A country life in France
It would be wrong not to admit that our digestive systems drew us to living in France
Imagine, if you will, a small village in South West France. Scarcely more than a hamlet, just a farm and a few houses. It sits astride a quiet Departmental road.
Yesterday, had you been driving along that D road you might have thought it a ghost village as you passed by. Doors closed, not a soul about. …
I need to report that Beetroot with Raspberry Vinegar is definitely A Thing. Over here it is rare to find raw beetroot. It mostly comes ready boiled, though not pre-packed. This is a bit of a shame as I do enjoy my beetroot roasted. However, it is highly convenient to be able to pick up a ready boiled beet and just skin and chop it for a salad. Tonight I conducted further experiments with the
We were out and about on Monday, to Limoges. We had hoped to buy a ladder in order to tackle the wasp nests in the roof but were unlucky. However, we were able to explore the Limoges branch of Grand Frais and to bring some goodies home. We also visited an Asian supermarket and treated ourselves to a steel wok. The heat was almost unbearable. We had the 12v cooler box but it wasn’t coping
I am exceedingly peeved that the photographs that I took of our beautiful supper are somehow not on my camera card. These wonderful tomatoes from Grand Frais were paired with a Burrata cheese from the same source. It was our first Burrata but it certainly will not be our last. In a simple salad with tomatoes and basil, drizzled with good olive oil and Balsamic vinegar, and served with a crusty bread – it was
Today’s focus has been mostly upon the kitchen, not least because a delivery team from Boulanger spent an inordinate amount of time in there when rehanging the freezer door. It was also far too hot to go outside for long and the kitchen is a relatively cool space in which to hang out. Our first task after the delivery van left was to switch on the freezer and ready it for filling. Task number two
A trip to the CPAM office in Poitiers brought about mixed results. Poitiers is the administrative centre for the Vienne and the centre was obviously very busy, far busier than the satellite in Montmorillon. We stood in the queue with sinking hearts and a recognition that a rendezvous was going to be needed… but it wasn’t. Once we had been directed to the correct queue a receptionist gave us a number, just like in Argos,
Our local supermarket, like all the others in France, sells an astounding array of alcohol, with some very good wines at exceptional prices. They also sell some very cheap and cheerful stuff. Without the heavy taxation of the UK, all the alcohol here seems like pretty good value but we are certainly not used to seeing wine on the supermarket shelves priced in the thirty/fifty pound bracket. So, quite a range… It gets better –
There are some expats in France who cling determinedly to their Britishness and their British habits, especially the dietary ones. Do not let the title of this post mislead you, I am not becoming one of those. Like many people, when I think of France I think very much of coffee (or café) and café culture. The French are a nation of coffee drinkers after all. Or are they? It turns out that the French