Baguettes are Yummy!

Without me knowing it, Xavier pulled a baguette out of the grocery bag this morning. I caught him walking around the house, chowing down on the still warm loaf. He's well on his way to being a true frenchman!

Birthday Boy

We celebrated Xavier's first birthday this week. We turned the weekly anglophone playgroup into a birthday party, and all his little english speaking friends spoiled him with gifts. We gave him the ceremonial first piece of cake, in this case it was a cupcake, and he managed to smear it into a wet paste. I am not sure any made it into his mouth, but he had a great time regardless. We had fun too-Monday night, we celebrated his birthday with Champagne, and reflected on the past year.

Speaking of reflection, this is my 100th post!! It will be interesting to see how many more posts I get in before we have to pack up and move away.

Culinary Jackpot

Gilles took part in his second vendanges (grape harvest) yesterday. It was the first pick of the grapes that go into making the dry Jurancon wine from our region. In a few weeks they will pick the grapes for the sweet Jurancon. After the picking was done, the group gathered for a snack and some wine. Gilles and one of the vineyard owners decided to skip out on the food and wine, and go foraging in the adjacent forest for cepes.

First, a little background on cepes. The Fall is mushroom season, and the French love to go foraging for mushrooms in their free time. The king of all mushrooms is the cepe. You are likely more familiar with the Italian variety called porcini, which are essentially the same thing, although would be a bit different because of terroir. Cepes do not travel well, and must be eaten soon after picked. They are not successfully cultivated, so must be found in the wild. Once the season begins, some people take holidays to go on a cepe hunt, selling their finds to restauranteurs and shops. Cepes are very expensive, and a fruitful forager stands to make a lot of money.

Cepes are found under acorn, chestnut, and beech trees. Apparently, the cepes found under beech trees have an even superior flavour an already sumptious fungus. Our region is well-known for cepes, and the most popular French way of eating them is cepes a la bordelaise (cepes made in the way from Bordeaux): simply sauteed in oil with garlic and parsley added at the end.

As you can see from the photos, Gilles and his co-forager were successful, each finding one cepe. When they returned to the group, everyone was shocked at their find, and started cheering. Several of the men instantly dropped their drinks, and headed out on their own search. Gilles was ecstatic-he wanted to call everyone that would appreciate his find, and share the news with them.

Gilles returned home with both of the large cepes, and now we have to figure out what to go with them. I am not concerned about the cooking, but the cleaning. They have bugs crawling in and out of their caps, and the spongy underside is a little intimidating with pieces of leaves and branches sticking out of it. But the collective enthusiasm of a nation of millions tells me it must be worth it. We shall see tonight.

A Weekend in Provence (Fourth Visit!)

Oh, how we love Provence. We spent three days there last weekend, and fell in love with it all over again. The region is very fertile, and each period of the year offers different products in season at the colorful markets, and different sights and scents as you drive around the region. In the Fall, the olive trees are brimming with olives and the grapes are just ready to be picked. I bought a bag of the first of this year's fresh olives. They are not stored in a brine, so are fresh and buttery rather than salty. A real treat from the region. We noticed for the first time pomegranates and kiwis on their trees-the region can grow almost anything.

Provence is home to perhaps Gilles' favourite wine area: the reds from the lower Cotes du Rhone (Gigondas, Vacqueyras, etc). We lucked out, and were there during les vendanges, or the grape harvest. There were people picking grapes in the vineyards, and small tractors pulling trailers overflowing with grapes. The morning we left, we visited the wine cooperative of Rasteau, and at the production facility there was a back-up of tractors overflowing into the road, all full of beautiful, juicy grapes.

Our bed and breakfast was nestled between a vineyard and an apricot orchard. Gilles and Xavier took a stroll through the vineyard, and Xavier sampled grapes right from the vines. They were sweet, with not a hint of sour, likely the grenache grape which is the workhorse for the red wines of the region.

Southern France also boasts some of the best Roman sites anywhere. This time we made the trek to a 2,000 year old bridge called Pont Julien. This amazing structure remained a car bridge until 2005! Now Pont Julien is enjoyed by pedestrians and bikers, and Xavier who crawled over and under his first Roman site.

Knowing this will be our last visit to Provence for quite some time, we returned home with four cases of wine, three liters of olive oil, and many other regional goodies.

Sundays in the Country

We have been filling our weekends with French country experiences since our return from Canada. I suspect it's partly because we know our days here are numbered, so want to fill them with the best of what the region has to offer. The weather has been spectacular, and we have enjoyed driving through small French villages and the lush, green pastures that lead up to the Pyrenees mountains.

Last Sunday we headed deep into Basque Country to pick up some pork. We have purchased customized pork packages from this family before with our friends, and this time it was our turn to make the trek to the farm. They raise an ancient breed of pig that is unique to the area. It is mostly black, and has huge ears that hang in its face. They roam freely, and this time of year they munch on the acorns and chestnuts that fall from the trees. They are fairly active, so don't grow very large, but do have a very high fat content, making it ideal for making cured legs with. It leads to a product less like a prosciutto, and more like a good jamon iberico/pata negra-if you are lucky enough to have tried this Spanish delicacy, then you know what the fuss is about. Anyway, this time we filled our freezer with fresh cuts, sausages, and the best boudin we have ever tasted. The pork is delicious, and well worth the two hour drive to pick it up.

We were given a tour of the beautiful and ancient farm. The farmhouse is almost as rustic today as it was 250 years ago. We were welcomed in for coffee, and it was humbling to imagine such a simple life. But the young gentleman that runs the farm loves the life, and is so passionate about his animals and land. This is not factory produced meat, and you just know that the product he sells benefits from the love and attention that he devotes to it.

Yesterday we attended a festival in a small village closer to home. The highlight of the weekend's festivities was a sheep herding competition. There were several thousand people in attendance to see which shepherd and dog would prove to be the best herding team. The shepherd stood in one spot, and directed his dog to herd the sheep through gates and around a huge field, often just by whistling. It was very fun to watch!

Next weekend, Provence to stock up on fresh olives, olive oil, and wine.

Transhumance

Now here is a word not found in most people's vocabulary: transhumance. It means the seasonal movement of people with their livestock. A historical practice in many places, it still occurs annually in the Pyrenees Mountains. Shepherds bring their animals, most often sheep but also cows and horses, into the high mountain pastures in the spring. There, the animals roam freely and munch all summer long on fresh fields of grass and alpine flowers. The shepherd usually stays with them, residing in a very rustic hut where he makes cheese from the collected milk. This summer cheese is coveted because the milk produced while the animals feed on the high altitude grass and flowers has a superior taste to that produced from a diet of hay. In the fall the shepherd and his flock return to civilization and the farm for the winter.

This ancient practice has been modernized a bit, and the majority of the animals are transported by truck into the mountains, and back down again. But in our region, there is a shepherd that still makes the trek on foot. He, his herding dogs, donkey, and flock of sheep make the 300 km trip between mountain pasture and farm...on foot! Because this traditional practice is a rarity, the trip has become a bit of a celebration. The shepherd and his crew end each day in a different village that celebrates his arrival with a bit of a party: kids' games, and the French version of a BBQ. The animals spend the night in a village field, and rest up for the next leg of the journey.

On Friday we attended this celebration in a neighbouring village. We met the group on the outskirts of the village, and stood aside as the sheep streamed by us. Then we walked behind the flock as it entered the village and their rest stop for the night. They use the regular roads, which makes things interesting when cars meet the traveling group! There is no warning truck signaling their arrival, just one dog at the front of the pack, followed closely by the shepherd. It was quite a sight! And as you can see from the photos, the shepherd certainly looks like someone that spent the entire summer in a mountain hut!

Back to Real Life

Wow, where did the past two months go? When we returned to our home in France last Thursday, it sure didn't seem like two months had passed since we packed up the family and headed to Canada. But here we are, home again. Gilles returned to work today, and for the first time in many weeks, it was just Xavier and I, playing and reading books. Surely he must be bored of me already, after weeks of receiving constant attention from grandparents, cousins, friends, aunts, uncles, and anyone else that could shower him with affection.

We had a wonderful two months, and lucked out with fabulous weather. It was a hot and humid summer in the maritimes, and we took full advantage of it and enjoyed the beach, the outdoor pool, and the little kid pool. We spent August hanging out in several coastal areas, where we ate seafood, had beach fires, combed beaches for sea glass (an obsession I share with several other family members!), fished, watched whales, and enjoyed the salt air.

But summer vacation must come to an end, and it was inevitable that I would have to give up my babysitters. But it's not all bad: we visited the marche on Saturday and filled our bags with food that can only be had in France. And as we picked fresh figs from the tree down the street, we mused that it is good to be back.

Giant Lobster

We are finishing up our time in Campobello Island, and during our week here we have tried to squeeze in as much island fun as possible. We had a beach cook-out one night, and feasted on lobster and scallops cooked on the fire. Xavier had fun playing in the sand and trying to eat rocks, until we put him to sleep in his stroller under the mosquito net. While there, a local fisherman came to show us the fifteen pound lobster they caught in their nets that day. We took pictures, then he threw it back into the ocean.

Screeched-In!

Our whirlwind tour of the Atlantic provinces (minus PEI) included a recent trip to St. John's for the wedding of Gilles' cousin. My first visit to Newfoundland was made official by being screeched-in along with other friends and family members. The bride's parents hosted the rehearsal party, and the father of the bride was the officiant of the screech-in. I performed the 'ceremony' with my brother-in-law, and we didn't fumble once on the tongue twister test saying. We kissed the cod, downed the screech, then certified honorary Newfoundlanders. Good fun!

We enjoyed some other Newfoundland experiences: visited Cape Spear, ate cod heads, stayed in a colourful house, and walked up and down the steep St. John's streets over and over again. We really enjoyed our visit, and hope to return soon to visit the soon to be opened restaurant of Gilles' sister and her boyfriend.

Hot & Humid in Miramichi

Our time in Miramichi is drawing to an end. It's hard to believe we have been here for five weeks! Gilles arrives on the weekend, and then we'll commence the nomadic part of our vacation: Halifax, St. John's, Campobello Island, and Cape Breton. We'll soon see how Xavier handles long car rides!

We have had a great time here, enjoying the warm days...although today was uncomfortably humid. We were all tempted to jump into the kid pool with Xavier in the backyard.

Here's a couple of pictures, including one of Xavier's visit to the barber.