A photo can’t do the architecture justice. It is graceful, full of sculptured walls and arches and that look that people love to copy into their own homes.

Much of it is opened to the outdoors.

A closeup of one of the columns there.

A look at one of the ceilings.

This was in Cordoba at one of the street celebrations. I kept wanting to buy a beautiful Spanish shawl or fan but wasn’t sure what I would do with one when I got it home so passed.

Here are just a few of the columns and arches.

Another decorative arch. I don’t know why the Catholics who converted this mosque to a church didn’t tear the whole thing down and start all over as they often did. I’m glad they didn’t. In fact, the mosque tore down a church to build the mosque-the many columns were taken from the church and Roman ruins. It is a very strange feeling church with all of those columns and arches and then the over the top golden chapels and altars.

When we arrived in Cordoba we found that there was a big Catholic fesitval going on on just about every corner. It was the day of the cross, I believe, and we saw red crosses everywhere, music, dancing and drinks all over the city. It was fun to walk around and hit a party at every turn.

Just about everything, in some way, is different in France. Now, of course, their beds are similar to ours, there are just differences, even in sizes. They don’t have box springs, for instance, but flat, narrow platforms with small wooden slats that are convex and it seems to do the same sort of job to me. There are no wheels underneath, but straight legs. I brought some of my box springs with me to France and they all have wheels. I used to think this was great but here they slip and slide all over the place on our wooden floors, moving even when you sit down on them. I had a horrible time finding some sort of flat little rubber containers to go underneath and, in fact, finally had to buy some in the States.

The French aren’t as big on dust ruffles either and I ended up bringing those back from the States as well. I will say that they can be a little difficult when the matress moves around when someone sleeps in the bed and, when the duvet cover is tucked under at the end, everyone but me also tucks in the dust ruffle at the end of the bed-not a pretty site.
I had never used duvets before I came here. They are fluffy bed coverings, very warm in the winter, that are tucked into large envelope type covers, rather like putting a pillow into a pillow case, and that becomes the bedspread.They are a pain to get the duvet into its cover-it takes all sorts of pushing and pulling and fluffing.

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When I moved here, I put a top sheet underneath as this was the way I was used to doing things-putting sheets under bedspreads. The French don’t do this, but just use the duvet. The problem with this is that the duvet cover has to be washed and then you have to do the wrestling thing again getting it all put together. I do see people, usually on the week-ends, with their duvets laying across the bottom of the open window being aired. I haven’t done this as of yet as my windows are filthy on the outside frames. I do know that it is the habit here, and in other European countries, to pull back the duvet and open the window for a while every morning so everything airs out. Some people even put a mirror on the bed to see if it fogs up, a sign that it hasn’t aired out enough. I must admit, I never thought of this. I just washed the sheets when I thought they needed it. I’ve been trying to leave the duvet turned down for a while every morning so everything thing is as dry as possible. Sometimes, I even open the window to help the process.

I have returned to putting a top sheet under the duvet on our queen sized bed. I like keeping our duvet cover as clean as possible so I am not always washing it, and when it gets too hot, the sheet is nice when we push the duvet to the bottom of the bed.

My other blog: Sideroads of Europe

Remember that scene in the movie by Barbra Streisand, The Face in the Mirror, where she is at a restaurant and very carefully makes a little pile on her fork of food from her plate make the perfect combo? It’s not the best movie I’ve ever seen but I liked it and what it had to say about beauty. Anyway, I have had the perfect bite a couple of times. The first time was in Paris when I ordered a Salade Chevre Chaud-a salad with warm goat cheese. So, onto my fork I pushed some lettuce covered with tangy vinagarette, a piece of tomato, a walnut, and the warm cheese on top of a piece of crunchy toast. It was such a great explosion of flavors in my mouth-the acid tang of tomato, the warm soft cheese with the crunch of toast and snap of the slightly bitter walnut, the warm cheese binding it all together-it was all a little piece of heaven. I also like salty and sweet together as in dates with bacon or a cheese with a sweet jam. And, then there is Thanksgiving, where into one bite are the flavors of turkey, stuffing, mashed potato and gravy topped with a small amount of cranberry sauce. Eating can be such a fun adventure.

(A repeat as I am on a trip)

My other blog: Sideroads of Europe

It was once a really love place as shown in old prints, rather Italian in flavor, but destroyed during the French Revolution which seems like a shame to me. Why destroy beauty? I’ve seen door and windows around the town which were probably taken from the ruins.

It is slowly being restored but probably not much more that it is now. In the summer there are concerts outside with the grounds, a very nice place to be.

Our concert was inside the chateau as it is still chilly in the evenings, down deep inside and under of what remains outside. We were in what I would call a cave, a room with a round ceiling with perfect acoustics.

The hall entering the cave that I didn’t get a photo of.

We arrived a little early and sat down. A man in front of us was asked to move and he went balistic and started shouting. The room went dead silent. He obviously wasn’t going to move. I decided that he was mentally unbalanced and was hoping that he would keep quiet during the concert and that the music would sooth the savage beast, so to speak. When a man got up front to introduce the musicians, the crazy man started yelling at him. It was very uncomfortable. Luckily for all of us, he left after the first song.

A victory angel above the door of the chateau.

The musical group, Milontango, was a trio of women from Nice, one Italian, one German and one Argentenian which I thought was interesting. There was a piano, bass fiddle and a flute. They were really very good and the music was great.

While I was sitting there listening I could help but go back to all of the many concerts I attended with my exhusband. He was a musician and loved music. I knew very little other than the rock and roll I grew up with, Elvis and Ricky Nelson being just two. In college I was required to take a music appreciation class, all classical music as it turned out. Our final was to listen to just a portion of a record (way before tapes and CD’s) and be able to tell who the composer was. I had to spend a lot of time in the library trying to learn how to do that. I got so I could actually tell if it was Chopin or Bach, their music being rather like hand writing with a distinct sound. It still is with me years later and I can use that knowledge when I listen to classical music on the radio, which isn’t very often to tell the truth. Anyway, I sat through many operas and symphonies and even attented every single night of a famous piano competition in Fort Worth. Maurice likes an occasional classical concert. Back when we first started dating, we went to hear a sympony. This is where I found out that he often sleeps during concerts–movies too.

The name of the group was Milontango and here is a link to their website: Milontango They were very accomplished to my amateur ear and it was a great night.

Fish en Papillote

This is a dish I’ve looked at for a long time, thinking about cooking it. I finally decided to give it a try. It turned out to be very easy, quick and tasty-a winning combination. I did it with the parchment paper but I think next time that I will use foil as it didn’t stay tightly wrapped and puff up like it was supposed to. Maurice really liked it and said it was like opening a little surprise at the table so I think it could be a good meal for company. I wasn’t sure how long to cook it. One recipe said ten minutes, the other 20. I ended up cooking it for 20 minutes just to make sure it was well done. I didn’t want to open the package to check on it. The other evening I saw Jamie Oliver-The Naked Chef-on TV and he used foil, folding it up tightly on three sides then pouring in wine before sealing the fourth side. My package didn’t leak but it sure was full of liquid when we opened it–which tasted very good with the rice. (The French always want rice with their fish). Jamie used mussels, scallops and shrimp for his dish which looked very good. The recipe below is from the Boston Globe although I used various elements from another recipe. I did put in a little ginger but the main difference is that I cooked the vegetables before using them in the packet as we aren’t fans of crunchy vegetables. I didn’t have snap peas either but I bet that would be good. It seemed like a really healthy meal which always makes me feel good.

“Cooking “en papillote” is a technique that seals savory or sweet ingredients into a folded pouch of parchment paper (or foil), before cooking. Essentially, food steams in its own juices, and develops wonderful aromas. You can use this method to cook fish, meat, vegetables, pasta, even fruit. The drama comes when guests open their packets, lean into the aromatic steam, and instantly like the dish - even before tasting. Successful papillotes use ingredients that are small; they’re layered in small quantities, and seals on the pouches should be airtight. Fish or meats go well with aromatic herbs and julienned vegetables, a splash of white wine, lemon or orange juice, and a touch of olive oil. The papillotes puff in the oven and as your guests tear them open, you get to watch their delight.” Quote from the Boston Globe.

1 zucchini, cut into julienne strips
1 carrot, cut into julienne strips
12 sugar snap peas
1 small sweet onion (Vidalia or Oso Sweet) cut in 1-inch thin sticks
1 piece (1-inch) ginger root, finely grated
Pinch of ground coriander
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
Salt and pepper, to taste
2 lemons
4 pieces boneless ocean perch (6 ounces each), or use another thin fish such as trout
Olive oil (for sprinkling)

1. Set the oven at 420 degrees. Have on hand four 14-inch pieces of parchment paper or foil paper.

2. In a large bowl, toss gently the zucchini, carrot, snap peas, onion, ginger, coriander, parsley, salt, and pepper; set aside.

3. Grate the rind of 1 lemon and squeeze the juice. Slice the other lemon.

4. Pat the fish dry with paper towels. Season the fish with salt and pepper. Place each piece of parchment paper on the counter. Brush the center with olive oil. Use half the vegetables to make a bed on each paper. Top with the fish, skin side up (if there is skin), and add lemon rind and juice. Add the remaining vegetables, and a sprinkle of olive oil. Place two slices of lemon on top.

5. Lift the wider edge of the paper and fold it over the top. Crimp the edges by pleating them over and over, or secure with string. There should be enough space between the ingredients and edge of the paper for the pouches to puff.

6. Set on a rimmed baking sheet. Cook for 10 minutes or until the fish is firm to the touch.

There are iris growing wild as well.

Our very own, personal lilac bush. I’m sure they must grow wild somewhere too but I haven’t seen any.

Sideroads of Europe

Here is a view of the rock garden in rather poor light. When I took the picture I was more interested in the light than in the garden. The landscape lady that originally put in the garden mostly put in local succulents that I have seen growing on the hills and along the roads around here. The first couple of summers they grew like crazy and had all sorts of little flowers. This year they don’t look very happy. I’m guessing they go through cycles. She also put in some bushes that I call Pampas grass which also did well at first but now don’t do much of anything. I think the cold winters that we have here did a number on them. I cut back some of them and dug up the rest and planted some lavender plants and santalina just so we have a little color and variety. It’s hard to have a really good garden when you aren’t at the house all of the time. We never know what we will find when we return each Spring.

Anyway, here is a closeup of one of the rocks–thus, a rock garden. Many of them are slowing shattering since they are exposed to weather. I’d love to get some garden sculptures but they are very expensive here.

And, sigh, the snails are making a return. This is a big fellow, but I’m starting to see the darn little white ones. It won’t be long until I am once again engaged in full scale warfare with them. I’m going to put ashes around my vegetable garden this summer as apparently they don’t like ashes but it has to be replaced everytime it rains. Snails and weeds–it never ends.

“I guess I’ll hand my tears out to dry”. Isn’t that the name of a country western song? Being as it is April, we are getting all sorts of April showers. I tried to do my morning walk yesterday and half way through it started raining and I ended up soaked. It rained all night last night and this morning I saw a row of rain drops left on a bush. It is now so fresh and sunny and clean that I am going to get out there and try my walk yet again.

Sideroads of Europe

I wish I had a new French recipe to post but ever since I returned from Switzerland, the part that is close to Italy, I have been on an Italian kick. I had the best fish in lemon sauce while there and some incredible polenta. My first try at making my own polenta was not a success. It needed a lot more in the way of spices and maybe some onion and, my, that stuff turns rubbery once it cools down. I spread it in a pan to let it cool, then cut it into squares and tried to brown it in a pan with some olive oil but it stubbornly stayed bright yellow and only an application of a spicy tomato sauce made it worth eating.
Next I tried making a dish of fish with lemon sauce. It was good but not as good as that I had in Switzerland. I think I made mine too lemony. But rissoto, now that was a huge success. I did not have that in Switzerland but I did see a recipe at the blog called Chez Lulu that called for baking the rissoto. One reason I’ve never made it before is that I can’t get excited about standing over a pan and stirring something for at least thirty minutes, adding chicken stock as it is absorbed. I’ve had it in restaurants before but never was inspired enough to do it at home but, suddenly, while on my Italian kick, I thought it was time and it turned out fabulous! The only thing that happened was that when I brought it out of the oven after 18 minutes, there was still a lot of fluid that hadn’t been absorbed so I just cooked it down on a burner until it was finished. Seriously good stuff. I’m going to start trying recipes, Italian and French, for artichokes next since they are in season right now.

Baked Asparagus Risotto

8 ounces/250g thick, smoky bacon, chopped into small pieces
1 onion, chopped
2 tablespoons/25g butter plus 1 tablespoon/12g
10 ounces/300g risotto rice
8 ounces/ 250g fresh asparagus, cut into 1-inch pieces

1/2 cup/125ml of white wine (optional)
3 cups/700ml hot chicken stock
pinch salt
freshly ground black pepper

1/2 cup/50g Parmesan cheese, grated
Heat oven to 200C/400F
Fry the bacon pieces in an ovenproof pan or casserole dish with a lid for 3-5 minutes until crisp.
Stir in the onion and 2 tablespoons/25g butter and cook for 3-4 minutes until soft.
Add the rice and stir for a minute or two, until all the grains are coated.
Pour in the optional white wine and cook for 2 minutes, until absorbed.
Add the hot stock, the salt and the asparagus pieces, then give it all a quick stir.
Cover with a tight fitting lid and bake for 18 minutes until just cooked.
Stir in 2/3 of the Parmesan and remaining butter.
Serve, sprinkled with the remainder of the cheese and pass the pepper mill.

Sideroads of Europe