Before you stuff it you need to clean it!

So today we had our first cooking class with Chef Pascal and it was grand.  First, we did the simple stuff--julienne some carrots, slice some onions, start to get acqainted.  Then he gave us each a quail...quite fresh.  It still had its head and feet attached.  First, he says, we clean.  And so we did.  We beheaded  it and whacked off its feet.  We burned away any pin feathers that remained.  And then we proceeded to carefully debone it.  To my great surprise, I actually managed to do it AND keep the skin intact, which was a necessary step.  We carefully cut the breast away from the skin and cleaned that well.  Then we stuffed it with carrots, onions and grapes.  With the bones we made stock for sauce...no butter here, he said, for this was Provence.  We also made pumpkin "cappuccino" as a first course, and to be served with the quail we made potato tartin with fresh foie gras.  To finish--raspberry tiramisu.  The three students all ate together and marvelled at what we had done.  None more than I.  The real question though is can I do it AGAIN when I get home?  Can I even find quail with the head still on?

This afternoon we are in St. Remy.We have done some shopping, and we watched a tournament of boules  (at least I think that is what it was called).  There is a fair on, and it is a very festive atmosphere.  In just a bit we will head back to our glorious little piece of paradise.  Our hotel is in the country, on a large but very casual estate.  I have had ample opportunity to practice my French, and have been told that I am doing well.  I have no idea if everyone is just being very polite, but I am content to think perhaps I am able to communicate a bit after all.

Tonight we meet the rest of our group.  Today there were only three of us; tomorrow and the rest of the week there will be nine.  Part of me will miss the attention that a small group allowed but there it is.

I am sleeping well here; Provence is agreeing with me very much!!

Paris is Pqris on a French Keyboqrd

I am sitting at our charming hotel trying to type on a French keyboard.  I do this sometimes at work but somehow the letters have moved around on me here.  That, or I am still not awake...

Our trip has already been interesting.  Part of the airport was closed as soon as we landed and had our passports stamped.  It would have been easy to panic but we did not.  There were a LOT of people being herded out and my French is not sufficient to comprehend more than a snippet here and there.  Martin decided that we could walk over to the other terminal and this is what we did.  Then it was time to navigate the trains into the city.  I started to relax after we successfully got tickets and directions.  We have enough French to manage and we are, naturally, making all sorts of mistakes.

We were tired but we knew better than just to go to sleep.  We checked into our hotel, and then we showered and changed.  After that we went exploring...we had lunch at a little bistro, and quickly moved inside just before our sandwiches arrived.  It poured and poured...and we were safely inside drinking wine.  What a delight.  It also made us slow down a bit.  Our walk later took us to the Eiffel Tower, where we declined repeatedly to buy any of the miniature versions that were being hawked everywhere.  We saw the boat that we will cruise on for our last night in France, and we enjoyed the busyness and atmosphere of little side streets.  It was perfect...until we started to trip over ourselves with fatigue.

We returned to the hotel early and fell asleep in moments.  12 hours later, we are feeling like we can handle the world again.  Today we are tackling public transportation again, as we are travelling south to Avignon and then a bit further south to St. Remy de Provence for our cooking school. 

I love adventuring!

Mais, oui....

Going Home, Encore

Last week, my sister-in-law Joyce died.

It didn't help that we knew it was coming, that the cancer eating away at her insides was going to win over her determination to keep it away.

It still hurts.

She was terrific--I loved her, primarily because she loved my brother.  She adored my parents.  She even liked me.  She is the only person I know who could consistently eat more sushi than I can, and I can eat a lot.  We made that our thing.  The last time we had sushi together was in April, and in fact, I had gone home specifically to do that with her.   It was yummy.

She once came to visit me, and we toured all around the city.  I showed her where I had moved to, and she watched my boyfriend (now my husband) and the way he was treating me, and she told me she approved.  My favorite part of that trip was 'having tea' with the Famous Five.  We were taking pictures of all the sculptures, rubbing Lester's foot and laughing, and when we saw the pictures we were quite bemused that the policemen on the hill thought we just might be up to no good, for they showed up in many of the snapshots.

I went home in April because I wanted to make sure that we had a chance to say goodbye.  I wanted to thank her for being such a great addition to our family.  I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated that she loved us all in spite of our quirky ways.    I had questions for her, things I wanted to know.  We had one or two things to work out and we took the time to do that. We talked about many things,  including the fact that she was dying.  We all are, we decided--life is, after all, a terminal condition.  We smiled a bit, toasted life itself with our sake.

She had a really great laugh.  Her smile was ready, for anyone at anytime.  I can't believe that I won't see that smile anymore.

I miss her.  I will never forget her tears at sushi, because we were talking about my brother, and how he was going to get through all this.  She knew that he needed her.  We all need her.  Things will never ever be the same.

I'll never forget her celebration of life service either.  My brother was terrific.  He was vulnerable but poised, crying but strong, tender but determined that we would all know why he loved her.  We had a few extremely precious moments to ourselves before the service that I will never forget.  There was a gigantic spray of yellow carnations on her casket.  They were, he said, for us to take home to remember her by, and so we all filed up to remove some of the blossoms.  I loved that so much.

Here's to you, Joyce Brown.  You were a heck of a gal.