NaNoWriMo is over. I made it to 100,000 words, but the novel itself is no where near done. There’s about 1/3 left to write, which leaves me with about another 50,000 words so I’m plugging away at it every day in the hopes that it will be finished by the end of December.
This late autumn has been surprisingly pleasant. The weather is still hovering around 17°C, which is in the low 60’s for those of you not on the Celsius system. It’s still sunny and not too windy and the sky is blue and mostly clear. A very nice change from the freezing windy winters we’ve had the past two years I’ve been here. This is what I moved to Provence for. (Well, that and the husband.)
I get up every morning before the sunrise to go running. I don’t like going in the dark, but like most people, I have a day job I have to get to. While I’ll always prefer being in the mountains over the sea – I don’t know why people love the water so much – I can’t complain about the sunrise over the Mediterranean.
I’ll let the photos do the talking. This was on an 11K run last Monday morning. I was running and taking photos at the same time. I’m impressed I didn’t fall on my face.
What do you get for writing 100K but not finishing the novel? Well, on Sunday the husband and I are going to Table du Vigneron. But you also get cheese. Lots and lots of melted cheese.
This is a mont d’or. It’s truly amazing how many variations on one thing the French have. In this case fondue. Mont d’Or is a circle of cheese purchased in its thick rind and a bake-able wood box. You cut a hole in the top, pour in a dry white wine and bake in the oven until it’s hot and melted.
Serve with bread, potatoes, onion, ham, broccoli, what ever you like with your fondue right out of the rind. You can buy bigger ones than this. Much bigger. But as it was just the husband and the cat and me, this was enough. Apparently, my cat likes melted cheese. He’s French.
On Saturday, well, all weekend there was a salon in downtown la Seyne. L’Esprit du Vin et de la Gastronomie, has come for four days. Wine, cheese, foie gras, sausage producers from all over France have come to sell their wares in time for Christmas preparations.
Did you know they’re banning foie gras in California? Don’t get me started…
Anyway, it was a relatively small affair, compared with the Fête de Bacchus that comes to Toulon every April, but it was pleasant enough, and as it was smaller, there were less people and the rooms were hushed with festive red carpeting everywhere to block out footfall. Despite being under a simple white tent, it was warm and welcoming.
The husband and I are well known for going to these things and spending way too much money and getting more than a little tipsy. Entry was 5 Euro each and came with a complimentary glass and we had to taste as much as we could before we made any serious descisions.
We bought two whites from Alsace. A heavy, though young red from Bordeaux by a small producer in between the Margaux and Pomerol domains. A lighter red from Burgundy which will go well with a sharp cheese and last but not least a Chateauneuf. Not as good as Domain de Rampart, but Chateauneuf is Chateauneuf.
Then there was the cheese. A blue and St. Nectar from sheep’s milk. Soft and fresh, but definitely strong enough to hold their own. Handmade, carefully aged. I couldn’t resist. I love small cheese producers. There’s something definite in the taste of a homemade cheese that cannot be beat. Olivade – not to be confused with tapenade – of the last green olives of the season – which is why they dip is mostly black. And of course we can’t forget the husband’s impulse buy:
A three foot long sausage made of bull soaked in Gigondas.
It’s a lot of food. A lot of wine. But these producers are small, the types of fresh, handmade, hand cultivated, hand grown, products that you can’t get in the stores. And even if you do, they’ll cost you an arm and a leg.
Here is the producer of the Bordeaux. He was packing up our wine as if we were going to give it as a gift. Hahahaha. We’re planning on drinking it for Christmas. Hopefully with boar.
At the Burgundy table there was just too much choice. Every year had a different taste as does every part of the domain. That makes a lot of wine to try.
But for now, Pistou the cat has decided it’s time for dinner. In fact, he’s being fairly insistent about it. There’s squash and chicken and onion. I hope I can make some sort of meal out of that.