Welcoming the Sun Back Where it Belongs with a Quack aka Duck Confit Time
Almanac for Belonging~February 10-28: Spring starts off with an easy entry to cooking duck; video for simple confit de canard
February 10 Almanac for Belonging. Gloomy Gascony.
I made a few stops on errands this morning dodging the heavy rain like melting bullets. First I bought pansies and johnny jump-ups, fragrant pinks-dianthus, rosemary, and thyme. Then hopped out again and stopped for pastries at the Salon du Thé before popping into friends for coffee and shared cakes. By the time I returned home, the sky was so heavy with soggy skies I felt like I was driving through the clouds.
Still there was joy in the scented blossoms, the fragrant cakes, and especially the warm friendship on a rainy ruelle in Nérac.
February 11 Almanac for Belonging. A New Gate, an Old Color, and Haircut.
After many long years of service, my old tomato stake gate that was hammered together with some old planks and washed with a woad blue tint is being retired. I asked Allison and Trevor if they could make a new version that would keep Chica inside the garden area and define the entrance to the potager and the Relais front doors.
I provided the Bouille Bordelais, the copper sulfate powder that is sprayed on fruit trees and grapevines all over France, as the color base to match the front door. It won’t be long before it softens in the strong summer sun and fades to a farmhouse palette like seen on the stonewall where Allison is pruning back the Boston Ivy. Over time, I have touched every surface of this old house to showcase the magic that was already here.
Eh Voila! the end of the day before the rain started! Merci A &T!
Feb 12 Almanac for Belonging. The Atmospheric River Called Nils.
Sleepless nights as big winds whipped through the trees and broke branches, uprooted and snagged cables and electric lines. Now, after hours of darkness and no electricity, I am plugged back in and survey damage. Neighbors appeared with chainsaws and rakes to clear the road, my telephone cable snagged by branches is resting across the driveway but still working! one big old oak tree is down and will become next year’s firewood. Little blessing after a restless night. And now there is some sun! Merci!
Friday 13! Almanac for Belonging. Looking for Light.
Grey mornings all week and more breakfast candles to light the way. I am focusing on how I look in and out at the daylight and how that affects all I do. The kitchen needs more light these months and so I’ll steal a little table lamp and put it on a counter. Why Not?
There is a blackbird knocking at his reflection at my window. He is the most annoying of all my neighbors! The window is covered in feathered breast marks like handprints across the glass. I am now going to have look at theses light-filled squares as a portal to another world and ban him from entering.
February 15. Almanac for Belonging. A Sunday Kind of Day After the Storm.
Sunday vibes have permeated every brick and stone of this old house, along with days of sideways rain and damp rising from a saturated earth. I gave in early this morning for a little pre-lunch nap to make up for the lack of sleep last night. I like this feeling of surrendering to the moods in a fit of weekend luxury.
And I have been promising to make a Parmentier de Canard all week- that most French of family dishes with confit de canard and sweet onions gently simmered under a duvet of mashed potatoes the rougher the better to catch the pools of butter and golden crust. Maybe there is a movie on while it bakes away? And I am huddled under the blanket with a furry black dog by my side. Bon Dimanche!
Feb 17 Almanac for Belonging. Don’t Rain on our Gascon Mardi Gras!
For some fool hardy years ( 9 now) a small band of North Americans have gathered on the day in Nérac to chow down on a well made Muffaletta sandwich courtesy of Gumbo Willy and a Kings Cake from me. This year the newest members of the Nérac Posse Krewe brought macaroni salad, planters’ punch, and pancakes- it is Shrove Tuesday after all.
My heartfelt thanks to master baker Bronwen Wyatt for her Kings Cake tutorial! This was, while not wearing the traditional Mardi Gras colors, the tastiest-softest-richest-briochiest one I’ve ever made. Merci ma Chère!
February 19 Almanac for Belonging. Attention Troupeaux!
Along the country lane that runs by my neighbor’s farm, there is a a battered metal sign nailed to a telephone pole that reads “AttentionTroupeaux” —attention animal passage. It’s been there for over 30 years and the bright red and white paint has faded and chipped and bent to form around the pole.
While you might imagine a herd of the big burly Blondes of Aquitaine cattle they raised, or a meandering flock of wooly meat sheep that might graze in the adjoining field, the real troupeau here are the dozen or so laying hens that scattered along the edge of the road and continue to cross the road like so many jokes, clucking “Why? Why are we crossing this road?”
They belong to this little road like I do. We nod and cluck at each other in passing and acknowledge the fat grey skies that bring yet another February storm.
Feb 20 Almanac for Belonging. Soil Under my Nails, At Last!
In preparation for tomorrow’s Masterclass in Belonging, I am digging into the piles of pots and containers for my Kitchen Window Garden. The goal is to crowd some newly purchased flowers (Pansies and Pinks) and herbs (Thyme and Rosemary) into some nicely weathered zinc containers and group them on the kitchen window sill. Then when the window is cracked open for fresh air in the morning, the scent of fresh growing things brightens the morning air.
Feb.21 Almanac for Belonging. Start at the Beginning.
Grateful for a full morning of French sunshine after weeks and weeks of rain and flooding. But where to begin but the beginning—the opening into the light, the welcome to my house, the front door, the first things I see when I drive in. Yes, I claim it as Paradis.
I spent the morning planting pots of late tulip bulbs (yes, they will sprout and flower!) and terracotta window boxes of pansies to place at the front door long ago stained with copper sulfate powder. There are herbs and flowers mixed in the kitchen window garden as a way to invite Spring inside, even when I am still lighting a woodfire in the evening. Where to begin? At the beginning…
Feb 22 Almanac for Belonging. Welcoming the Sun back where it Belongs.
Weather figures heavily in all almanacs—floods, droughts, showers, and hail. We’ve all seemed to have our share of this in the upper and lower hemispheres this year. What is less talked about is how that weather affects our energy and moods, productivity and rest.
In my own personal Almanac for Belonging that I am documenting and sharing here, I not only note the weather we are having but the emotional toll as well. Collectively when we all start ‘talking about the weather’ like a bunch of French farmers, there is also a collective energy shared- depression or ennui, excitement and energy flares when the sun reappears. Today, here in Gascony, we have the sun in all her glory. And I am revelling in the warmth reflecting off the stone walls and letting the golden air inside.
Welcoming the Sun back where it belongs with a Quack!
Weather figures heavily in all almanacs—floods, droughts, showers, and hail. We’ve all seemed to have our share of this in both the upper and lower hemispheres. What is less talked about is how that weather affects our energy and moods, productivity and rest. Here, in my own personal Almanac for Belonging, I am documenting and sharing not only note the weather we are having but the emotional toll as well. I have noticed that collectively, when we all start ‘talking about the weather’ like a bunch of French farmers, there is also a shared energy from depression or ennui to a lighter burst of excitement and energy when the sun reappears and our spirits flare.
Apres Moi, Le Deluge
Famously attributed to King Louis XV before the French Revolution, we have been living a real deluge this past month plus. The past weeks have been a wrestling match with Mother Earth here in SW France. We are generally accustomed to milder weather with bouts of extreme surprises in short bursts—a killer heat wave, a lingering drought, a gale force windstorm, and now, a biblical deluge. This month we got a continual dose of wind and rain, rain, and more rain. In fact, there were 40 days of continual rain in France (epic!) resulting in flooding that is the most extreme I have experienced in my nearly four decades here in this Garonne River Valley, one of France’s largest river basins.
While the grey days felted my world—soggy gardens and overflowing rain gutters—I hunkered down and tended to my bookcases and messy desk. I cooked and baked, slept and watch countless mediocre streaming programs. I am ashamed to say I read too little and watched too many Instagram reels. And along with the sun, I’m back to normal now with the news and a crossword puzzle (mini-version only) in the morning and a cozy “who-dunn-it” before bed. In between, I work on a book proposal and my darling newsletter The Camont Journals here. And now with the return of the sun, there is always a long list of house and garden projects for the Relais de Camont.
First Bird
That first Blackbird clocked in at 6:49 this morning. His song is loud and thrilling piercing the still dark hedges and tree branches. Once light, I see there is a small European robin building a nest of dried leaves in a large pot hanging on the kitchen wall. I watch as I have my café au lait as they hop and perch several times until they reach the entrance to their borrowed safe and cozy space. I need to make a sign that says “Hands off! Nursery in action.” Maybe I should move some pots of plants under the nest for when the fledglings start flying.
Seasonal living has seeped deep into my soul along these long years in Gascony. It took me years to get into the rhythm of French days—businesses, shops, and even grocery stores closing at lunch for 2 hours—and longer still to recognize and honor the coming seasons.
Now, I anticipate Spring as much as I celebrate it when it finally arrives. This week is one of those on the cusp, if not fully here, weeks. The Japanese flowering quince in the potager is opening its coral buds, the wild plums along the canal towpath are bursting into galaxies of white stars, and the very first, pale pink double cherry blossoms on my lone Sakura are waving at me from the ends of its thin graceful branches. It’ll still be a couple more weeks until it is fully open in its Spring glory. These days, the anticipation as much as the actual arrival plays into the seasonal changes.
Food in My Almanac
The garden is easy; its visual clues are everywhere I look. What about in the kitchen? It’s not so obvious is it? While it is way too early to plant out anything but fava beans and garlic, some hardy greens and radish seeds, I have another way to prime my excitement for what’s to come in my local markets. I refer back to my early blog posts and what I was cooking in 2005, 2011, or 2018. In 2020, while under the Covid cloak of darkness, I gathered together the best of those seasonal words and recipes in a series that was self-published in 2020 as ebooks under the title A Gascon Year- Janvier to Décembre. As paid subscribers you have access to all my ebooks as a special bonus—that is over 150$ value, an annual subscription is just 100$.
So you see, keeping track, month to month and year to year, is really nothing new to me. I’ve been doing it online for years since 2005 with my first blog posts on Blogger. Before that I have dozens of sketchbooks and journals for years of global traveling—sailing the Caribbean, living in Italy, traveling through Africa. It’s only when I look back that I start to see the patterns and these last 38 years, the patterns of Gascony have been marked by what I was cooking in the Kitchen at Camont.
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