As we head out of the gate we see deer grazing on the village green. Bob is all for giving chase but is 'discouraged' from doing so and is put on his lead. Angus sits on the concrete lip of the storm drain and dangles his legs over the side. The male PON sits next to him. This morning, as every morning, it's explained that this is Bobs Country. The donkeys have worked their way down to the far corner of the field and can be seen reaching up to eat the walnuts that grow along the river bank. Dog and master look at them for a while and then, satisfied that all's well with the world, return home.
The menu at the soon to close hotel in the little market town offers goose gizzard Cassoulet. This together with the brochette of duck hearts indicates that we are in deepest, deepest France profonde. Bob thinks everything on the menu sounds wonderful. The fact the hotel is closing tells us that even in this most conservative of regions culinary preferences are becoming healthier .
All Saints Day. The flower seller has encroached onto three parking spaces. There's something about chrysanthemum colours that stops them from being joyous.
On our way home Bob and his best friend park the car and walk down the hill to the valley. Not a soul to be seen. Just the ears of hares stoicking out comically from their forms, nervous deer and now pheasants. Lots and lots of noisy pheasants.
All the fields have been ploughed and the countryside now has something of the look of the desert. Give it a week and some rain and the winter wheat will be poking through. It's been warm enough to sit outside in shirt sleeves but a sharp drop in temperatures is forecast for Thursday. Sophie will need to recuperate in the kitchen.
This little farm house halfway down the hill looks strangely isolated.
15 comments:
Bertie and I would both go for goose gizzard cassoulet!
Cheers, Gail.
A delightful post Angus. Turning on the television today- news of terror threats, rising prices, lowering pensions, I read your post and my spirits rise again..thank you.
"All's well with the world" - what a reassuring phrase that is. Would that it were so. Beautiful photos, Angus, and indeed the countryside does look like a desert.
Goose gizzard cassoulet - noooo - Gail and Bertie can have mine !
I think I understand how you feel about the chrysanths; no luminosity or energy. No doubt the poor things have been entirely forced.
Whereas the pictures of the fields sing with life; stunning.
Bob seems OK?
That menu is great: more than half is duck.
What does Sophie think about the "Bob's Country" line?
I imagine there was a 'diva monent' when the three of you returned to the poor, isolated invalid!
The chances of Sophie being left alone, even for a second , is absolute zero. One of us is always in the house with her, or if not she's left with her big brother. Sophie does not do 'alone' quietly. It is not a state of nature she understands. She has a particular high pitched howl that could shred cement if she thinks she's alone.
Bertie - Not something you often see on the menu in Scotland.
Life here continues as it has done -unhurried and unchanging. Probably one of the last places in Europe to be like this.
Acres of the chrysanths in the churchyards for todays tidying up of the graves.
Duck is our regional speciality - difficult to get away from it. Having said that this is the only place where restaurants generally cook it to perfection.
Being a 'waste not want not' part of the world they also serve up cockscomb cassoulet. Avoid !
The little farmhouse does have a look of being set amidst the sand dunes. Lovely pictures.
What wonderful photos of the countryside! I will never tire of these. It's so sad to have another small business close.
We have chicken gizzard every weekend...we've love to be at their closing down sale.
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