We have a resident Black Redstart called Stan* who has this year, together with his lady love, decided to make a nest in the cour under our terrace.

Himself and herself are at the moment deeply involved in feeding a nestful of ravenous chicks and make ten minute refuelling trips carring worms or insects.

If Síle has the temerity to hang washing on the line this interferes with their feeding schedule and they indicate their impatience by chirping savagely.

Sometimes if Síle has totally overstayed her welcome Stan will hop up and down in a lather of fractiousness.

*He is called Stan after Stendhal the author who wrote Le Rouge et Le Noir thereby becoming an obvious patron of the Black Redstart

I was asked by a constant reader (ahem) about the various ways we snuffers out of the second-hand bargain get out kicks in France.
The following I wrote in August 2008 just as we were starting to put the place together, it gives a brief rundown of the various categories of second hand shops here.

The French are great fans of old stuff. An antique fair will be treated as a family outing and will get the kind of houses reserved in Ireland for ploughing championships.
There are various catagories of antiques.
Poshest, and usually in smart shops in towns are Antiquities these, while interesting to visit, are usually too dear for my budget.
Next down in the pecking order are the Brocantes usually good for a bargain, loads of tat but the odd “find” and can vary enormously depending on the “eye”and taste of the Brocanteur.
Still cheaper and tattier are the Vide Greniers-literally empty attics, which are much as our car boot sales. (But because of of France’s more historic wealth ususally with better stuff )Puces, short for Marches des Puces or Flea Markets which are usually no better than that sounds.
This I thought was it until I came to the Languedoc.
Here I have discovered yet another category; Les Trocantes.
As Troc is the French word for Swap, what we have here is a depot where house holders can flog their surplus furniture.
The system is that one arrives in the Trocante with ones Armoire, they put a price on it (including their commission) and then display it.
If it doesn’t sell after a couple of weeks they drop the price until either it sells or you are asked to take it away.
Therefore one is well advised to visit these on a frequent and regular basis.
(The vendor only gets paid when the object sells)
We have already bought a rather nice marble topped dressing table in a Troc and a few days ago we went browsing with friend Clive in one in Beziers.
True to form Clive spotted a set of beautiful elegant chairs which had come down €100 to €120 since they were initially put for sale.

Ten minutes later we were the proud possessors six of these beauties, all in perfect nick bar a little (treatable) woodworm and all perfect in appearance and age and style to grace the bedrooms of the Presbytere.
I think the acquiring of furniture is going to be the most fun part of this process.
(It was )

The last time we were in Ireland the elder Grandson, Fionn , asked me if I had fat balls .
It was his Mother who had to explain eventually what he wanted to know.
Fionn goes to his other granparents two or three days a week and there his Granny Noirín , a great friend to garden birds , lets him help her to tie up balls of fat from the tree to feed the birds.
As soon as we got back to France we set about organising a fat ball for our tree.
Now this was not as easy as it seems because to put the ball in a position where we could see it from the terrace it had to go on a high branch of the tree, about 20 odd feet off the ground.
After a lot of misses, cursing and bashed fat balls we eventually have found a method , by attaching a weight on to the string we now can lower and raise the fat ball from the ground when it needs to be replaced.

Once we had got the first one up it just hung there forlorny for the first week, ignored by the only bird who frequented our garden small enough to use it ; the Black Redstart.

Then he twigged it, immediatly followed by some several Tits (of various types ) a sparrow and I think a chaffinch.
Now when I come down in the morning there is a positive flurry of excitement about the garden as various small birds joustle for position to get their breakfast.

It is thoroughly entertaining.
Thanks Fionn, and Noirín.

I suppose there are restaurants which still serve this dish , it seems to me to have left us , along with palm trees and orchestras and waiters who performed what we used to call lamp work at the table.

It is still my very favourite method of cooking this most delicious fish and here. for the benefit of all of you people who never experienced the above is how it is done.

Properly called Sole a la Belle Meunière which is to say Sole in the Style of the Beautiful Miller’s Wife, has been the classic method of cooking Black Sole from at least the turn of the last century and up until the 1970’s
I made a few attempts to introduce it on to the menu in Dwyers in the Eighties and Nineties but to no avail, almost inevitablely the waiters would arrive back into the kitchen apologetically and say that “table six would like the sole but would you fillet it for them ?” .
The whole point of Sole Meunière is that it is always cooked on the bone.
This I believe is the cause of its demise.
Originally of course the customer didn’t have to do anything as vulgar as lift the meat off the bone , the fish would have been fried at the table on a little portable stove by your waiter who , having quickly fried it, would with a very practiced few flicks of the wrist ,reduce it to four neat fillets on your plate.
These days are now gone , but we can still enjoy this dish at home.

First select your Sole.
This must be a true Black Sole , what the English call a Dover Sole.
Lemon Sole (really a type of Dab ) won’t do at all , neither will Plaice.

It should weigh in at about 250g, (8 oz.). Smaller ones , called slip sole , are much more of a fiddle as you may have to do two per person but they should be cheaper. Larger Sole , up to 500g are possible to share between two but take longer to cook.

Now the second point is that the fish must not be too fresh , it should be about 24 hours out of the sea . No problem normally but just check with your fish monger. If it is too fresh it is very difficult to skin and the meat can be a little resilient . Nothing that can not be fixed by letting it spend a day in your fridge at home and eating it the following one.

There is no need to get it either cleaned or scaled by the fish monger.
Just take it home and tackle it yourself.
First thing you need to do is to skin it.
Black skin first.
With a sharp knife cut off about a half inch of the tail , then (rather like finding the start on a roll of Cellotape) – and some salt on your fingers helps -find a start on the thin black skin and gently, but firmly , pull it off the whole length of the sole. If it should break while you are doing this just find another point to start again.
Now turn the sole over and do exactly the same with the white skin on the other side.

Now lay the fish out on the board and, with the tail towards you , fan out the side bones which form the frill on the sides of the fish.
Again with a good scissors , cut these in as closely as you can to the fish it self.
Discard these and the skin.

Now you can either make a small incision near the head and squeeze out the innards, or do what I do, cut off the head entirely and then wash out the stomach under running cold water.

Either way give the fish a quick rinse and then pat dry.

Now for each fish you have got ready, assemble for your self ;
Some seasoned flour on a large plate
Some olive oil for frying
and about
50g (2 oz.) of Butter
A teaspoon of finely chopped Parsley
One half Lemon
A good grating of black pepper
and a pinch of salt (only if you are using unsalted butter)

Melt the butter gently in the pot, add in the parsley and lemon juice and pepper and let it infuse gently off the heat while you cook the sole.

By the way it is essential at this stage that all the other elements of this meal – the potatoes (little sautied cubes are good ) and the veg (some crisp broccoli or some french beans) are cooked and being kept warm.

Now put some flour on a plate (this is where the Belle Meunière came in ) and give both sides of the fillet a light coating of flour.
Put some oil on to your best pan (non-stick is good) and when this is very hot fry your soles (no more than two at a time) for about two minutes a side.
They should brown nicely in this time and the flesh should be moist and delicious within- they will however remain un damaged in a warm place while you cook the others.

Only when all the other elements for the meal are ready and on the table, and your soles are sitting on their warmed plates will you put the butter on to heat.
Let this heat until it bubbles and colours just a little and then spoon this over each sole.

Now it is the turn of your guests to do a little work.
Let them run their knives down the back of their fish along the back bone and then lift the fillet to one side on their plate.
(This is the moment for them to check that none of the little bones on “the frill” escaped your scissors )
Now they can easily lift out the central bone from the bottom fillets (give them a plate on which to put their discards)

Then they can set to to enjoy what is , both Síle and I agree , the most delicious of all fish dishes.

The first this year.

Our noble vine which has grown up from the garden below and has started to cover our canopy has also decided to send some picturesque tendrils along the railings of the terrace.

My green fingered wife has created a geranium (ok , Pelargonium ) waterfall down the garden steps.

Our Lilas d’Inde is still (just ) in flower and now giving out a fabuloue scent.

From the garden you can see the striped awning we put up (with much blood sweat and tears) under the tatty looking cane canopy we erected a few years ago.

The Solanum , which had flowered for nine months continuously before we cut it viciously back , has returned . If you think it looks fimiliar it is a first cousin of the common irish spud.

Síle got out the spray gun and put some manners on the rambling rose this year.
It was a legacy from the previous occupants, three nuns , and was covered with mildew.

This Geranium is in a box on the terrace.

As is this succulent , another legacy from the nuns.

And at the shady , north facing side of the house we have planted Petunias in the window boxes.

I think when we set up this enterprise we were confident that we could provide an excellent service for our Irish clients , we had after all been dealing with them for many years.

We didn’t have the same confidence in our conquering the hearts of our French clientele , we were after all two interlopers daring to offer food and hospitality to the Masters.

We have gradually discovered that in fact we have the balance just right for our guests from France and their comments and appreciation have been warm.
Last week we had staying two charming teachers from the Auvergne , they left this morning and left the following message on our book.
Because I am completely without shame I will share it with you, and also add a translation.

(I might explain one of the parts by saying that I have a tendancy to sing bits of Georges Brassens’ repetoire while I cook)

Beaucoup de chaleur et d’ harmonie dans cette maison : harmonie dans les couleurs , harmonie dans les parfums : les roses et le jasmin, harmonie dans la cuisine : la confiture de figues , la glace au caramel et au gingembre….
Beaucoup d’ humour et de sincérité aussi.
Et meme un petit air de Brassans qui flotte dans le maison.
Biabi a Sile et Martin.

Lots of warmth and harmony in this house ; harmony in the colours , harmony in the perfumes of Roses and Jasmine , harmony in the cooking : in the Fig Jam and in the Caramel and Ginger Ice Cream.
Lots of humour and sincerity also and even a little tune from Brassens which floats through the house.
Bye Bye Sile and Martin

I think we’ve got it !

About a month ago we suffered a cat attack.
A wayward cat made her way into our house when I had left the door open and then hid for two days until she was finally found, captured and returnerd to the village.

The only clue we had to her presence was that every so often we would get the distinctive smell of cat-pee.
I have now , nearly , recovered from this attack so it was with some shock that when we opened the door of the car this morning we were assailed with the self same aroma.

We searched the car thoroughly (it is hard in a small village street not to look foolish with one’s arse out on the street and ones face stuck under a car seat calling “Puss, Puss” ) but no cat came forth.

Then I found the culprit, in a shopping bag in the boot.

Now I must digress.

One of the most attractive smells which tell us of the coming of summer is the wonderful smell of elderflower.
It is a smell that I am forever attempting to turn into taste.
I have made Cordial from it, soi-disant champagne, I have a box of sorbet in the freezer made with lemon flavoured with elderflower.
Yesterday I got a notion to try making some Elderflower Liqueur.
Síle and I picked a bag full which I packed into a jar and covered with alcohol and sealed . (In a months time I will strain the liqueur from the flowers and sweeten it with liquid sugar to taste.)

I am sure that you have now got there before me.
This indeed was the smell from the bag in which we had picked the elderflower which was now infusing the car .

Any lover of Sauvignan Blanc will know this distinctive smell.

This leads me directly to a quotation from Colette which reads something like
“Why is it that that which is most delicious smells very like that which is disgusting ”
( I have searched the internet to find the correct words but to no avail )

And she is of course right, offal, (particularly kidneys as Mr. Joyce remarked), well hung game , asparagus , the slightly overpowering smell of a truffle all hang there on the edge between delicious and disgusting.

The combination of Síle’s green fingers and our inheritance of an established garden means that every year we seem to discover some new wonders , or some greatly improved ones growing right under our noses.

This year it is the year of the Rambling Roses.

and the Marigolds.

A bonus we never expected when we bought a house in France was that we would find a tree in our garden.

It is a tree unknown in Ireland , know in France as Lilas d’Inde here is the science bit about it from Wikipedia

Melia Azedarach is a species of deciduous tree in the mahogany family, Meliaceae, that is native to India, Indochina Southeast Asia and Australia. Common names include :
Persian Lilac, White Cedar, Chinaberry, Texas Umbrella, Bead Tree, Lunumidella, Ceylon Cedar ,Malai Vembu , Bakain and Dharek/Dhraik.

In May , for a brief couple of weeks it flowers;

Suddenly you know why it is called The Indian Lilac