French la Vie

Weaving with Golden Thread

 

Gold threads, the real deal, on wooden bobbins.

Most likely from the 1800s.

Found at the brocante.

I know how to sew but don't. Never could I sew as beautifully as I have seen on altar cloth that I have seen at brocantes the work of steadfast creative hands. Delicate, nimble and certainly quick, mostly meditative.

Though holding these in hand I can weave a path back to a day where such art was made, cherished and used with care.

Amongst people who brought beauty to the everyday. Who created art as a form of prayer, passing the time in being creative, resourceful, making something worthy of all time.

Golden thread we hold...

What am I creating today for tomorrow is the question.

 

Oh Sweetheart

 

Where is French Husband?

Where is French Husband?

On a journey on his motorcycle riding along the backroads

discovering the countryside of Vietnam.

 

Pumpkin Shell

...put it in a pumpkin shell and there it kept very well...

A planter with succulents.

Such a clever idea.

Cousin Love

My niece Marie hugged me, so my niece Molly joined in and soon thereafter Kate joined in I laughed saying, "Group hug!" Chelsea came over with her hands full of pie-crust-making-crumbs and Patti leaned in with baby Gabriel. My mom chimed in by saying, "Oh what a darling photo of all of you ! I need to take a photo. Someone give me a camera." 

Hence a photo was created. 

I am hugging Marie, then Molly, Kate, Chelsea, Gabriel, and Patti. Cousin love. 

 

Passing the Time

 

Late Autumn days sunshine beckon us to stay outside.

We have spent countless hours sitting around the wooden picnic table talking, cracking walnuts, eating pomegranates from my mother’s yard while visiting family and friends.

Happy place !

Sleep Over

 

A sleepover.

Junkfood.

Mattress in the living room.

Soda.

I am on the couch.

The Party Pooper in me says, "I am not staying up all night."

 

 

 

Baby Love Love

Chelsea's Nickname for Baby Gabriel "Love Love". 

Refraining from eating him in one bite is becoming harder and harder to resist.

Though with that said holding him longer and longer is becoming harder too, he is a chunk.

All that sweetness.

Such a beautiful dream come true.

Autumn Delight in November

 

 

Such incredibly beautiful weather for this time of the year. We had lunch outside today.

My mom made her delicious cream puffs I wanted to devour all of them and somehow manage to refrain. 

 

 

 

 

 

We had chilled pea soup, roasted and fresh vegetable salad, mushroom rice, and dessert. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homecoming King and Queen

First Time in America

 

We arrived safely. The flight was not difficult. We took turns holding Gabriel for eleven and a half hours. As long as we held him he was happy, and we were happy even if my arms felt like they might fall off.

Gabriel slept for about three hours in the twenty-some hours we traveled. He was curious and noticed everything about the plane and travelers. Like I said if he was in our arms he was entertained. 

When we arrived at my mom's home my brothers, sisters-in-laws, nieces, and nephews were there  waiting to see the newest arrival to our family. Their love was as thick as peanut butter and spread out throughout the house. Joyous! Loving! Happy! Wonderful! Everyone took turns holding him in the quiet dark house. A nest was prepared in that space I call home, their open arms that I know so well were the gift I expected. Gabriel was welcomed.

He slept well that night.

The next day he slept from four in the afternoon breastfeeding periodically throughout but never really waking until seven the next morning.

He is a trooper!

Thank you for your love, prayers, vibes, and messages for our well being. We are basking in the love that we have come to know so well.

xxx

A Favorite Memory Each Time I Go Back Home

                      

 

Repost from 2007

Yesterday I called home to confirm to my parents our flight information. My little nieces and nephew were there. I had already bought gifts to bring for them, but I thought I'd ask them anyway what they might like me to bring for them.

Chelsea shook her head, "Mom, why did you ask them what they wanted? When are you going to find the time to buy these things. What if you don't find what they want? Mom, you do remember we leave tomorrow?"

My daughter thinks before she acts. I've said many times before, that she should have been the Mom and I the kid.

 

                             

 

My niece Gina (8)

simply asked for a fancy doll to put on her bedroom shelf.

"As in breakable?" I asked. I love carry-ons. Especially fragile, odd-shaped ones.

 

 

                       

 

Gina told me that Marie (8) wasn't there to say what she wanted.

I asked her if she had any ideas. Gina offered, "Sure I do, Clothes! Something sweet and pink. But not fou fou Aunt CoCo."

"Pink and not fou fou? Pink and yet not girly?" I asked nervously.

"Yeah pink and pretty, but not girly." I could see her pink cheeks glowing, "Oh that is easy like a pink tee-shirt?"

Gina replied, "Oh no that is boring."

I am doomed.

 

 

                             

 

Next came May-May (6),

she told me she wanted a horse.

"A HORSE! How am I going to stuff a real horse in my suitcase?" She reassured me, "Silly Aunt CoCo. It doesn't have to be a real horse. Just soft and blue."

"Blue?"

"No, soft and blue."

 

 

                             

 

George (4) my Godchild, asked for Spider-Man. "Hum. That is going to be a challenge. Tell me if I can't find Spider-Man, will Superman, or Snoopy, or Mickey Mouse do the job?"

"No. Um not really," he replied. "I like Spider-Man."

Hum, Chelsea was right. 

 

                            

 

Molly (4) thought the longest. After a while, she said,

"I cannot make up my mind. I'm going to tell you two things and you can surprise me. I'd like a seashell and Jesus."

Oh God, help me.

We leave today.

 .......................

Every time I prepare to return to Willows

I recall this memory.

Long Distance Flights Always Give Room for Endless Thoughts

Why is there such unrest in the world? We know most of the reasons. 

Often I think if countries would just gather people together to share a meal, a potluck of sorts in silence. A few children, a baby or two, a few people in their nineties and several more people from various backgrounds well I think it couldn't hurt.

Food nurtures. Being together does as well.

I didn't mean this to edge on politics. You know that isn't what this blog is about. 

If only borders, language, culture, faith, awareness... 

If only kindness was valued more than being right wouldn't the price of peace and harmony be easier to obtain?

 

 

I suppose in the world there is something standing in the middle of peace.

A stubbornness.

instead of 

Love.

 

Little Bird

This is Gabriel he is four months old.

We are flying to California tomorrow. I asked him what he thought and if he will be a calm sleepy baby... gulp. 11 hours is a long time to be on a plane with a baby. Every year from the time Chelsea was five months old I flew back to California to visit my family, Chelsea as an easy baby. I don't think she ever cried in her life. Sacha on the other hand... this will be my forty-fifth time or more flying to California. It will be the first of many I hope with Gabriel x

(If you would like to see the video of him talking please go to my Facebook page.)

 

The Endless Road

 

 

Northern California during autumn,

golden valley, harvested fields, open spaces, geese in flight.

Country roads leading near and far.

 

 

 

 

Clouds adding texture between the valley and the foothills.

A single tree sets the stage.

 

 

 

 

A barn in the middle of a harvested rice field.

I grew up in this valley,

under these clouds,

surrounded by rice fields,

in wide spaces,

with long grey paved roads,

and barns in the middle of nowhere, but at the center of our lives.

 

 

 

The foothills north of San Francisco are rolling gold,

The fence post holding nothing in,

are the first sign that my childhood home is nearing.

My heart opens,

I feel the rolling gold, rolling gold, rolling gold.....

 

 

 

Pouring into the Sacramento valley.

 

 

 

 

Sacha my son asked, "How could you leave?"

And my heart stings.

Following your heart is not always easy.

Especially when it divides you in two.

 

Oh, distant geese that fly overhead where are you going?

Rolling gold along the long grey paved road?

 

 

 

 

I left because I fell in love.

I come back because I am in love.

That is the gift of an abundant harvest.

But toil you must.

 

 

 

At the end of the valley, Mount Shasta rises.

What do I see the valley or do I see the mountain, the peak or the flatland?

Oh, both depending on the day.

A blend makes it interesting, helps to keep one focused. 

 

Blue sky with clouds overhead.

 

 

 

A journey far and wide.

It is not a straight shot.

Blurred are the borders, vast is the horizon,

Home.

Heading Home

Packing my bags as I will be going to visit my family in California with Chelsea and baby Gabriel- Nov 4th to Dec 15th. If you are in my childhood hometown I hope to see you. Please add some good vibes that Baby Gabriel has a sleepful, calm flight and not one that will hurt ears.

I cannot wait to see my mom hold Gabriel and see my family gobble him up like a love ball.

I will be posting here on my blog so stay tuned for a view of my family in California.

 

xxxx

 

 

 

Happy Halloween

Life with a Baby

Autumn Vibes Take Me Home

 

Preparing for Autumn. Gathering the abundant harvest at the end of summer. Canning the last of the vegetables and making pomegranate jam. Watching the first leaves dance down to the ground, grabbing from the upper shelf a sweater to wear, taking out the rake, stacking the cord of wood in the shed, smelling the fall aroma in the air.

 

 

More than any other season Autumn reminds me of Willows. The decor of my mother's home is an autumn home: Soothing, homey, comfortable, inviting, always something baking in the oven, clothes drying on the line... A home where soaking up the pleasures of simple living is as easy as running through a pile of leaves. Generous ripe love.

 

 

My mom rearranges her home with the seasons. Decorating it to celebrate the moments at hand. I miss that tradition, I miss home most during Autumn. Is that pumpkin pie I smell hot from the oven? My memory tells me it is.

 

Growing up in the country with my four brothers meant we played outside most of the time. We rode bikes, helped our parents clean the yard, played around the barn, gathered the eggs, collected walnuts, pomegranates and watched the harvest moon rise over Willow Creek.

 

Chelsea, Baby Gabriel and I will be going to Willows November 4th until December. 

 

XXX

Hand Painted Antique Wallpaper Samples

Yes, I know you can imagine how thrilled I was when I opened this box at a brocante and found these hand-painted antique wallpaper designs. Instead of screaming YAHOO! I simply closed the box and asked, "How much for all of those papers?"

I sold them soon after.

Thankfully I have these photos to remind me how beautiful they were.

 

 

 

This one shows the design in progress, one part is completed and the other part has yet to be painted.

 

The color samples on the side indicating the color palette for this particular design. Frameable as is.

 

 

 

French la Vie Road Trip

 

 

After a wonderful visit with my daughter, son in law and grandson my friend @seeninprovence and I hit the brocantes in Paris. We had to take a taxi van to a rental car as we accumulated so many good finds. An unexpected road trip back to Provence, with a stuffed car, late in the evening we found a very charming manoir to spend the night. Breakfast was delightful, delicious by a roaring fire. Serendipity. Joy. I had to dance!

 

 

 

We stopped which added more time to the several hour journey... of course, we had to stop at a few brocantes along the way.

 

 

 

And because of this adventure, I am thinking why not offer a French la Vie Experience to Paris and create a road trip.

A Moment of Awe at the Brocante

 

The way the painting has crackled around the woman’s face it appears as a non threatening spider web, or a touch of mystical wonder? Fascinating to me. The crackling gives the painting a new story a curious perspective and dimension. My friend Gina bought it in Paris this weekend.

Later as I was walking around the brocante I heard a familiar laugh it caught me by surprise. I instantly turned around to see who it was but did not recognize anyone in particular, then a French man spoke and even though he wasn’t speaking English his voice was exactly like my Father’s. I closed my eyes and smiled imagining my Father at the brocante and then teared up with missing him.

Layers of wonder beyond the surface.

 

 

Happiness Shared

Paris Views

 

Here are some random views of Paris as I walked to and from Chelsea's apartment. Our apartment is in the fourteenth by Montparnasse and Chelsea's and Martin's apartment is in the tenth by Saint Martin's Canal.

If you would like to see more photos but mainly videos please follow my Instagram account and look at the daily stories. I posted several black and white videos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inside of Hermes next to the Bon Marche.

 

 

When in Paris one cannot miss the incredible architecture.

Honestly, you could spend a day on any of the public transport buses looking up.

 

 

Saint Jacques Tour

 

 

Best Souffles in town Recamier in the seventh.

 

I had the goat cheese with black cherries and thyme.

And the Grand Marnier...

Delicious.

 

 

 

Hotel de Ville, City Hall in the tenth by Chelsea and Martin's apartment.

 

 

 

Outdoor cafe rattan chairs are so very French.

 

 

The Reason I am in Paris

 

 

 

The last FRENCH la Vie group of the season ended today Such a whirlwind of brocante fanatics who were as crazy about antiques as I am I had such pleasure meeting those who came and look forward to doing it again next year!

 The new season will begin in April 2020 if you are interested in coming please let me know a few places remain.

 

 

Busted Bust

 

my friend Nelly, a friend and long time antique dealer had a beautiful bust.
The day after I took this photo her dog wagged his tail with jubilant joy and broke her antique bust shattering it to the floor in a million pieces. 

 

A Full Day's Worth of Brocante Addiction

 

French la Vie antiquing with Lisa, Patricia, Gina, and Jeanette. They literally only stop to eat and sleep. These ladies have the Brocante Bug far worse than me and you know how bad that must be.

I think I am going to start, or maybe I have started a Brocante Addiction Group and the only cure is not more cow bells but marathon antiquing. I have to train!

 

Writing Back or in my Case the Lack of it

I am terrible at writing back, and I feel guilty because of it most of the time.
If I did write everyone back, the computer would become my best friend, lover, child, housework, food, sleep, and new way of living reality... I do not want that to happen.

Every now and then when the questions start piling up I try to answer them here instead.

Don't get me wrong, I love your emails, comments, gifts in the mail, humor, visits, attention, and friendship... that is why I blog even if I am terrible at writing back.

If you have any questions for me let me know in the comment section and I will respond to them in the days to come.

 

X Corey

 

Favorite Finds during the French la vie

 

Kindred spirits when I meet people who read my blog and travel to France to share my passion.

The ease and happiness amazes me, that I can meet people and we feel we know one another and instantly start talking about our lives.

The French la Vie went to Cassis and even though it only has one brocante vendor everyone managed to come away with their arm's full.

 

 

 

 

Lisa, Jeanette, Patricia, and Gina.

 

 

 

 

 

A private brocante and breakfast at my friend Kristine's home.

 

 

 

Most pople come alone to the French la Vie and become instant friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SO much beauty.

An overload of wonder.

Love Something New Every Day

 

Love something new every day, that sure beats, "Do something that scares you every day."

I suppose for some loving is scary.

For those of you following me on instagram thank you. It is easy to add videos so I add them daily especially during the French la Vie which I have been leading for the last several weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

A 1700 soup tureen from Moustiers, with iron wire repairs.

What a sacred act it is to restore that which we love when it falls apart.

To hold its pieces, tenderly turning them over, judging them only in the hopes of putting it back together without the slightest trace.

Loving something old again and again keeps it new.

 

 

 

Selfishly, I must admit I am glad that not everyone loves the brocante or old things.

 

 

 

 

The sweetest lock cover:

Two angels holding a bouquet of flowers over that which we long to protect.

 

 

 

Loving until the end.

 

xxx

Autumn Days

 

 Autumn days. Gathering the abundant harvest at the end of summer. Canning the last of the fruit, making pomegranate jam. Watching the first leaves dance down to the ground, grabbing from the upper shelf a sweater to wear, using the rake, stacking the cord of wood in the shed, smelling the fall aroma in the air.

Four Months

Baby’s New Thing to Do

The latest video of baby Gabriel showed him doing something new.

Devouring his father's nose.

No hungry wasn't an issue.

Maybe it was a sign of affection?

Though he hasn't mastered gentleness he was chewing mostly.

Nevertheless, I find him adorable !

 

 

Happy Birthday Mom

Dream Language

 

Dreams are said to be the language of God, symbolic messages. 

Dreaming is said to be a way our minds or inner being processes the day's events, thoughts and feelings.

Dreams are a way of putting the puzzle of daily life in order. A way of capturing the unconscious. A path to understanding the nuances that escape us. 

 

 

Do you remember your dreams?

Most of us do not remember our dreaming hours. Yet while we sleep our dreams speak regardless of our memory of them.

The dreams that do come to the waking mind are vivid, begging it seems to be understood.

 

 

 

 

I like to think of dreams as songs: Often a song is playing in the background, as it plays I might feel it without being aware of its words or message. Later without knowing why, I catch myself singing the verse over and over. 

There is a message if I take the time to listen. Once I listen I often stop singing the verse, as if the song has been heard and the message no longer needs to repeat itself.

"The forgotten language of dreams, myths, and fairytales."

 

Shakespeare writes in Macbeth... Dreams are the chief nourishers in life's feast.

 

 

I believe dreams speak to us of feelings and or thoughts that we have during the day that goes unexpressed or unnoticed. Dreams are the language of the heart and soul. They are tools provided for us to explore our deeper reality. Those unexpressed feeling and thoughts, those small events that tug at our sleeve pleading for our attention, and even the conversations of words spoken but not heard, are transformed into dream language. Nouns, verbs, and adjectives become people, places, things, colors, and distorted facts such as flying or falling, and more. Everything in our dreams, each faucet, each person, or activity is used as a symbol, a symbol of our hidden self, to show us who we are.

 

When we sleep our mind gathers the day like hand-picked fruit and provides a symbolic dream feast... Our dreams want to nourish us, they point to the table of our soul and say come sit down, feast on the richness of your life.

 

Dreams are the language of our inner being longing to integrate into consciousness.

 

What did you feast on last night?

 

 

 

Books I have enjoyed:

 

The Use of Enchantment and Fairytales.

 

Memories, dreams and reflections.

 

Old Beauty

Little Things with Heart

 

 The first page in a century-old book.

 

 

 

 

 

 A bronze drawer pull, 1700s.

 

 

 

 French antique textiles.

 

 

 

 A worn silver thimble.

 

 

 

 Delicate scissors for fine lace or needlework.

 

 

 

 

 Boxes with jewelry elements.

 

 

 

 

Silver cup

 

 

 

 

 

Card Holder

 

 

 

 

Angel Wings

 

 

 

 

 

Bedsheets

 

 

 

Medals

 

 

 

 

Antique Love Letters

 

 

French antique love letters are hard to come by. Love letters aren't just between two lovers, the one above was written to someone's grandfather. 

 

 

The love letters that I found are on embossed paper (14 x 10 inches). Most have paper flowers and birds on them, often tied with a pastel ribbon. The words written are poetic, well chosen, tenderly scripted. 

 

 

 

The love letters were not from the same person, though from the same family. Letters to a husband, a mother, a grandfather, a daughter, a husband to be...

A love story

A family's story.

Spoken.

Held.

Treasured.

 

 

 

 

Marguerite.

 

A child.

A love letter.

No age is too young, nor too old...

Love.

 

 

 

A love letter to start the year.

1898.

gathering stories

in one big hug

the sweet sad sour slippery luscious savory delightful carefree worrisome forgiven 

those moments that trickled by then splashed into a mighty wave

tieing them together

with a ribbon of intention

contentment

a nod to this age 

HAPPY

 

 

Pumpkin, Pasta, Mums

       

  The differences between France and America are subtle. Take Mums and pumpkins for example.

Mums are an Autumn flower that arrives in force in October. They spill out from the floral shops onto the streets creating a parade of magnificent color. Just as pumpkins shout out Autumn in America, mums are the flower that says Autumn in France. Pumpkins are food in France, were in the States pumpkins are more for decoration.

A neighbor brought us three beautiful pumpkins I put them on the table for display, do you want to guess how many French friends asked me, "What are you doing with the pumpkins?"

 

 

                     

 

 

When invited to a dinner party it is a thoughtful gesture to bring something to the hostess. Candy, wine, or flowers is the typical avenue. (FLASHBACK 1988 - Why not bring a Mum plant I thought and bought one that seemed to be a perfect ball of gold. When I came home French Husband told me it was a plant that symbolized All Soul's Day. "It is the flower we take to the graveside of those we love who have gone before us." 

Oh! scratch that flower off the list. Paperwhites, can I bring them instead? Do they have anything marked on them as unusual or special?

Mums are not a flower to give to "the living" in France.

 

                  

 

Any flower will do, I like them all don't you? I wonder if I brought a pumpkin as a hostess gift if the French would find that insulting? Most likely just odd.

 

 

                    

 

 

Pumpkin on Penne Pasta

Cut the pumpkin into cubes and steam until nearly cooked, firm but tender.

Slice and saute (in olive oil) three or four cloves of garlic, add pine nuts and saute until lightly golden brown.

Blend (do not puree) the sauteed garlic, pine nuts with Parmesan cheese and fresh cilantro.

In the same pan that you sauteed the garlic, saute until tender the steam pumpkin (add olive oil if needed.)

Turn the burner off, then add the garlic pine nut mixture to the pumpkin. Stir until well mixed.

Salt and pepper to taste.

Serve on al dente penne pasta.

 

A Bouquet Hidden Behind His Back

A sweet postcard:

A little boy wearing a long white apron with a straw hat tilted on his head,

holding a bouquet of roses and mums that he has hidden behind his back

as he leans at the doorway to see if the person he cares for is near.

Sweet.

Brocante Bug Bliss

 

 

Brocante, I know and you know that I have the brocante bug bad. It is an illness I live with daily. Love it. Every aspect of it. It doesn't matter the side effects it brings: Big, small, tattered, worn, under cover, early mornings... it is worth it.

It doesn't matter what the brocante brings, it fascinates my imagination, makes me giddy, jump out of the car before it even stops giddy!

Or in other words it makes me nutty.

 

Thankfully I live in France, where my brocante bug can have a daily fix if need be.

 

 

 

1900s Trivet Tray

 

 

 

Puzzle cubes made with old engravings.

 

 

 

 

French Antique pot de creme.

Chocolate not included.

 

 

 

 

 

 

French Brocante Religious Statues.

My monastic days inspire what I am drawn too.

 

 

 

 

1800s French Tinted Map Engravings

 

 

 

1800s romantic engravings for yesteryear.

 

 

 

Hand woven linen towels from the 1800s.

 

 

 

Glass relic holder with angel design top.

 

 

 

 

Large wooden base, iron stamp to use to print on fabric, to create a monogram.

 

 

 

Antique pocket watch case with chain.

Not gold, not precious... practical.

 

 

 

 

 

1800s French antique hand made fine lace.

Made by loving hands, never used.

Created for the pleasure of creating, not for a purpose.

 

 

 

 

Pink covered box with folded pieces of paper that have chaton crystals (chaton crystals are used in jewelry making.) stored in them.

 

 

 

 

Le Mode Journals from the 1920...

Similar to American Home Journals.

 

 

 

 

 

 

French antique baby pink silk covered jewel box.

 

 

 

 

French letters from 1833

 

 

 

 

 

French 1850s prayer card.

That is one long-held prayer.

Passed down over and over in one prayer book after another.

 

 

 

1800s fine damask towel.

 

 

 

Holy water bedside font.

 

 

 

1800 velvet covered prayer book with engravings inside,

Do you think I like religious items?

 

 

 

1800s linen flour sacks. Tight weave helps prevent the flour from escaping.

 

 

 

French antique clay marbles,

handmade.

1900s.

Before cat eyes.

Oh Brocante Bug I love the infection or affection you have given me!

Pavillon de Galon Gardens

 

 

Guy and Bibi the owners of Pavillon de Galon have created an enchanting garden in Cucuron a small village close to Aix en Provence. I was fortunate to go there today while helping with the Red Shed Vintage Tour. Isn't it a sign of happiness when you leave a place and your mind still overflows with images and wonder? The scent alone was one of the most magical moments that I will remember for years to come. Every sense was caressed: Sight, Touch, Smell, Hearing, Tasting and the sixth sense of spiritual wonder beyond words as it should be.

 

I posted plenty of photos and videos in my stories on Instagram. 

Pavillon de Galon

Guy's guided tour of their labor of love their garden was a poetic masterpiece, he painted and planted words that literally bloomed before us. Enchanting! 

 

 

 

 

Aix with the Red Shed Vintage Tour

 

The sun called out to enjoy the day.

Perfect as today I am helping Red Shed Vintage Tours lead 10 women around Provence.

Today started in Aix.

 

 

 

 

 

Any meal in France, don't be intimidated by the linen tablecloths

and napkins... that is just how it is in France.

Eating is dining even at McDonald's.

Rarely, do you see anyone walking around eating or carrying a cup, and when you do it most likely is a tourist, or Corey Amaro eating a pain au chocolat at the brocante.

In France, you do not need a clock to tell the time. Just see what the French are eating or not eating. Then you will know the time.

I would say never, but that would be too extreme, so I'll say:

Rarely do the French eat in between meals... Quelle scandale!!

 

Breakfast before 9 and breakfast is not hash browns and scrambled eggs.

So don't bother looking for a breakfast menu unless you are in a hotel.

Zero snacks

No eating in between meals... until lunch.

Lunch 12:30 until 2:00pm,

Coffee at 2ish,

Goutee (a snack) tea, Hot chocolate, a pastry something little and sweet from 4ish until 6pm,

Aperitif 6ish until 8pm

Dinner is served after 8pm.

 

When I first lived in France, the best time to go shopping, to avoid the lines, was between noon and 3pm.

 

 

 

 

Blurry iPhone photo!

Those flowers were fake, I couldn't believe it. I asked the waiter, "Who is the florist?"

He replied, "They are fake."

"Wow! Fooled me! Okay, who is the florist?" I asked again.

He looked at me like I was oddily...."FaaaaaaaaaaaaaaKe."

I took a photo anyway.

 

 

 

We had a reservation a must when the group is so large.

We had a seat by the window. Lovely.

 

 

 

In France, the formule is a pre-selected menu by the chef.

Better priced. It is also called, "The Menu" or "Fixe Prix"

If you are in France and go out for a meal look for it, often it is at the back of the menu.

Tips are included in every restaurant.

 

 

 

LA MADO

Aix en Provence.

By the open market.

Open Market in Aix every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.

 

 Must have:

Creme Brulee!

You know how in the States when you eat an Oreo cookie (as kids) you split it apart and scrap the white frosting out with your teeth? Well in France before you take a bite into a Creme Brulee you tap it with your spoon and listen for the crack.

Sorry I didn't save you a bite.

I will be with Valarie and her group for the week. 

GNOCCHI Dreams

 

Have you ever had homemade gnocchi?

Have you ever had homemade gnocchi made by an Italian?

If not put it on your bucket list.

 

 

Sacha has loved pasta since he was old enough to eat. He would cry for pasta and literally wanted it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My mother in law was shocked that we would even think to make him pasta for breakfast. There was a children's book called Strega Nona, and one of the repetitive lines in the book, "Pasta, pasta, pasta pot make me some pasta nice and hot for it is time for us to sup, pasta, pasta, pasta pot." I read that book so often that I still can remember the lines.

Last night Sacha's Italian Girfriend from Verona made her Nona's gnocchi recipe. they were light as air. Amazing. Sacha made a Roquefort and walnut sauce. 

I was happy to set the table!   

 

 

Sacha's Italian Girlfriend's Nona's Recipe

One big dark-skinned potato peeled one potato per person

Boil the potatoes in salted water until tender

Mash the potatoes until they are smooth, creamy, luscious wonder

Then put the creamy luscious wonder on a floured cloth and knead

and knead,

with more sifted flour and salt,

and knead, and knead and knead until the dough bounces back.

Nothing more than potatoes, flour, and salt

and a ton of kneading.

Take a handful of dough and roll it into a long snake on the floured cloth

Cover the snake roll with a cloth and roll another until all the dough is rolled into snakes.

Then cut the dough with a knife into bite-size pieces.

With a fork roll forward and back to make soft ridges in the dough.

Cover the bite-size gnocchi "pillows" with a floured cloth.

Yes, you will have plenty of clothes to wash afterward.

Then gently put some of the gnocchi in boiling salted water when they float to the top take them out with a slotted spoon and add more gnocchi to boil in the pan.

Add sauce and devour.

Died and gone to heaven is worth saying.

 

 

                                                                                                 

 

Making pasta-loving pasta

They found each other happily.

                                                                                                                                                                             

Where is Your Heart at Home?

 

The saying, "Home is where the heart is", is certainly true especially when nearly everyone is under one roof. Sacha came home to see his Italian Girlfriend, Chelsea came home with Gabriel, and Martin was here last weekend. 

Yann is wearing a gift from his birthday (which was last month) a shower cap which is called a "Charlotte" in French. He says it is the best Charlotte ever. I wouldn't know as I prefer a bathtub over a shower.

 

 

 

Sacha came home with a small printer that prints out photos from a cell phone making them look like Polaroids. Click here for more information. 

 

 

 

 

 

Baby Gabriel and Chelsea went back to Paris after a nearly week-long visit, my arms gained muscle carrying that Chunky Monkey around. 

A small miracle he slept 2.5 hours going home on the train which was his longest sleep since birth. 

  Next month Chelsea, Baby Gabriel and I are going to Willows for a visit. Home is where the heart is and my heart has two homes.

 

Where is your heart at home?

 

 

Angel Wings

 

I know to whom these belong.

 

This Dumpling

 

Gabriel three and a half months.

A dumpling. I am surprised he hasn’t been gobbled up.

No need to add sugar.

Sacha and the Italian Girlfriend... his Juliette from Verona