Leaving the château one day this past fall, I decided to detour by the potager and have a look at the progress of the autumn garden.
The day was hazy amber, and the only sounds were the bees, distant birdsong, and the crunch of my own shoes on the gravel. The absolute quiet and stillness is one of the charms of Balleure.
As I left the garden, I noticed the gate: definitely a handmade affair, decades old, the wooden slats honed to pale gray by wind and weather, with deep ridges like the forehead of an old farmer. It is attached to a low wall of local stone, no doubt built by Pierre’s grandfather. Instead of a latch, there is a simple system. A rusty hand-forged nail protrudes from the wall, and there is a well-worn niche in the edge of gate. The trick to opening it: one lifts the gate ever so slightly, and it swings open.
Just for an instant my heart swells.
I cannot say why this ordinary moment touches me so. Perhaps it’s the clever solution: a catch for a gate, fashioned from a single old nail. So characteristic of the French mentality in the countryside, where the concept of recycling and ‘going green’ has been a part of the fabric of life for centuries.
Perhaps it’s my passion for patina: old wood and stone, over which much weather and many hands have passed through the years, rendering them worn and beaten and beautiful.
Perhaps it’s the contrast: I’m a girl who grew up in an American suburb, where a garden gate was likely to be made of synthetic wood (Looks just like real wood! Never weathers! Choice of 10 colors with a factory baked finish that never needs painting!) and it no doubt would include a latch made of cheap metal, painted a shiny black.
Or perhaps it’s just that sudden flash of belonging, knowing a place well enough to have mastered the trick of jiggling a lock to this barn door or that, or the little lift of a gate to enter the garden. Many hands have passed over that time-smoothed gate, and one of them was mine.
RECIPE: Vegetable soup with French Butter Pesto
Since we’re talking fall gardens, and it’s soup season, here is a soup that's wholesome and hearty-- but it’s the pesto that makes it sing. You can add cooked turkey, chicken, or pork, if you like; just add with the last round of ingredients.
Serves 10
- Olive oil
- 1 large Onion, chopped
- 2 Garlic cloves, chopped
- 1 large can tomatoes, with their juice (28 oz., 800 gr)
- Chicken or vegetable broth, (homemade, canned, or from bouillon)
- White wine
- Bay leaf
- 1 stalk Celery, chopped
- 2 Leeks, white part only, washed and sliced crosswise
- about 3 large Carrots, sliced
- a generous handful of French Green beans, trimmed and halved crosswise
- 2 small yellow squash or a small zucchini, sliced
- 1 large can white beans, drained
- Juice of a small lemon
For the pesto:
- A stick of butter at room temperature
- 2 garlic cloves, pressed
- ½ cup finely grated fresh parmesan
- 1 teaspoon dried herbes de Provence
Make soup: Sauté the onion and celery in the olive oil for about 8 minutes. Add the garlic and sauté for another minute. Add the can of tomatoes, then fill can twice with broth and add to soup. Add ½ soup can of wine. Add bay leaf. Bring to boil then reduce to low simmer and cover. Simmer 30 minutes, then add carrots. Simmer 10 minutes and add leeks. Simmer until carrots are just tender, then add green beans, squash, white beans, lemon juice, and meat if using. Simmer 10 minutes, or until vegetables are tender. Float a fat dollop of pesto on top of each bowl and serve.
Make pesto: add all ingredients to a bowl and mash together well with a fork. Chill.
Did you miss last our guest post last week at Kristin Espinasse's French Word a Day? Click on the link to find it. And see our new sidebar, Favorite Reads, with books on all things French and more. You'll find Kristin's fabulous book right at the top, by the way.
Highlights from the Comments this week: Merci for all the new year wishes! New reader Judi is another village-dweller in France. And a little French practice for you from Frances, a French teacher in Georgia! Plus recipes, always welcome: leeks from Claudia and sour cream biscuits from Suzanne. Debbie shares a little remembrance of her Granny. And Cindy, I can't complain, the man does DISHES!
Unless otherwise attributed, all POSTS, PHOTOS and RECIPES on this blog copyright ©2010 Lynn McBride. All Rights Reserved.
