Reminiscing

I could smell the tomatoes from half a block away – at least, I think it was about half a block. With the meandering streets of a medieval fortified city around me, it could have been a kilometer away and I really wouldn’t know. All I did know, was I had to find them. And serve them.
Maybe with a little fresh cheese.
And maybe some ham? No – sausage.
Both? Yeah yeah.
And wine.
I love France.

My ritual for market day in the city of Sarlat: tea and a croissant with whomever I dragged with me 10 k into town at 830 am. Ogle at the beautiful butcher boys hawking even more beautiful fresh sausage and terrines. Wander through almost visible aromas of tomatoes, roasted beets, raw cheese, dry sausage, and almost-still-flopping Dordogne trout, planning elaborate meals for my 25 fouillers (excavators) at the archeological site I was cooking for. Head home after stuffing myself full of abovementioned sausage, cheese, fresh bread, French pizza, and whatever else found its way into my stomach. Sleep. Work. Repeat next weekend.
The meals never turned out as elaborate as I planned in my head (“You want to spend HOW MUCH of our educational grant money on cheese?!”) but I definitely learned the beauty of country-style French cuisine – so different from the French food I learned in culinary school, but possibly even more beautiful in its simplicity.

Maturity at its finest

There is a video on YouTube of Alex Miller and I car-dancing to a terrible French pop song. "Carsackness" I believe it is called. I am famous. I was waiting for this moment all my life, and somehow thought it would be..... not as shameful. :-)

What to do with leftover mashed potatoes.

Ham and cheese fritters -

2 C leftover mashed potatoes
1 C shredded cheese
1 c minced ham
salt and pepper
3 eggs
a little baking powder
4 T flour

mix all together. Fry in an inch of cooking oil until crispy on the outside and hot and fluffy on the inside.

Makes people happy.

Sundays

The Dordogne region of France begs its visitors to slow down and start absorbing as much as possible of the local culture. The old (by which I mean much older then the United States) architecture, the winding Roman-era roads, the grape vines that are bigger around than my waist….

Unfortunately I am living with a large group of Americans, with 4 Aussies, 2 Romanians, a Croat named Killer, a Portuguese geo-specialist, and an Amsterdam native with a vicious addiction to Dutch soccer thrown in for good measure. This means the Dordogne, and it permanent residents, must stare in horror as the gypsy camp in our yard unfolds and explodes into a multinational carnival.

So, it’s now 11 AM on Sunday morning – the medieval church bells ring out, calling the faithful in from the open-air market to worship.


And I? I am drinking coffee, arguing international politics with my boss, and making a vicious version of white peach Sangria.

Viva La France. Whether or not I have noticed.

Evilly Good Perigourdine White Sangria

French white Bordeaux - 5 liters
Cointreau - .5 liter
Orange Juice - .5 liter
White Nectarines, sliced 1 cm thick - 4 ea
Really ripe sweet strawberries, quartered - about 2 dozen
Let this sit in your fridge. The longer it sits, the more important it is that you don't let little kids eat the fruit out of your glass.

So here I am.......

France is another universe. I'm in a land of friendly neighbors, cute puppies, stanky cheese, and - people obsessed with rocks?

Not just any rocks. Broken rocks.

Rocks that are fractured, burned, chipped, etc. seem to be preferred. I know I took some anthro/archeo classes waaaay back when, but I don't remember being this excited about chunks (and very small bits) of mountainside. I guess cooking was the right way to go for me.

Which brings me to the other part of my new universe - my kitchen. Land of the Belching Berthas: my three enormous propane burners that occasionally spit fire at me from every available gap in the gas lines.




I think this trip will be, aah, memorable.


Upside-Down Sticky Apple Cake
Apples, sliced/pared 3
Butter,melted 2 sticks
Cinnamon and sugar mix 4 T
AP Flour 2 C
Sugar 1 ½ C
Baking Powder 2 t
Salt 1 t
Egg 2 ea
Milk ½ C
Honey 1 C
Chopped Walnuts ½ C

Spread apple slices on the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle with butter and cinnamon-sugar. Mix the other ingredients (not honey and nuts) and spread on top of the apples. Pour the rest of the butter over the cake. Sprinkle with cinnamon-sugar and bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes. When cooked, Flip over and pour honey and nuts over the apples. Toast under a broiler a little to caramelize the honey if you want.

Two Weeks and Counting.

So, yesterday was 2 weeks until I leave.

I know - very descriptive, very literary, etc. beginning for this blog but I have yet to start really trying to be literary. So there.

I mentioned to my friend Neill today that I was cleaning out my closets, which was leaving me emotionally tumultuous (what a great word). Apparently I have attached ridiculous sentiments to certain articles of clothing that I keep for no other purpose than to drive me crazy by accusingly peering out from my other clothing, unused and stigmatized.

My $100 wedding dress: We all know the 9-month-long marriage story. I kept the dress. It hung, untouched and avoided by all, next to 2 dresses that I love but rarely wore (due to the fact that I would have to acknowledge the wedding dress by pushing it aside). I threw it into my give-away pile today before I could talk myself out of it. When I finally caught my breath and stood up straight, my back cracked in places it hadn't in over a year - as if I was no longer carrying the weight of badly made decisions with me...... hmm, says I.

The Body Armor to my Leather Jacket: I was an avid motorcycle rider and girlfriend to two motorcycle mechanics (both named Mike, strangely enough) in a row. I have been on custom choppers, stock Harleys, crazy drag bikes, etc. and for some odd reason didn't die doing all the stupid things I did. I, however, DID see a very dear friend pass away after living 6 days plugged into machines in a hospital (even sober and with a full helmet on, Darin died 1/4 mile from his home due to someone else's stupidity). After his wake, I refused to get on a bike ever again. I had kept the body armor for some reason, even though it was not in my jacket anymore. 4 years later, I have finally tossed it and moved on. (The plastic prayer card from Darin's wake is still stuck in the frame of my bedroom mirror though. It reminds me that no one is immortal and I should not take anyone, or any thing, for granted)

What to do with your spare change

Hi All.

Hope your week is going well. I am, as of right now, under-caffeinated and slightly grumpy.

I have a pedicure in about an hour, as my mother feels this will solve my wierdo depression that has taken over my life the past few days. I think my way of fighting depression might be a little more useful. And a lot less self-serving?

http://www.kiva.org

I've made two donations in the past 6 months. I don't have much to give, but all of the few extra dollars I can dig up and give to these guys goes directly to the person who needs it. No joke. 100% of the donation goes to the person requesting the loan. What's really great - especially for those of us that are young and decidedly not rich - is if you only have 25 bucks to give, that's all you need to give. A group of lenders can all chip in and donate what they can, so that one person across the world gets what they need to dig themselves out of the hole they've found themselves, and their families, in.

C'mon, all. Check out the banner at the bottom of this page and chip in. Let's see where we can take this woman.

Oh Good Gods

Paris Attitudes - This is where the 'Rents and I are staying in Paris for the week before I hit Carsac-Aillac. How cool is this?!

http://www.parisattitude.com/apartment.asp?numProduit=1752#

I Give Up

And so, i watch another rediculously amazing friend walk off into the sunset with his fiancee. Don't get me wrong - I'm absurdly happy that they will be together after everything that they have gone through. However, there were a few weeks where I wanted her to stop existing so that I could have Him.

"But why?!" You ask.

Because at 2 AM when I got out of work, he is an intelligent and funny bar buddy. Because there were things he knew and wanted to teach me - just because he could and I wanted to learn. Because for once, all my weird habits and quirks were shared or at least appreciated. Because he loved food.

Because he wasn't a chef.

For once I could have a conversation that didn't end up as a shot-slamming competition or a one-upping match involving blood, sharp objects, violence, or debauchery. I could behave like a woman (!) and still be considered an equal without having to spit further or cuss louder in order to get noticed.

It felt better and was more theraputic for me after my divorce than any antidepressant regimen could have been.

B, I know you are reading this. Good Luck to the two of you. I wish you all the luck and love I have to give.

By the Way..........

Came across a really cool company today. http://www.medicatedclothing.com This chick has great shirts!! All you readers from the CA blog, I mean it..... check this out.

2 Weeks Left at Iona......

10 days. 100 hours (approximately). I am so close I can taste it.

Not that I don't like Iona. I've met some really interesting people there - people that I hope stay in touch and continue to share their lives with me. However, I've also met people I could definitely live without; I am doing my best to remind myself about learning from mistakes and "no light without dark" etc. but it doesn't change the fact that I have thought about my professional knives as assassin's tools more in the past 8 weeks than I have, ever, in the past.

On a lighter note:

Bought my camera today. Wimped out and bought the same model I left with my ex (the wedding present from his mom's crazy stalker former boyfriend). At least I won't have to learn a whole new camera. Plus it was pretty cheap (www.broadwayphoto.com - I'll let you know how it arrives and if I have any trouble with the company). Meaning I have more money to spend on things I need more. Like Jack Daniels to survive the 100 Hours.

My French still sucks. But it sucks less than it did 2 weeks ago. Hooray for Rosetta Stone. And the hour I have had to use it thus far. My French tutor has had more important things to do - like teach me to swing dance, discuss politics over very expensive rum, and drive me home from New Paltz after I got angry and drank too much at la Stagione the other night (at least I feel like I have closure now. And I did get all my stuffed animals back from my old apartment).

Today is a good day. A little windy and grey but I am not at work, I thus far have avoided getting dragged into doing work from home, and I have no plans other than going out with my friends tonight. I am wild and crazy and free - and going to take a nap.

Sante.