and this morning ...
I was glad I'd bottled some of that precious spring water last night because when I awoke, my mouth was as dry as an Arab's sandal. And then I was assaulted by the smell of ripe cheese when I came downstairs to find Mini-B (who hadn't been home for three days!) asleep on the sofa. After I had dispatched him (tsk tsk begone and beshowered), I repaired to a darkened room to watch the tennis.
Quiet please.
I have a vivid memory from my time working in Courchevel, of another seasonaire coming into the bar mid-shift and asking for a glass of water. As she drained the glass, her eyes rolled back in her head and, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she said, "that was delicious". At the time, it struck me as a very kooky way to describe water (delicious is a ripe peach or a Gariguette strawberry) - but now I know exactly what she meant. 
The BBQ is a team belot affair, paid for out of the remaining kitty, and I have been put in charge. You'd think a barbie would be a very casual, stress-free event to organise, with everyone standing around sipping wine and helping themselves to another crevette from the grill. Not so here. Our French amis insist on sitting down at a table to eat and for said table to be properly set with table cloth, china plates and proper cutlery (no paper plates or plastic knives and forks please!) and to eat a four course meal comme d'hab. All fine and dandy, but a bit of a mare to arrange 1600 metres up a mountain where the nearest parking spot is 30 minutes' walk away!
I've decided to do bruschetta with chopped tomatoes and basil as a starter. This is one of my summer staples when the tomatoes and basil are growing rampantly in the garden. Just place slices of good quality bread in a griddle pan or on the BBQ and toast on both sides. Rub with a clove of garlic, pile on some chopped tomatoes, season with salt and pepper, top with torn basil and drizzle with olive oil.
and then at 2.00 pm yesterday ... 
and October, not long after work started ...
These tiny fraises des bois are blushing all over the wilder parts of the garden, and in places where they've newly sprung up, their perfume reaches me before I spot them. I'm sure I can detect an infinitesimal scent of pink 'Bazooka Joe' bubble gum in amongst all that heady fruit aroma too, and they taste a bit like their smell. 
A new crop has appeared along the bank of the stream below the sitting-room window where I've been doing a bit of tidying-up - restoring parts of the original stone wall and trying to eradicate the last of the dreaded invasive Japanese knotweed. So before Poire arrives tomorrow with his mini-digger to level the ground (and the Jk) I picked all the fruit and made champagne jellies.
I don't think the French do "jelly" (as in "jelly and ice cream"). Our friend and ex-neighbour, M. Souffleur De Verre, who lived in England for three years, loved it but said he couldn't get it in France - so I became his jelly mule. Every time I went back to Scotland I'd return with a suitcase full of Rowntree's jelly. I tried it out on Poire this evening (the jelly) and as he polished off the last perfect photo opportunity he stared at me in wonderment and said, "What was that? I've never had anything like that before."
Champagne jellies with wild strawberries
Ingredients
Serves 6
handful of wild strawberries (or small garden variety), saving 6 for decoration
8 sheets leaf gelatine, plus cold water to cover
1 x 750ml/1¼ pint pink champagne or sparkling rosé wine
juice of 1 lemon
100g/3½oz caster sugar
icing sugar to dust
1. Divide the de-stalked strawberries between glasses.
2. Place the gelatine sheets in a bowl and cover with cold water.
3. Put 150ml/5fl oz of the champagne/wine in a pan with the lemon juice and sugar and heat gently, until the sugar dissolves.
4. Remove the gelatine from the cold water and add to the pan, whisking until dissolved. Pass the mixture through a sieve into a bowl and allow to cool slightly.
5. Add the remaining champagne and leave until the jelly is cold and just on the point of setting then pour gently into the glasses.
6. When the jellies have cooled, place in the fridge until completely set. To serve, dust the remaining 6 strawberries with icing sugar and put one on top of each jelly.
♫ Cook along to: Miles Davis Summertime
BB was called upon to help Mini-B put a plaster cast on a calf's broken leg the other morning (honestly, talk about playing at vets!) and in return we won half a dozen lettuces - to add to the dozen that are ready to pick in my garden - so we're eating a lot of salad at the moment.
As I was taking the picture I was approached by a member of staff who asked me what I thought I was doing - as if I was some Russian crockery spy - and all I could think of to say was, "je suis un bloggeur", before shuffling out of the shop (empty-handed) with my face like a beetroot. (Not only was this an embarrassing retort but it was also grammatically incorrect because I used (a) the indefinite article and (b) the masculine form!)
Back home, determined I was going to make the damn cake, I improvised using a flan tin and then cut circles out of the sponge with a scone cutter. The recipe then called for kirsch to be drizzled, cherry jam to be spread and double cream to be whipped to soft peaks.
Now, I can't seem to find double cream, as I know it, in France. The closest I've found is crème fleurette (whipping cream), which after I'd whisked by hand using a balloon whisk for 20 minutes - my arm going up and down like a fiddler's elbow - resembled something like cottage cheese. By this time I was thinking less of the photo opportunity and more about putting something edible on a plate, so as I finished off plating and sprinkling and topping, I went to set up to take a photo, slipped in some cat sick and dropped the plate. Et voilà!
There's not much to report on the building front I'm afraid because we've had a lot of rain recently which has stopped play. BB's in the middle of building five timber-framed panels (to support the purlins and the ridge beam) which will go up in the next few days - depending on the weather - so I shall be able to post some pictures soon. The rain has also prevented me from working in the garden as much as I would like which means that the weeds will be taking over again. Last year someone actually stopped and asked if I was growing grass, the weeds were so bad! Nobody else seems to have this problem so I can only assume they cheat and use chemicals.
Mini-B and Nainbo came for lunch yesterday after the Sunday Club where I suspect a few pastises had been imbibed judging by the ensuing chimps' tea party. Mini-B arrived, kicked off his boots and promptly took a nap on the sofa, only deigning to join us mid-way through the main course when he elected to use his hands instead of the cutlery and managed to throw most of his food all over the floor. 
For starters I made chicken liver pâté by whizzing up some chicken livers, which I'd gently fried in butter for 4-5 minutes, in a food processor along with a clove of garlic, some chopped fresh thyme, a couple of tablespoons of brandy and some melted butter. This was followed by whole roasted trout stuffed with fresh thyme (there's a surfeit of it in the garden at the moment) served with roasted lemons and sauté potatoes. 
May isn't the best time to go away on a jolly. In my absence everything in the garden has shot up and burst forth - the roses and lupins and hostas, the wild strawberries and cherries and vines and herbs - but also the weeds, so I've spent the last few days hoeing and strimming to get the garden looking respectable again. (BB had a sick note from his - eh - vet, due to his gored hand so wasn't able to carry out gardening duties. It was the vet who stapled his hand back together after the 'running with the bulls' incident and subsequently removed the staples at the veterinary clinic down at the market last week!)
Classic prawn cocktail
