New traffic sign?

A few years ago the parking area of our local supermarket was redone. A new layer of asphalt was put in, the lay-out was changed and three parking places for people with reduced mobility were put in, close to the entrance. In these three spots the asphalt was given a bright turquoise coating, featuring, in white, the drawing of a wheelchair, the international symbol indicating that the spots are reserved for people with a disability. 

Next to the three turquoise spots an extra section was painted bright pink. No sign, just a pretty pink surface that over the years became dirty, neglected and … never used. Nobody dared to park there, but nobody knew why.

And then last week, suddenly this new sign appeared, indicating the spot’s purpose…

It's still dirty and neglected and could do with a fresh coat of pink paint.

******

Two mysteries

Last Monday, between 8 and 9 p.m. my blog received over 250 hits, which may be normal for some of you who have over 100 or 200 followers, but which is gigantic when it comes to my blog! 99% were from people in France who had googled the words ‘faux filet de boeuf’ I did a post on this delicious piece of meat in November 2010. Until now it is the most popular post ever, but it never got so many hits in hardly one hour. 

So I really wonder what caused this sudden interest in sirloin steak, because that’s what ‘faux filet the boeuf’ is. My first guess is that there was a cooking show on a French television channel that featured this particular piece of beef. Maybe you’ve seen it. Or maybe you can think of another reason for this sudden interest. Please tell me if you know something that can solve this first mystery.

And then there is a second mystery. However, in this case I know the answer. Let’s see if you know it too. Can you tell me what you see in this photo? Good luck!

*****

Like an angel rushing its wings!

Two weeks ago I treated my mother to a short outing to the garden centre. Ever since the unexpected warm spell we had in March she had been complaining that she needed a new shovel. The one she had used to belong to her father-in-law, my grandfather, who died in 1968. It was rusty and had lost most of its ‘cutting’ power.

Since then, and despite the fact the weather had turned wintry again, she kept asking me to go and buy a new shovel. So during my short Easter break I picked her up on Thursday morning to go to the garden centre. Beside the shovel she had made a list mentioning other items such as: special potting soil for her indoor plants, an anti-moss product for the lawn, two large terracotta flowerpots, four pelargonium plants for the flower box over the front door, a small thyme bush and violets for the garden. We found everything we needed, except the violets, which seemed to be out of season.

I treated myself to a new white orchid plant and paid the lot using the eco-vouchers I had received as a special bonus at work. As I don’t have a garden and have no intention of buying a bike, the vouchers are quite useless to me. Last year I used them to buy an ‘ecological’ laundry machine, but the electro shop won’t take them to pay for an ‘ecological’ mobile air-co unit, something I will need in my new apartment with its large window and southern exposure.

After visiting the garden centre, I we drove to Stonemar, the British Store. My mother is fond of marmalade and especially the real bitter recipe which you can’t get in our regular supermarket. Moreover, she was curious about the other typical British food items and/or ingredients that often appear on my table. She was completely overwhelmed when she saw the vast assortment of products in colourful packages that are totally unfamiliar to her. Luckily I was there to help her pick the goodies she wanted: marmalade, syrup, tea, short bread, crisps, Mother’s Pride toast bread ...

Okay, you're allowed to laugh ... because, if you British, you're no longer supposed to like this.
But to us - foreigners - it's sheer Delight (with a capital 'D').

She was particularly interested in sweets and desserts, a section of the shop I rarely visit, because I don’t have a sweet tooth. While she was looking around, I noticed something of which I thought it had gone out of fashion, taste (and therefore production) thirty years ago: Angel Delight dessert in strawberry, chocolate and vanilla flavour. I remember Rowena, my lovely English hostess, making bowls and bowls of the stuff to still her teenage language students’ hunger! She changed flavours regularly, but it soon became clear that strawberry was everybody’s favourite. I seem to remember that there was an enticing commercial on ITV in the seventies to promote the dessert, which was very popular at the time.

Of course, I bought a package at Stonemanor… and surprised my mother with a fluffy, pink and extremely sweet bowl of Angel Delight for dessert on Sunday. It was perfect after a light yet tasty lunch of mozzarella and tomatoes, followed by grilled chicken wings, marinated in Japanese Teriyaki sauce, with roasted potatoes and a fresh and crispy lettuce with shredded spring onions and olive oil.

My mother said that eating Angel Delight was like biting into a airy and sweet summer cloud!

A crock of gold?

This time last year, we had July-like temperatures. In fact, it was abnormally warm and dry! This year is quite different. It's too cold for the time of year - hardly 10°C. It's cloudy, windy and raining on and off. In fact, really like a traditional month of April should be: rain, sun, showers, wind and even some hail. But we're not used to it anymore. So everybody is complaining.

Recent view from my kitchen window.

 

However, these notorious April showers have an unexpected and 'oooh' so beautiful side-effect: a splendid rainbow against a menacing dark sky. I wish I could find the crock that is at the end of it! Don't you?

PS: I forgot to mention that the awful electric cable that is spoiling the view, will soon be gone because all cables are to go underground. Great!

A birthday lunch

On Friday, April 13th, my friend and I enjoyed a belated birthday lunch at ' Ludwig's', our local restaurant, 'table d'hôtes' style. I've posted about this restaurant before, mentioning that it's small and only has room for maximum 20 clients. The restaurant features an open kitchen, where the chef - Ludwig - prepares your order for all to see. It's a real restaurant, not a snack-bar or café, with lots of copper pots, fresh and top-class ingredients and an excellent service provided by Ludwig's wife, Chris.

Chris and I are old friends. Although she's two years younger than I am, we used to live on the same street and every day, during our primary school years, we walked to school together: once in the morning, back home for lunch, back to school after lunch and back home at the end of our schoolday.

This time Chris was particularly interested in what I'm doing for a living. During a previous visit I had mentioned that I was 'in marketing'. This time she asked me for advice. The restaurant opened 5 years ago and she was looking for a means to attract more customers for weekday lunches. The restaurant is doing extremey well in the evening and on weekends, but during the week business is rather slow at lunchtime. 

As there is a large commercial and industrial zone nearby, she was looking for a marketing idea to attract the managers of the companies that are located there to come to the restaurant and enjoy a nice business lunch. I gave her some ideas and told her to contact me again if or when she needed some help to write a catchy invitation.

However, I think the following photos are enough to attract a crowd, don't you?

I had the 'Coucou de Malines' (Coucou being a local chicken breed), stuffed with 'foie gras', served with a delicate potato and vegetable mash and a glossy honey sauce.

My friend had roasted pigeon with finely cut and steamed veggies and a 'gratin dauphinois'.

Dessert was a so-called 'Colonel', a pear sorbet, floating in 'Poire William' liqueur - strong, yet delicious and utterly digestive stuff!

We had a fine bottle of white Menetou Salon wine from the southern Loire region. A delectable meal ... that needs no further recommendation or marketing action in my opinion. What do you think?

Back to 1999

Looking at the results of last Monday’spoll, I’m glad to see that the antler room won. Because that’s what it is: a shot of the antler room at the Château de Cheverny. I suppose it’s not an ecologically correct photo, because there are hundreds of antlers – big and small – hanging on the wall and the ceiling of this room –after giving their lives from man’s pleasure. But it certainly is impressive.

As I mentioned before, I made this photo during my very first Loire Valley trip in 1999. Being new to the region, we did everything by the (tourist) book: Chambord, Chenonceau, Cheverny … It was all very enriching an overwhelming. No wonder we returned year after year … 12 consecutive years to be precise. 2011 would have been our 13^th visit, but we skipped it, fearing that it would bring bad luck (lol). 

So this year’s visit will technically be our 14^th! I know it’s cheating, but it’s done in many countries in the world where hotels don’t have a 13^th floor.

But back to the antler room at Cheverny. When I came across the photo last week, I had some difficulties remembering where I took it. But then I found this photo in the same badge.

It’s a younger and blond version of me posing in front of the giant cedar tree in the grounds of Cheverny. It’s the same tree that Ken posted about here, when he did several posts on Cheverny last March. His visit and photos date from 2004, five years after our visit.

When you walk into the antler room your eyes are immediately drawn to the walls and the ceiling, the sight of the antlers being really overwhelming. You tend to forget to look down, until you almost stumble over the room’s main attraction. A large and ferocious looking crocodile – stuffed of course, but nevertheless looking very much alive and ready to devour the first tourist that comes within reach. If my memory serves me right, there are other hunting trophies hanging on the walls: wild boar, lion, buffalo … The masters of Cheverny didn’t limit their hunting to the castle grounds!

During that first and only visit we also went to see the dog pack. It was mid-afternoon and therefore too early to witness the famous ‘soupe des chiens’. This year I’m planning our day in such a way that we’ll in Cheverny around 3.30 p.m. This will give us sufficient time to visit the château and the grounds before the dogs’ supper at 5 p.m. It’ll be a first for me and my friends. Something to look forward to!

The two other photos I posted on Monday were the Château of Ussé, a.k.a. ‘Sleeping Beauty’s castle’ and the entrance to the Clos Lucé in Amboise where Leonardo Da Vinci spent the last years of his life. I may do a post on these later as they are also on this year’s to-do list.

Looks like we’re having a party !

That’s right; today we have a genuine reason to throw a small party. Nothing fancy, just some nice cakes and a bottle of Champagne. The occasion? My 55^th birthday. I could use Ken’s gimmick and call it my 5 x 11^th birthday, but I’m not sure I want to be eleven again … not in this day and age anyway.

55 sounds like such a distinguished age, although 45 years ago you were considered as being really old when you were over 40. I particularly remember this because on Monday I heard on the radio that a woman in our village was celebrating her 100^th birthday. It turned out my former 4^th class teacher, Miss Rosa. I was 10 when I was in her class in 1967 and I know that we always thought of her as ‘old’ and ‘severe’. The poor woman was hardly 45 at the time. So what does this make me today? 

Miss Rosa was one of these matron type teachers; always perfectly dressed, with her hair nicely set in a then fashionable beehive. She was very popular in the village and taught three generations of girls, starting with my mother, my classmates and my classmate’s daughters.

Clock-wise, starting at 9 o'clock: tutti-frutti, buttercream, raspberry bavarois, merveilleux (meringue), strawberries, profiterolls (at 6 o'clock ... but I'm not going to wait that long to eat it).

There is a sad, and yet intriguing story to her life. Her mother had died giving birth to Rosa and her father, a handsome cavalry officer, had been killed in action in WWI when Rosa was hardly 2 years old. She was raised by a wealthy local childless family, but was never legally adopted. Unlike other orphans in those days who were often ill-treated by ‘foster’ parents, Rosa received a good education and became a schoolteacher. As I said, she was considered as being very severe, but looking back, I must admit that she was the best teacher I’ve ever had. In fact, I think I acquired my love for languages and writing in her class.  

At the same time she let us’ be children’. Every week a pupil was invited to bring her pet animal to school and tell the others about it. She then taught us more about the animal. A fun and yet enriching way to have a biology class. 

Today Miss Rosa lives in a retirement home. From what I’ve heard, her mind is still as sharp as ever and she’s much loved by the other inmates.

To Miss Rosa: “Congratulations on your 100^th birthday! These tulips are for you.”

Preparing my 2012 Loire Valley trip

Today I've mailed a draft of our 2012 Loire Valley trip to my Swedish travelling companions Mats and Vera.

The draft is the result of a scrupulous examination of 10 years of photos, shot during my many visits to the region since 1999. Here are some photos of that first trip. Now it's your turn to decide what I should write about.

See the Poll in the sidebar? Well, just click the photo you want to know more about. The poll is completely anonymous. So, if you're a regular visitor, but never have left a comment, you can now safely mark your choice! Come on, don't be shy and go ahead!

You have till noon Wednesday, April 11th, to play the game ... I admit that the photos are of poor quality, but they are over 12 years old after all ...

BTW, for those of you who are familiar with the area, you may have a go at naming the different locations!

Happy Easter!

To all my readers out there: 'Happy Easter'!

Care to know what we will be having for lunch tomorrow? Well, we'll start off with 'oeufs brouillés au saumon fumé' (creamy scrambled eggs with smoked salmon). Followed by a nice and juicy veal cutlet with Piccalilli sauce, boiled potatoes and a mixed salad with a simple dressing of olive oil (extra virgine) and some coarse sea salt and pepper. No vinegar, because the Piccalilli will supply the required acidity.

And then we'll finish our meal with one of these ...

... a 'bird's nest'.

'Vrolijk Pasen' = Happy Easter.

This traditional Belgian Easter cakes comes in different sizes: from individual portions (like this one) to 25 to 30 cm diameter specimen that will serve 8 to 10 people. The pastry is an airy cake. The topping can be vanilla flavoured whipped cream or butter cream (like the one in the photo). It comes in vanilla, 'moka' (coffee) and 'praliné' (toffee? - someone correct me if I'm wrong, please). The cream is dressed in such a way that it looks like the twigs that make up a bird's nest.

On top of the cake, protected by the creamy twigs, you'll find some colourful sugar mini-eggs waiting ... to be eaten. Bon appétit!

At the carwash

Although this 1976 soul music single by Rose Royce is one of the most notable successes of the disco era, it has never been a favourite song of mine. In fact, I’ve never really been into disco, despite the fact that I was a disco-age teenager.

I’m an avid supporter of carwashes though. Living in a first floor apartment, washing my car by hand is a bit of a hassle. Washing it in the street in front of the apartment complex involves a serious health hazard, with cars and lorries flashing by at hardly a meter to spare. There is a 50 km/h speed limit, but on ‘quiet’ weekend days, most drivers tend to ignore it. During the week, traffic is much denser and therefore slower, but you stand the risk of being asphyxiated by the car fumes. Washing the car in the yard behind the building where the garage boxes are located could be another option, but due to the location of my new garage, I’m bound to bloc the way for people coming in or going out.

Monday was a beautiful spring day!

(roof of the carwash tunnel)

So the most obvious alternative is the carwash. There are three within 3 km from my home. I tend to choose the one which is furthest away, because of its easy access, soft brushes and since recently … a free pre-wash Kärcher clean of the wheel hubs and undercarriage, carefully executed by a young man who wants to make some extra pocket money with the tips he’s given.

My car getting a personal beauty treatment.

When I arrived at the carwash station last Monday afternoon there were already three cars waiting in line. The first was being sprayed down by the young man and soon disappeared in the tunnel where the brushes set to work. I had ample time to get the required card that sets the machine to work. In order not to loose my place in the queue, I parked my little car behind the last car in the line and walked over to the office to pay and get the required card. It was a nice and sunny day and it was lovely to be outside.

By the time I returned the young man was busy spraying the next vehicle in line. I removed the radio antennae and waited until it was my turn. I stood around, watched the traffic go by and the planes overhead, making there approach to land at nearby Brussels Airport. At this particular spot, the planes come in really low and you can see the faces of the people behind the porthole windows. Although the noise can be really deafening, the sight of these huge steel birds gently gliding down from the sky is very impressive and amazing.

Almost done ...

Finally, it was my turn to drive my car into the tunnel. When I saw the soft brushes moving over its roof and sides, I could almost hear it purring … When the machine had finished its job, the young man gave the windows and rear-view mirrors an extra dry rub. And there it was, my little car, sparkling like new … except for the scratch on its left ‘buttock’, caused by a pillar that had jumped up behind my car when I was manoeuvring in the underground parking at the office.

The winter grime and dirt had conveniently covered the damage, but now it was there for all to see. It’s only a scratch on the plastic part of the car. There is no damage to the metal body, and therefore no risk of rust forming. Next week my car is in for service and a change of tires (back to regular tires after five months of winter tires). I’ll ask the mechanic if there is a way to camouflage the scratch without re-spraying the entire body.

Saved by 'Junior'?

My internet connection is back! And so am I. Thank you all for your kind comments and sticking with me during my absence. Don’t ask me what went wrong, because I guess it was one of these IT mysteries that happen for no reason at all. 

On Wednesday evening, after coming home from the office, the first thing I did was to switch on my computer, hoping that the internet connection had miraculously returned … but it hadn’t. So I changed into some comfortable clothes and slippers, poured myself a cool beer and dialled the dreaded telephone number of my internet provider. I went through the usual number pushing and was put on hold … Not for long though. At first I was surprised, but then I remembered that the major Belgian call centres had signed a SLA (meaning ‘lettuce’in Dutch/Flemish!!!) a.k.a. Service Level Agreement with the government and customer associations), promising a waiting time of maximum 5 minutes.

Spring (is) was in the air.
A cold spell (with frost and snow on Wednesday) is coming.

The girl on the other end of the line asked a lot of questions, tested my telephone line and confirmed that everything was working as it should. At her request I ran to and fro my laptop checking whether there was any improvement. There wasn’t. After ten minutes, I could feel she was getting desperate. “Hold the line, please”, she asked and I was treated to the same dull waiting tune again. She hadn’t said what the next step was. Was she checking another technical device? Was she asking advice from a colleague? Had she given up? Or was she attending to another caller who had been hanging on for 5 minutes?

I’ll never know the answer, because after another 10 minutes a man picked up the phone and enquired how he could help me. I repeated the whole story. Luckily he came up with some news possible solutions. Apparently he had been briefed by the girl about my problem and was going through the second part of the ‘procedure’, probably called ‘desperate cases’. He was very helpful, I must admit, but when he started saying that I should surf to the technical page of my modem and check all 13 available channels – I was currently on channel 3 – I couldn’t help chuckling. Surf to the internet page of my modem? Using what? A surfboard??!! He was kind enough to give me the identification number of the connection, making it easier for me.

If changing channels didn’t help I should change the modem position in the room, because – according to my contact – the waves that the modem was emitting (and it was, according to him) could easily be redirected by an object obstructing their passage. “Have you repainted your living room recently”, he enquired. I beg your pardon! Had my internet guy suddenly turned into an interior decorator? Apparently there had been a customer who, after repainting his living room with a metal paint, had lost his internet connection … Oh well, why not.

As a last solution he offered the possibility of changing the modem (for free), but first I needed to test all the other options. I doubted that there was something wrong with the modem, because my digital television which runs on the same modem, was working. I thanked the man for his help, and sat down to think for a while. How could I check the channels if I had no internet connection? Then I remember that I had an old internet cable somewhere; from the time I lived in my former apartment and still had a desktop computer. I dug it up from some unpacked moving box in the cellar, got out young ‘Junior’ (my net book, remember). The cable connection seemed to work and I was able to surf to the required paged. Checking all 13 channels took a lot of time, but didn’t offer a solution. So I safely set the connection on channel 3 again and went to bed, ‘internet-less’.

The whole situation stayed status-quo, until last night when  I turned on the laptop, in a last desperate attempt before picking up a new modem today. And yes, there it was … my wireless connection, as strong as ever!

P.S. Why didn’t I use my internet cable connection all this time? Simply because it required lying flat on stomach with young ‘Junior’ connected to the modem … not a very comfortable position at my age.