photography

Happy Friday – The Art of Coffee

| Mairead

As well as experimenting with art and Just Pudding (formerly know as Bread and Butter Pudding) I am now experimenting with coffee. As I’m on holidays I have been indulging in my coffee joy. That is, one coffee per day on holidays. It’s easy enough to keep off coffee at home because although I always like the smell I don’t always love the taste. But France (and Italy) have amazing coffee that both smells and tastes great. So, on holidays I get coffee every day at a café or bar.

But, if you’ve been following along, you’ll know we are in the middle of the countryside – no café. So our kitchen has had to become the café. Denis was prepared for this… I was not. He brought along a coffee grinder (I kid you not) and a coffee-for-one plunger type thingy called an aeropress. He willingly made me coffee with this for the first two days and then he taught me how to use it myself… but it was such a palaver I was doing his washing up duties just to get him to continue making it for me.

Then I was reading a book called Homeland and the character was talking about cold brew coffee. He made it sound very interesting and I thought I’d give it a go. My resident internet investigator looked up the How to… while I gathered the tools. We were missing some tools so a few days passed before we could begin. But now I can tell you the experiment is well on its way and we are discovering how to make the best cold brew coffee in all of France (because I bet no one else in France is bothering.) I helpfully took pictures so you can experiment along with me if you like.

Here we go….. (Oh by the way, if you start to think that cold brew is also a bit of a palaver… you might be right, but sure I’m having fun!)

1. Buy ground coffee (so much cheaper here)

2. Get a big jug (there was a 2 pint one in our china press)

Coffee 1

3. Fill the jug up to a quarter with the coffee (yes, it’s a lot of coffee – remember I said how cheap the coffee was here?)

Coffee 2

4. Pour water – cold water – into the jug, filling up to top

5. Stir, carefully.

Coffee 3

6. Cover jug with cling film and leave for at least 12 hours in a quiet corner (don’t know if the quiet corner is important but it’s been working for me)

Coffee 4

7. Photography some flowers, do some crafts and go to sleep

8. Come back when more than 12 hours have passed

Coffee 5

9. Take one large bottle (we used one from a jus de pomme (apple not potato) drink)

10. Take one coffee filter holder (we could hardly contain our excitement when we saw one of these in the Hyper U – up until then we were draping the coffee filter over the rim of the bottle)

11. Put one coffee filter (we used size 4 – more excitement when we realised the coffee filter holder was size 4 also) into the coffee filter holder (as you would)

12. Put coffee filter holder on top of bottle (we would have been ecstatic if the coffee filter holder had fit neatly into the bottle, but we made it work….)

Coffee 6

13. Take a roll of masking tape (yes I brought masking tape to France) and tape the coffee filter holder to the bottle

Coffee 9

14. Using a sieve (if you have one bigger than ours, that’s nice for you) pour the jug of coffee and water mixture into the coffee filter (which is in the coffee filter holder on top of the bottle) slowly taking care not to disturb the coffee grinds too much

15. When the sieve gets clogged up, stop to empty it, then continue pouring until there is only coffee grinds in the jug

16. Is there anyone still reading?

Coffee 10

17. Wait until all the water has dripped into your bottle and then put the cap on and put it in the fridge.

18. Clean up.

Coffee 12

19. Have a lovely cup of coffee – by pouring a quarter (or one-third) cup of the liquid from the bottle and adding boiling water – yum. Or you could heat a cup full (strong) in the microwave. Or you could have it on ice, if you like iced coffee (yuck, yuck, splutter, splutter.) If I was on my own here (just saying) the bottle would probably last a week but now Denis has stopped making his plunger stuff and we’re sharing mine.

There you go… hmmm… just nineteen short steps to a lovely cup of coffee… Mairead.

The Tunnel I love

| Mairead

2509b

(Leaves and seed. I pick something up every time I go walking)

I went on my walk this morning (of course I did!) a bit earlier than usual because it’s not so pleasant to walk in the heat. Anyway, there’s a stretch of the road which I call the tunnel (or tunnel as I like to say in French) and I absolutely love it. It’s dark and incredibly quiet in there. You can just about make out the light from the sky in the distance. This morning I had to stop and get a good feel of its magic.

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(Duck. From the riverside in Vouvant)

I never bring the camera out on my walk, much too much distraction, but two nights ago I had my phone and I took a picture. It might not be very clear but I wanted to give you a visual sense of my tunnel.

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(My tunnel, sigh)

So… I’m standing in my tunnel this morning and the phrase the darkest hour is just before the dawn comes to mind. And it got me thinking… my tunnel is such a comforting place to be, I wonder how it would work if the next time I’m feeling down, I imagine myself in my tunnel. A place to be held safely in the dark until it’s time to venture out into the sun. I’m definitely going to try it. (By the way, in case I forget and you notice I’m needing my tunnel, could you remind me please?)

2509a

(Love this quote from Maya Angelou, it’s now in one of the journals I’ve been creating here)

With only a week left (I think I’ll keep saying that every day from now on….) I’ve been thinking of all the things I want to do before we leave and on the very top of the list is… getting a video of the hens running to me (their surrogate mother…) So far we have a startled looking hen standing very still so hopefully they’re not camera-shy. If we do manage to capture momentum I’ll find a way to share it with you.

2509e

(Very cute sign in Vouvant)

From the sunny swing, Mairead.

Being Grateful

| Mairead

2409b

(St. John’s Gate – Parthenay)

I’m sitting on the swing as I write, in a little bit of shade, it’s way too hot out there under the bright light for my pale complexion. The really surprising thing about a hot day here is how cool it is inside in the cottage. It’s almost like there’s air conditioning in there. I think it must be the thickness of the walls. Caves are like that too, so it makes them a constant temperature year round, cooler than the summer heat and warmer than the cold winter.

2409c

(Half-timber house – Parthenay)

I realised a moment ago that we will be starting our journey home in just over a week. It was starting to feel like we could stay here forever! So it makes me think about some of the things I am grateful for here… The warmth – it’s been very hot this week and I love how sparkly everything is in the sun, including the spider’s webs (some photos of those would be nice). The garden – it’s lovely to be among green growing things. The peace – it’s so quiet, not silent, there’s buzzing and I can hear some neighbours chatting. I think I hear a farm machine in the distance and every now and then a bird singing. The trestle table – it has been (and will continue to be for the next week, I hope) fantastic to be able to work outside at this big wooden table made by human hands and planks of wood.

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(Very cute house – Parthenay)

The distance from a retail hub – well, this was a big surprise to me, that I could be grateful not to be near a village, town or city. How would I spend my days? How would I fill the time? Where would I get some chocolate or croissants? Where would we eat? For as long as I can remember I have lived in a town (or a city) and always very close to (either next door to or a few hundred yards/meters away from) a shop. In Cashel where I grew up as a child besides the shops there were so many amazing places to visit (really, they did seem amazing!) There was the Rock of Cashel where stone staircases led to turrets that let up to the battlements, hundreds of feet up in the air and unprotected… Any parent’s nightmare – fortunately our parents never knew we were up there! And Hoare Abbey, an old ruined monastery, protected by huge cows (I was/am afraid of cows, so I only ventured in when they were eating the grass round the back). The town of Parthenay reminded me a lot of Cashel.

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(Steep, unprotected steps, at the castle – Parthenay)

So I have come to understand that having no shops and castles and monasteries next door to wander around has actually been an advantage to me. Instead, I can wander around glue and paint, paper and canvas, scissors and fabric.

2409e

(See the seashell? Symbol of Camino – Parthenay)

I am also grateful that the only cows around here are firmly behind fences, Mairead.

Parthenay – not just a pretty town

| Mairead

2309b

(This is the Courgette Chocolate Cake – yummy! And no I didn’t make it…)

It is so hot here today. It was so hot yesterday too. At the weekend we went to visit a little town called Parthenay. It’s a really beautiful walled town with a combination of stone ruins and pretty half-timber houses. We took about 200 photos so if you’re getting bored with hen pictures have no worries there’ll be something different this week. Although I don’t know how you would….

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(Look how brave she is!)

You remember last Friday I mentioned the Camino? Well, a funny thing about Parthenay is that it was one of the towns in France on one of the routes to the Camino. (Yes there were lots of towns and lots of routes but still…) There’s even a whole area of the town called St. John’s Quarter. St. John is the saint of the Camino because his remains are buried in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela – the end point of the Camino walk.

2309e

(One of the narrow side streets)

So… isn’t that gas? And we walked a lot in Parthenay, up and down little side streets, along steps, over the ramparts. The old town is on a hill surrounded on three sides by a loop in the river, no slacking off on the walking that day. Therefore, you could say I’ve already started the Camino… One day I mention something, the next day it comes to me…. now what do I want next?

2309g

(Only 1,492.2 Km to go)

Ok, well that’s kinda funny too.. because the thing I want is… to encourage others to join my classes where we do crafting with intention like I’ve been doing here, like the collage, montage, art journaling, life journaling or whatever. And I looked up just now and saw Mara at the trestle table painting a little coffee table she got from the second-hand shop. We’ve been crafting side by side all day at that trestle table.

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(The ramparts)

Maybe I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing….. Mairead.

Just Walk

| Mairead

You might remember my budding exercise regime? I was going to walk everyday. I was even thinking of walking on the wet days.Well, it’s been faltering a bit. Now, I had read somewhere that if you can repeat something for 21 consecutive days it will become a habit. That’s what I wanted to do with the walking. It was having a shaky start. Then yesterday it got a bit of a boost. I was reading twitter (it’s shorter than email or Facebook…) last night and someone had retweeted a comment from a lady who wished “that I could wake up in the morning on the Camino and just walk.”

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(Some more free food)

It was a simple enough sentence but something about it was captivating. This woman had been walking on the Camino (the Pilgrim’s Walk in Spain) earlier this year and her love for it came through in her very few words. It was a practical example to me of how one person’s passion transfers to another. It did to me.

1909d

(No hunting here, seen on edge of forest I passed)

I read twitter to get recipes from The Happy Pear, to look at cartoon drawings, to hear the news (in very small chunks), to be inspired by Brene Brown or to be amused by Ellen. But last night I went to sleep dreaming of what it must feel like to want to walk, even walk all day long. It wasn’t something I had really felt before… the wanting bit.

1909e

(Big sunflower face, lots of sunflowers on my walk)

So when I woke up this morning I was raring to go. I put on my new walking shoes and set out the door. Backtrack, first I had my breakfast and then I put on my shoes and went out the door. Although my mind was very excited and ready for a long walk, my body was less than enthusiastic. So I promised it (am I the only one who talks to her body?) that we would just take one step at a time and if things got tough we could always turn back. And then I began to think about the lady and her wish to “just walk” and it was different. Just walk is much easier than exercise regime. Just walk is simple and reminds me of something old-fashioned, an older time, maybe a time when the shops closed on Sundays and a half day on Wednesdays. And walking was entertaining, fun, social.

1909b

(One little flower popped out after the rain)

It was so easy I took another Just walk after lunch, Mairead.

I have a very little fridge and I’m not going to fill it up with rain

| Mairead

1809c

(Some perfect scraps of paper)

It seems to have rained all night so the ground was very wet this morning…. but it’s sunny now so I’m sitting outside on the swing. Since we got here I’ve been making craft stuff everyday (except at the weekend) and the weather has been nice enough to work outside. Until this week. It was hard to come back inside when I’d got used to working in the air. Even when the sun wasn’t shining it felt good to be outside. Now there were downsides. For example every piece of paper had to be weighted down so that it didn’t blow away. It’s painful fishing for those perfect scraps of paper in the rose bushes. But working inside the glue smells and the spots of paint I’ve been dropping may never come out of the rug… 

1809a

(Bits and pieces)

So, instead of reminding myself it will be a lot colder and wetter when we get back home and how’s that going to suck… I starting thinking….. all this talking and thinking about cold weather or wet weather or bad weather gets me no closer to the thing I want to be doing. It’s just a distraction. 

1809b

(Mara came back today and she made up a vegetable basket – all from the garden. And later there’s promise of chocolate zucchini cake – no idea…)

Like when I go into the supermarket here. I bring a list, it’s a very small list because we have a very small fridge (note to self: bigger fridge is not always better fridge, you tend to fill the fridge and the only advantage is that there’s more room for things to go off…) But on the way to getting the things on the list I see lots of attractive other things. Like cute knives and forks, you can never have enough knives and forks and they have a gingham pattern. Or cake… well who doesn’t want more cake? Or those funny orange sticks in the fish section – what are they? Anyway, by the time I find the things on the list the basket is full and I’m ready for a nap. 

1809f

(Who could pass these?)

How is that like this? Maybe not a lot but it reminds me… when I’m in the supermarket I forget why I’m there – to fill the little list. When the rain falls I forget why I’m here (in France, but maybe also in general) – to fill my other little list. My other little list has joy and love and fun and crafts and glue and paint and scissors and fabric and pins and thread and wool and other people’s hens and…..

If I fill my other little fridge with rain and cold and problems and worry it’ll be hard to get anything else in, Mairead.

Apple Tart Omelette

| Mairead

1709a

(Mmmm Bread and Butter Pudding Version 1.0)

Another wet day today which is making me kinda sleepy. I might have a little snooze after I finish this. Well, I finally made my version of a bread and butter pudding. Lets call it version 1.0. I have a feeling there might need to be more versions… It didn’t turn out all that well. But it did have some positive attributes. It smelled lovely, the apples and cinnamon, I think. It looked pretty good too. But the taste…. it tasted a bit like apple tart omelette. If you, like me, have never tasted apple tart omelette and wondered… wonder no more, it’s not great.

1709b

(More pictures of the beautiful forest walk around Mervant Lake)

You might remember I had a plan to feed it to the hens if it didn’t work, but then I worried about the ethics of feeding hens their own eggs? Well, I went back to the hen forum (still no sign of Liam) and feeding them cooked eggs is not a problem. (The eggs in this case are definitely cooked, in fact you could call them over-cooked.) The only problem it seems is letting the hens realise how delicious their eggs are in case they eat them before you have a chance to get them in the fridge.

1709c

(Our picnic spot…. water and peach spot really)

Right so, what to do for next time… the omelette taste wasn’t so good so maybe I’ll leave the egg out… and the bread was a bit chewy so maybe I’ll leave the bread out, if there’s no bread then I’ll probably leave the butter out. And I found something that looks very like flour in the bottom of the cupboard so maybe I’ll put that in. Of course that kind of defeats the purpose of using up stale bread and finding a home for free eggs… but I do like the apples…

1709d

(Can you see the person in the red sweater sitting on the rock way, way up there?)

Watch this space for Bread and Butter Pudding Version 1.2, without the bread and the butter, probably should call it Just Pudding, Mairead.

Bright lights, big city, sleepy time.

| Mairead

1609a

(The street full of restaurants in La Rochelle)

Not a lot happening here today, working away on my crafting. Forgot to mention that we went to the big city on Friday. After our first weekend and becoming accustomed to how things work in France – opening times, closed days, etc. – we came to a decision that weekends would consist heretofore of a Friday and a Sunday. The Friday could include shopping expeditions, trips to the big city and general touristy things. The Sunday would be for long walks and lunch out while remembering to be at a lunch establishment within the golden hour of 12.30pm to 1.30pm… just in case. Just in case they closed!

1609b

(Pretty boats)

So, we got up early on Friday as excited as children on Christmas morning (well I was, Denis was just complaining about the time.) We let the hens out with enough food and water to last until Monday and we were driving down the road by 10am. By 10.10am we were driving past our back gate for the second time. It did look familiar. We had driven off before the sat nav had connected with the satellites (seemingly that’s how it works – there isn’t someone in there) and by the time connection happened we were facing the wrong direction. Usually the nice lady says “Take the next U-turn” but around here there are so many road options she decided to take us around in a circle back to the start. Off we went again.

1609f

(While Denis was taking pictures of the slipway (above) he heard some shouts of “Monsieur, s’il vous plait?” He had got in the way of the photographers taking pictures of (possibly) famous people?)

The big city was La Rochelle and it was an hour away. Living in the country, tuning into the wild life and my creative impulses and communing with the hens seems to have had an effect already. As we got closer to the city I was becoming more and more restless. There was a lot of traffic and a lot of people and the nice lady in the sat nav was giving lots of instructions and did I mention the traffic? By the time we got to Decathlon (for the runners and the rucksack) I was ready to go home to the nice peaceful place, yes peace, hmmmmm. But as there was promise of lunch I put on a brave face and struggled on.

1609d

(Here’s a good look at the (potentially) famous people…. any ideas?)

By the time we left Decathlon it was dangerously close to the start of the golden hour (yes, 90 minutes in a sports supermarket!) Twenty minutes later we were moving through the pretty port of La Rochelle very slowly in heavy traffic looking for a place to park. There were plenty of places and we managed to park very close to a street full of restaurants. We picked one and either they were all really good or we were incredible lucky (again.) It was great. I had Sea Bream on a bed of risotto on top of a little fat crepe – yum. No idea what Denis had I hardly lifted my head to breathe – yum,yum. Sorry, no pictures 😦

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(One of the towers protecting the port of La Rochelle)

After lunch we walked around the streets remembering the last time we were here but soon I had enough and we headed back to the car. We had more shopping to do – grocery shopping. We had spotted a huge supermarket on the way in that morning and decided we go back there and get everything under one roof. The normal sized supermarket for this particular chain is called Super U and this one was called Hyper U. I know where it gets its name. It made me feel very hyper. It was ginormous. The sales assistants wore roller blades to get around! An hour passed like a flash. Less than an hour after that we finally found the car (note to self: write down the car park section number, you never remember it) and promised each other we would never, never do that again. Fridays next time would consist of either hyper shopping or little shopping or tourist-ing but never all three.

I’m tired just thinking about it, Mairead.

Rain or Shine, some more hen pictures

| Mairead

1509e

(We went for a ramble around the lake at Mervant this morning)

It’s Sunday afternoon, I’ve just brought the hens their afternoon treat – porridge. They love it! Being from France they possibly haven’t tasted it  (you can only buy it here in the English section at the supermarket) but they get very excited when they realise that’s what I’ve brought. Their excitement is followed by very noisy pecking in the feeding dish. This weekend they’ve had a lot of excitement food-wise.

1509a

(Some swallows gathering on the wire outside our house)

It rained heavily all day yesterday (Saturday) which was fine as I had planned a day of answering long unanswered emails, so I sat most of the day on the sofa in front of the windows to the garden. After a while I kinda forgot where I was. You miss a lot of reality when you’re on the computer. So it was lunchtime before I realised the hens were probably drenched, I went to investigate. I had let them out of the house earlier in the morning when the rain was only starting and was surprised that they seemed very eager to be outside.

1509b

(Can you see the rain?)

Now when I reached their enclosure I couldn’t believe the state of them. They were indeed drenched, they looked like they’d been for a swim, feathers plastered against their heads, beaks to the ground. I remember the bird ‘flu crisis we had in Ireland a few years ago, so I knew birds could get the ‘flu, is this how it started?

1509c

(The poor chicken… notice the muddy beak?)

I went straight back to the house (the one we’re in not the hens) and had Denis check if his brother Liam (he and Kate live with the hens I was hen-sitting last summer) was online to get advice. He wasn’t. So instead we searched for a hen forum (where hen owners gather on the internet to chat… really…)

1509d

(Soaking)

We found one in America. There was lots of chat about hens in the rain but the main message –  they’re fine. They love the rain. Why? Because it provides the other thing they love – worms. It has been a very dry summer here in the Vendee and so the ground is very hard, making it difficult for worms to get to the surface or hens to get through to them. Not yesterday. Soft earth. Lots of worm potential. Happy hens.

So how do birds get the ‘flu? Mairead.