Folly

We interrupt this blog for some breaking news.

That, my dears, is a loom.

A, uh, Harrisville Designs A6, 4 harness, 6 treadle loom, to be precise. Don't worry if not of that means anything to you, although I'm typing the words I don't understand them either.

Now you might be wondering what a nice knitter and crocheter like me is doing with a loom and I would responds, um, seize the day?

Left Field, Not the Bleacher
I can't say I've had a burning desire to learn how to weave, but it's been out there.

I passed on a couple opportunities to take a class when I was working at Knitting Central and I'm on the wait list for classes at The Elegant Ewe. So the interest has been there.

Then last Monday I was fooling around on Ravelry and saw down in the tools forum (which I never read) a post titled "Free to good home (in Maine)" and I thought, "I'm not in Maine, but I'm awfully close." And saw the information about the loom.

Well, it seized my imagination and I was not dissuaded by the fact that it was on the coast of Maine, which is a 5 hour drive from me.

I figured when Hubby got home he would talk sense into me. However, he didn't bat an eye but proceeded to ask practical questions like "Does it work?" and "Why is she giving it away?" He was also hopeful that they could meet us somewhere to shorten the trip. They couldn't, but I pointed out that it's an expensive piece of equipment that they were giving away for free, so that was a reasonable stance.

Road Trip!
With satisfactory answers received to all the questions we hopped in the car last Thursday afternoon and headed out. (The delay gave me a few days to start second guessing myself and worry about it not fitting in the SUV, but I persevered!)

Of course, we left later than we intended and the drive took longer than we expected, so we didn't get there until 7 pm.

But it was lovely countryside.

When we arrived we found a very nice couple, confirmed by them immediately asking if we needed to use the bathroom.

Can I pause here to tell you that she had a fabulous knitting room? Well, the whole house was nice, a mix of modern and comfortable. They live on a island off the coast of Maine and have grand views of the water. Well, they would have if it hadn't been foggy. Anyway, her knitting room was on the second floor, steps from the bedroom, and one entire wall was picture windows looking out over the fog-obscured water. She had a kitchen island type table stuffed with yarn and a comfy couch.

Really, it looked like a very pleasant place to plan and work on a project.

Human Fuel
The loom and accouterments fit in the SUV with room to spare.

Our plan had been to got back to Augusta for dinner, but we had to scrap that since we were behind schedule. They suggested we eat at the Whale's Rib Tavern and called and made us a reservation.

Since we were at just about the last seating, we got to sit in the owner's favorite table in the bar. This allowed Hubby to have a grand time discussing wine and beer with the owner and the bartender.

We also enjoyed a lovely meal. For appetizers Hubby had the pate and I had a cold asparagus salad. For entrees Hubby had the lamb and I had pan roasted chicken. Hubby also got a bottle of wine and said their wine list prices were very good.

By the time we finished eating it was kissing 10 pm and we had a five hour drive ahead of us. (We couldn't stay over because the pups were unattended. As it was we were pushing the limits of their ability to be alone.)

Getting to Know You
The drive home was, happily, uneventful. I did most of it. I suppose I was hyped up from excitement because I was very alert despite the late hour. Still, we didn't get home until 3 am!

This, of course, meant that we were rather useless on Friday. I managed to get a little work done. But really, I wanted to play with the loom.

She had given me the assembly instructions and I read through them touching all the various parts as I went along. I rehung the harnesses and retied the treadles so everything would hang straight.

Then we moved it into the front foyer, where it fits quite nicely. I'll have to pull it out when I want to use it, but that shouldn't be a problem.

She also gave me some learning to weave books and I got a couple books from the library. It's starting to make just a wee bit of sense, but I won't really know until I try.

Monday night I decided to plunge in and got out the warping board she gave me and wrapped some old Peaches and Cream yarn I have on it before bedtime.

That's as far as I've gotten so far. I actually had to do laundry last night and decided to spend my time between loads finishing the socks I started on the way home from California.

Hopefully this weekend will see some free time to play around some more.

Wish me luck!

Chomp!

It was a dropped food bonanza for the pups this morning.

First, Bread
We buy this healthy, sprouted wheat, preservative free stuff that goes moldy by the time you get it home from the store. Since we mainly use it for toast, we keep it in the freezer.

We're at the end of the loaf and the slices were stuck together but good.

So I used the spatula to pry them apart.

The slice resisted, the when POP, flew into the air, then plummeted toward the ground only to bounce off Baru's head and land at his feet.

I made a play for it, but I knew it was a lost cause. He was in a much better position.

He promptly scarfed it down, despite the fact that it was still frozen.

Since Samson was jealous I had to pop off the heel and hand it over.

Then the Blueberries
As I fished around on the back of the top shelf to get the cantaloupe out I accidentally knocked a wee container of blueberries out.

It hit the floor, popped open, and spewed berries everywhere.

Since blueberries are still rather expensive this time of year I had a mad scramble to pick up as many as I could before the furry vacuums moved in.

Hubby was laughing, cheering me on, and updating me on the pups' progress.

I felt like I was on a game show.

I don't know my saved vs. lost ratio, but I felt like I did pretty good.

As I returned the berries to the fridge Samson started scoping out the bowl of cantaloupe. Fortunately it was still securely covered with cellophane so he couldn't get into it.

Bread and More Bread

Well, I wasn't getting much knitting done on my Ravelympics project for most of the day.

No, instead I had the urge to throw more flour around the kitchen.

This time I made King Arthur Flour's Classic White Bread. What I like about their blog is they give you extra little tips that aren't contained in the normal recipe. The pictures are helpful as well.

Like this whole idea of rubbing the top with a stick of butter when you first take it out of the oven, which is why mine looks so shiny. Really increases the butter flavor.

On the other hand, I'm usually going for a crispy, crunchy crust, so I'll probably stick with brushing the top with water when it first goes in the oven. But you have to try these things at least once.

Although I let it rest for five minutes after taking it out of the oven, I totally burnt my fingers trying to cut a slice (or two) so I could munch it while it was still warm.

Definitely a different flavor than the Scali bread I was making earlier in the week. But still very tasty.

I'm not sure that mine rose as much as theirs. I think the kitchen got a little chilly. But it still fluffed up nicely and tastes good. If I keep this bread baking nonsense up I'm going to have to get a new box of dried milk and see what difference it makes.

Part of me wanted to put the large version of this picture in the blog because I'm so very please with the interior texture of this bread, but that would have been silly because the picture is so huge.

Seriously, the bottom and side crust are nice and crispy, the interior is soft and chewy, and the top crust is all soft and buttery. So many textures and so much flavor to enjoy, what's not to love?
I'm going to have such yummy toast with breakfast tomorrow.

Obviously Samson, who is a little blurry because he was in motion when I took this, totally understands what I'm talking about. Or at least he thinks he understands and would love to experience what I'm talking about first paw.

After all, we're talking about a pup who likes bread and loves butter, so that loaf would be right up his alley. Which is why it safely tucked away in the cupboard over the stove.

I also made a loaf of banana bread. I noticed last night that our bananas had been ignored and got overripe. Whipped that up with the recipe I always use from "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Cooking Basics." (What?! I bought it when I got my first apartment after college.) I like to put a half cup each of chocolate and peanut butter chips in it.

At this point, between the three loaves of bread, the peanut butter cookies, and the banana bread, I have blown through the bag of flour I bought barely two weeks ago! I need more flour. Wow, I've done a lot of baking lately.

I was a very busy girl today.

Let's see. I mixed the banana bread and put it in the oven, then mixed the sandwich bread, then went to the library, then shaped the sandwich bread, then played online, then put the bread in the oven, got the laundry going, then finally settled down to knit around like 3 pm. Oh, and I played fetch with the pups a couple time.

Knitting
Just now before I came up I made it through the pleats section of Stella's Blouse. About 30 rows. I'm a bit concerned that it's taken me like 4 hours of knitting to work 30 rows, but they are 121 stitches each and there is a pattern.

Of course, now I'm into the smocking section, which won't go much faster. But after that it's all stockinette stitch all the time, and I'm expecting that to whip along. Especially since it's going to have far few stitches to work.

I had to stop because I have to decrease many, many stitches away before I start the smocking and I didn't want to have to figure out the math to balance it. I remember that was rather painful on the sleeves and back.

Of course, I seem to remember the one sleeve had other issues I didn't discover until I was trying to decrease.

Instead of straining my brain, I went to this calculator, which did the math for me. yipee!

At the same time, I'm having to remember to take breaks, stretch, and rest my hands. I kind of forgot the combination of the cotton yarn with the Addi Turbo needles is a bit rough on me.

Really, I'm not accustomed to working with the Addis. Oh, I like them fine, but generally I spend most of my time knitting with bamboo or birch double points for my socks, or my Denise Interchangeables, which are plastic. None of those needles are a slick as Addis and it's a bit of an adjustment.

However, it's bed time now, so more knitting is going to have to wait until tomorrow.

Back to Socks

With Hubby's Chunky Cabled Scarf done, but a few days remaining before the Olympics (and Ravelympics), I returned to working on the numerous pairs of socks I have on the needles.

These Green Step Socks are my plain stockinette stitch pair for waiting rooms and anti-fidget activity when I'm battling writer's block at work.

I finished the first one over the weekend.

I noticed the toe ended at just about the same point in the color pattern where the sock started.

Against my better judgment, but because a girl can dream, I went ahead and cast on.

As expected, I was too far into the color section. The pinky salmony bit came up around row 7 of the ribbing when I shouldn't have reached it until row 14 or 15.

Since the idea of unmatched self-patterning socks still makes me twitchy, I reeled out yarn until I found the same section. I used tied a little knot in the yarn under then new ribbing, unraveled it, then used that section to backtrack on the working yarn to find the correct spot to cast on.

I think that little method worked rather well. I'm probably one a row shifted at most. Of course, I'm not neurotic enough to do that all the time. I'm willing to just eyeball it and have those rows of ribbing actually count for something.

Tartan Argyles
In the evenings at home I've been working on the second Tartan Argyle.

At this point I'm through the first two diamonds and into the third. Then it is just the instep to go in pattern.

I think this time I'll stop before the instep, work the heel flap/turn, and then work the instep and sole simultaneously to reduce the counting I need to do to ensure they match.

That means I'll have to fish the rest of this set of double pointed needles out of the test sock I was working on a few weeks ago.

At the moment I'm going to pause in the knitting and start tackling weaving in the ends. That takes focus and is not something I can do while I'm watching TV.

Snow Day!
My office was closed today because of the snow. It started this morning between 6:30 and 7 (I was up at 6:20 and didn't see anything, although I didn't have my glasses on). Not a ton of accumulation so far, but it's supposed to get worse tonight for the evening commute.

I'm really happy the powers that be at the office decided to close. We were worried they'd have us come in, then close early, and that would have sucked.

Of course, I'm working on an article that was due like last week, so I can't take a true snow day.

Still, I've managed to slack off most of the morning.

We finished the bread I baked, so I'm working on another loaf. I mixed up the starter last night in anticipation of being home today.

I asked Hubby I if should make the sandwich bread instead and he said the Scali bread was good so I should make that again.

This time I was smart and misted the started with olive oil (we have an atomizer that we can fill with whatever we want, as opposed to canned cooking spray) before I put the plastic wrap over it. Didn't stick so bad.

Also, I remembered that I did change the recipe. It calls for a bit of dried milk and I don't have any so I skipped it. I think it adds protein and helps with the texture or something.

Anyway. Last week I pulled out my box of dried milk. It did not have an expiration date on it, but I distinctly remembered buying it when I was living in TX, which shows you how much I use it. That made it at least 10 years old. eeewww. So I tossed it (finally). The only boxes I saw at the store were massive emergency reserve sizes, which didn't make any sense since I never made it through a normal size box.

I guess if I stick with this baking bread on a regular basis thing I track down another little box of dried milk. Until then, I think I managing fine without it.

Now, I must go weave in ends on my Tartan Argyle while I mull over my article topic.

Stay warm!

Bread and Soup

"It's like a baguette," Hubby said. "I didn't know you could do that."

Eh? I can shape bread any way I want, I thought.

Then he want on about how he was more excited about this loaf than my previous loaves, "Which looked like a hat."

Eh? A hat? But I guess my most recent attempts (which were absolute disasters) have been round, which is the easiest shape.

He then proceeded to pick up the entire loaf and start gnawing on the end.

I suggested perhaps he would like a slice with butter, but he said we didn't have time since we had to go grocery shopping.

He wrapped the loaf in parchment paper, put it in the center of the kitchen island against the utensil jar, and put the cooling rack on top of it. All the while Samson was watching intently from the Green Room. So Hubby informed him that if Samson stole the bread while we were out Hubby would kill him. I said Hubby would have to get in line.

This story is not going to end the way you expect, because I put the loaf on top of the fridge. With a clever, determined, bread loving pup in the house it just wasn't worth the risk.

Bread Success
The bread was very good, if I do say so myself, and really knocked Hubby's handmade socks off.

He was quite blown away by how good the bread was. This is understandable considering how bad my last loaf was (old yeast, possibly stale flour, let's not discuss it). The success of this loaf totally opens the door to future loaves. And I was able to say, "See, I haven't been lying all this time when I claimed I can bake good bread."

I follow King Arthur Flour on Twitter (@KingArthurFlour), but they did not bribe me with coupons to say nice things about them. I've been using their flour for years. Couldn't tell you why I first started buying it, maybe price, possibly because it's unbleached.

At the end of January they sent out a link to recipes for this Scali bread and Italian Wedding Soup.

I was all over it because I like Italian Wedding Soup but it isn't in any of my recipe books.

The bread recipe was easy, well as easy as scratch yeast bread is. I didn't mess with it at all, which is to say I did not sneak any whole wheat flour into it. After the last loaf was such a disaster I figured I have to get my chops back with some simple, basic white bread recipes.

I mixed up the starter Saturday night. Then started in on the loaf Sunday between the six loads of laundry I had to do. Much abuse of my souvenir tea towel with the French wine appellations took place. Since it's flour sack material it was just perfect for covering a rising loaf. I even set the time for 10 minutes to make sure I stuck with the kneading long enough. I think the egg wash, which I don't normally use, went a long way toward the nice crispy crust.

Making the braided loaf probably went a long way toward impressing Hubby as well. We have blown through it with only a roll size amount left after breakfast this morning. Hubby might even finish it as an after school snack.

In fact, this recipe was such as success that I don't know if I should repeat it this weekend or go with the basic sandwich bread recipe KAF link to earlier this week.

Soups On!
I also made the soup on Sunday. I did not time them to finish at the same time, but it didn't matter.

I went wild changing the soup recipe, so I'm not sure where to start.

First, I didn't make the meatballs from scratch. I cheated and used the frozen Party Size Meatballs from Trader Joe's.

Second, since I wasn't feeding a wedding of any ethnicity, I reduced all the ingredients by a quarter—so half a cup of each veggie and 4 cups of broth. This was a good amount for the two of us. Hubby had some for lunch Sunday, we ate it for dinner, and I finished it for lunch on Monday. It was a light lunch, so maybe a wee bit more would have been good.

Third, I used fresh spinach instead of frozen. Couldn't tell you why. I bought one of those 6 oz cello bags of baby spinach and use most of it.

The soup was tasty, but we agreed it was a bit bland. We put this down to me not using enough bullion. Hubby points out I usually do that and suggested that I put in what I think it needs, then put in more. Usually he comes along behind me and fixes my seasonings, but he was very busy with school work Sunday and dropped the ball.

Still, I'll make it again.

Of course the parts of Sunday that were not devoted to being a domestic goddess were dedicated to finishing Hubby's Chunky Cabled Scarf.

Beef Stew and Snow

It hasn't been a terribly snowy winter, in my opinion. Sure we got hit around Christmas, but then it all melted away.

That all changed this morning when the brief squalls the weatherman predicted turned into full on snow for the morning commute. Yeah, 2.5 hours later I made it to the office. I tried to focus on the fact that I wasn't smashed up and the trees were pretty, which helped me manage.

All along I'd been telling people they could thank me for the lack of snow since this was the year I finally let Hubby buy a snow blower. In fact, as soon as he took it out of the box I was assuring people it would be an easy winter.

Now I must accept the fact that this burst of bad weather might also be my fault. See, I made beef stew last night. We usually make it once or twice during the winter. We haven't made it so far this season and I finally did it last night, even though it's been warm.

Give Me Wine!
I've been a domestic goddess lately. Well, aside from the whole cleaning the house thing, so I hope mom doesn't have her hopes up too high for her visit this weekend.

No. My wonderfulness has been confined to picking up the destroying the kitchen slack since Hubby has been so busy with the end of the grading period.

My stew making has been thwarted recently because Hubby wouldn't fork over a bottle of wine. I would no sooner go digging through his wine fridge than he would mess with my yarn, so it was quite an impasse.

Finally, last night I went into the liquor store next to our dry cleaners and told the guy I need "a yummy, inexpensive wine for my beef stew."

He showed me the $6 Sutter Home. I went, "Uhhh," because I couldn't remember whether Hubby would drink it. The guy offered me something cheaper. I said I was willing to pay more since I'd be drinking it as well.

He showed me the $8 Woodbridge from Mondavi. I balked again because I know Hubby runs hot and cold on Mondavi wines.

He showed me the $10 Cab Sauv from McManis, told me it was delicious, and confirmed they were still family owned. (as it says right on the label.) I went with that one because I'd never heard of it, but it had a nice Scottish name.

Hubby said the Woodbridge would have been fine. sigh.

Into the Pot
To clear the evening, and since we were both getting home late, I planted the idea of ordering pizza in Hubby's brain. Of course he ran with it, so we didn't have to cook dinner.

I generally follow the stew recipe in "How to Cook Everything" by Mark Bitten.

I also wanted to bake cookies (I told you I've been all kinds of domestic lately). So I prepped all the veggies, then mixed up the cookie dough (the traditional one off the Nestle bag). The dough went together much quicker than I expected. I only do a half recipe, which gets me about three dozen cookies.

Then I went back to the stew as the cookies baked. There was a tense moment when I couldn't find any bay leaves, but I had some in storage in the basement (gasp!) so I was back on a roll.

The cool thing is that after the meat was browned stew is pretty hands off, which allowed me to lounge around watching the State of the Union speech and knit on Hubby's scarf.

I was also surprised to realize that stew is sort of a one-pot dish. You might have realized from those chicken dishes that I'm a casserole kind of girl.

Well, aside from the cutting board and the bowls I used to hold the chopped veggies, the only pot I got dirty was the great big one. So the kitchen wasn't as destroyed as I was expecting. Even with baking the cookies.

If we cook stew on the weekend we'll have it for dinner that first night, but we really prefer it after it's been in the crockpot for a day. A slick thing I thought of last night was to use the cockpot sleeve to hold the browned meat while it was waiting for the veggies to catch up. I'm so clever.

And despite all that activity, I still got to bed at a decent hour.

Dumplings and Peas to Come
This morning I dropped the crockpot ceramic into the sleeve and put it on low. I also left a note next to it remind us to add peas. We forgot the last time.

When I get home we'll wrangle the Bisquick dumplings together. I don't know why dumplings have to be a team effort, but they do. So simple and yet so complex.

My mom never did dumplings, but that is how Hubby's family does it. The first time I had stew at my in-laws my MIL pulled me aside and pointed out the recipe on the box. I believe she said something along the lines of not straining myself making a more complicated version. ha!

Keep the Pasta Coming

I've been all about the easy pasta dishes lately.

I follow Philadelphia Cream Cheese on Twitter (@lovemyphilly) because, well, cream cheese is awesome. They share a lot of recipe links mainly.

Anyway, they sent me a tweet, which led to an e-mail, which was an invitation to try a new recipe out in exchange for some coupons and a little recipe book. Who isn't up for free stuff, right?

The recipe is Creamy Tomato-Basil Pasta with Chicken. Since I'm too lazy to retype it all here for your reading convenience, I found it on Allrecipes.com here.

This for That
Now, I did make several changes to the recipe.

If you've used these back-of-the-can style recipes before then you know they usually call for cooking the chicken breasts whole. We don't. We always cut them into bite size pieces before cooking. I think this speeds up cooking a bit, but it's probably balanced by the extra prep time. The real advantage, in my mind, is the chicken is easier to mix in to whatever sauce is involved and the entire thing is easier to eat.

My next change, and this was a big one, was to drop the 1/4 cup of Kraft Sun-Dried tomato dressing. Instead I used just enough olive oil to cook the chicken. I'm sure this really changed the flavor of the dish, but I had valid reasons.

First, we don't use bottled salad dressing so anything leftover would have been wasted.
Second, Hubby doesn't like sun-dried tomatoes.
Third, I couldn't find it at the grocery store anyway.

My final change was to use dried basil instead of the fresh basil in the recipe. Again, I couldn't find it at my grocery store.

Easy and Yummy
The recipe did go together quickly and easily. I never know if they really do only take the 30 minutes they are supposed to.

I had debated slicing the grape tomatoes, but the recipe didn't say to, so I rolled with it. They are cooked long enough to soften up nicely.

I thought the end result was yummy and would make it again. Hubby said it was pretty good. He's not a big tomato fan like I am and admitted the grape tomatoes had him concerned, but he said it was acceptable. Although I did see him giving some of the bigger tomatoes to Baru as he was getting toward the end of the serving.

In the end, I will keep it on the list, but it won't be in heavy rotation because of Hubby's tomato aversion.

My picture at the top of the post is actually next day lunch from leftovers. I mixed in some frozen broccoli to get a green veggie.

Of course I've already used one coupon to make that yummy cream cheese chili dip you see at parties. Sooo yummy. Hmm, maybe I should use another to stock up on bagels and cream cheese.

Mac & Cheese! Mac & Cheese!

The frigid weather we've been having in New England (and across the rest of the country!) has created in me a deep seated need for comfort food.

I keep telling Hubby we should make some beef stew, but then I forget to get the ingredients.

So I wasn't surprised when we were wandering through a book store yesterday and I was riveted by the yummy looking mac and cheese on the cover of the current (Feb/March) issue of Fine Cooking. Now, I admit it, when I want mac & cheese I open a box. Mainly for the convenience. But also because when I was living in Texas I made a great baked mac & cheese by cobbling together elements from two or three recipes. Only I didn't write down what I did so I haven't been able to reproduce it.

It's like making a great pair of socks, giving them to an out of state friend, then being unable to replicate them for yourself. Sure, if you could get the socks back you could count stitches, etc., but basically they are lost.

Quick & Easy
Of course, I've been told my lazy box route is unnecessary. Back when I was taking the train a woman on the shuttle bus was so appalled I used a box she told me her mac & cheese recipe. Right there, on the bus! Only I didn't write it down.

When I saw the magazine cover I suggested to Hubby we make it for dinner. It was even in the 30-minute meal section, which increased its attractiveness.

Well, technically the one on the cover had pulled pork in it and the first step is to cook the pork for 5 hours, which totally wasn't going to happen. Since he wanted a protein of some sort Hubby grilled chicken.

The recipe uses Emmentaler and Gruyere, which are not cheeses we keep laying around. No, we're more of a cheddar and parm family. I realized Hubby was taking a route home that wouldn't take us past the grocery store. He said he thought the recipe was nixed since we weren't near the fancy grocery stores. But I had faith in Stop & Shop and I was right!

The recipe went together very quickly and easily. So quickly, in fact, that I ended up having to wait around for Hubby to finish the chicken. He sliced it and mixed it in, then I sprinkled the top and stuck it under the broiler to brown.

The only changes I made were to use skim milk instead of 2% and to add a wee bit of breadcrumbs to the top to increase the crunch factor.

Yummy!
For such a quick dish it was very yummy and flavorful. After we each took our first bite we nodded sagely at each other, which is our shorthand for "This dish is a keeper."

Since it's mainly a casserole style it will be added to my list of recipes to use when Hubby doesn't feel like cooking.

I would like to tell you we had a nice green salad, or sauteed broccoli, or even just peas with our yummy chicken mac & cheese, but that would be a lie. We looked at each other and said, "Why clutter our comfort food with that healthy stuff?"

It was also very filling. I didn't finish my serving.

One thing I like about trying a new recipe is that I get to pull out all my cooking gadgets. I premeasured ingredients into my little glass mixing bowls, I got to use the grater plate on my Cuisinart for the cheese, and of course my Calphalon pan could go right in the oven to broil the top.

Really, if you don't make an awful mess when you cook, have you had any fun?

Day Two
Since the recipe serves four we have plenty of leftovers. I have some for lunch today and did make a green salad this time. It reheated very nicely in the office toaster oven. I packed it in a wee foil bread pan I used for the date nut bread at Thanksgiving and was able to heat it up without fuss.

It is just as yummy today. In fact, whose brilliant idea was this stupid salad?

Mmm, Syrup

Warning: no knitting content ahead!

Hubby had a three-day weekend, so I took a vacation day and we trooped up to his parents' for a visit. We hadn't been there since the beginning of summer, so it was time.

I forgot my camera, which is a shame because the fall leaves were lovely.

(My mom questions why we don't visit her, but has failed to make the connection that since she comes to us at the drop of a hat we don't feel the need. Besides, the traffic to and from my mom's place sucks big time.)

Anyway. We tumbled into the house Saturday and announced our desire to go up to Lake Placid for a stroll. Or at least to a point almost at Lake Placid to get some maple syrup.

This looked highly unlikely since we were leaving Monday and there were sports to be watched on Sunday.

Making Our Escape
However, when Hubby and his dad settled down to watch the Giants (football) and Yankees (baseball), who were playing at the same time, my mother-in-law was like, "Let's get out of here!"

We started innocently enough with a trip down the mountain to the grocery store for provisions for dinner. Then we remembered the maple syrup.

She asked if I knew how to get there. This was a big question since I usually don't leave the house when we're visiting, and if I do leave Hubby is driving. (Hmm, it's not as oppressive at that sounds. I'm not actually held prisoner. They live on the side of a mountain, it's not like there is anywhere to go.)

Anyway. I was like, "Uh, it's above Keene, and beyond the lake. I think."

Which sounds extremely vague, but I'd actually named two major landmarks. Which isn't hard, considering it's a very rural area filled mostly with trees. Still, it was a little dangerous since I have trouble remembering the order of the stores and restaurants on my town's main drag and we've lived there since 2005. For instance, what if the lake was before Keene? (it isn't.)

MIL was pretty sure she knew where I meant, but we called Hubby to double check (there are, after all, two lakes in the area.) Remember, he's watching sports. This was actually the second time we called, as we had called from inside the store to have him check for rosemary (they were out).

He said it was above Keene, beyond the lake, and at the base of Mount X (which isn't the name of the mountain. I don't remember the actual name). Of course, the addition of the mountain name really nailed it down for my MIL.

No, I'm serious. This place is so rural they use mountains as directional landmarks. The benefit being that, unlike red pickup trucks and brown dogs, mountains don't tend to move.

I pointed the car toward Lake Placid and drove by instinct. Well, it's really one road with maybe two turns (because of T-stops), but you don't know how talented I am at getting lost.

Locally Grown
I couldn't remember the name at the time, but our goal was the South Meadow Farm Sugarworks. (Huh, looks like they do mail order.) We found it without a problem. Which was comforting since my MIL exclaimed she had never noticed the wee sign and they've lived in the area for almost 30 years!

Of course, right next to the wee "maple syrup" sign was a big "Lodge" sign, which threw me off for a moment. I think the big sign was redone recently, or I'd forgotten about it.

It's one of those places were there is a little sign on the road. You turn into a wall of trees to find a little one lane road. That goes in a couple blocks, then curves left, then right and you arrive in a little parking lot in front of a little building. You totally can't see anything from the road, aside from the sign.

As proof that you are in the middle of no-where, the shop is on the honor system. The syrup is on the left, jams and preserves are on the right, and a little desk to leave your payment is in the middle.

MIL asked how we found it. I said I didn't remember. We'd gone to Lake Placid, we'd seen the sign, we needed maple syrup, so we pulled it. I guess we were adventuring that day.

I wasn't messing around this day. I bought a gallon jug of Grade A medium amber syrup. (I called Hubby for a third time to check medium or light amber!)

This will last us several months. It was $45, but in the long run it is better than the little jars of dark amber I get at the local grocery store, which are expensive, don't last long, and an inferior grade.

I also got a jar of strawberry rhubarb jam. We got it once before and it was yummy. My MIL bought a more conservative size jar of syrup and a jar of blueberry jam. We cracked that open when we got home. It was yummy. It made me question if I should have got blueberry instead. But the die was cast.

Almost as exciting as finding the place was making it home without incident. And both Hubby's teams won. It was a good day all around.

I did get some knitting down while we were visiting. Maybe I'll tell you about it tomorrow, maybe I won't.

Trip to France Day 6: Lyon-Nancy II

Day 6, Part 2
When last we left our intrepid vacationers they had eaten a questionable lunch, but scored some yummy wine, in the village of Pommard. Then they continued their mission of reviving the French economy through the payment of highway tolls on their way to Nancy.

The trip (and traffic) into Nancy was mercifully uneventful. But Hubby absolutely deflated when he saw it was another city. On the approach, all you can see are high rise buildings. It isn’t terribly attractive. Once we got into the city, and the area around our hotel, the view was more attractive.

Hubby was upset because it wasn’t a charming little town or village. In fact, the only little town we managed to stay in was Pauillac. That was also the only B&B we stayed in, so I don’t know how much the fact we were staying mostly in hotels factored into us being mostly in cities.

I assured him it was going to be fine and that he did the best he could from thousands of miles away. I checked the Fodor’s. By that point in the trip I had finally realized Fodor’s puts a happy shine on almost everything.

I mean, really, do the towns pay to be included? Are the editors just afraid of offending anyone?

I started reading between the lines. If it described a place as being “vibrant with lots of energy,” I interpreted that as being a large city with bad traffic. The description of Nancy went on and on about the fabulous architecture and the mix of time periods and styles. No real warning that it was a big city. However, in a separate paragraph discussing the overall region, there is a passing mention that Nancy is the largest city in the area. Large in comparison to what? I mean, a large city in Vermont is much different than a large city in New York. Population counts would have been helpful. For instance, Wikipedia says over 100,000 people live in the city proper.

Psst, Nice Steps
We found our hotel with relative ease. They didn't have parking, so hubby had to dump me on the curb and drive a few blocks away to a public lot.

We were staying in the Hotel de Guise , which is a converted nobleman's mansion. The front foyer was all old marble, with sweeping curving staircases. There were big windows looking onto a closed courtyard.

And there was no elevator. Well, the hotels had been getting more affordable the deeper we got into the vacation, so it was bound to happen. We got some exercise dragging our luggage up to the third floor. There wasn't air conditioning either, but there was a desk fan in the room that was pretty helpful.

Psst, Nice Building
We were walking distance of the Place Stanislas, so we headed in that direction to get the gawking out of the way.

The area was set up with an elaborate building at one end, then a long, long plaza, that ended at a wee Arch de Triumphe, which was the entrance to the massive courtyard in front of the palace. A museum, an opera house, and another fancy building made up the other sides of the courtyard. Two of the corners had very large, elaborate fountains in them. The entire center was pedestrianized. There were a few restaurants and shops as well.

We went questing for an ATM, hoping for a BNP so we wouldn't have to pay fees. There was an awkward moment when a young woman with a backpack and a dog said something to me in French. I said, "Pardon?" So she repeated it. I could tell she was saying something about money and thought maybe she was trying to tell me something about a bank location. I called Hubby over and she repeated what she said for like the fourth time. Turns out she was begging. Oops. Well, we didn't have any cash, so she was wasting her breath.

Mmm, Pasta
On our way to the palace we had passed through the Rue et Place St Epvre, which had both a nice cathedral and a number of cafes. Since it was on the way back to the hotel, we headed in that direction in search of food.

Once nice thing about all the outdoor seating in France is that you can totally spy on what people are eating, which can help you make up your mind.

We ended up deciding on a place called Plazza Pasta, because it smelled good when we walked. We figured out which restaurant it was by matching the large, oddly shaped white bowls people eating had to what we could see inside. It was like a fast food, take-out Italian place. Really, you ordered a drink, pasta shape, and sauce all for one affordable price.

Yeah, I know, right? We're in France and we're eating quick cook pasta. I think we were both ready for something a little less elaborate for once.

It was really good. Sure, it wasn't the best Italian food I've ever eaten, but it hit the spot. Hubby got spaghetti with bolognase (bolognese?). I got spirals with carbonara. Little rolls rounded out the meal. Of course, coffee and chamomile tea finished it off.

I didn't sleep very well that night. We had two beds in the room. I think they must have been double/full size. They looked big enough, but I felt really crowded. Heaven forbid I switch to the other bed.

Trip to France Day 6: Lyon-Nancy I

Day 6, Part 1

Breakfast was in the piano bar. They were out of croissants, but there was a toaster, so I was able to toast my baguette. I also had yogurt. I was finally brave enough to try the yogurt the previous morning in Carcassonne.

Although it was plain, unflavored yogurt, it was so delicious I could have just eaten it out of hand. It was flavorful, but not as super tangy as American yogurt, and very creamy. I’d been watching Hubby all week, and the thing to do is mix in some jam to give it flavor. After I finally tried it, I was kicking myself for not eating any sooner.

After breakfast we headed out for some sightseeing, as was our wont.

Knock, Knock
The Fodor’s, because we had not entirely given up on that publication, informed us that Lyon has neat old passageways that were used back in the Renaissance by the silk merchants to transport their product to customers without exposing it to the elements. It highlights a number on the Rue du Boef and the Rue St-Jean that have attractive features.

As these streets were around the corner from our hotel they fit in with our need for something easy and fun to do before getting on the road. We put the river on our left, our hotel at our back, and walked for a block or two. Then we turned right into the city and away from the river. After another block or two we came to the Rue St-Jean and a little plaza lined with about a bazillion cafes.

I cannot tell you whether any of them were any good as we did not eat in them. We were very annoyed to discover all these eating establishments so very close to our hotel, considering how far we had to walk the previous night.

Now, I know that Fodor’s doesn’t have the space or resources to review every restaurant in a town, but it would have been nice to know they were there. A little shout-out in the description of the Rue du Boef or Rue St-Jean would have been enough. I guess it’s a lesson in remembering to ask for recommendations at the front desk, rather than relying exclusively on your guidebook.

Although it was around 9 am, the town was still pretty much asleep. Delivery trucks were out, and people were sweeping sidewalks, but most places were closed. People actually live in the apartments off the courtyards the passageways lead to. (to which the passageways lead?) I could tell because they had those buzzer panels listing names.

Many of the doors were closed. Some were open and we wandered down them and took pictures of the pretty or interesting courtyards. I wonder whether there is some rule that at some point in the morning those front doors have to be left open. I wonder if it is annoying for the residents to know that tourists are going to come wandering in and out.

In fact, in one we were on our way back out of the courtyard and saw a woman coming down some interior steps. She slowed down and looked at us kind of funny. But I almost think that is because she saw Hubby first. He’s cute and all, but I would slow down and prepare to retreat if I saw a big, unknown guy wandering around.

Wait, yarn?
Having satisfied our need to gawk at stuff we loaded up the car. Our sights were set on Dijon for lunch. Nancy was our goal for the evening. We were starting that vacation conversation of, “Oh, that will be our next to last night before we fly home.”

You might be wondering by now at the sever lack of fiber content in our vacation. I’m not a yarn tourist. I always plan to be, but it doesn’t usually work out for one reason or another. Before we left on this trip I spent some time online scoping out addresses for stores in the towns we’d be staying in, or passing through. Of course, I wrote down addresses based on the fact that we’d have a GPS. Without the GPS I tossed the idea aside like a broken pair of needles.

As we headed out of town, heading for the D933 it felt like we looped up and around town. We passed through a little neighborhood, so there were many traffic lights. As we pulled away from one light my brain suddenly registered that the store we were standing next to had a sign for “Plassard.” I thought, “Wait a minute.” I pulled out my little list of addresses, but couldn’t twig the street name and match it to my list. Hubby noticed me rooting around, but I denied any nefarious activity. He made the leap to yarn and how we hadn’t seen any stores, but I said not to worry about it since I didn’t know whether it was open, there was no place to turn around, and parking was (of course) uncertain. Also, I was still pretty mad at France and Lyon for the horrible traffic the previous day and wasn't much interested in giving them more money.

Route du Vin My Eye
We stuck to D933 for a while but ended up on the N74 along the way. We were in Burgundy country and thought we might see more chateaus. However, although we kept seeing signs saying we were on the Route des Grands Crus, we could clearly see the vines further to the left. Every so often we saw indications of another road over there, but we didn’t want to risk trying to get to it since it wasn’t on our map. It was hard enough to navigate when the road was on our map! We were pretty sure they put the signs on the wrong road in order to keep the tourists out of their hair.

The countryside was lovely anyway. Rolling hills, cute villages in the distance, stands of trees. It reminded us of Vermont.

After a while we realized that Dijon was still too far away for lunch. I flipped frantically through the guidebook, but everything it listed seemed to be closer to Dijon and therefore also too far.

Suddenly, we started seeing signs for "Restaurant le Pommard." It wasn’t in the guidebook, but Hubby recognized the town name because of wine production, so we took a hard left and headed in that direction.

Turns out everything in Pommard is named “[Blank] le Pommard.” This made it a little tricky to find the restaurant for which we’d seen the signs. Not that it mattered since there wasn’t any parking anyway. But then we saw a sign for parking for the Cave le Pommard.

We knew by then that Cave=Potential Wine Tasting, so we pulled in.

We were even more pleased when we saw the little enclosed courtyard parking lot had restrooms. Hubby hit the facilities, then headed into the store. I took a little longer getting out of the car. I was probably trying to disentangle myself from the four map type reference items I used for navigation (the Michelin map, the Fodor’s, the Southbey’s Wine Encyclopedia, and any pamphlets I snagged).

When I bounced out of the car I saw a lady sitting in the courtyard talking on the phone. She greeted me, so I

said, “Bonjour!” But apparently I said it at such a volume that she understood what I said without hearing how badly I mangled the pronunciation because she asked if I was French.

Ha! I was so surprised I actually did that thing where I looked around to see who she was talking to, while knowing I was alone. I said No. Then she asked if I was British. That made me laugh, because we got that a lot on the trip. I said I was American, and we continued on our way. She, however, sounded like she was British. It turned out she was French, but had learned English in Britain so had that accent.

In the meantime, Hubby was asking the young man inside if we could park there while we quested for lunch. He asked whether the kid spoke English. The kid said yes and started using slang, idioms, and such. Hubby asked if he was French. The kid said no, he was from Manhattan! He was a college sophomore and was just working in France for the summer to learn more about the wine industry. His dad is an importer in The States, so it was a logical move.

We walked around the corner to the Restaurant de Pommard. As it was by then 2 pm they were no longer serving full lunch. The waitress pointed out four lines on the menu from which we could select. Turns out they read “Ham, Ham Large, Cheese, Cheese Large.” Despite being overwhelmed with choices, we selected the large version of each, figuring it would be enough to share. Hubby also ordered two glasses of wine.

You will understand when I tell you my heart quailed when she brought out two slices of a ham terrine! The binder was a whitish material flecked with green, which might have been either broccoli or parsley. Yeah, we couldn’t quite tell by taste. The flavor was much more mild and less spicy than the rabbit terrine I had that first night in Paris. It was much more approachable. There were also a few leafy greens, a cold beet salad, and another red salad that was either more beets in a different sauce or cranberries. Also, there were these little piles of a cubes that were a clear, gelatin substance. I was brave and tasted the clear stuff, even though it reminded me of the putty, slime goop stuff I used to play with as a kid. It didn’t taste like much, just kind of salty.

There were four cheeses on the other platter. She told us to eat them from mild to strong. She told us the names, but as they meant absolutely nothing to me I was unable to retain them. The first was a soft white cheese like brie. The second was slightly orange, firmer, a little crumbly, but also with a mild flavor. The third was a soft white again, but with a crust that looked like crushed nuts. Hubby said he tasted horseradish so I stuck to the center of that one as far from the crust as I could get. The fourth cheese was orange again, kind of like Velveeta. It looked melted and had a rind with the appearance of crumbled paper.

It tasted like stinky feet.

I took one wee bite and couldn’t get bread or wine into my mouth fast enough to get rid of the taste. Hubby agreed. We had a good giggle wondering if they really eat it or just feed it to tourists to scare them away. The cheese platter also had a wee pile of greens, as well as some apple slices.

Hubby said we had to eat everything that was edible since we had to make a meal out of it. And we did clean the plates, aside from the stinky foot cheese and the cubes of clear gelatin.

We headed back to the Cave. NY Boy had four or five wines Hubby could taste from all around the region. It was very convenient that he knew about American wines as he was able to compare French label conventions—referencing if a wine is from a single vineyard or from a general region—and such to the way we do things here. This was very helpful for putting information in perspective. As we were the only two in at the moment, Hubby really put him through his paces with tons of questions. Hubby bought two bottles of wine. This earned him one of those cardboard carry cases, which was very handy for packing later on.

It was getting late by then, so we sucked it up and hopped on the A31 in order to blast the rest of the way to Nancy. We must have paid cash, as I don’t seem to have toll receipts. It's probably just as well. By then we'd already been joking for a few days that President Sarkozy should give us the Key to the City of Paris for single handedly reviving the French economy through our use of their toll roads. We were also concerned that President Obama would tell Customs and Immigrations not to let us back in as punishment for not spending all that money at home instead.

We amuse ourselves terribly.

Trip to France Day 5: Carcassonne-Lyon II

Day 5, Part 2.
(That's the view from our hotel window in Lyon.)

Lyon wasn't much kinder to us than Avignon had been.

As we approached the city we started seeing highway signs that said “bouchon.”
We said, “I wonder what that means?”
But figured it couldn’t be good.
Turns out it means “traffic jam.”
Although the first translation we found was “tavern.” Since that didn’t make sense at all Hubby used another translator, which said “stoppage.” That did make sense.

We went from cruising along saying, “Look! It’s the Rhone.” To sitting in crawling, bumper-to-bumper traffic. It was horrible, especially since we didn’t know what was causing it, or how long it was going to last.

So we bailed.

It might not have been our brightest moment, considering we didn’t have street level maps, but we were desperate.

Lost In Lyon
The situation only got worse. We drove in circles trying to figure out where we and how to get where we wanted to be. Of course, none of the road names we were seeing where on the lame little map in the Fodor’s.

Actually, just to twist the knife, I’m pretty sure the roads we were on were indicated, just not named. I’m pleased to report we did not have a fight, although it was a prime fight situation since we were stressed out and basically lost. Although I did find myself speaking in a very quite, precise, breathy voice in an attempt to counter Hubby’s snappiness.

Finally I told Hubby to head to the river, as it was the only landmark that was on the map, and go north along it until we saw something we recognized. Almost as soon as we did that we started seeing signs for the Vieux Lyon, which is the part of town our hotel was in. There was great rejoicing in the car as we followed the signs, although traffic was still pretty sucky. We crossed the Saone and stuck to the river bank again as our hotel was on the river.

Then, wonder of wonders, we saw a tourist office sign pointing the direction to our hotel! Things were looking brighter. We crept along the road, scouring the front of the buildings for a hotel sign.

Hidden Hotel
We did not see one.

We saw a building that had a French flag out front and a mysterious PH engraved on the front door.
I said it Hubby, “I think that’s it.”
He disagreed, since there wasn’t a sign.
I pointed out we were staying in the Phenix Hotel at 7 Quai Bondy and the numbers on either side of the mysterious flag building were 8 & 6. I said this in a very quite, calm voice.

Still, instead of taking the next left, he took the left after that. He had to because the street name had changed. Mind you, this was all one road running along the river, but heck it did bend, so I guess a new name was required.

So That's Why We're Ugly
I hopped out and ran back to the PH building. It was indeed out hotel.

I had the misfortune of walking in at same time as a pair of older women. There were two desk clerks. They obviously recognized the two women. So I did what any American would do, when they went to the left end of the counter I went to the right end. In my mind this indicated we were not together.

Apparently it doesn’t work that way in France because as the brunette helped the two women, the blond stood there smiling. So I squirmed around a bit. Nothing. I fidgeted some more. Still nothing.

Then I sighed in a loud and indignant manner and started to head for the door to at least tell Hubby we had found it. That got their attention. They asked if I was with the other women. I said, “Noooo.”

Yep, you read all that right. Lyon turned me into an Ugly American, but I couldn’t help myself.

So then the blond came to help me. We had reserved a parking space, which was good since there was nothing obvious on the street. She told me we had to go into the first left turn (the one Hubby passed) and they would open it up. I ran back out to Hubby with an update. Turns out they didn’t have a garage, per say. They had a two-car garage and we got to use one of the spaces. It was kind of weird, but, shoot, we were off the street and at our destination, so we didn’t care.

Hubby was all nice and polite, which hopefully made up for me being obnoxious.

What's That Smell?
The room was fine. It had a big bathtub, the bed was fine, and we had a nice view of the river.

After relaxing for a bit we went questing for dinner.

Here is something the guide books probably won’t tell you: Lyon smells bad.

I don’t know if it was the subway, the sewer, or the river, but it stunk. It was the warm, vaguely sewer smell cities get. Just to show you I’m not being xenophobic, I’ve smelled it in New York City as well.

Lyon also added to our hatred of the Fodor’s that started in Avignon. The book listed a cluster of restaurants as being across the Soane, a little north of us, and almost at the Rhone. We trooped over in that direction. We passed some nice park areas, but mostly it was ghost town empty streets, which made me nervous.

Since Lyon is one of those cities that has its foundations back in the 15th Century, perhaps earlier, the roads don’t always come together at nice right angles. This makes it hard to navigate. Well, we never did really find any of the places listed in the Fodor’s.

Mmm, Truffle Sauce
We ended up wandering into a place called Les Arcades.

We skipped appetizers as it was getting late and we were hungry. The menu struck me as Nuevo Continental cuisine. Hubby got a duck stir fry. He said it was ok.

I got a crepe stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese in a truffle cream sauce. Mine was very yummy. We could smell the truffle as soon as the plate got near the table. Hubby was very jealous as he loves truffle. He actually started dipping his duck in my sauce! It was very flavorful and rich. I did what damage I could and then Hubby finished the rest.

We shared one crème brule for dessert. The presentation was very neat. The waiter brought it to the table and then lit the sugar. This caramelized the sugar as we watched.

Really, who doesn’t appreciate an open flame for dessert?

We made it back to the hotel safely, despite having to cross through the empty streets again.

Trip to France Day 4: Pauillac-Carcassonne II

Day 4 Part 2.
We took the A62 out of Bordeaux to Carcassonne.

Let’s see, we’ve got toll receipts for St. Selve to Toulouse Nord for E 17.30. Then Toulouse S to Carcassonne for E 8.

Along this southern part was where we encountered the most consistent traffic on the highways. For most of the trip, we only really encountered traffic right around the cities.

Driving By
The country side was starting to get a little more hilly at this point. We were supposed to be able to see the Pyrenees in the distance, but the weather was pretty the hazy the whole time.

Carcassonne is a medieval walled city. The first part of the walls was originally built by the Romans. The wall and city were expanded on over the years. Hubby made sure we were in a hotel in the old part of the city, La Cite, which is inside the walls. This allowed us to take our car inside with us.

Approaching the city was kind of wild because the directions from the hotel said to take exit 24, which shot us beyond the city. We had to double back, but we were able to navigate by the road signs. If we didn’t have the directions, I probably would have said to get off at exit 23, judging by the road map, and who knows what would have happened then. Of course, this all meant we could see it, but then drove by it, which was a little confusing.

Popular Place
It was a mad house up by the old city section. There are three parking lots around it and people walking everywhere heading inside. We’d had Dany call head for us and they told her we should park in lot 3. To which we responded, "We hope we can find lot 3!" It took a while to find it as it was off the main road, beyond a cool old cemetery, tucked in a corner of the walls. Of course the catawampus road signs did not aid us very well in this endeavor. On the bright side we saw a good amount of the exterior walls.

Once we found it we were a little surprised to see a sign indicating it was full. Still, we identified ourselves as having hotel reservations. A guy got in another car and led the way for us. This was a very good thing as the roads were barely wide enough to fit the car! People had to squish against the walls or step into shop doors to make room for us. The lead car cleared the road and Hubby made sure to stay right on his tail.

The porter drove our car away after we unloaded our suitcases. The desk clerk explained that the car had to be out of the city by 10 am, but check out wasn’t until noon. So the next morning they drove car out and then had a little mini-van to take us to it when we were ready. There was a fee for parking, E 14 I think, but not for the shuttle, although Hubby did tip him.

We were in the Best Western Hotel Le Donjon. The lobby was all dark wood and tile. The staircases were all at multiple levels and I’m pretty sure I even saw one that when up on one side, down the other, and had another up level going off the side. Making it a tri-directional staircase. ::blink::

Our room was plain and serviceable. I think it’s one of the only rooms we had that had a little coffee pot. There was a mini-bar/fridge, which we had in several rooms. It also had air conditioning, which we totally needed because it was fairly hot and humid in this region.

Actually, the only thing I didn’t like about the room was that we had two twin beds pushed together. Separate sheets, blankets, and all. Grrr. But we could see the citadel from our room and we could see the cathedral from the window in the hall, which was pretty cool.

Wine! We tasted wine!
Carcassonne is in the Languedoc wine region. Through the hotel Hubby was able to set up a wine tasting with a Cave across the street. A woman and a man took turns pouring, and explaining the wine and producer. All the wines were yummy, but Hubby didn't end up buying any.

There were five wines, I believe, starting with a glass of champagne. Then a white and three reds. Or was it six wines, with three whites (including the champagne) and three reds? I don’t remember rightly, as it had been a while since lunch and the first two wines threw me for a loop. Wheeee! Hubby tried to help me out, but said I was going to put him under the table. He found it very amusing that I got so silly so quickly. But we didn’t have to drive anywhere else, so it was ok. Usually Hubby does tastings alone and I’m the designated driver. So it was nice to participate, but obviously I'm a light-weight.

Take that Canard!
After the tasting we went across the street diagonally and had dinner in the Le Donjon restaurant. It was kind of modern inside and the radio was playing all English music. This was amusing, at times, as the curse words weren’t edited out. snicker.

We had pre-paid for dinner through the hotel, so we selected from a price fix menu.

For starters I had salad with goat cheese and Hubby had fois gras, both of which were tasty. My entrée was duck confit with lovely little disks of fried potatoes with garlic. If I had a green, I don’t remember what it was. Hubby had a canard cassoulet, which was a little clay pot with white beans, chunks of duck, and sausage. It was all very well prepared. My duck just fell off the bone. It was also very flavorful. I took my first bite and exclaimed, “Oh, this is so good!" and started gobbeling it down. (I might have still been a little tipsy.)

(Here is a link to a random cooking blog I just found explaining what a cassoulet is. She even mentions Carcassonne!)

We ended up swapping plates halfway through. When we switched back I still had quite a pile of potatoes left and a good amount of duck. I keep a little plastic bag in my purse at all times in case I get a migraine (and the unfortunate side-effects of such). I slipped it out of my purse and loaded it up with my leftovers as subtly as possible. Hubby was my look-out and let me know when people were walking by so I could stop and look innocent. We had to take this extreme measure since doggy bags are not the norm.

For dessert Hubby had vanilla crème brulee and I had a chocolate lava cake. Are you noticing a trend with the crème brulee? Yeah, it’s one of our favorite desserts. And what better country in which to eat it? Of course, Hubby had coffee and I had chamomile tea. I couldn’t figure out how to order decaffeinated black tea, so I just started ordering chamomile.

The town had been pretty crowded with tourists when we first arrived, but by the time we were done dinner the place had cleared out. There were some people wandering around, but mostly it was quite. The walls in the hotel seemed a little thin, but it wasn’t too noise and we were able to fall asleep ok. Well, aside from that twin bed nonsense preventing snuggles!

Trip to France Day 4: Pauillac-Carcassonne I

Day 4: Pauillac-Carcassonne, Part 1. (Have I mentioned I'm long winded?)

Breakfast the next morning was the expected croissants, bread, jam, and yogurt. Later on Hubby and I discussed how it must be easier to run a B&B in France than in America since you aren’t expected to do a full, cooked breakfast.

We also grilled Dany for information. She said the fort we saw was one of three that used to protect the estuary. They were positioned so their cannon fire could cover the entire waterway.

She took the cost of the tolls in stride and said the highways were the best and fastest way to travel. She also said what we should have done was determine areas we wanted to see, then find a central location from which we could do day trips. Then move our base as needed. We were thinking, “Where were you in March when we were planning?”

It was all very interesting and informative. Then we went to pay her with our newly reactivated credit card. She said, “Oh, I kept meaning to tell you…my machine isn’t working. Do you have cash?”

I’m sure the sound of our jaws hitting the floor was audible. So Hubby turned to me and said, “I’m going to leave you here as a hostage and go find money.” I told him he could take the card and his passport into the bank and get a cash advance, which would suck since cash advances have higher APRs. But desperate times and all that. I hadn’t called the ATM card the night before, since we wanted dinner, and by morning they were closed because it was around 6 am EDT. However, when Hubby got to the bank he decided to try his ATM card, just for grins, and it worked. We were back in business.

I would have to say Wednesday was the best day of the trip. Our finances were sorted out and we had a nice relaxing day.

Not Napa
We were on the Medoc peninsula so we started out by heading north up the D2, aka Rue du Medoc, to see the wineries.

Wineries in France aren’t like the ones in Napa or Long Island. You can’t just zig-zag up the road, dropping in for a wine tasting. In France you need an appointment and get an hour long tour that includes the vineyards and cellars. We didn’t do any because we didn’t have time for all that. Also, how many in-depth discussions of vines and cellars can you hear in one day? Besides, we know a lot of that stuff already from our trips in the US.

Hubby’s theory is that in California and Long Island each vintner produces multiple wines. They’ll have a white or two along with a few reds. So there is something to taste. But in France they usually do one wine, and they do it well.However, this means there isn’t really anything to taste. "Here’s our one wine, thanks for stopping by."

This made the area seem not tourist friendly to us. Welcome to Wine Country, now go home. To add insult to injury, we frequently saw signs which translated to "Wine tastings. Open" and a directional arrow. The best we could figure out is they were pointing the way to the chateaus for people who had appointments. For us, they were just a big tease. We had to let go our preconceived notions of what a trip to wine country should entail and just enjoy the scenery.

There Is a Way
What you have to look for are Maison du Vin (which translates to House of Wine or something), or a Cave. They are both, as far as I could tell, basically wine stores. But since they carry wines from multiple vendors they have enough variety to taste. Hubby and I said to ourselves, “We’ll come to France, set up a tasting co-op and revolutionize the French wine country! We’ll be rich!”

We swung north to Saint-Estephe where we found a cathedral and a Maison du Vin. Hubby was able to taste a few wines and bought a bottle. I bought a tea towel that shows the wine appellations in France.

We headed back south, taking pictures of the grape vines and beautiful chateaus, and worked our way back to Pauillac. We found the tourist office, where we bought some cookies and a jar of flavored black tea.

Continuing south, we went through St. Julien, were we found a tasting room!

(not pictured. I don't remember which Chateau this is, but it has a British flag as well as a French one. Hubby would know.)

One family has three different labels, so they’ve consolidated their brands in one roadside room. The young woman behind the counter was a little flustered. It appeared they had cheese and crackers as well and she was serving a family in the next room when we wandered in. But once she settled down she was very nice. Hubby got to try a few wines and bought another bottle. She practiced her English. He practiced his French. It was all very cordial.

Countryside
Up north, on the way down from Paris, the country side was very open, rolling farmland. Like in the Plain States in the US. We saw lots of corn, a grain we thought was barley because it was too short to be wheat, and sunflowers. Fields of sunflowers all yellow and happy. I kept trying to get pictures of the sunflowers, but they always seemed to be facing away from me. The pictures I take never seem to convey the visual impact anyway. I suppose it would have helped if we had actually stopped the car and gotten out, but that would have been sensible.

In the south the land got a little more hilly. On the peninsula there were some gentle hills, but mostly flat, with lovely grape vines as far as the eye could see. We like grape vines since we don't get to see them much. The weather was also lovely. It was a bit warmer, but we drove around with the windows open and could smell the water. It was all very charming.

Just Feed Me
Then we made our way down to Margaux, where there was a restaurant Dany had recommended for lunch. However, as it was 2 pm, lunch was over. We were disappointed, but around the corner we found a brasserie that was still serving. Brasseries are like little bar, convenience store, cafe places and they seemed to have longer serving hours.

I decided I didn’t want anything heavy and ordered a salad with chicken, egg, and cheese. One thing that was very convenient for me was most of the restaurants had English translations, so it was easy for me to order. Hubby ordered a cheese burger and French fries, which he said was very good. Everywhere we went we ordered a bottle of Badoit, which is sparkling French mineral water. We like fizzy water.

By the time we finished eating it was around 3 pm. We were practically at Bordeaux so we went ahead and hopped on the A62 to get over to Carcassonne.

To be continued...

Trip to France Day 3: Chartres-Versailles-Pauillac II

Day 3, Part 2. Because I'm long winded. HA!

After we left Versailles we had about a 6 hour drive down to Pauillac, which is on the Medoc peninsula above Bordeaux. This was a our longest stretch in the car and we were dreading finding out what the tolls would cost.

The tolls changed from here on. On the highways in and out of Paris we passed toll booths every several kilometers. On the other highways we would get a ticket after passing through a city, then pay the toll before we got to the next city. The parts of the highway right around the city were free.

Let’s see, we passed Orleans, Tours, Poiters, and Niort. We got off south of Saintes and north of Bordeaux. The only receipt I have is on at Allainville and off at Tours and it cost E 16.50.

Our goal was a little town called Blaye, which doesn’t rate a mention in Fodor’s. On the Michelin map the road ends and there is a B in the space over the water. But the passage is narrow, so the B filled the whole space. We figured it must be a ferry, and thought we’d seen that on some other map online. We figured a bridge would just be shown.

The problem was we were running out of cash since our credit cards were locked down.

Blaye seemed to be a cute little town. Classic stone buildings with slate roofs on narrow roads. There was a really neat looking fort on the riverbank, but we didn’t know anything about it and didn’t have time to explore. We were trying to figure out were the ferry was, since the signs were severely lacking. There was actually a map of the town at the fort, which I was able to use to figure out which direction the water—and ferry landing—was.

Then we saw an ATM. It was very exciting. I ran across the street and tried to get out E100. But the machine said my institution didn’t allow it and spit my card out. I tried for E60, only to be rejected again. I went back to Hubby. We said, “OMG we’re trapped in a foreign country, running low on cash and without credit cards. We’re going to have to start washing dishes!”

I'm On a Boat!
We found our way to the ferry and were very excited to see it was still there, because that meant it was still running. It would have taken about two hours to continue on the highway down to Bordeaux and back up again. An option we really wanted to avoid, especially since we didn’t know how much the tolls would cost.

Happily, the ferry was ready to load up and depart shortly after we arrived. We figured we'd get on because they probably wouldn't kick us out mid-stream. We could sort out payment on the other shore. Also happily, the fare was E19.50, which we had, although it just about cleaned us out.

Once we were on the ferry we relaxed a little. We knew we’d make it to our B&B and we’d be able to sort out the credit cards.

We were staying at the Lou Bercail, which is a B&B run by an American woman named Dany who has lived in France since the 70s. So about the only thing American about her now is her accent!

We found the place, which was exciting, and Hubby got out and knocked on the door. And he knocked again. And again. And we were like “aaaahh! Where are they?!” I took another look at the little map she had e-mailed us and realized the little X she had made was on the other side of the block. We found our way around to the back of the house to a metal gate.

Hubby just waltzed into the back yard and then Dany appeared because she had heard the gate opening. They were in the backyard (which was quite large), so hadn’t heard us knocking. She said when we didn’t show up by 6 pm, and didn't call, she figured we had flaked on her.

And I mean it was a big back yard. She has a swimming pool as well as some open green spaces. There are lavender bushes and a massive fig tree that looked as big as my house. It was quite a nice view from our second story room. Oh, and beyond her yard was a vineyard, so we had the complete picture.

Cashflow Restored
She showed us to our room. Then dialed the number for the credit card for me. I blasted right through the security questions and didn’t mess around with the normal customer service rep. (“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am, let me transfer you.” Yeah, you’ll be sorry, alright.)

When I got to the security person I told her what was going on. She said they flagged my account because there was a charge overseas at 4 am. I was like, “Yeah! That was me! I’m in France!” She unlocked my account. Then I was like, Listen, WTF, I called you people two weeks ago? And she said she can’t see the notes from the other department. Which sounded wicked stupid, if you ask me, but the account was unlocked and that was all that mattered.

Dany sent us to a place called La Salamandre for dinner. It was down by the water. We’d been driving through town wondering were everyone was. Turns out they were all at the restaurants down by the water, too.

Seriously. When we did manage to get off the highway and into one of the little towns, they always seemed deserted. Ghost towns, everyone of them. With no people or cars in sight. It made us feel like we were in a Medal of Honor game. We wanted to start shooting Nazis. Of course, I probably would have ended up walking into a wall, or getting stuck in a corner. My avatar control skills aren't always the best.

Anyway.

It was a nice restaurant. We had a table on the terrace. There was a dock, then a parking area, then some seating, a sidewalk, and more seating against the front of the building, which is where we were. One couple had a black Lab passed out under their table. There was also a pair of scrawny black cats wandering around. Just like the cats in the French poster ads you can buy. Black cats with the one white flash at their throats.

Pizza!
We skipped appetizers. I was still full from the dinner the night before, so I just ordered a pizza margarita. In Connecticut, these pizzas have slices of tomato and mozzarella. In France, it was like a normal cheese pizza. But it had a really thin, crispy crust, and lots of cheese and a few black olives scattered over it. And it wasn’t cut, which blew my mind. It still tasted good.

Hubby must not have been thinking straight, because he ordered a duck dish. We did our best to devastate the duck population while we were in France. Take that, canard! He said it was good, but didn’t blow him away. He must have still been full too, because he ended up stealing slices of my pizza instead of focusing on his own meal. Which wasn't a problem because it's not like I'm going to eat an entire pizza by myself.

Poor Hubby tried to order a glass of wine, but they were out of each one he selected. He finally just asked for a glass of local red. It was kind of funny. For me, at least.

For dessert Hubby had a collection like mine from the previous night. There was a shot of coffee and a crème brulee and one or two other things I don’t remember.

Mine was a dollop of chocolate mousse sandwiched between two crispy lace cookies. It was all sitting in a puddle of crème anglese. Have I mentioned I think the world needs more crème anglese?

A big thunderstorm whipped through while we were eating. We could see the lightening approaching and then the rain came thundering down. People, and the two cats, ran for cover. But it didn’t last long. We were under an awning, so we didn’t get wet. Although the fringe on my Carnival Shawl got a little wet. Either it wasn't fully under the awning or it was on the ground without me realizing. No harm done, however, I just left it on the chair in our room to dry out.

Then we went back to the room and passed out.

Trip to France Day 2: Paris-Rouen-Chartres

We didn’t wake up until 9 am, which threw our whole schedule off as we were supposed to be on the road by 9:30 or 10.

As there was nothing to be done, we went down to breakfast. At that point Hubby realized we’d made a massive tactical error the night before. He had booked us a “greedy stay” package which included breakfast AND dinner. But we totally forgot as we’d booked it back in March.

He asked the desk clerk about getting a refund for the dinner, but the clerk on duty wasn’t the decision maker. He said we could use it in the future, so we had him reserve us a table with one of the partner restaurants for Saturday when we’d be back in town before our flight home.

Really, considering I went into a total collapse during dinner on Sunday, it was probably just as well.

Then Hubby went to get the rental car and the first disaster of the day struck.
First, it took him forever to find the Avis location in the Place de Madeline. He said he wandered all around before finally noticing a telephone booth looking structure with a sign on it, which turned out to be an elevator to the underground office.

Then they didn’t have the GPS unit we had requested when we reserved the car. The reservation was flagged with a “request”, but it didn’t specifically say a GPS, so there weren’t any units available. Then the guy was like, “Oh, we’ll wash the car for you first.” So it ended up taking Hubby like half an hour or more to get the car. They did, however, give Hubby a slightly larger car, but we’re not sure if the price was the same or more than our reservation.

In the mean time, I was at the hotel gazing out the window at the lovely scenery. Finally, around 11 am, I decided I’d given him enough time and dragged our two suitcases, my backpack, and his laptop bag downstairs to check out.

That’s when the second disaster struck.
The credit card was rejected. I was very surprised, as I had called them two weeks ago when Hubby first left and told them about our trip.

So I gave him the back up credit card, that I had also called, and it was also declined.

He tried both cards twice with the same result both time. In desperation, I gave him the debit card, which worked. It was very stressful and embarrassing.

Hubby came tumbling in, declaring he was double parked, and we flew out to the car and loaded up. The stress levels stayed high as Hubby navigated through the crazy drivers. They do drive like maniacs, and the signage is very poor compared to what we are accustomed to, and the traffic lights are short things on the side of the road (not hanging overhead) making them hard to see. It didn’t help that we were both wound up. In the end, it was around noon when we finally got going.

On a positive note, we drove right by the Arc de Triomphe.

Fortunately, traffic thinned out pretty quickly once we got outside the city.

The Best Laid Plans
The plan was to swing through Rouen and see the cathedral Monet painted repeatedly, then go to Normandy to see the beaches where the troops landed during World War II, then head down to Chartres for our second hotel.

Can I just say France is as bad as New Jersey when it comes to both traffic circles and tollbooths? Good grief, I think we single handedly revived the French economy with the amount we shelled out in tolls for the week. I sure wish someone had been there to warn us. We probably would have rethought our itinerary if we had known.

I am here to tell you: The tolls on French highways are, literally, highway robbery!

I think we passed through at least three peage barriers on the way to Rouen. They ranged from at least 2 to 5 Euros each (I don’t remember and have blocked it out because it is so traumatic).

Since we didn’t realize what we’d gotten ourselves into, we paid the first few with cash, so we don’t have receipts (later on we started paying with the credit card). Oh, here’s a receipt from Paris to Montesson Nord for 5.60 Euro (about US$7.98. Actually, I think the exchange rate is better today than is was during our trip. figures.).

So right away we were saying, “OMG, we’re going to go broke paying these tolls.”

Hit the Highway
And, it seems to me, France is either toll roads or little local roads.

By contrast, in The States you can either take an interstate (like I-95), which will possible be a toll road. Or you can take a state route (like the Merritt Parkway), which will be free, but still fast.

In France our choices were the “A” highways, which were all pay; the “N” roads, which were secondary roads that went through populated areas and had lights, like Boston Post Road in CT, Route 206 in NJ, or El Camino Real in CA; or the “D” roads, which were little, rural, local roads. Although you could still zoom along those D roads at a pretty good clip in some areas.

Scenery-wise, the A and D roads were best. And they all actually moved fairly well where traffic was concerned (aside from a few memorable exceptions).

We stopped for lunch at one of the highway rest areas. Hubby got a ham and cheese sandwich and I chose a tomato and mozzarella one, which turned out to be a Panini, so they grilled the hell out of it. We also bought a Michelin map so we would have some idea of where we were going. French maps are about as good as French road signs. Which is to say, not what I’m accustomed to and a bit lacking in the detail I needed.

When we got to Rouen we could see the cathedral, but couldn’t find parking. We circled a few times, and then finally took a spot half on the sidewalk that someone else vacated. It was probably illegal, but we were back to being wired up and felt rebellious.

Hubby really wanted a picture of the actual cathedral as he’d seen the series of paintings when he was at the Louvre. His plan is to show his students images of the paintings, then his picture of the actual place. It was pretty impressive. We looked at two of the facades, but couldn’t go inside.

Pit Stop
And let me pause again to say that I didn’t encounter any gross restrooms when I was in France. Sure, the toilets looked different from ours, but the actual restrooms were no less clean than the average public restroom you would encounter in America. I also didn’t encounter any pay toilets (which made me happy, considering the contribution I was making to the local economy through my use of toll roads).

Schedule Change
Once we got back on the road, it didn’t take us long to realize that Normandy wasn’t going to happen. It was just still too far ahead and then too far from our hotel. It was very sad, as Hubby had been looking forward to seeing Normandy—being a history teacher an all. But we just didn’t get out of Paris in time to make it happen.

So we turned south and went straight to Chartres. Still, we didn’t tumble in until 7 pm or so. Luckily, it was staying light until around 10 pm and the French don’t eat dinner until 8 or 9, so we could still see where we were going and didn’t miss dinner.

When we got to the village, we swung through town and visited their cathedral. It was very nice, with lovely stained glass windows.

Then we got trapped in the parking garage. Yeah, finally, a parking garage. We couldn't figure out where to put the ticket so we could pay. Luckily, at first, there was no one behind us. I jumped out of the car to get a better look at the machine, which let me see a door into a room with vending machine things inside. When I went it they looked like payment machines, as I'd seen similar set up occasionally here in The States.

By now someone had driven up behind us. Ooops. So I went over and asked if they spoke English. The guy had a little English, so I asked, "How do we get out?" And he confirmed my suspicions that I had to take our parking ticket inside, pay, and get a new ticket. Of course, it worked like a charm and we drove off waving and calling "Merci! Merci!" out the window.

Maybe it's just as well we didn't find any other parking garages.

That's My Castle!
This night, Monday, we stayed at the Chateau d’Esclimont. It was originally built as a lords castle in1543. Renovations were done in 1865, with some decorations that say “C’est mon plaiser” which translates to “It is my pleasure.” It was a functioning estate until 1968, and was sold and turned into a hotel in 1981.

It was beautiful! There was a moat (with koi fish and a bridge), turrets, high ceilings, rich decorations, and bathrobes for use during our stay. Turns out we had a suite, so we had a bedroom with views of the secondary buildings, a wee sitting/TV room in one of the turrets, and a lovely marble bathroom with a tub big enough for both of us. Um, hypothetically, of course. My only complaint was the bed was hard as a board. Hubby said that seemed the norm in France.

There were even dark Belgian chocolates on the pillows that had a picture of the chateau on them!

We ran around the room a bit, then changed into nice clothes for dinner at 9 pm. (See what I mean about eating late?)

Clothing Fit
Oh, and let me veer off and say I didn’t notice that the French dressed so much better than us. Maybe we were just in touristy areas, but I didn’t feel like a slouch at all. Sure the women in Paris had scarves on, but I didn’t notice anymore after we got outside the city.

Dinner Time!
Ok, back to our fabulous anniversary dinner. In the whole dining room there were two other couples and a group of four. They all finished long before we did. Our meal took about two and a half hours. I kid you not.

We started with kir royal (champagne with raspberry) for an aperitif. They also randomly brought little appetizers—a small toast with a slice of lox and cream, a ham and cheese petite fore, and a stuffed cherry tomato.

For my starter I had asparagus soup. It had a dollop of cream in it and four spears wrapped in a strong cheese on the side. Hubby had a rabbit thing that was in a little round tower—it had shredded meat at the bottom, a layer of spices, and goat cheese at the top.

(In France the appetizers are called entrees, because they are your entrance to the meal. The main course is called a plat. But dessert is still dessert!)

When we finished those, the waiters randomly brought us little shot glasses filled with radish mousse. It was yellow, light as a cloud, and very yummy.

For my main course I had lamb with polenta and figs on the side. Hubby had ordered the beef (which was filet mignon) but they brought him the veal sweetbread instead.

The presentation was great. Our main courses had the classic metal covers. Two waiters brought them out, placed them in front of us, then nodded at each other and lifted the dishes simultaneously.

And we said, “Um, that doesn’t look like beef.” And they said, “It’s the veal.” And Hubby said, “I ordered the beef.” And we could sense their panic. So they went out in the hall (our table was right next to the door) and we hear a bit of a commotion, then our main waiter came back and said “5 minutes on the beef, sir.”

In the mean time, I was chowing down on my delicious lamb, because why let it get cold? Hubby’s steak came and was very yummy as well. Of course, Hubby had also ordered a wonderful bottle of red wine.

For dessert I had “Les Bocaux d’Autrefois” which was translated on the menu as “The Jars.” It was three little mason jars slightly larger than a big shot glass. One was vanilla crème brulee, one was a plum pudding with whipped cream, and the third was strawberry salad with mint. After the waiter put the plate down I heard a crackling sound. I realized it was the strawberry salad. So I ate a spoonful and it exploded in my mouth like Pop Rocks! I was cracking up. Of course Hubby had to try some too. We were giggling our heads off, so it’s good we were alone.

Hubby ordered Le Chocolate Crème Brulee au Poivre. He had a chocolate crème brulee with a piece of gold leaf on top (!), a chocolate club sandwich, which was slices of sponge cake with mousse, and a scoop of chocolate ice cream. There was also a little plate of three random little pastries. And a bowl of creme angles. And can I say, the world needs more creme angles?

Anyone who knows me, especially anyone who has ever gone to a restaurant with me, knows I’m a pretty small eater. In fact, Hubby says he can tell when I really like a dish because I’ll eat all of it.

Well, I really like this dinner because I absolutely gorged myself. Really, I felt like a little snake. I was sure I wouldn’t have to eat for three days after that meal. And yet it was so good, I just couldn’t stop myself. Hubby felt the same way. It was like that gross scene from Monty Python’s Meaning of Life, only we didn’t actually explode.

We were pretty happy all we had to do was stumble upstairs to go to bed.

But The Day Doesn't End There
I think I had regular tea with dinner because I couldn’t fall asleep to save my life. So I snuck into the sitting room, closed the door, and watched BBC Worldnews while I knit. (We watched a lot of CNN International and BBC Worldnews on the trip because they were the only English language channels.)

I finally fell asleep around 2 am.

Then the fire alarm went off at 4:30 am.

I called the front desk. She said, “Yes, I’m not sure what is happening.” So I asked if we should evacuate. She said, “Yes, I would prefer it.” In the mean time, Hubby was stumbling around getting dressed. He peeked out in the hallway and said there were no other people in the hall. By the time I had managed to get dressed the lady came up, heading straight for Hubby, and said it was a false alarm. The whole thing kind of reminded us of The Shining. I mean, it was a big place, and we were the only ones on the floor?!

It was a little hard to fall back asleep.