The week that was (2 September 2015)

November 26, 2015

Le soap box …

As for France, it’s pure delight. I am staying in a small town called Castelnaud la Chapelle in the Dordogne. It's all stone buildings and church bells. The bells ring the hour, every hour, but they actually ring twice, just in case those in the fields forgot to count the first round. The swallows dart in the fading afternoon light, searching for moths, but generally looking like they are having the best time. It’s hard not to.

The food so far has been the typical Frenchie bistro fare, my highlights a delicious yet incredibly simple garlic and egg broth made with a little stale bread to thicken it and a veal sweetbread and cepes concoction, the sweetbreads perfectly cooked. The cepes are just finishing their first flush of the season. Hopefully last night’s rain will draw the next batch out. I bought a fistful at the market and will be following up with a cepes omelette for Dad and I this evening.

Summer in Provence. Social distancing in the markets means we are all kept one metre from the produce too. Thus no running your fingers over the tomatoes to check for firmness, no gently prodding at the base of the Cavaillon melon to confirm their desire to yield for today’s lunch, no ability to check for bruises on your peaches. . Subsequently you must choose your stall holder wisely and cultivate that friendship carefully, the success of your shopping is literally in their hands. This, of course, is a joy when successful (and bitterly disappointing when not). . Luckily, much of summer’s produce also has the most intoxicating perfume when at its best. That’s what stopped me at these strawberries. They were perfect.

Home. I seem to be collecting places to call home of late - Pantelleria, Marmara, Rayol. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m fickle or they’re fantastic. Perhaps both. Either way, here’s a new one and this one even has my name on the letterbox. She’s incredibly beautiful in the autumn light.

Parea (n.) παρέα - a Greek word denoting a close group of friends who gather together purely to enjoy each other’s company - to celebrate the everyday joys of life. I love discovering the words that belong to a culture. I also love this idea of dwelling down laneways with your friends, day after day, all the way into old age.

This is the view from my favourite taverna in Crete ... . And yet, this view is just a tiny part of the dream. With an excellent (and lauded) restaurant in Chania, this is Christostomos’s remote baby on the south coast - near where he grew up. The taverna is only accessible by foot or boat. They have their own vegetable garden, chickens, they recycle their water; they have C’s brother’s goats from the hills above, a wood-fired oven to cook them in and three simple rooms to rent. That is it – the beach, the hills, the gorge, one tavern, three rooms. When I was last here, I stayed for three nights to eat my way through their menu. This time, well, I flew from the other side of the world to come back.

Yanis was sitting under a carob tree watching the hawks when I came across him. After exchanging kalimeras, he gestured to the ground beside him and passed me his old binoculars to better see the birds. We were high up, a steep two hour walk from Loutro, the nearest town. It was just us, the hawks and his goats. The sound of their bells was the sound of his livelihood. You have the clocks, he said, we have the time. 8Days in Loutro is linked in my profile.

This beautiful man, his cane as crooked as his back and a basket of weeds for his lunch. It took me four visits (and thus three and a half months) to find the road that leads into this valley. A conversation with this man was the reward for my persistence. You can read more in 8Days, the link is in my profile. If you haven’t read it, hurry, (I think) I’m writing the next missive now.

8Days in Marrakech. An incredible eight days of warmth: from the colours in the Medina to the people whose job it was to sell those colours. What can’t be seen, however, is the savoury smell of lemon wood burning. Lit for dinner, the perfume was carried on the same winds that brought the beautiful, haunting call to prayer - the salat al maghrib - as the sun began to set. It was my favourite part of every day. The link to a few thoughts on my time in the red city (and the rest of this week’s missive) in my profile.

I miss my days chasing the sunset in Pantelleria, I miss that punctuation for every day - where would we watch it, what would we drink to celebrate it. I miss the stars that would follow, as if a consolatory offering to make up for the loss of sun. I miss having my feet on the earth, I miss the people, the tangle of talent from all over the world: artists, ceramicists, fishermen, musicians, wine makers, eggplant growers, distillers. I miss those conversations and adventures. 8Days in Pantelleria in my missive this week. Link for the rest of the story is in my profile.

I’m very excited about this Friday’s country book launch @graceburnwineroom. There will be all the good things (food, wine, music - suggestions for my meat playlist are warmly welcomed - and, of course, conversation). If you’re south of the border, you should come and play ... get onto their website for all the details.

Eight days in Le Rayol. A beautiful and tragic story of The Tropicana Club in my missive this week. Link in profile.

So wonderful to receive the first copy of my book accompanied by the same blue skies under which I wrote so much of it ... . Of course, I say my book, but it is nothing of the sort. This is a book created by so many hands. My wonderful co-author @askthebutcher_ , whose knowledge is distilled within its 512 pages; @emmatknowles for the exquisite recipes (all 110 of them!); @alan_benson_photographer whose photos tell the story from farm to butcher to cook in a way my words never could; @northwood_green for their design skills and patience (incredible patience!!) and last, but most certainly not least, the amazing team @murdochbooks - most particularly our brilliant editor @janemorrow who conducted the whole orchestra. . I am incredibly humbled by the opportunity to learn so much, not just about meat but also about the effort that goes in to each and every book on my bookshelf. What a year, what an incredible feeling to have it in my hands. . PS - it is now available for advance purchase with an excellent discount. The link is on my profile!

Bona Festa Major !! The concentration - and crowd silence - is incredible. The best bit, by far, is the celebration as each tier makes it back to the ground. Goose bumps all over.

Family, food, wine, music and the boys creating their own mayhem around us. A perfect afternoon.

Postcards from Pantelleria ... an island with no future tense; where the people are so entwined with their terroir that even if they leave, they always come home. A place where the fish are either swimming in the ocean or in olive oil, tomato, olives and capers. Somewhere to eat ice-cream at midnight and dance in the streets until the sun rises. I’m pining. Words to accompany the photographs in the missive. Link to this week’s #8days in profile.

One year ago, I sat @ester_au with @missotama preparing to head off on my adventure of all things Med and Meat Book (pics 3+4). The Med adventure is long over, today the Meat Book is too (pics 1+2). A fitting end to an excellent year of work and play. A lot has changed, but all the best things stay the same.

Some baths are better than others.

The sun setting over a very happy @thomashaugstvedt, back among the vegetables @thezinhouse. A very special night with very beautiful people ...

Living the Lankan dream with @missotama and @thomas_haugstvedt

The irony of being tourists and crashing the local's end-of-season party did not escape us, nor did their delicious sardines.

Equal rights for all does not mean less rights for you. It's not pie. #voteyes