I’m in Charleston visiting, and a few of my southern girlfriends and I were reminiscing about how our parents all had black women in to help when we were young---yes, some- thing like in 'The Help'---even if our parents' means were modest, as mine were. When we lived in Charleston, Ron and I had a wonderful black housekeeper who came every couple of weeks. Though she couldn’t read or write, she was wise and wonderful.
In the French countryside, things are a bit different, as I discovered when we hired our first housekeeper. On her first day, while she was cleaning, I looked out of the window of the château and noticed a shiny new baby blue Mercedes sedan in the parking area. “Who does THAT belong to?” I asked Ron. “That’s our cleaning lady’s car” he said. Later I was chatting with her, and I commented on how fun it was to live in a château. “Oh I live in a château too,” she said nonchalantly. Turned out she and her husband owned a small castle in a nearby village, and she took to cleaning houses out of boredom. I finally had to let her go, as she kept jetting off to Greece or Italy for lengthy vacations. PHOTO: we're not the only folks who live in a castle.
My next femme de ménage was a cheerful 30-something woman who lived nearby. On HER first day, she saw some wines on our kitchen counter and began telling us about their provenance in great detail. “You certainly know a lot about wine,” I said. Her response: “Well I’m actually a licensed sommelier, and my husband is a chef.” Both had abandoned their posts at a fancy restaurant on the Riviera for a simpler life in the country. The only problem with her was that she and Ron would end up sitting in the kitchen for hours on end, discussing wine. PHOTO: the 'cave du vin' on our kitchen counter.
My current cleaning lady owns a beautiful old stone house overlooking the château. Like Madame la Châtelaine, she wanted something to occupy her time, and (unlike me) she loves to clean. She’s a great cook, and we’ve swapped many a recipe.
My story has no moral except this: I’m reminded on a daily basis that everything is just a little bit DIFFERENT in Burgundy than in the South. We came here for the adventure, and there are surprises to be had, even in the small things.
Now speaking of recipes: there is a fine restaurant in Charleston serves the chef’s homemade pimento cheese with lavash crackers in their bar. If you grew up in the South you may think of pimento cheese as that cloying stuff you bought ready-made at the grocery store, but the ‘paté of the south’ is newly hip and delicious made at home. I’d never done it, so I read about 25 recipes for inspiration and took it from there.
RECIPE: Charleston Pimento Cheese
Using good quality cheese is what this is all about. You could also use cheddar only, substitute parmesan for the manchego, or experiment with different cheese combinations. Avoid pre-grated cheese.
1 1/2 cups good quality grated cheddar cheese
1/2 cup grated manchego cheese
1 tablespoon grated or minced onion
1 garlic clove, minced or pressed
3 ounces (85 grams) cream cheese at room temperature
¼ cup mayonnaise (Hellman’s is best)
1 small jar pimentos (4 oz, 113 gr), drained
¼ teaspoon each of cayenne and black pepper, or to taste
sea salt to taste
Put everything in a bowl except salt and mash well with a fork. Taste and add salt (parmesan and manchego are both salty, so I like to taste it before adding salt). Serve with Lavash or other crackers.
In the COMMENTS: Wow! I got lots of emails and comments with super suggestions about learning a language, for the upcoming ebook, "How to Learn a New Language with a Used Brain." Mark summed up many of your thoughts when he said you've got to be willing to look 'clownish'--be sure to read his funny comment. Erica, Barbara and Martin agree. Beth and I attended the same wonderful immersion school. If you'd like to leave a tip for the new ebook, please see last week's post, and send an email or comment.
Our Reader's Blogs: It seems a perfect week to mention the lovely and useful Housewife Bliss blog by Coryanne Ettiene. And when I need a party menu, I often zip over to Chef Robin White's delicious site.
