Courgette Season is Underway

We've already eaten one good-sized yellow courgette off our main plant. More are fattening up every day. This round one was bought on Friday at Lavelanet market. 

   I stuffed it with the usual sausage meat/tomato/courgette flesh mixture seasoned with herbes de Provence. While that was simmering away to reduce the liquid, I steamed four potatoes cut into quarters. Tossed with olive oil, lemon juice and lots of fresh rosemary, these went into the oven at the same time as the courgettes. 

  At Friday's market, I'd also picked up a big bunch of "Bright Lights" chard. About ten minutes before the courgette halves and potatoes were due to exit the oven, I brought a pan of water to boiling point. The chopped chard stems went in first; the shredded leaves a few minutes later. 

   Oh yes, it was good eaten in the garden as the temperature cooled, the sky grew dark and the level dropped in the rosé bottle.

Gaston has a Hygiene Problem

    There's no way to put this delicately. The first stage in the very long journey that begins with a fleece straight off a sheep and ends in a hand-knitted sweater begins with... Let's just say that sheep--and, to judge from the evidence, rams especially, and one ram in particular called Gaston--have little acquaintance with what in France is called papier hygiénique. Nor, come to that, do ewes. 

    Co-fleece-owner Amanda and I had the idea that we'd take our fleeces down to the communal village washing sinks where we thought one tap still worked. It didn't. So we decided to do the preliminary work (called "skirting") on her lawn.The first surprise was their size when we unrolled them. The second was that, even though they'd been tied up for almost a week, the fleeces didn't smell too dreadful when we opened the big garbage bags and tipped the contents on to the lawn. They definitely smelled but in a good, open air, country-ish, barnyard-y way. 

   Just as well or we might have abandoned the whole project. I'd downloaded TMI (Too Much Information) from the Internet. Amanda had printed it out so she was able to consult it as we dug our way through the fleeces coming upon large iridescent and very dead flies, and feeling (sensitive readers, skip the next section) for lumpy or crispy bits to remove. Needless to say, the cats thought they'd discovered the largest mother cat ever. 

Gaston and I Are About to Get Cozy

The back story. Last December, I met Gaston and les girls, a flock belonging to our Airstream-owning friends Perry and Coline. I asked them what happened to the fleeces. They said they gave them away to be used as insulation. I asked if I could have one. 

   Long story short. After yesterday's cricket match, Coline took me over to a giant, plastic-covered mound and pulled out Gaston's fleece which is dark and enormous (not unlike Gaston himself). We picked another soft, paler one for a friend who is also along on this project. Total beginners at this, she and I plan to wash, card, spin and--in my case--knit. Right now, Gaston's fleece is tied up in a very large black plastic bag. Information on-line suggests using washing-up liquid and a washing machine but I don't think it means the diminutive French washing machines which accommodate a few pairs of socks but not much more. If it came to a stand-off between Gaston and our Zanussi, I wouldn't bet money on the Zanussi. 

    I'll keep you posted.

Happy Days in the Garden

    I just came in from watering ours and a neighbour's garden. Being in full sun all day long, her squash plants are massive. Ours aren't doing too badly. The lettuces have been decimated by snails or slugs (try saying "decimated lettuces" after one too many verres de vin) but there is still enough for a week or two's worth of salads. The roquette (arugula) has already fed us three or four times. More seeds should go in soon to keep the harvest constant. The single tomato was a huge surprise. The yellow courgette was just big enough to pick. The red currants gleam like jewels in the low afternoon sun. 

   The odd-looking plant is a frisée that I planted last October and forgot about. It has shot up and is now displaying these pretty blue flowers.

Silly Mid On and Bowling Maiden Overs

     Anyone familiar with cricket is familiar with those terms. We're not that knowledgable (understatement) but always go to the matches at Belrepayre, our friends' house just north of Mirepoix because watching from the sidelines is just as much fun. 

    Straw bales defined the boundaries this afternoon. Teams represented the Ariège (us) and the Aude (the neighbouring departement). I can't remember who won but, at some point, cucumber sandwiches were passed around. Also beer. And blanquette. 

   

Feeling Blue (and Gorgeous Yarns)

The vide grenier at Dun on Sunday also promised crafts but I wasn't expecting to see a vat of woad simmering away, or some of the most glorious knitting yarns ever. 

  Behind both is Andie Luijkwho runs Renaissance Yarns (www.renaissancedyeing.com)

You can buy her totally wonderful yarns on-line, also kits for shawls which make me want to abandon all the reno work I'm supposed to be doing and just knit and knit. Joy of joys, it turns out she lives only a couple of villages away. 

  When someone offers free woad-dyeing, you immediately hare off in search of something white, cotton and preferably vintage. Voila! A blouse for a euro. As with indigo, anything tinted with woad only turns blue when it's exposed to air. Mine wasn't in the vat that long so it's very pale. 

A rip-roaring party on a hot Saturday afternoon.

    Friends Bill and Sally throw an annual--and enormous--party for about 100 in their garden in Aigues-Vives. The invitation read "noon to 6 p.m." We arrived late to find dozens of people already settled in around tables under the trees. On this staggeringly hot afternoon, straw hats were out in force. So were kids all the way from a babe in arms to early teens. 

    Christian, the local barbecue expert, turned out endless coils of Toulouse sausage, burgers and chicken wings. A table indoors was full to bursting with quiches, tartes, dips, salads, cheese, breads and, later, desserts. 

    Wine flowed. 

   Later in the afternoon, Alan, our choirmaster (just realized that I have yet to blog about the choir) had brought his guitar along. Cue an impromptu rehearsal. 

   Some went on to the lake for a swim. We came home and napped.