weekend roster. Schools are closed or only provide limited daycare facilities. The different national radio and television channels are broadcasting a unique program. Postmen are not supposed to deliver any mail today, but apparently 80% of them have ignored the orders of the Trade Unions. And so did my loyal postman Wim. He didn’t bring any Christmas cards though. So I’m somewhat disappointed!

Several of my colleagues didn’t show up today, because of the lack of public transport. And traffic was denser as usual, with more people using their car to get to work. Two busy roads into Brussels were blocked this morning by angry Trade Unionists.

Public opinion is much divided over the strike. Left wing supporters refuse to accept the much needed changes, while centre and right wing followers realize that they are inevitable to protect the continuity of the welfare state for future generations.

How do these changes affect me? I will probably have to work till 60, or even maybe 62 or 63, instead of the expected age of 58. And I know that I will be paying more taxes. So for the time being, I’ll put my dreams of moving to France in the bottom drawer of the freezer, hoping that they will keep for another 5 to 8 years!

P.S. I just noticed that this is my 700th post. Hmmm, that calls for a celebration!

Orchid update

I have been collecting orchids since – I think - 2004. My first plant was a Saint Valentine’s present from my friend. The flowers were mainly white with purplish dots in the middle. The decorative pot it came in was white too, with a similar purplish motive on it.

That first plant died a long time ago, after flowering several times. I still have the pot though and today it holds another orchid plant that I’ve bought or received in recent years. In total about a dozen plants have come, stayed and gone. Today six remain and only one of them is blooming. I bought it approximately two months ago when most of the flowers were still tiny buds, waiting to burst open. Right now it’s sitting in all its glory on my Japanese cabinet in the living room, where I can see it when I’m working on my computer or when I’m watching TV. I hope the flowers will last well into the New Year and at least till Valentine’s Day when my friend will probably surprise me with a new specimen.

My current orchid family.
The one in the centre sits in the pot of the very first orchid plant
that my friend bought me in 2004.

The five other plants are sitting on the sill of the kitchen window. Only one of them has actually produced flowers since the summer of 2010 when I lost three plants due to the extremely hot temperatures. Orchids being exotic plants, you would expect them to thrive in warm weather conditions. It wasn’t the heat that killed them though but the lack of daylight. For almost two weeks I kept the shutters closed, in an attempt to keep the heat out. It worked, partially, but it also had a fatal impact on the orchids. The leaves turned all yellow and brown and one by one tumbled to the floor.

This spring, during the move, the remaining plants took another bashing. In the old apartment they had been living in the second bedroom in summer, enjoying a north-westerly exposure, far away from the burning hot summer sun. In winter they sat on the kitchen window sill, taking in as much as possible of the cold winter light.

Last October I moved them to the kitchen. I also started adding some special orchid fertilizer to their weekly drinking water. I got really upset when the only changes I saw were changes for the worse. But then, two weeks ago, all of a sudden, I saw these green ‘sprouts’ appearing on all five plants. At first I thought it were new roots growing out of the plant. In fact, in three out of the five plants they were roots. However, the two other orchid plants are clearly producing new flowers.

In the new apartment, the second bedroom window doesn’t have a sill, because it’s a glass door opening onto a tiny balcony. The exposure is right, but there is no place to put the orchids. Until recently I therefore kept them on a shelf that was left by the previous tenant and that looked perfect for that purpose. However, the plants didn’t get any direct sun light and by September – after hardly six months in their new home – you could see that they were suffering, despite the loving care I was giving them.

I'm not a botanist, but I'm pretty sure the long green bud on the left is a root;
the small one on the right is a flower.

It’s been so long since they have had flowers that I can’t remember what colour they are. I can’t wait to find out whether they will be yellow, white, purple or pink! I had been hoping to see the orchids in full bloom by Christmas, because that’s what it was like in the past. But they still have a long way to go … I’ll keep up updated on their progress!

Santas, tea and teapots

December is the month in which I traditionally pay a visit to Stonemanor, the British store in a nearby village. I usually have only two items on my shopping list: Christmas cards and … steak and kidney pie. But somehow there always seems to be much more in my trolley by the time I join the queue at the check out counter.

We entered Stonemanor store
under the watchful eye of this life-size Santa Claus.

Despite my efforts not to succumb to temptation the following items ended up in my trolley: 2 Scotch eggs, Pastrami, 2 mini pork pies, 2 packets of crisps (salt and vinegar flavour), Twinings chamomile teabags, organic raspberry yoghurt, a jar of mini marshmallows and, of course, three steak and kidney pies and a box of 10 Christmas cards.

Tea anyone?
What's your favourite blend?

The store was very busy, with people doing their pre-pre-pre Christmas shopping. According to a notice by the entrance, there will be a special delivery of fresh turkeys next Thursday straight from the UK. But that didn’t stop some people from already buying a frozen specimen.

This is the place to be if you need a new teapot.

I like the one on the top-left, with the black cats ...

We ate the steak and kidney pies as soon as we got home. I warmed them up in the oven while my friend opened a bottle of Côtes du Rhône wine. The pies were delicious. I’m not a big fan of offal – except for veal sweetbreads – but these pies are really yummy. The taste of the kidneys is very subtle and the pieces of meat are bite-size and particularly tender. The sauce that binds everything together is of a deep brown, almost chocolate-like colour. As soon as you put your knife in the crispy crusts it comes oozing out of the pie.

The rich, yet fruity Côtes-de-Rhône wine went very well with this exquisite pie. We didn’t have any vegetables with it, because we had it as a snack after a successful yet very cold and wet shopping trip. But I think some steamed broccoli or peas would have made a perfect side dish.

All this food talk has made me hungry. Time to head for the kitchen and prepare myself some supper! I had two smoked beef – a.k.a. filet d’Anvers’ sandwiches for lunch, which isn’t all that much. No wonder I’m hungry!

First snow

You wouldn’t believe it this morning, because the sun is shining and the sky is almost as blue as my living room wall! And yet, last night it snowed. And just for a short while it seemed to stick to hedges and trees. Before sunrise cars parked in the street were wearing a white winter bonnet. But by nine the snow had gone. According to the morning news though the south of the country is covered in snow – up to 25 cm in some places – and more of the white stuff is expected to fall during the day.

View from my kitchen window last night.
The wind-swept snow flakes look like stings of golden pearls. Amazing!

We’re supposed to be on the dry and sunny side of the snow front. Next week temperatures should go up again and I shouldn’t have any trouble getting to work. And unlike last year, when the skies opened up on Christmas Eve and we were as good as grounded for several days because of the tons and tons of snow that fell in a few hours time, there is very little chance of having a White Christmas this year.

The bad storm Joachim that caused so much havoc in France and Germany hardly influenced our weather. Apparently we were sitting right in the middle of the eye of the storm, where there is hardly any wind. However, blogger friends Ken and Walt who live in the Loire Valley are without electricity since yesterday morning, due to Joachim’s antics! Other blogger friends Susan and Simon, who live in Southern Touraine, are running to their rescue with a generator, so that some electricity can be brought to their house. Isn’t it amazing what blogging can do!?

A day to remember - part 2

If you've missed part 1, click here.

From July till November 2010 I visited five apartments. None of them felt like home and so I waited, hoping for a miracle, which could either be a successful leak detection or a nice apartment nearby. In the second half of November I learned of the death of a lady who had been living in an apartment on the first floor in a complex 50 metres up the road. Although the news upset me – I used to know the deceased rather well – this turned out to be the miracle I had been waiting for. Sorry if this shocks you.

A nice decorative piece handmade by my 'English mum's' daughter Teresa, whom I visited this summer, after not seeing each other since 1984. The stars are a reflection of the candle behind the hand-painted glass disk. This unique piece of art occupies a prominent place on my new sideboard.

On the eve of the lady’s funeral, a ‘to let’ sign appeared on the kitchen window of her former apartment. I immediately called the real estate agent’s number and scheduled an appointment for Monday night. One visit was all it took for me to know that this was the right place for me. The monthly rent was reasonable. The apartment was in spic-span condition and the location was perfect.

On Monday, December 13th, 2010 at twenty to six in the evening, I set out for my all important meeting with the real estate agent and my new landlord and –lady. It was a dark and cold night and I had some trouble finding the villa where the agent had his office. It was located in a narrow side street, in the middle of the fields, where it was hardly visible from the road.

My new landlord and –lady turned out to be very nice people. When I asked them whether I could install a dishwasher in the kitchen – at my expense – they immediately suggested they’d take care of it themselves … and they did. When I asked whether I could replace the old vinyl floor in the main bedroom by a nice wooden floor, they didn’t object and arranged for an identical floor to be laid in the second bedroom.

By the time that the contract had been read and signed it was snowing outside. Not much, but just enough to create that ‘Christmassy’ feeling. I drove home, slowly, not taking any risks. And I felt profoundly happy, because finally my worries were over … Well almost, because the ‘big move’ would only take place on March, 18th. I spent the three remaining months shopping for new furniture, curtains, wall paper, etc. Sheer bliss!

While I was happily spending money, a new leak detection took place in my then soon-to-be-former apartment. This time the janitor claimed that the cause had been found, and she tauntingly said: “Now that we’ve found the leak, you’ll probably regret your decision to move. Maybe you should have had some more patience!” I didn’t let it bother me though, as the so-called solution didn’t make any sense.

And I was proven right, because a few months after I had moved out, repair work was done to stop the water seeping into the ceiling and the wall. All in vain, because nothing has changed since then. Recently I ran into my former first floor neighbour (who also has water damage) and asked him about the situation. He said that since the recent technical intervention, the situation has become worse, indicating that the real cause of the leak still hasn’t been found ...

A day to remember

For me, today – December 13^th, will go down in history as ‘the day on which I signed the lease’. That’s right, exactly a year ago, I was expected at 6 p.m. at the real estate agent’s office to sign the lease of my current apartment. Today, one year later, I can honestly say that it was the best thing I’ve done in years.

An orchid plant that I've recently acquired, looking pretty

against the background of my new blue living room wall.

You may recall that life in my former apartment had become unbearable due to an almost 20 month old damp problem that somehow seemed unsolvable. For those of you who have only recently ‘tuned’ into this blog, here’s a short recap of what happened.

In March 2009 I noticed a small grey stain on the wall, close to the ceiling. I thought it was a cobweb, but when I tried to remove it, it wouldn’t budge. By September, the small round stain had grown into a nasty looking triangle, 30 cm wide and over 30 cm long. That was when I called the janitor. She showed up – unannounced – one Friday afternoon while I was entertaining friends.

About a month later, she came back with some insurance guy, who wanted to visit the cellar (???) to find a plausible explanation for the stain by the ceiling! The most obvious cause was a leak in the kitchen sink in next door’s first floor apartment. A specialized leak detection company was contacted and their intervention was scheduled on December 18th, 2009. On the 17th I received a call from this company saying that the intervention had been postponed and that I would we contacted again as soon as possible. No particular reason for the postponement was given.

And then the wait began! In the end the leak detection man showed up some time in March; or was it April? He took some photos, examined the wall and the ceiling using a damp detector and off he went. Next door he rummaged through the cupboard under the sink, shifted some boards and went off without putting everything in its original place. An action that strongly upset the tenant, the landlord and the janitor of the adjacent complex and which marked the beginning of a very tense relationship that would finally escalate into a blasting row in July 2010. By then it had been established that the cause was external, meaning that it wasn’t water seeping in from next door.

I will spare you the details, but from March 2010 onwards, there were four more leak detection attempts. None of which were conclusive; although it has to be said that the recommendations made by my insurance company were – for some obscure reason or was it neglect? - never executed. In July, after the aforementioned row with the neighbours, I decided to call it a day, because I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I started looking for a new apartment: not an easy mission as I didn’t want to move too far away from my mother’s, who’s now 83 years old. Since 2001 I have been living next door to her; an pratical and reassuring arrangement that suits both of us.

(to be continued)

Sunday lunch – Hairy Bikers Style

If you live in the UK or watch the BBC regularly, you are probably familiar with the cooking show ‘Hairy Bikers – Best of British’. When I discovered this show a few weeks ago, I almost immediately zapped to another channel, sighing “Yet another cooking program …” You know, I love to cook, but lately the offer of cooking shows is definitely exceeding my personal demand and interest. What I find most annoying is the fact that many of the so-called chefs don’t have a clue of what they are doing. The worst are these skinny celebs who are preparing their ‘amazing’ recipes that are ‘oh so nourishing’ and yet ‘so slimming’.

You can hardly call the ‘Hairy Bikers’ – Simon King and Dave Meyers – skinny; on the contrary. And they don’t really look like weathered chefs either. But after zapping away two or three times, I got intrigued by their way of cooking and the traditional British dishes they were preparing. And although they are constantly joking and fooling around, they work as a perfect team, in a professional yet congenial way. And the results always look very appetizing.The other day I watched them preparing a traditional chicken, ham and leek pie. It looked easy to make and I decided to give it a try, especially as the ingredients – leeks – are in season. As I’m not very good at making pastry, I bought it ready-made at our supermarket.

Poached chicken breast, diced ham and braised leek & garlic.

 The other ingredients are (serves two):
- a bone- and skinless chicken breast
- a 1 cm thick slice of boiled or braised ham (approx. 250 gr)
- 2 sturdy leeks
- a clove of garlic
- a big handful of chopped chives (my personal touch)
- flour
- a generous splash of dry white wine
- chicken stock (home made or you can use a stock cube)
- 1 egg
- liquid double cream
- butter
- pepper, salt, nutmeg
- lemon juice (the Bikers didn’t use lemon, but this is my personal touch. It gives your dish a nice tang).


I did follow their recipe, but couldn’t help adding some personal touches …


The method:

Bring the chicken stock to the boil and put in the chicken breast. Let it simmer for 15 minutes. In the meantime, cut the ham in 1x1x1 cm pieces. Clean the leeks, cut them in half length-wise and next across in 0.5 centimetre pieces. Melt some butter in a frying pan and gently braise the leeks, adding the chopped garlic, salt and pepper. Don’t let the leeks turn brown. Remove from them from the pan as soon as they are translucent. Drain in a colander.

After 15 minutes, remove the chicken from the stock using a slotted spoon. Put the meat aside while you’re making the sauce.

Melt some butter in a pot, stir in 1.5 tablespoon of flour and make a béchamel sauce by adding the chicken stock one ladle at the time. Keep stirring until you obtain a tick and glossy sauce. Add a generous splash of white wine, (the juice of half a lemon – optional), pepper, salt and freshly grated nutmeg. Remove the pot from the stove and add a nice blob of cream. Keep stirring until all the ingredients have blended together. When the sauce is ready, pour it in a recipient and cover it with a sheet of plastic foil. Put the foil directly on top of the liquid. It’ll stop it from forming an unattractive ‘crust’.

Cut the chicken in bite-size chunks and put them in a shallow oven dish. Next, stir in the pieces of ham, the leeks and the chopped chives. Pour the cold sauce over the dish. Cut the pastry to fit the shape and size (slightly larger) of the dish and drape it over the filling. To seal the edges, lightly wet the rim of the dish using a piece of paper kitchen towel soaked in water. Press the pastry firmly on the rim, pierce three holes in the middle of the pastry and gently brush the top of the pie with some egg wash.

The pie, straight from the oven: crispy crust over a delicious filling. Yum!

Bake the pie in a 180°C oven for about 30 to 40 minutes. When the crust is golden brown and crispy, remove from the oven and serves immediately. Bon appetite!

Unusual pets

I’ve taken an unintentional break from blogging. I should have told you in advance, but last Monday, when I posted my most recent entry, I had no idea of how hectic last week would be. If you have been following the news lately, you may know that we finally have a government – after 541 days of negotiations: a new world record, but not one to be proud of!

However, I never suspected that the new government and its 2012 budget would have such an impact of my employer’s daily business. As a result there was a lot of communication to be prepared: newsletters, FAQ’s, mailings, etc. By the time I got home in the evening, the sight of a computer screen was just too much, and I hardly had the courage to answer comments and emails and read my favourite blogs, let alone write a daily entry.

But I’m back! With a last entry on our visit to the Zoo. I still have two photos I really want to show you.

The Zoo also has a mission towards community. Not only does it offer accommodation to exotic and wild animals that have been found in miserable living conditions in private zoos and homes, it also provides training services.

Our guide, Paul, showed us into a room in which the walls were lined with glass containers. At first glance some of them looked empty except for a few dead branches. It was very warm in the room; 30°C, which is very hot when you’re wearing a winter coat! While we were peering into the glass containers, Paul explained that these were the reptiles that are used for training policemen, vets and other people who in their daily job are confronted with these animals, either in private homes, where they are kept as pets, either in exotic food containers that are shipped into Antwerp.

Despite our efforts to coax the animals out of their hiding places where they were probably napping between classes, most of the containers remained ‘lifeless’. Except for these two: a ferocious looking snake, and a lizard that was basking under a heat lamp!

Can you imagine having one of these as a pet and handling it with your bare hands or having it sitting on your lap while watching TV?

About tigers, vipers and seals

What happened before …

By half past two lunch was over and we were requested to go outside where three guides were waiting, two Flemish speaking and one French speaking. We were free to pick the group of our choice. Although Flemish is my mother tongue, I joined the French speaking group for two reasons: 1. Most of my ‘favourite’ colleagues are French speaking. 2. It was the smallest group and therefore much easier to interact with the guide.

It was a chilly and drizzly afternoon and I was glad having donned my winter anorak. Some colleagues hadn’t taken the same precaution and were shivering with cold while our guide, who introduced himself as Paul, enlightened us on the history of the Zoo. One by one the groups set out on the backstage visit, each taking a different route in order not to bump into each other.

Our little group on our way - backstage - to see the tigers.

Our first stop was the tiger compound. The two large cages in which the tigers are kept overnight were empty except for one dead rabbit; a sight that upset the fainthearted among us (I’m not of them, btw.). Paul explained that, in order to recreate the real living conditions as much as possible, the tigers are fed four days out of seven. When they live in the wild they sometimes go three or more days without food too. On the ‘feeding days’ the tigers are given horse meat which is nice and lean. Beef and pork are too fat and the felines would soon get overweight if were to have it.

We asked why there was a dead rabbit lying in one of the cages. Paul said that on ‘foodless’ days the rabbit acted as some kind of bait to incite the tigers to come in at night. I wouldn’t like to be around when two hungry tigers throw themselves on that tiny rabbit!

Our next stop was the vet’s operating room. We weren’t allowed in, but got a good look at the operating table through the large window. The equipment looked rather dated. Logical, if you know that it’s former ’people hospital’ material that has been donated to the Zoo. The operating table will support animals up to 60 kg. You couldn’t operate a tiger, buffalo, giraffe or elephant on it.

Our guide, showing the jar containing the dead(ly) viper.

While we were examining the room, Paul unlocked a door in a sidewall and took out a jar filled with alcohol. At the bottom lay a dark brown, white spotted coil. Our guide explained that it was a dead Palestinian viper. It had been brought in by the police who had found it the home of a family with two small children! The parents had kept it as a pet … a very dangerous pet though, as this particular species is considered as one of the deadliest snakes on earth. Those parents were really irresponsible! The antidote for the viper's venom costs 10,000 euro and can only be kept for one year. The direction of the Zoo therefore decided that it was too dangerous and expensive to keep this specimen, and it was put down. Yet another innocent victim of modern society in which it‘s fashionable to keep wild animals as pets.

Paul produced more jars containing very obscure items. Some were too gruesome to look at like a 3 inch baby kangaroo that had died in its mother’s pouch. There was one rather funny anecdote though: a jar filled with coins! These had been 'recovered' from the stomach of a seal. Apparently people tend to throw coins in the pool in which the seals swim. One seal had mistaken the shiny coins for fish … till the weight of the coins literally proved to be too heavy on the animal’s stomach … preventing it to surface to catch its breath. If the vet hadn’t operated on the poor animal, it would have … drowned!

The viper, the seal … all perfect examples of the silliness of humans towards animals.

And the winner is ...

What happened before....

The academic part of the day ended around half past twelve. When we came out of the conference room we were greeted by two waiters, holding large platters containing glasses of white and red wine. In one corner of the room a large buffet had been set up with cold and warm dishes. On the cold end there was a selection of small bread rolls, poached salmon with cocktail or/and tartar sauce, smoked salmon, large chunks of melon coated in thin slices of Parma ham, a salad of cherry tomatoes and mini mozzarella balls, couscous, a potato salad, a mixed green salad and a cold pasta dish.

The sign by the door of the 'animal food kitchen' ('dierenkeuken' in Dutch)
at the Antwerp Zoo.

On the warm end were four dishes: two kinds of pasta, roasted deer and poached cod with leeks in a cream sauce. On the table on which in the morning the staff had been serving coffee and croissants a dessert buffet had been dressed. It contained a large collection of miniature cakes, cups and glasses, ranging from tiramisu and chocolate mousse to fruit salad and strawberries cakes, etc. Yummmmm …

The only negative points were the high tables and complete absence of chairs. Don’t you just hate these ‘walking’ lunches and dinners, where you have to squeeze with six or seven people around a tiny table with a mere 50 cm top? You just stand there, uncomfortably, wobbling from one foot onto the other, precariously shifting your food around on a miniature plate; with you elbows glued to you side, trying not to stick them in your neighbour’s ribs.

After the meal, the five winners of a little quiz that had been held during the academic session were announced. I almost dropped my glass of white wine when I heard my name being called, as I’m not in the habit of winning prizes. What did I get? A box containing 8 CD’s of classical music! Okay, call me a philistine, but I don’t like classical music; it has a depressing effect on me. When I offered the CD box to the people at my table, three of them immediately showed a keen interest.

My first instinct was to throw it in the air, letting the best man or woman win. It wouldn’t have been practical though considering the glasses and plates that were still sitting on the table. So I gave it to a colleague who had travelled all the way by train from the southern part of the country to attend the teambuilding day. The poor guy had left his home at half past five in the morning to get to Antwerp in time. And he wouldn’t be home before nine if he managed to catch the 4.30 train home. An effort that really deserved recognition and a small compensation; don't you think so?