Holiday Memories and a Lovely French Salad

We were sitting here by the fire last night, Jess curled up by our feet, all snug and settled for a quite night in, when we suddenly remembered that it was at this very time of year that we took our lovely holiday to the South of France several years back. We both fell in love with the South of France in the springtime. Has it already been five years since we've been??? Far too much time has passed . . . my heart longs to return.



We stayed with some friends in a lovely stone cottage, nestled amongst the vineyards, right on the edge of the Dordogne and very near to Bordeaux. It was so beautiful there. Down a winding lane and up at the crest of a small hillside, you could see the cottage from the roadway as you approached, sitting atop the hill, surrounded by wakening vineyards. It was so very welcoming and inviting. For the two weeks that we were there, it was truly our home away from home . . .



The field next to the cottage was full of sheep and new spring lambs, frolicking and gambling through the grass. I can remember waking up each morning while we were there, and throwing open the shutters to our bedroom window to let in the sunlight, and the sound of them bleating in the warmth of the early morning sunshine, music to my ears. The air had that crisp morning sweetness to it and the sun felt so nice on my face. It was bliss . . . pure and simple bliss.

The only heat in the cottage was a fireplace in the sitting room down stairs and an old wood fired stove in the kitchen. This would have to be stoked each morning to warm things up, as it was still rather cool in March. I'm not all that sure that Todd and Peter enjoyed having to go out and get firewood every day, but the four of us all really enjoyed sitting in the lounge in the evenings by the roaring fire and listening to the logs crackle and sputter as we relaxed in cosy companionship together. There is a special feeling that goes along with sputtering logs and the sight of flames flickering. It's a feeling not to be missed.



We spent our days exploring the French countryside, both in the car and on foot. It was so beautiful there. We loved exploring ancient medieval villages with their stone buildings and winding cobbled streets, built on hilltops and cliffs. The views were spectacular. You could see for miles and miles at some of these places. A cold drink at a streetside cafe never tasted better or was more refreshing than after we had walked the steep cobbled streets of St Emilion. There was such atmosphere in these wonderful little towns, and you haven't truely lived until you have partaken of an authentic canelle eaten from a tiny paper bag bought from a local boulangerie, it's crisp cinnamony exterior belying it's soft, creamy and custardy insides. Mind you the fresh bread and rolls that we picked up early each morning from the baker just down the road were an experience not to be missed either. I doubt the paper bag full of them ever got back to the cottage even once without at least one of them missing . . . (I'm not confessing to anything!)



It was there, in the countryside, on one of our long walks that I saw my first mistletoe and that I heard my first cuckoo. I was mesmerized.

We took a walk around a lake one day, for what seemed like forever. A stray dog adopted us along the way, and kept us company for the whole journey. On another day I can remember going on a 13 kilometer walk and smelling wild garlic in the fields and hearing the pleasant hum of bumblebees and trickling brooks. There is nothing quite like partaking of a picnic with friends in a field of wildflowers in the French countryside, the warmth of spring sunshine beating down on your heads, with nature teeming all around you and assailing your senses with all of it's goodness. Bread and cheese never tasted better.



During the week, most of the villages seemed pretty empty of people, as if someone had come down and spirited them all away, or at least . . . that is the way it felt. In March, in the South of France, there are not too many people about. That only added to it's charm.

On Saturday morning though, the local village was full to overflowing with people . . .and the village really came to life, for it was market day. We had a great time ambling through the stalls and haggling with the sellers. It was so alive and energetic and teeming with people and wonderful smells and sounds. You could hear the merchants hawking their wares in a wonderfully exciting symphony of voice, and at every turn our noses breathed in the smells of fresh cheeses and breads . . . fishes, meats and wonderfully colourful fruits and vegetables. The fruits and vegetables were so fresh you could still smell the earth on them. The sound of fresh chickens, geese only adding another wonderful timbre of sound to the mix.

On one street corner there was an older couple, he with a pair of cymbals and she with an accordian, a bird in a cage set on the table in front of them. They were singing lovely old French folk songs as the bird in the cage accompanied them . . . it was both charming and hauntingly beautiful.



Another day we drove down to Lourdes, because we were so close and because we had heard so much about it and we had all decided it was an experience not to be missed. We were not dissappointed. A charming town . . . at this time of year, still not yet filled to the brim with catholic pilgrims making their journey to the shrine. I guess in the warmer summer months one can scarce breathe for all the people about, but when we were there, it was just pleasant and busy, but not manic. We spent a whole day there taking it all in. Our lunch, a picnic eaten at a table amongst the trees next to the shrine, our view . . . the snow topped Spanish Pyrenees rising in the distance.



The South of France, this time of year, is breathtakingly beautiful and having been there is a memory we both cherish. I do long to go again, but like most things, I know it would not be the same . . . and so I hold the memories in my heart and take them out to visit it from time to time in my mind.

For a few warm weeks in March, while all of England was still in the throes of a late and wet winter, we were able to imagine what it would be like to live in this early spring paradise all year round, with the rose coloured glasses and imaginations of people who know they will soon be leaving. It was romantic, and relaxing and pretty wonderful. I guess it's the uniqueness of it and the fleeting feelings that go with it having been a holiday that make it so wonderful and so precious to the memory. Afterall, if it had been an every day sort of thing, would it really have meant so much? Would a holiday really be a holiday if it happened every day? It's the hard work during the rest of the year that make it so . . .

Of course, I was the *chief* cook the whole time we were there, and I loved every minute of it. There is nothing I enjoy more than being in charge of a kitchen, and when it's in a foreign country . . . well, then it is even better. It was lovely. Often in the evening we would sit and eat our meals out on the stone patio as we watched the sun go down, the chill of the evening overtaking the dissappearing warmth of the day, and this lovely salad is typical of the types of meals we would enjoy. A bit of grilled chicken, some lovely fresh vegetables and a crusty loaf, perhaps some soup . . . you just haven't lived until you have experienced this Heaven on earth . . .



*Salade d'endives aux roquefort, celeri et noix*
(Chicory Salad with Roquefort, Celery and Walnuts)
Serves 4

This salad is full of lovely flavours, the faint bitterness of the chicory (select very pale chicory with only a hint of green for the best flavour) goes so very well with the delicate flavour of the celery and the lovely nutty crunch of the walnuts, not to mention the robust creaminess of the cheese. The lovely walnut vinaigrette pulls it all together in a lovely marriage of wonderful flavours and textures.

4 to 5 heads of chicory, halved, cored and thinly sliced
2 celery stalks, thinly sliced, plus the leaves, torn
75g Roquefort cheese, crumbled
50g shelled walnuts, coarsely torn apart with your fingers
a handful of flat leaf parsley leaves, finely chopped

Walnut vinaigrette:
2 TBS red wine vinegar
1 tsp fine sea salt
1 tsp Dijon mustard
6 TBS sunflower oil
1 TBS walnut oil
freshly ground black pepper to taste

First prepare the vinaigrette. Put the vinegar into the salad bowl. Using a small whisk, whisk in the salt, mixing it until it is almost dissolved. Whisk in the mustard until it is completely blended in. Whisk in the sunflower and walnut oils, one tablespoonful at a time, beating well after each addition until it is completely emulsified. Grind in some black pepper and taste. Adjust seasonings as necessary.

Just before you are ready to serve it, toss in the chicory, celery, parsley, roquefort and walnuts. Toss well. Serve immediately along with a basket of fresh crusty rolls and plenty of cold butter for spreading. This is bliss.