A village full of recipes...

You don't have to go far in my little village before you are offered a recipe of one kind or another. Whether it's in the boucherie while you are buying a cut of meat, or at the weekly market buying artichokes, or while you are having a chat with one of the local hunters you pass on the street, chances are somewhere along the line you will be given a recipe for something.

Like the weather in England, food is the subject that more often than not figures in almost every conversation I have with the locals. People talk about what they've eaten or what they are planning to eat as a matter of course. Who needs an online meal planner when a simple walk through the village will produce enough inspiration for a month of dinners?

I've just returned from my after dinner walk with the dogs. As I walked through the village with the sun setting on yet another sweltering day, I noticed the figs ripening in the trees and the towers of runner beans bursting in the alotment gardens. A few apricots remain in trees that haven't been harvested yet, and the smell of barbeques wafted on the air like Autumn chimney smoke.

But little did I know that further ahead there was a bikinin-clad, garden-watering grandmother lying in wait to give me inspiration for tomorrow night's dinner....

As I passed the grandparent's house of one of the little ladies' friends, I noticed Martine watering her borders wearing her lime green and black spotted bikin. She gave me a wave and made me promise not to tell her husband, Francois, that she was seen watering half-naked. We got to talking about swimsuits and bikinis, and how hard it is to stay slim, which of course naturally steered the conversation to food.

I mentioned that we'd just finished off our dinner with camembert with sage leaves cooked on the barbeque and eaten with a whole baguette, which of course prompted her to give me one of her recipes: half a baguette with tomato and camembert, topped with pruneaux, and grilled gently on the barbeque.

We both patted our stomachs, made little miam miam noises, and waved goodbye. Guess what we will be having for starters tomorrow night.....

5 random things...

1. There’s only so much a girl can do with a strawberry. We’ve eaten them piled high in bowls with sugar on top, eaten them with ice cream, made a strawberry mousse with them, and a strawberry tart, and I’m tempted to introduce the little ladies to strawberry milkshakes. Is there some other strawberry delicacy I’m missing out on? I love the fact that here in France we are able to eat so seasonally, but at this stage in the game, I wake up in cold sweats thinking I’ve morphed into either a giant, juicy strawberry or a spiky green spear of asparagus. Bring on cherry season already!

2. I’m wondering if 60 euros is too much to pay to see a band I vaguely recollect from childhood and one that would force me to dig out my dangly gold earrings and possibly my legwarmers. Depeche Mode are playing in Carcassone in June at the open-air arena and part of me is tempted. If it was, say, The Cure, I certainly wouldn’t have hesitated this long in buying a ticket. But Depeche Mode? Twenty years on? I’m wondering if they will end up being like Kraft Mac n Cheese for me. I have fond memories, but I'd like to think I’ve moved on a bit since then.

3. I’m getting a bit freaked out with some of my clients who come looking for houses feeling under the weather. Should I interrogate them on which countries they’ve visited recently, say Mexico, for example? Maybe I should start wearing a face mask when I go to appointments. I managed to escape the foot and mouth outbreak and the bird flu, I don’t want it to be the bloody swine that get me.

4. Time to start swimsuit shopping again. One expense they don’t tell you to figure in when having a baby is the amount you will spend on buying a new wardrobe for the next 4 years as your body decides which size it’s actually going to stick at. I now own swimsuits in every size, ranging from an obviously-before-babies triangle bikini in a color that would make people look at me, to one piece affairs that range from nothing-to-see-here to possibly-something-to-see, but certainly-not-that-bit-in-the-middle. This year I need one of those cut-out suits, the ones that let you see a bit of the middle, but definitely not that wrinkly bit around the belly button. Anyone seen one of these miracle suits anywhere?

5. I think I’m going through Paris withdrawl. Every year, for the last 4, I’ve taken the train up to Paris twice a year for a little ‘me' time. I love my little village here in the south, but occasionally I need reminding that French culture is made up of more than shooting wild boar or riffling through people’s junk at a vide grenier. I need some action, of the Parisian people watching, art-exhibiting, and just generally bigger city kind. I told myself this year that I would head for Madrid for a long weekend instead, but you know, Paris is just a bit like that. She sucks you in, and no matter how hard you try to pretend you are so over her, you see something in a magazine or see a number 75 license plate and you can’t help but think fondly of her. Maybe I should go check out the train fares….

Trish Deseine...

My shelves in the kitchen are groaning under the weight of all the cookbooks I've accumulated over the years. From Delia to Nigella, the Barefoot Contessa to Gordon Ramsay and Elizabeth David, I have a good collection of recipes, full of old favorites and inspiration for when I fancy trying something new.

The problem I have with the various cookbooks is that all the measurements are different (some ounces, some grams, some cups, etc.), and of course, most of these are in English, which means I have to find the French equivalent for some of the ingredients (corn syrup, molasses, shortening come to mind as hard to find sometimes.).

So I thought I'd go on the lookout for some French recipe books to add to my collection. Imagine my surprise when I found out that the queen of French cookery writing is actually an Irish woman called Trish Deseine. I'm sure some of you may of heard of her already as she has published several bestselling cookery books and has made a few cookery programs, but I guess I must have been hiding under a rock while all of this was happening; I had no idea.

An Irish woman who moved to Paris in the 80's to marry her French partner, Trish apparently started taking cooking seriously to prove herself to her French in-laws. (For those of you married to Frenchmen, I can only imagine how daunting it must have been to cook for your in-laws for the first time!)

Over the years, she became more and more serious about it and was eventually approached by a French publisher who asked her to write a cookery book. Her first book, Petits Plats Entre Amis appeared in 2001, and she's written 6 further best-selling books in French, writes a bimonthly cookery column for French Elle, won various French cookery prizes, and is now being published in English, with Trish's French Kitchen.

Think I might have to try Je Veux du Chocolat!, nothing like judging a book by its cover!

The secret is out...

As I stand at the school gates waiting to pick the little ladies up for lunch, I can't help feeling proud of how well they've integrated. I watch as they run around with their friends, playing games and jabbering away in French, oblivious to the fact that they are cross-cultural kids- part American, part English, French-born.

But as the gates open and the kids come spilling out for lunch, I know that underneath their outward appearances of being just like any of their French friends, there lies a dirty little secret. Because while their friends head home to eat a hot, homemade 3- course lunch, my girls will come home to a very different plat du jour.

A normal school day lunch chez nous usually consists of a sandwich (with pb&j being the preferred choice), some fruit, some cheese, maybe some cold ham, and a handful of nuts or Bugles. If I'm feeling a bit indulgent, they may get a bowl of hot soup, but this is usually the extent of a 'hot lunch' at our house.

You see, I guess old habits die hard. The light lunch, big dinner habits of my lifetime are being passed onto my kids, even though we are living in the world of eating lunch like a Prince, dinner like a pauper. I just can't seem to shake my ingrained belief in the notion that it is really a full, hot dinner that forms the cornerstone of a good day.

Dinner is given an incredible amount of thought in our house, from finding new recipes to looking forward to what's for dinner each night. Lunch, not so much. And I know, I know, it is so much healthier to eat the French way, it just seems to be one of the hardest habits from the old country to kick.

The other mothers haven't discovered our awful secret yet. Play dates at our house are conveniently scheduled for either the morning up until lunch, or for the afternoon directly after lunch. I'm too worried that the secret of what we eat for lunch will get out and sweep the village. Oh, the shame of it.

I know my children eat well. While their lunch might not be hot or extravagant, it's usually well-balanced and wholesome. But am I doing a disservice to them, raising them in France but serving them an American lunch?

The best part of waking up...

Although I think I've mastered the art of ordering coffee in cafés, I'm still struggling to find a great coffee to use at home. So this is a plea for all you coffee drinkers out there who live in France- I need some suggestions for good ground coffee (I use a Krupps espresso machine). What's your favorite brand? And please don't tell me about a coffee that can only be bought in Paris, that would just be cruel!

What Christmas means to me...

I'm well-aware of the real meaning of Christmas, shop til you drop and see how many useless gifts you can give and receive, and I've even heard some people say it's a religious holiday.

Chez moi, my personal belief is that Christmas is a time to eat. And to eat well. So in the spirit of Christmas, I thought I'd share with you some of my favorite French Christmas food.

Don't worry, I'm sure the following recipe is incredibly low in fat.

Happy Thanksgiving...

My fellow Americans- I'll be thinking of you all today as you eat lots of pie and fight over who has to do the dishes. I will be celebrating turkey day with a Sri Lankan duck curry this evening. Not quite the same thing as an all-you-can-eat turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie fest, but it will have to do. And while you are all lolling around on the sofa after eating, watching football and playing board games, I'll be picking up the kids from school and carrying on like any other day. Because it is just any other day here in France.

I haven't celebrated this holiday properly for over 15 years now. It used to be my favorite day of the year (besides my bday, of course). But away from all the family and outside of the States, it kind of loses its essence for me. Sure, I can make a pumpkin pie and I can buy Ocean Spray cranberry sauce, but without American friends and family around, it just doesn't seem to work.

I get a little homesick on this day every year, and no matter how long I live abroad, I'm not sure that will ever truly stop happening. So, enjoy yourselves today and have a extra dollop of whip cream for me!

Sloppy Joe....

With all the 'Joes' that have been making headlines lately, and the fact that I can't seem to think about anything but food at the moment, is it any wonder that last night I went to bed craving a sloppy joe?

I haven't eaten a sloppy joe in more than 15 years. It just doesn't figure on any menu here in France. It's been so long, but I can still remember how much I used to love them, specially with mustard and potato chips on top, under the bun.

Then I started to think that maybe sloppy joe would fit into the category of food that I thought I really missed, but if I were to eat it again I'd realize that actually, I don't really have the taste for it anymore. Other food in this category would include- kraft macaroni and cheese, cheeseburger helper, dominoes pizza, canned hormel chili, kraft slices, cheese whiz, and apple jacks.

My palette has obviously moved on from my days of eating white trash food, I guess. And that old saying 'you can never go back' would apply certainly to the garbage I ate growing up. But I'm not entirely certain I need to be so harsh with sloppy joe. I mean, you did have to put real hamburger into it.

I think I'll spare one of the last nostalgic food memories I have of my life in the States by never eating a sloppy joe again. This way, I can dream about them when going to bed, and never have to face the reality that they actually were never 'all that'... (plus, shouldn't I be embarrassed to have ever eaten anything called a 'manwich'?

Good food....

We have friends staying from Scotland for a couple of weeks and we've been eating incredibly well.
Even though summer is over, we are still in plentiful supply of regional, seasonal goodies.

We've been nibbling on lucques olives, walnuts from our tree, clementines and cherry tomatoes, and each night we've been gorging ourselves with things like goat's cheese, apple tart and apple crumble, late season mackerel and sardines, and wild boar sausage.

On tonight's menu: toasted goat's cheese salad with walnuts and creamy mustard dressing, duck à l'orange with haricots verts and roasted potatoes and creme brulée.

The local Faugères wine goes really well with the duck, now I just need to find a white to go with the salad. I'm thinking a local Picpoul de Pinet might be perfect.....

Mouthwatering reading...

I was looking through my books today and realized, not surprisingly, that I have an awful lot of books about France and French food. I also have alot of books on Russia and the cold war, but that's a whole other obsession....

I came across one of my all-time favorite books about French food, 'The Elusive Truffle' (originally published under the name 'A Spoon for Every Course'). I remember reading this book on a train from Worcester to Manchester and getting off the train feeling like I'd been transported to a different world. Exactly what a good book should do, but I was also ravenous, which is exactly how a great food book should make you feel.

The book is a mix of old-fashioned travel narrative, recipes and sweet illustrations. It follows the English author, Mirabel Osler, as she journeys through the country, searching for the legendary food of France. She meets restaurant owners and chefs, country folk and businessmen, all sharing the same passion- good food, where to find it, how to make it, and how to eat it.

The book evokes a sense of nostalgia for good French country cooking, served in rustic auberges, little cafés and road-side restaurants. They still exist in France, but now you have to look a little harder behind all of the Thai, tapas and 'trendy' restos that are so prevalent today, even in the French countryside.

If you enjoy reading about French cooking and could do with a little escapism, then this would be a good read for you. Unfortunately it looks like it might be out of print now, but seems like there are a few used copies going on amazon.

Good old-fashion home cooking....

Back to school with no tears, but amidst the usual chaos of not knowing which class or which teacher, or whether or not friends would be in the same room. I'm sure there is an easier way to organize la rentrée, but everyone else seems fine with how it goes, so who am I, the foreigner, to complain?

I'm sure I'll have plenty of new and quite possibly awkward experiences again this year, which will be the 4th year of the 'French village school experience', but I can say that it does feel a little bit more comfortable as the years go on. The little ladies are happy which is of course the most important bit.

What does make me happy each and every year returning to school is a glimpse of the cantine lunch menu. Considering my girls ate their weight in pb and j sandwiches for lunch this summer, it's nice to know they'll be back onto a proper French diet at school. Here's the menu for this week:

lundi-
carottes rapées aux germes de blé

omelette aux fines herbes

petits pois provençaux

emmenthal

bras de venus

mardi-
salade du terroir
saute de boeuf aux carottes
gratin de choux fleur
cantal
compote pomme/passion

jeudi-
friand au fromage
cuisse de poulet grillée
haricots verts à la provençale
yaourt nature
confiture de framboise

vendredi-
betteraves rouges en salade
cabillaud poche beurre noisette
boulgour à la grecque
vache qui rit
pêche au sirop

It's really only the vache qui rit that gives it away as a school menu, don't you think?

Bread, bread, everywhere...

Ugh!!! You'd think after 8 years I would have learned by now.

Sunday morning, middle of August, 11.55 am, small village boulangerie.

Mme Boulangère: Bonjour Madame.

Moi: Bonjour. Trois baguettes, s'il vous plait.

Mme Boulangère: Vous les avez reservés?

Moi: Ah, non.....

Mme Boulangère: Je n'en ai plus.

Moi: (Looking around at all the still warm, crusty baguettes standing in their baskets.) Ah bon? D'accord...

Mme Boulangère: Il faut le reserver le dimanche matin pendant la saison, Madame.

Moi: Bon bah, merci. Au revoir.

Mme Boulangère: Merci Madame, et bon dimanche!

Now, what do I serve the ten people coming for dinner tonight who will expect crusty baguette with their tomme de savoie, bleu d'auvergne and brie de meaux?

Must remember to write a yellow post it note for next Sunday's bread......

A little bit of what I love about being a parent in France...

Although it wasn't the only reason the Duke and I moved to the Languedoc in 2000, the idea of starting our family in France appealed to us, and made the permanent move feel more 'right'.

Now that the little ladies are 5 and 3, I'm able to appreciate the fact that we made the right decision. France is a wonderful place for families. Not a utopia, mind you, but a comfortable place for parents to watch their kids grow, and a place full of interest for the budding curiosities of the small ones.

Here, in no particular order, are some of the reasons why I love being a parent in France:

1. Children are still seen as a priority. They are important people here, right up there with the elderly. I think the ladies visit the retirement home in the village at least once a month with their school classes. This sort of respect is not only healthy and constructive, but socially imperative for community life.

2. Watching my children grow up bilingual must be right up there with the Seven Wonders of the World. I compare how long and hard I've struggled to have a working knowledge of French to the ease of them learning naturally, and I'm amazed on a daily basis how incredible their young minds are. Now we are at the point (already!) where they are correcting me, and even though I have a degree in French, I can see that the money my father spent on my education could never have bought me the accent and subtle knowledge of the language that they have already acquired. Surely this is one of the best gifts I could ever hope to give them.

3. We truly live in a beautiful place. Every time we turn a corner we are faced with another incredible landscape, whether it's the mountains behind us, the vineyards all around us, or the Mediterranean to the south of us. Biking, walking the dogs through the vines, throwing stones in the river, building sandcastles, watching the sun rise as we walk to school, these are some of the ways we appreciate where we live together. I'm pleased every single day with our simple life in our simple village, and I think the ladies are growing up in a wholesome environment. Will the simplicity one day cease to be seen as a plus? I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when and if we ever get there.....

4. When people ask us why we decided to live in France, my first response is always 'For the food!’ Of course the idea of transplanting yourself to a foreign country simply in order to eat well may sound a little crazy, but I place a huge level of importance on my food, which you would know if you ever saw me eat. And I'm happy to report that French schools think food is important too. The canteen menu reads like a page from a Michelin-starred restaurant, with dishes I would never even have thought of feeding my children, like salsify, blanquette de veau, braised cabbage, and turkey with chestnut sauce. Most meals are at least four courses, and all include some form of cheese or another, whether it's brie, blue cheese, goat's cheese or sheep's cheese. Not a Kraft single in sight! Some of the other English mothers I know send their kids to the canteen just so they can be introduced to new foods. There is a confidence here knowing that my kids are being fed well and hopefully in a way that will form a healthy love affair with food that will last their whole lives.

5. As an American, the fact that within a few hours driving time I can be in Spain, Italy or Germany is definitely a bonus of living in France. And the fact that the little ladies have already been to England, Italy, Spain, Corsica, and the Cote d'Azur on holiday reminds me of why I have always felt drawn to living in Europe. On our list of very next must sees are Morocco, Sicily, Sardinia and Madrid. I've always thought that travel is the best education a person can have, and I love the fact that my girls will have so many horizons opened up to them, unlike my fairly sheltered childhood. Who knows, they may well turn against travel later in life and become hometown girls, but at least they will have experienced other people and places and hopefully will have a more open mind when it comes to cultural differences. Lord knows we could all do with a bit more of that today!

6. As much as I feel settled in France now, feeling at home here like nowhere else in the world, there are still things that remind me that I'm not in Kansas anymore. Watching my kids run around on a summer's evening at the village fete, dancing under the trees to the sounds of the accordion with their friends, never fails to make me feel a little warm and fuzzy. Taking the oldest little lady to her Seveillana dance class in her traditional Spanish dress and watching her dance to the sounds of the Spanish guitar reminds me again of how important it has always been for me to live in a place surrounded by culture and tradition. I know that it's entirely possible that the girls will know the words to the Marseillaise before they will know the Pledge of Allegiance, or conversely that they would be perfectly within their rights to leave their parents in the 20's and install themselves half way round the world. But what excites me still about living in a foreign country is the fact that these options exist, making the world seem filled with endless possibilities.

Look, I know that any or all of the above experiences can be found in the States or in England, and don't get me wrong, I can be as patriotic as the next American. But what can I say, I love France, I feel happy being a mother in France, and for the time being, all is well in the Dukedom.

Now, if you thought this post was long, I won't scare you off with the list of things I'm not crazy about in France....... And I know it may sound a bit sappy, all of this, but I’m posting this for posterity’s sake. I may need reminding of these things from time to time!