The weekend

Well after a strange week including a funeral and our friend Tony being rushed into hospital, get better quick mate, the weekend beckoned like some beckoning thing.

On Saturday the weather was miserable, gloomy, drizzle and not exactly warm.  We had decided to go shopping in Mayenne our nearest large town at the LeClerc supermarket by way of a change and also they had our favourite boxes of wine on offer buy one get one free, who could resist?

Mrs Powerfulpierre went off in the morning to see her students and in the afternoon we set off for Mayenne.  We had driven 2 or 3 Km out of Bais when the car shuddered to a halt and refused to go any further.  The road is a long straight Roman road that goes on and on and where we were was effectively in the middle of nowhere.  The drizzle drizzled and it got murkier.

Now our car like so many these days has a computer and it had been saying that we had at least 60 km of fuel left before needing to fill up, however the little petrol pump light had not come on which it normally does when it gets to below 100 litres.  Everything pointed to our running out of petrol.  We were a bit abashed by this but not overly concerned, we have the French version of breakdown cover so I took out my mobile only to find it had no charge in it, it was useless.  Not to worry, we had Mrs Powerfulpierres phone which was working and she rang the assistance only to be told that if we had run out of petrol we were not covered.  We looked at each other and I felt my heart sink.

We had no petrol container and the nearest petrol station was a very long walk away in the rain.

Fortunately Mrs Powerfulpierre was up to the challenge and set off back towards Bais and I put the hazard warning lights on and an orange fluorescent vest.

The road we were on is a very fast road and I had not been able to get the car fully on the grass verge when the petrol gave up so I stood at the back of the car to make sure it was visible, I did not want to be missed in the gloom and back-ended.  My wife was now well out of sight when cars coming away from Bais started to stop just in front of where I was standing.  It was so heartening, all these people stopping to ask if I needed assistance, proffering their mobile phones and being generally blooming nice.  In my best French I explained rather embarrassingly that we had run out of petrol and that my wife was on her way to Bais for petrol.

It occurs to me now that perhaps they thought what kind of man sends his wife walking in the rain on a busy road but then they probably would have deduced I was English and that would have explained everything.

Then a silver Peugeot drove up and on to the grass verge and out got Mrs Powerfulpierre clutching a huge container of petrol, the lady driving had stopped for her on the way to Bais and kindly driven her to the station and then back to our car. She also waited to make sure that we were going to get started, Madame you are a star.

Then as we were filling the tank I noticed blue flashing lights heading towards us from the direction of Bais.  I assumed the gendarmes were heading for some emergency and would go straight passed us but I was wrong. The lady who had rescued my wife apparently got into a bit of a state because she was not wearing a fluorescent jacket and was worried that she would get in trouble with the gendarmes and I have to say I was a little apprehensive, as I have said before they are based on the military they are not civilians like the UK police and they are greatly respected and feared in equal measure.  I knew the car was displaying the correct insurance and control technique, French MOT  in other words and we always carried the car documents, the gendarmes always demand these when they stop you and you are in real trouble if you cannot produce them.

As it happens they were as nice as pie, it was a corporal and a female private who obviously were having a quiet day and this was about as much excitement they were going to get on this shift.  They could have parked their car on the grass verge but they left it in the road and the private had fun doing traffic duty, they were clearly bored and needed a distraction.  It is the kind of thing I did when I was a policeman and I bet any ex or retired copper will recognise a wet slow shift and the tedium it brought.

So with 5 litres of petrol in the car I tried again, nothing.  This worried me as the last thing we could afford was the car in the garage and heaven knows at what cost.

The corporal suggested that there might be a minimum amount needed to start the car but as we now thought it might not be lack of petrol, my wife rang the assistance again and this time they said they would come out.  So everybody went on their way, we even got a bon courage from our gendarmes and we waited for the assistance to arrive.

Eventually a large recovery lorry arrived and we explained the problem  and another huge can of petrol was added and hallelujah the car started.

So not one of our better days but it was great to know that if we had really been in trouble there were plenty of people willing to give us whatever help they could.

Untitled

I have sat in front of the computer for a long time now debating whether I should write this instalment of our life in France and in the end decided that I would be betraying my own reasons that I started this weblog at all if I left out the bad things and left in only the good.

You will be the judge as to whether I am right or not.

In one of my previous blogs I mentioned that I visited a farm a fair distance away at the behest of our neighbour Francoise as they had a computer which the children used and it had basically stopped working.  I went back on several occasions, I sat with the family around the kitchen table and drank coffee and ate homemade sponge cakes.  We conversed in my best French and they were genuinely curious about where we used to live in South Wales and why we were here in France. I gave the children a tutorial on keeping safe on the internet, the problem with the computer was a massive virus invasion caused by sharing music.

I was rewarded with 3 huge guinea fowl one of which we had for Christmas.

Recently Mrs Powerfulpierre went to a play in the next village in which one of the girls had a starring role.

Then the Sunday before last it was announced in church that one of the girls had been killed in a tractor accident and the funeral would be on Wednesday.

Apparently she was moving a bag of feed with the tractors front attachment when it started swinging from side to side and the tractor toppled over.  She was 16.

The thing is all the children who live on the farms drive tractors, it is what they do and from an early age, they have to be 18 to drive on the road but off road they start early, it is a part of life.

So yesterday we went to the funeral and there must have been 600 people there, it would have filled the church twice easy.  So we stood in the cold for near enough 2 hours waiting in the queue of people to go in and show our support for the family because that is what you do whether you know them intimately or like us as people who came into our lives for a brief moment.

So there you have it, I would love to hear your thoughts.

The long and winding road

Ok so here is the news flash, Powerfulpierre and missus are on a diet, there it is out now, no denying it.  In truth my dear lady wife has been having a go about losing weight for some time and apparently I have not listened, worse I do most of the cooking and have been feeding her too much food, too many cakes and crumbles etc.

Now you must make your own judgments here but I think it is a bit rich being complained about for feeding someone, when all said and done we all have choices, they do not have to eat everything put in front of them, delicious and wonderful as it may be.  Well truth is after my illness last Christmas when I lost a lot of weight, it has crept up on me and when I tried a pair of jeans on a few weeks ago and they were a long way from ever going to fasten, I thought yep something has to be done and so together and to support each other we started what the French aptly call a regime.

Now do not get the wrong idea, this was never going to be a lettuce leaf and glass of water type diet, no way, this was a diet we actually tried and were very successful at a few years ago which we took from a BBC Wales book and it is very simple.  This is no fad diet, you eat more or less what you want except less of it, combine with a lot of walking in our case but obviously exercise of some description is key to it and it is quite remarkable how the weight tumbles away.  Clearly you do not stuff your face with biscuits and chocolate but we have one biscuit a day and a piece of chocolate just to keep us interested.  Admittedly I have not made a cake or crumble for weeks but we still had a piece of home made cake at Monique’s  house last week and a most delicious coconut custard at Christaines the recipe will appear here soon.

So you might be asking yourselves, if this diet was so good a few years ago what stopped you keeping it up and that is a good question.  The answer is upsetting and tragic and involves the first dog we ever owned.  Phoebe was a stray dog that we took in and she was amazing, she could walk for miles and she would pull you along with a strength that defied her size, at the same time we were on our diet and we were losing a lot of weight.  Then one day during the summer we had a different postman to our normal guy and this one drove like a maniac, anyway to cut a long story short he ran over our dog and she died at the vets a few days later.  I know it is silly and we could have carried on walking without the dog but somehow it knocked the wind out of us and we just stopped.

Phoebe

So there you are we are back on the diet and it also brings me nicely to The St Thomas walk which we went on yesterday.  About 40 or so people turned up outside the church at 2pm including our good friends Sue and Mike, the weather was fantastic, bright, sunny but with a cool wind, perfect walking weather.  We all huddled together with the Mayor on the church steps for our photograph being taken by a journalist from the local newspaper and then we were off.

As I have said previously, the pace is unbelievable and not only that it is kept up more or less for the whole 10 Km, furthermore I think it was longer than the previous walks we have been on and I have to say that even though we have upped our exercise levels massively these last three weeks or so at the end I ached all over and could barely sit down for the slice of brioche and glasses of cider at the Mairie when we finished, I still ache today.  The guy who takes the walk invited everyone to a walk next Sunday which is at the next village down from us but this one is 15Km, next year perhaps.

And for the record I have lost 5 kilos in 3 weeks and madame has lost 3 Kilos, will update again soon.

Party time

On Saturday night we had the pleasure of attending the party for the volunteers who were involved in the music festival in Bais.

As you will recall myself and my good lady wife were employed making crepes of which 2500 were sold and the party was our reward.

The only stipulation was that everyone had to wear a hat so I donned my trusty McLaren Mercedes cap which my eldest son gave me after he had been to a trade fair in Switzerland and Mrs Powerfulpierre took her straw hat and whilst we were having a walk around the lake at Sillé le Guillaume she picked up some autumn leaves to decorate it.  The Lake is a huge man made expanse of water and takes us about an hourish to get round depending on how many times we have to stop for Buster to have a sniff around and leave p-mails.  There is a proper sand beach and pedalos, restaurants and  cafés.  During the summer it is very popular and has a large campsite of static caravans.  It is on the road to Le Mans which is about an hours drive from us with Sillé plage being about 20 minutes drive.

Mrs Powerfulpierre showing off her hat

The Lake and the forest beyond

Buster taking Powerfulpierre for a walk

So to the party, we arrived at 8 and is usual with the French the main course was a long time coming, drinks and nibbles were served, I had the punch assuming it would be the fruity mildly alcoholic stuff so took a huge gulp only to discover that it had been laced with a lot of vodka.  There were pork rillettes on bread which were delicious and cheese and tomatoes on sticks, but I stuck to the pork rillettes.

We met our neighbours there and there children and the other people we had worked with at the stall and then we were invited to watch a movie of the music festival which I have to say was very well done, a mixture of still and moving pictures which really captured the nights frivolities.  We saw ourselves several times in the movie, strolling along the street to the next venue and making the crepes, Mrs Powerfulpierre commented that it caught the spirit of a small French village enjoying itself.

There were about 80 places set

After the film we sat down for the meal and thankfully no sour cabbage, instead it was a North African dish of cous cous with chicken, spicey and ordinary sausages, chick peas, potatoes and carrots and various veg.

After playing various musical games between courses we had the cheese and this was a plateful of very runny Camembert, just the way I like it, it went down so well with the bread and vin rouge and then more dancing followed by a selection of desserts from apple tart to chocolate cake.

Unfortunately there was no after dinner coffee on offer and clearly a number of the guests were none too happy about this so one of the organisers went off in search of some.  Eventually he appeared with coffee and tea, Liptons Yellow not a patch on Tetley but under the circumstances a refreshing substitute.

So a great evening again, and as I have said before that will be it until Christmas or will it?

St Thomas walk and other stuff

The annual Saint Thomas walk is on Sunday 18th October and commences from the church square at 2pm. The walk is 10 Km and every time we have walked it the weather has been fantastic, so cross fingers it is this time.

The first time we walked it we could not believe the pace that the 30 or so people taking part set off at. The Mayor led the way and whilst I am no spring chicken the ages of some of the participants must have had at least 20 years on us. I remember saying to Mrs Powerfulpierre that they will never keep this pace up but they did. At the end of the walk we were invited to take cake with the Mayor in the Marie building. There was beer and soft drinks and I sat there dripping with sweat and trying to get my breath whilst all these octogenarians sat there looking as though they had not been on the walk at all.

So if you are free and fancy a walk in the French countryside, the walk passes near our house and the temptation to go home at this point is strong, then see you at the church on Sunday next.

Tonight is the meal laid on in honour of those volunteers who helped out on the music festival. Alain our neighbour is involved in the music group that organises it and when Mrs Powerfulpierre went to his dairy the other night to get our 5 liters of full fat, organic, raw milk, she mentioned that we had received the invitation and that we were going and enquired what might be on the menu, the answer has filled me with disappointment, choucroute or sauerkraut, the French version of an Alsatian specialty consisting of sour cabbage and frankfurter style sausages, normally served with whole boiled potatoes and some other veg and I cannot stand it.

Now the last time this happened was last year when we went to our medical insurers annual general meeting again in Bais. The president of the company locally is our neighbour Robert, he whose anniversary party we attended back in May and is featured in a previous blog. On the occasion of the meeting my wife discovered that choucroute was to be served and told Robert of my problem. Pas de probleme says Robert we will see what we can do and as good as his word when my main course turned up there was no choucroute, instead there was a huge ham chop, slices of pork, more ham and good stuff too, there was also free Alsace beer by the jugful.

So when Mrs Powerfulpierre mentioned to Alain my dislike of choucroute his response was we shall see what we can do. All will be revealed tonight and in the next instalment of our life in France.

Les Coulisses des Boldifolies

When I started writing these articles, my intention was two fold, one to show to people who were thinking of moving to France how easy it was and the pitfalls to lookout for and as a sort of diary of our lives which might interest the casual viewer whilst dispensing a few recipes on the way.

Whether I have succeeded or not is for you dear reader to decide.  On our 6th anniversary of living here, I would appreciate your thoughts, leave a comment, have your say.

Funnily enough I have been accused by someone of being Walter Mitty.

The character’s name from a book by James Thurber has come into more general use to refer to an ineffectual dreamer, someone with a vivid fantasy life.  Well I would just like to say that everything I write is true, I do not guild the lily or exaggerate,  this really is our life in France, ups and downs, warts and all.

So it was that just as I finished writing the last blog about the village Mechoui, I thought well that is the last event now till Christmas when we received in the post a letter which said and I translate, that on the 27th June you helped us really well and in return we are inviting you to a bon repas, a good meal on Saturday 10th October,  the day we arrived in France 6 years ago. How cool is that?

This refers to the music festival held in Bais, a small town near to where we live, on the 27th June and where Mrs Powerfulpierre and  I helped to make crepes from 10pm to 12pm.  I have to say I was quite proud of the fact that here we were two English people in the middle of France making crepes for the French.  What I also found amazing was that the whole town centre had been closed for the event and there was not a gendarme in sight.  There were huge amounts of wine and beer on sale and being drunk but we did not see anyone drunk or misbehaving.

We were honored to have been asked to help in the first place but when we received the letter inviting us to a meal we were tickled pink.

So as you have already probably guessed the next blog will be about our evening or soirée  with our hosts L’Harmonie de Bais with photos, and apparently we have to wear hats, any style accepted.

Please leave a comment, it only takes a minute and we would love to hear from you, thanks.

The French paradox

As anyone who reads my blogs will know, I am infatuated with France and all things French.

One of the things about France that has intrigued me for years is something known as the French paradox.  The paradox being why is it the French who consume considerable amounts of saturated fat and drink large quantities of wine, have a far lower incidence of coronary heart disease than in most countries.

Furthermore the French smoke more than is the case for a lot of western countries and yet they live longer.

There are lots of theories put forward by experts, the French eat less processed food, less sugar, more fish.  They drink red wine in particular, more fresh food is consumed, they eat smaller meals and take longer to eat them and so on.

This is evidenced with the population of our commune, people really live long lives, well into their nineties and they are quite often still sprightly and fit.  Of course most have had agricultural jobs and are used to heavy work.

Which brings me to The mechoui or village sheep roast which we enjoyed the other Sunday afternoon.

I have probably said this before but I do not mind saying it again, when I dreamt of living in France I always had visions of living in the countryside  where the locals on high days and holidays would select a field and assemble long trellis tables and we would all get together in the sunshine at  lunchtime and eat home made pork rillettes and sausages, spicy merguez or thick juicy herby ones and frites and drink copious quantities of wine, I have to say I have been lucky to have been part of this kind of get together many times in the nearly 6 years of living here.  October 10th will be our 6th anniversary so look out for a very special instalment.

So it was that Mrs. Powerfulpierre, myself and our good friends Mike and Sue made our way to the Salle de fete which is part of the Marie or town hall.  It was 12.30 when we arrived and due to the weather not being quite good enough to eat outdoors, the tables were laid inside.

As always the frivolities began wih kir, sparkling white wine with cassis, then came sausages as a sort of nibbles, spicey merguez which I think are flavoured with harissa which is a north African hot red paste or sauce and is made from red chillies and garlic.

sausages and as much wine as you can drink included in the price

Biblical wine and bread

Next up was the melon and port and these guys are to say the least generous with the port.

Now by this time things get a bit blurry, the wine is going down a treat and I think more sausages appeared at this point, chipolatas, followed by the palate cleanser in the delicious and drunken form of a Truoo Normand, apple sorbet drenched with home made calvados which must have been at least 70 proof.

Then came the lamb and chips, and these come in three waves, yes you munch your way through three courses effectively starting with bones to Gnaw on, then better pieces and so on.  This is not for the feint hearted.

mmm lamb

frites anyone?

more lamb

Next up was the cheese course, a very nice Camembert and then dessert, chocolate ice cream a juicy pear then coffee and dark after dinner chocolate.

What an afternoon, the food was unsophisticated and rural but absolutely delicious nevertheless,  just as you would expect as the people who are serving us are farmers or farmers wives.  The wine was highly drinkable and the company brilliant.

At 5.50 pm we staggered from our table, this is an all time record, 5 hours 20 minutes of eating, drinking and socialising and both me and Mrs Powerfulpierre were totally inebriated.  Thankfully Sue had somehow managed to avoid drinking altogether and drove us home.

As I write this I compare our exploit to the French paradox and it all seems to make sense.

Anglo v Gallic round 2

I got the mail today, it was really hot and I was out in the garden doing some strimming as we had guests coming to dinner and I wanted the garden to look tidy.

The postman commented on the heat and gave me a pile of post before driving off up the road.  It was Tuesday and junk mail day.  However this is junk mail you probably want.  Let me explain.

In my experience in the UK we got about 5 to 10 pieces of what I call junk mail everyday.  They were mainly trying to make us get a loan or a credit card or otherwise get us deeper in debt than we already were.

In France we get what we call junk mail on one day only, Tuesday, and it is a bit unfair to call it junk mail as it is actually our local supermarkets mainly, telling us what the latest promos are for the week ahead and this is great.

Let me give you an example of what is good this week, live crab 3 euros 50 a kilo, it even tells you the name of the boat that caught them, Le Zubernoa.  a kilo of salmon steaks 7 euros and a kilo of fresh prawns are 5 euros.  I will not bore you with my shopping list for the week but this is just some of the fish available, and the same goes for meat and general groceries.  What it means is you go shopping with a list of the freshest and live crab does not come fresher, cheapest and seasonal products on it.

Speaking of crabs, I have eaten a huge amount this year and it is as a result of checking with Rick Stein, his book obviously, I am not on speaking terms with the man,  about how to cook crabs that I have summoned up the courage this year to try cooking one myself.  I have to admit I was a bit squeamish about doing it and consequently used to buy cooked crab which was a lot more expensive.  Anyway, get a very big saucepan and fill with cold water and a lot of salt.  Put said crab in water and then bring to boil, the crab drowns before the heat affects it. For a crab up to 900 grammes boil for 20 minutes.

It is amazing how many of our English friends have said that they love crab but could not cook them whereas to the French it is just cooking.

This goes to the heart of a lot of the differences between the two races, for instance on the fish counter in particular you have live crab, live lobster, live squat lobster, live whelks, live mussels, oysters obviously, clams, the list goes on.  The French are not squeamish about where their food comes from and certainly in the countryside, dispatching chickens, geese, ducks, rabbits et al is no big deal.  They are well looked after, you do not abuse something which you are going to eat, it is treated with respect.

Well the next exciting instalment will be the village sheep roast, and to get you in the mood here are some photos from the first outdoor mechoui we attended.

A day in the life

Our village in the distance

Another day dawns in our country idyll and the sun is shining although the breeze is noticeably colder.

The only sound is the babble of the river in the distance and the occasional plop of a fish breaking the surface of the lake.

There is a smell of croissants warming and coffee brewing, the cats have come in after their hunting during the night and have found somewhere in the house to sleep for the rest of the day.

The house is quiet now, Mrs Powerfulpierre has gone out to see students some distance away and Buster the daft dog is on his blanket pretending to be asleep, he will not move again until his mistress returns and then he will dash to the door the second the car enters the drive and run at breakneck speed to greet her.

It is a Saturday and I am having a do nothing day even though there are loads of things to do around the garden, somehow the motivation is not there and I know if I go out I will end up feeding the fish or picking blackberries even though we have tons in the freezer already, I just cannot see them go to waste.

We also have a party to go to this afternoon so at some stage I will have to get ready and change.  I have a sneaking suspicion that it will be another karaoke and lets just say that it is not my cup of tea at all.

This time of year it is calving time and every now and again you will hear the strange noise a cow makes as it gives birth, Alain and his wife were running all over the place having had five deliveries already with more to come.

Maternity ward

Yesterday, Friday was a bit of an odd day, we normally have school in the morning, but our friends who are learning French are away in their camper so we went round to another couples house, one of whom is learning French with my wife and who have just been told that they have now got broadband, and I was asked in my capacity as computer repairer and broadband installer to pop round to arrange the fitting of a new router.

In France you sometimes feel as though you have gone back in time, everyone greets one another with a handshake and men and women greet with 4 kisses.  It is a regional thing some are two or one but Mayenne is 4.

Not only that children are so respectful and will always expect a kiss on the cheek even if their parents have introduced them to you for the first time.

Its the same when you go into the Doctors waiting room or the pharmacy or bakery, if there are other people waiting they will turn and say bonjour monsieurmadame, spoken as if it was one word.  It is so different to what we were used to in the UK,  the postman when he delivers the post and you are in the garden will bring the letters to you and shake hands and have a little chat.

There is an olde world feeling about things which is difficult to explain, and yet in some ways the French are so modern and cutting edge.  The trains for instance have been the fastest for years and are so always on time.  Going back to the router I was fitting for our friends, it would mean they could call almost anywhere in the world at any time for as long as they wanted for nothing.  All they paid was 34 euros a month and that includes broadband and as I said free calls virtually anywhere.  I do not know of any other country that has this.

So to the party, it is Pat and Harry’s 50th wedding anniversary and they are a wonderful couple, we bought champagne,flowers and a card, better start practicing my singing.

Recipes

When we lived in Wales there was a fish restaurant we used to go to on a regular basis.  It was unlike French fish restaurants but still had a charm of its own.

I used to have hake in batter, not fillet but hake being a round fish it can be cut in the same way as tuna, in sections, this with chips, mushy peas, French bread which was baked in the town of Barry just down the coast and the nearest thing to real French bread I have ever had in the UK.  They also made their own tartare sauce using Hellmans mayonnaise and capers.  For starters they had potted shrimp and gravalax, and kippers bigger than a dinner plate.  For pud there was never any contest, it was fresh raspberries and cream with a piece of shortbread.

Sadly despite its immense popularity it was bought by a brewery chain who ran it into the ground and it eventually closed.

Anyway on Sunday I collected a large quantity of blackberries and a few raspberries and as we had some fromage blanc battu, whipped fromage blanc, we decided to make some shortbread to go with it.  We were going to put sugar on the blackberries but they were so sweet and with the shortbread and the slight acidity of the fromage there was no need.

I was particularly pleased with the shortbread

it does what it says on the label

Making the shortbread could not be simpler, you need 9oz of plain flour, 3oz sugar, 6 oz unsalted butter straight from fridge.  Mix the lot in a food processor or with a mixer until it turns into a single ball.  Roll out as thick as you like and cut into shapes.  a glass works fine if you dont have a fancy cutter.  I put the shapes onto a buttered tin tray and prick with a fork then bake at 160c, 325f gas mark 3 for 30 mins.  It works with blueberries as well.

The next recipe is a variation from a favourite book of mine, Floyd on France which my mum and dad gave me for Christmas in 1987 and whos recipes we have used over and over again, poulet basque being one of them.  However as we do them from memory these days, we do not always stick to them to the letter.  The tomato ketchup my wife made yesterday, made me want bacon and egg for lunch to try it.  We grill poitrine de porc fumé as a substitute for bacon and I think it goes really well, I also fried some bread using vegetable lard.

So a kilo of tomatoes peeled de seeded and finely chopped, half a kilo of onions finely chopped, a kilo of red peppers de seeded and finely chopped, cook the three vegatables in oil for 45 minutes or until they are soft and like a puree.  Strain through a fine sieve put back into pan and add 3oz of sugar,  3 large cloves of garlic finely chopped, 1 chilli finely chopped, we use tobasco, salt and pepper,  1 tablespoon mustard powder, 1 tablespoon paprika, 2 wine glasses of vinegar, we used red wine vinegar and large pinch powdered cloves.  Cook over a low heat for about 2 hours stirring now and again with a wooden spoon until you have a thick red sauce, taste and adjust the seasoning.

Next we have a wedding anniverary, the village lamb roast and then the dreaded karioke evening, I just got a new video camera, there may be moving pictures on my next our life in France.