Orgeat

The PONs know only a simple world of given love and returned loyalty. Bob sits by me on the concrete storm drain. He has his hair tousled, is told this is 'his country' and listens to a few words of Chaucer.

'Welcome the wanderer
Make home for those yn neede
Acknowledge sharid fragilitye
These are the bravest deedes'

On our way to the bakers we draw up behind an old farmer who is chatting away animatedly to his companion. At first we think it's his wife. When he stops at the roundabout we get a better view of the droopy eared passenger.

'The Fonts' birthday. We go for lunch to a new restaurant 12 kilometres away. It's in the midst of flax fields and is approached along a single track road that fords two streams and bisects a horse farm. We're the only guests. A Parisian has sold his company and invested a small fortune rebuilding a small hameau as luxury rentals. The food sophisticatedly delicious. A first for me - Orgeat sorbet. What a taste ! We can't decide what Orgeat is in English. We settle on Barley water. Barley water sorbet flavoured with almond and orange blossom - who'd expect to find it in deepest, deepest France profonde ? Seems it's a Lebanese recipe although we've never seen it in the mid-east : http://lacuisinedeamal.com/2014/08/sorbet-au-sirop-d-orgeat.html