7: Meat in jars

For lunch, Sylvia prepared a tasty spread. For the appetizer, we had a salad of arugula and chickpeas with pork pâté made from the house’s pig. Mounded on fresh bread, any fatty pâté puts all vegetable based spreads to shame. The main course was pork marinated in soy sauce and ginger with pumpkin and risotto. Michel broke out a bottle of his apple cider. This one was made with only the best apples - no crabapples or overripe ones that usually make it into the batch. The result was a super clean, dry cider. We had little fromage blanc and elderberry jam for dessert/cheese course followed by coffee and chocolate. Settling in for a siesta, I thought it may be good to update the blog. 

We are midway through day three of my stay at Terroir de Famille. Thick drops of rain come in waves on the roof. I can hear passing cars cut through the puddles in the road, and the birds have been quieted, but not silenced. Each day here, I’ve awoken more optimistic than the previous. While the language barrier with Michel is still causing the bulk of my frustration, I’ve begun to learn a few new words and am getting better at interpreting Michel’s body language. At lunch today, while describing the pâté, Michel told me a story about last year’s pig that needed to be slaughter. The 500-pound boar wouldn’t walk to his death, so Michel had to get the tractor to carry him away. Much of that pork was too tough to eat and was fed to the dogs. At least, that’s what I think happened. He is a patient man and doesn’t mind too much when I don’t understand. Mostly I just nod and pretend like I do. 

Yesterday we visited Chèvrerie de Chaillon. This place was exactly what I was hoping for when I came to France to make cheese. The farm is multi-faceted. Some 20 goats are milked twice a day via mechanical pumps. They are kept in a barn for the winter with lots of fresh straw and room to breath. Goats are certainly the best smelling farm animal. Outside, three unshaven sheep share a grazing space with chickens and ducks of all sort. One of the sons, Paul, works outside in a 60 ft long hoop house preparing the vegetable starts. I see potatoes, tomatoes, onions, garlic, lettuce, cabbage, beans, and plenty of others. Paul will take over the farm from his parents. Paul’s mother, Helen, who is inside preparing lunch, is also in charge of the cheese making and running the boutique in the front of the house. Here they sell their cheeses as well as local meats, jams, beer, wine, cider, soaps and honey. 

Helen prepared for us a first course of salad with canned rabbit (I had two helpings), followed by Sylvia’s nettle-pesto lasagna with a crushed-walnut crust. There was a white fish in it also, but I can’t tell you what kind. I can tell you it was delightful. Per usual, Helen brought out a few cheeses to serve before a sour-cherry quiche and another round of coffees. In total, the lunch took up two hours of the day, but it didn’t seem to throw anybody off. We ate at the kitchen table with the dishwasher running between courses. As for me, I couldn’t be more pleased. While the others carried on their conversation in their native tongue, I lost track and began to daydream of how I could bring this lifestyle back with me. A table in the kitchen with a wood stove and a small dog would be a good place to start. 

Voilà, I’ve spent all my napping time writing this. It’s about time to go find Michel. By now, he’s surely started a third project and left two unfinished - such is his nature. But I couldn’t criticize him if I wanted - It’s not yet in my vocabulary. 

Á bientôt. 

Clayton

PS: I know I promised pictures, but it will have to wait until I can charge my computer. Oh well