Cosy Courgettes

A clear sky makes all the difference to the day. There was sunshine through the bedroom window, eventually, when it had crept up over the rooftops and there was a glorious hour of sunshine through the kitchen window at lunchtime.

The clear sky meant that it was a colder morning than the last few days - minus four seems to be the general consensus and although I know it will have been colder elsewhere in France it was cold enough thank you very much.

You know it's really cold, as opposed to just cold, when the market stallholders start covering up their vegetables, as they did today. It's slightly odd - 'here is my stall but I have covered everything up so you can't see what it is I am selling' and in true French style some of them are not that helpful when you ask either - "have you got any leeks", I asked, "Yes", was the reply without moving or offering to show me under which particular cover they were hiding. Reminded me of the classic Inspector Clouseau line - does your dog bite? - minimal information and nothing more.

Thankfully they are not all like that and the stallholders I have got to know after four years of working the market are more than happy to show me their tucked up pears and nestled down spinach. It is quite a sweet thought that they love their fruit and veg so much that they tuck them into bed on a very cold morning - they look after them like their own - it is their living after all.

I also did a huge supermarket shop this morning. The plan was to get everything we might need, except last minute fresh food, sorted out in advance because we won't get back down here until late on the 23rd. It was a good plan but as always with shopping I have already thought of several things I didn't pick up - we are driving down next week so maybe I will get them in London and bring coals to France so to speak.

After much deliberation I have managed to narrow down my list of potential recipes for Christmas to about 40 which is just as well because tomorrow morning before I leave for London I intend to place the orders for the fish, shellfish and meat that I will need to make a splendid feast my my beloved one.

No pressure then - let's hope I get it right.

Food is for sharing

It's all smelling a bit fishy in the kitchen as a result of my impulse market buying this morning. Having made a casserole at the weekend in London, I went shopping with that in mind but somehow came back with mackerel for lunch and a kilo of mussels for supper.

I'm not really sure what happened but it seems my head rejected the idea of red meat and craved a bit of omega 3 - and once I was over by the fish counter my brain started trawling through it's store of fishy recipes and pan cooked mackerel with shallot, tomato and capers and moules mariniere is what came out.

I guess I have to be happy with that - it's the very essence of Mediterranean market shopping - looking at what looks good on the day and buying accordingly. So I was very interested to read recently that McDonalds in France is one of their biggest markets outside the USA (bigger than the UK and growing faster) and that Picard, purveyors of gourmet ready frozen meals, is by no means suffering during the economic downturn. So much for the myth of the French pulling up some vegetables from the garden for their supper.

Despite the outward socialist demeanour, capitalism is hard at work here.

I have noticed, however, that even when the French are eating sandwiches or takeaway food they still find a place to sit down and eat together either as a family or with work colleagues or with friends - the conviviality of sharing food survives and that is a very good thing.

I ate both my lunch and my supper on my own at home. I love my food and I love cooking and eating but there are days when I find it hard to put in the effort to prepare a good meal just for myself.

I did today, twice. Mind you, I had enough for two, if not three, this evening.

A kilo of mussels doesn't look that much especially when they are small ones and take up less room in your bag. When I got back from the market I made a pond for them in the sink and let them swim about a bit whilst I got on with my jobs. When it came to cleaning them this evening I realised how many were there - either that or they multiply like rabbits when your back is turned. It took a good half hour or more to clean them and with only me eating it took a good half hour or more to pick each one out of it's shell and devour the sweet little delicious morsels.

It's impossible to read while eating mussels because you have to concentrate on what you are doing - and with no-one to talk to, it ends up being a bit of a chore. It's the sort of food where you need to be able to talk to someone without looking at them or if you must look at them, they won't mind you waving a mussel shell, the one you use for picking out the other mussels from their shells, in your face. Oh for someone to say "You had more than me" or "That's not a very big mussel" type innuendo. I even gave up on spooning the residual winey buttery juice into my mouth and picked my bowl up and drank it down in one go - now that's very French.

Moules Mariniere is a wonderful, fabulous, delicious, evocative, French classic - just don't eat it, or anything else if you can help it, on your own.

Windy

Last night I was told that a big storm was expected and the French weather service had issued a 'vigilance rouge' - their highest level of warning.

This morning I went down early to the market - it was drizzling and a little blowy but nothing to worry about - just a bit miserable. I really don't like wet market days - it takes all the pleasure out of browsing amongst the stalls and adds an extra element of danger because of the five foot tall old women with umbrellas and trolleys barging their way through everyone.

I returned to make breakfast for yesterday's new arrivals and then waited for a gap in the rain showers before heading back to finish my shopping. I hadn't really noticed that the wind had started to pick up but I certainly did when I got back down to the square.

The whole place was in absolute chaos with umbrellas and stalls all over the place. A decision had been made to close the market because it was too dangerous and the stallholders were already in the process of packing up whilst still trying to sell as much as they could. I made a rapid dash around to find the last few items I needed - it was pretty hairy with cardboard boxes and plastic bags flying all the place.

I bumped into Herve and he told me that the tat market on the Boulevard Barbes had been flattened and Pierre told me that he had heard on the radio that this afternoon they are predicting 140km winds and that the storm has already left a trail of devastation through the south west of France with Bordeaux badly hit and half a million people without electricity.

As I type this the lights keep flickering and I half expect them to go off at any moment.

As I returned home I could see that my shutters on the front of the building were beginning to take a bit of a battering so I hurried inside and took the totally unprecented decision to lock down during daylight hours. Alas, I was just too late as the wind ripped one shutter from it's anchor with a deafening crash. Fortunately it didn't leave it's hinges and I was able to pull it back in and close it up.

It's quite wierd and a bit spooky sitting inside with the lights on and the shutters closed, listening to the wind thrashing everything outside.

I suspect the airport will be closed so it's fortunate that I don't have any guests coming in that way today. The plane took two attempts to land yesterday - I don't think they will even try today. I do have some guests arriving by train this evening - but I wouldn't be surprised if they get delayed somewhere - I'll just have to wait and see.

It was always going to be a cooking day and I suspect my guests might be checking out the dvd collection.