In the name of the rose

Did you see the film? I didn’t. I started watching it one night when, several years after its release, it was broadcasted on television. As it was a windy autumn night, a bit like the weather we are having right now, I found the dark, semi-mystic and often grotesque characters a bit too much for comfort, and I changed channels after only thirty or so minutes.  

That doesn’t change the fact that I love roses (and orchids), in whatever colour they come in, despite the fact that receiving yellow roses from your partner means that he/she is cheating on you. At least that is what I’ve been told. I can’t confirm it though. 

The Loire Valley has some famous rose gardens, and we have visited some of them in the past: Le Chemin des Roses at Doué-la-Fontaine, the Prieuré St. Cosme near Tours, where they have a brilliant orange rose called Louis de Funès after the famous French comedian of Spanish origin, the Château de la Châtonnière near Azay-le-Rideau …

This summer we didn’t visit any rose gardens, but I did bring ‘some’ of the Loire Valley roses home with me. While my friends Mats and Vera were visiting the second part of the Garden Festival of Chaumont, I browsed through the gift shop. Apart from some splendid postcards, which I'm keeping for upcoming special occasions, I bought a bottle of Rose Syrup. It has been sitting in my kitchen cupboard for the last three months, until last Saturday when I opened it to pour some of the pink nectar in a bowl mixing it with plain organic yoghurt and a handful of fresh red berries … the result was heaven, pure heaven; no sugar or other ingredients needed. I wonder if I can get rose syrup in Belgium? Time to investigate …

A new baby in a small world

Last June, at Susan and Simon’s barbecue party, I met a charming young Belgian couple, Caroline and Alexander and their cute daughter Florence. During the summer months – from May to September – they reside in Southern Touraine where they run a beautiful chambers hôtes located in an exquisite castle near the town of La Roche Posay.  

Susan and Simon run ‘Loire Valley TimeTravel’, a unique concept of driving and guiding tourists around La Touraine in their elegant 1950-ties Citroën Traction Avant, lovingly called ‘Célestine’. They occasionally pick up clients who stay at A. and C.'s Château Valcreuse and have become friends with Alex and Caroline. 

When we met at the party, Caroline was pregnant with a little brother or sister for Florence. The baby was expected to make its appearance early September. During the barbecue we got acquainted and found out that we had a common acquaintance: a young woman called I., who’s a colleague of mine and who at one point in 2008 almost became my direct manager. As she works in our Antwerp office we only meet occasionally, and we do not have any or very projects in common. However, we do work in the same company and the same department. A. and C. being I.’s long-time friends and me knowing the latter, once again showed that this is really a very small world ...

During lunch, A. and C. were seated next to Mats and Vera, and one thing led to another. When we left S and S’s house around 7 p.m. my travelling companions immediately headed out to La Poche Posay, to honour A. and C. invitation to visit their ‘château d’hôtes’ and to have a night-cap together.

From left to right: Alexander, Vera, Caroline
and Mats with Florence sitting on his lap.

When we arrived, we were clearly expected. We were given the grand tour of a castle too beautiful for words. The castle has a lot of character. The rooms are exquisite and cosy and a lot of attention has been put into details, comfort and a warm welcome. After the tour, we were invited to sit in the park – not a garden!! – to enjoy a drink and some nibbles. We had a lovely time, with a lively conversation and little Florence providing the entertainment. 

It wasn’t until about six weeks ago that I ran into I. – A. and C. friend at the coffee machine in our Brussels’ office. I told her about our meeting and asked whether C. had had the baby yet. I.’s answer was negative but she promised to give her friends my regards and to let me know when the baby was born.

Yesterday, I was back at the coffee machine – a place I rarely visit, but with the imminent reorganization of our department (more about that later), I try to partake in social office life as much as possible to pick up the ‘bruits de couloir’ (office gossip) in a poor attempt to learn what ‘ordeal’ is awaiting us. I was so engulfed in this gossip that I almost failed to notice I. who was making big waving signs at me, while waiting for her coffee to come out of the machine. “I’ve heard from A. and C.” she said. “The baby was born last week. It’s a boy, called A. “(not after his father, in case that is what you were thinking … 

Alexander and Caroline, I don’t know if you read my blog, but if you do: Congratulations on the birth of baby boy A.!! I’m sure Florence will enjoy having a little brother around in your lovely château! Thanks again for the warm welcome you gave us in June and I hope we’ll have a chance to meet again in Belgium or France!

A weekend puzzle

Yesterday I went shopping at 'Stonemanor', the all-British store. They carry the most delicious organic yoghurt from 'Rachel's' and both my mother and I are hooked on it. My favourites are the plain version and the vanilla flavoured yoghurt, while my mother loves the one with bite-size pieces of rhubarb.

Being on my own, I had ample time to browse around and, as usual, bought more than I actually needed ... like this bright green kitchen utensil. Any idea what it is. It's an American 'invention' (Seattle) and ... Made in China (where else?).

Good luck and enjoy your weekend!

The difference a decade makes

It’s been over three months now since I returned from my 2012 trip to the Loire Valley. It was a memorable experience, travelling with my Swedish friends, sharing my favourite spots with them and meeting all the lovely people I’ve come to know thanks to this blog. Every visit, encounter, moment, experience was unique and excellent in its own way … except one, perhaps!  

Ages ago – I think it was in 2000 or 2001 – we visited the ‘Festival des Jardins’ at the site of the castle of Chaumont-sur-Loire. It was a marvellous experience: the 20-or-so gardens were amazing, surprising, often funny and sometimes shocking. The best part however was lunch at the ‘Comptoir Méditerranéen’. It proposed a lunch ‘à volonté’ (as much as you can eat) at the fixed price, including: 

-          An unusual and healthy aperitif of poppy, tomato and carrot juice.

-          A ‘select your own’ choice of fresh veggies, pasta and condiments, wok-fried before your very eyes by three or four professional chefs.

-          And an organic dessert.

-          A nice bottle of local red, white or rosé wine that could be purchased separately. 

At the time, on arrival and after having paid for your meal and wine and collecting your aperitif, you were shown to your table under an outdoor marquee, where a large jar of pickled tomatoes and onions, a basket of baguette slices, a bottle of olive oil and two sets of plastic (the only disappointing feature of the whole meal) cutlery were waiting for you. Your ‘waiter’ opened the bottle of wine for you, which was served in real glasses. He informed you that the tomatoes and onions and baguette were your starter and that you were free to eat as much as you liked. When you had finished your starter, you were invited into the main hall where you could take a pick of the ingredients you wanted for your wok. The result was a succulent, completely personalized meal … fresh and full of flavours. You wanted a second or third helping? No problem, you picked up another (not plastic) plate, picked more ingredients and asked one of the chefs to wok them for you… Btw, we only had one helping, enjoying every bite of it.   

It was a great concept that I really wanted to share with my Swedish friends. However, it turned that the concept had been drastically revised over the years. This is what we got …

 

An almost tasteless veggie aperitif in a plastic cup … 

An insipid veggie mix in a ‘design’ container …our starter … 

Italian wine (mind you, it was OK, but why serve Italian wine in a region that has its own AOC?) in a screw-top bottle.

 

 

A choice out of four or five pre-cooked pasta dishes served on bamboo-looking (made of plastic) dishes. 

 

The worst were the plastic wine-beakers, which we later managed to exchange for some real ‘dishwasher-tired’ glasses.
 

The best thing was the organic strawberry ice-cream dessert, which we had to fetch ourselves from an industrial freezer. By then I had given up taking photos! 

An attempt to blend in

When in France, the thing I hate most is being identified as a tourist. I always try to blend in, although the camera and hip bag are unmistakable give-aways. Apart from those two indispensable attributes I try to look and behave like the locals. As long as I don’t say a word, I seem to get away with it … especially when ‘real’ tourists start asking me for directions. As soon as I open my mouth though, my Belgian accent becomes the third give-away.

Amboise's pedestrian shopping street
and the famous 'Tour de l'Horloge'.

 

Last June, in an attempt to look the part, I left Mats and Vera to explore the Tour d’ Herbault and the gardens of Amboise castle on their own, while I made my way down the main stairs to the town centre to do something I have been dreaming of for a very, very long time: buy a newspaper, find a nice seat on the sidewalk terrace of the 'Café du Château’ at the foot of the castle ... and watch the world (tourists) go by, reading the paper and enjoying a pre-luncheon drink.

I would have preferred a newspaper with a different front page:
French troops leaving Afghanistan!

It worked out just fine and I had a very ‘French’ feeling sitting there, having a short chat with the waiter and acting as if this were my daily routine. It felt sooooo good! While I was sitting there, the 'tourist train' drove by ...

Jean, this one is for you! I know you like these little trains.
It wasn't very successful that day, though.

The only thing missing to complete my staging, was a baguette lying on the table … showing that I had been shopping for my daily lunch.