Confession time – I really did go to a loto (bingo) afternoon in the village hall last week.
It’s only the second time I’ve ever been to a bingo game in any country. The first was a couple of years ago in another village. This time, there was a group of us – Nic, Duff, Margaret, Elizabeth, Paul and me – and so we headed off to try our luck.
The more serious players had proper metal discs (which were very deftly picked up with a magnetic wand at the end of each game) to put on their number cards.
Us ‘newbies’ were most definitely not that organised – we were given a plastic cup of corn kernels.
However, the lack of the right kit certainly wasn’t detrimental to my game!
Third game of the afternoon – I realise I have one number to go in a line. Next thing, I’m calling out “quine!”.
Yes, I’d won myself one of those amazing prizes hanging up on the stage.
You’ve got to love it – coat racks being put to good use, displaying all the dried hams, guinea fowls and chickens. Bottles of wine and boxes of oysters below. The other meats were in the fridges.
Once it was verified that I had in fact won, I was given a handwritten note of what the prize comprised. We thought we could understand all of the items, but were puzzled by what we thought was ‘langue du porc’ (pig’s tongue).
While I knew the other items wouldn’t go astray (the oysters, guinea fowl, chicken and wine), I knew I wouldn’t be eating the pig tongue.
And as hard as I tried, I couldn’t convince anyone else in our group to cook it and give it a go.
So it was decided I would offer it to my neighbour – the very one who reluctantly returned the hare I’d inadvertently killed a few weeks back.
Wrong! – tripped up again by the French language. When I went to collect the winnings at the end of the games, I was presented with a huge pack of pork chops and two roasts. The handwriting that we’d mis-read said ‘longe de porc’ (loin pork chops).
And let me say that we all had a veritable feast that very evening back at my place – oysters, and the roasted poultry.
All the chops and roasts have been divided up amongst the family and are now in our respective freezers.
Was it a fun afternoon?
Yes - definitely - especially given the outcome.
Will I become a regular bingo player?
I think probably not, but watch this space ………!
Picking up the prizes - and the moment when I realise that it's pork chops (Nic was filming here, to record the moment when I was to take delivery of the pig's tongue!)
And on Boxing Day? – a truffle fair at Villeneuve-Minervois. Truffle fairs are held in various villages in the region at this time of year. This one at Villeneuve-Minervois was the first of three, spread over a couple of weeks.
There is a man who is provided by the local authorities to check each truffle before it is offered for sale. He slices a tiny piece off the truffle and smells it, to check its authenticity and aroma.
I wasn’t really sure what the order of the day would be, except that there would be a sale of the actual truffles at 11.00 am.
I certainly know now.
There was a rope separating the crowd from the sellers at their tables, and I managed to get a good place at the front and took a few photos and videos.
At 11.00 on the dot, I was all poised to get a video of the actual sale happening, when a gun went off very close with a hell of a bang, the rope dropped and the not-insubstantial crowd of people behind me surged forward to the tables, taking me with them!
So there I was, with people frantically trying to buy truffles, wedged up against the table!
I got a bit of video of the frantic action, and then squeezed back out to let the real buyers get their truffles. They were sold on the day for about €1200 / kilo.
Back in the car park, the Swiss couple that I was talking to earlier showed me their purchases. ‘Mission accomplished’, he said. They had three small truffles in a paper bag and he let me smell them. I’m guessing hundreds of Euros worth – I’m wondering if they came from Switzerland especially?
Firstly, an update on the turkey we were meant to be having for Christmas lunch. I mentioned here earlier that we’d ordered an organic free-range turkey from a small veggie grower on the outskirts of a nearby village. Well, what happened was this!
On the 22nd Nic and I went to collect it. The gate to the yard was locked, despite signs that the shop was open. Across the road in a field of vegetables, a man was picking lettuces.
I figured this may be the owner, and this bit of land may be an extension of his small-holding. So we drove over, and he came over to the fence to speak to us. I asked him if he was the proprietor of the vegetable shop over the road, because we had come to pick up our turkey.
Well, no, he most certainly was not. However, he was very keen to engage in a conversation.
He came through the fence and spoke at length and very passionately about the ‘situation’ with the shop over the road. Eventually, we understood exactly what he was telling us. He says the man over the road gets his turkeys (and rabbits!) from a battery farm and sells them on as organic and home-raised!
He kept using the word ‘escroc’ which I had to look up when I got home, and I found out means crook / con man / swindler! Now there’s another word for my vocabulary. In fact, he even showed us a photo that he’d taken on his mobile phone of the turkey delivery truck outside the said property, which he said he’d taken only the Thursday before.
I'd never seen any turkeys - and definitely no rabbits - in the small garden before, only a few chickens, ducks and geese. I'm not about to identify the shop nor the village in case the story's not entirely accurate.
However, Nic and Duff were heading back from Carcassonne the next day and pulled over and managed to get one from a supplier of fresh turkeys – and here it is.
Before -
After -
And I have to say it was all delicious, including the bits of Queensland Blue roasted pumpkin from Nic and Duff's garden.
As I’ve mentioned before, my son Paul arrived here for Christmas. It was beaut to all be together for a rather large and delicious Christmas lunch with plenty of fine wine.
However, we did go for a huge long walk later in the afternoon – weather was again stunning – clear blue skies.
We walked to the Tour (tower) de Boussecos.
Historically, this tower was a strategic watchtower – apparently built by the Romans, and later besieged by the Visigoths and then destroyed by the Saracens. It’s a natural rock that’s been fortified and affords views up and down the Valley of the Cesse.
What the photo doesn't show is the stone-constructed walls and reinforcements that can be seen around several sides. And the view after climbing up to the base of the rock is amazing.
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And below are a few Christmassy bits 'n' pieces:
Pre-Christmas street entertainment in Narbonne
Indigo, drinking her favourite drink panache (a very weak shandy) - ok here for her to drink (and buy at the local shop). No nanny-state here - now, what are some of those reasons I love living here?
Julie - definitely smiling - with her gift of 'A Year Sponsorship of an Orang-Utang'
Paul (men are so hard to buy for) - also pretty pleased with his donation of a bee-hive to Malawi village. Aston - not forgotten. He got his own pillowcase with pressie (rubber duck)!
I have mentioned Monsieur Robert Miquel and his village butcher shop before – and have been curious to know more about him and the history of the butcher shop in Bize.
M. Robert is retiring on 31st December this year, so I thought if I didn’t do something about talking to him soon, then the opportunity may be lost.
I was kindly helped (translation and setting up the meeting) by my friend Miki Bowditch who lives in the village. He speaks French fluently, at a level I can only aspire to!
M. Robert kindly invited us into his home and kept us entertained for some time.
He told us that the building itself has been a butcher shop since approximately 1760, and that he is the fifth generation of his family to be a butcher.
The good news here is that the family line will continue – his niece Claudine Bandinelli has worked in the shop for a long time.
She recently graduated from her studies in Lezignan, and will be taking over when M. Robert retires, and so she will become the sixth generation to continue the family trade.
In his time, back in the 1920s, there were four butchers in Bize. For the last twenty years, Chez Robert’s has been the only one in the village. Walking into the shop is like walking back in time – small low doorway leading off a narrow street in the old centre of the village (Bize was once a walled village), there’s an old and worn chopping block, wooden panelled doors on the cool rooms and dried sausages hanging from hooks along the wall.
Speaking of sausages, M. Robert makes his own fresh sausages – he tells us that the recipe is his grandmother’s and the secret is to use good ingredients. I can vouch for the pork sausages – they’re delicious, and a firm favourite for BBQ’s in the summer.
M.Robert and his sister, Mme. Bandinelli.
During World War II, the government controlled the supply of meat, with only beef being given to Robert’s father. The beef was distributed to the villagers in exchange for ration stamps, 100g per person per week. However, veal, pork, mutton and chickens were also sometimes available, obtained by ‘other methods’ and distributed in the ‘normal’ way!
Throughout the year, you can always find fruit and vegetables of some variety for sale, in boxes on the windowsill outside the shop. These are surplus vegetables from friends, family and clients of M. Robert which he sells at a very good price. Not part of his business, but a way for people to earn a little extra.
And I can say from first hand experience, these are the freshest and best vegetables you can buy – the broad beans that can be found in season are divine. They never make it to the pot – always eaten raw in this house!
M. Robert totally agrees with me about eating them raw – though he insists they’re best either eaten with a good garlic vinaigrette made with healthy olive oil, or else simply dipped in salt.
From 1970 to 1999, M. Robert belonged to the Maxi Majorettes (cheerleaders) of Bize-Minervois – a group of men from both Bize and Mailhac who made between five and six floats for the Bize Carnaval held every February.
They dressed up in skirts (Major-ettes!), wore make-up for the occasion and marched through the village with all the other floats that made up the cavalcade.
The Majorettes used to be invited to do openings at football matches and various other events.
They performed for sporting events as far afield as Perpignan and Bordeaux.
They also performed at various ferias in the region (festivals in this part of France, usually including bull fighting), including once at the famous Roman arena in Nîmes.
In the 1960’s, he also did theatre in the Occitan language. He is a fluent speaker of Occitan – and when I asked him how he learned it, he said he grew up with it being spoken all around him, especially by the older folk.
One of his theatre performances was “Los Profitaires” in which he played the part of the avocat (lawyer), Maitre Fort Bec (Mr. Strong Mouth).
M. Robert is also a keen singer with a fantastic voice – if you’re lucky, you can find him in his shop singing opera. He used to sing in a choral group with about 40 members - again from both Bize and Mailhac. They called themselves “Les Fils d’Argent” (Silver Strands).
They were a popular group and used to sing at parties and in restaurants, singing and doing little sketches. In one year alone, they did 49 gigs.
His involvement with the choral group was during the years that he was also active with the Maxi Majorettes. He wonders how he ever had enough hours in the day, given that he was also working 7 days a week in the shop. He recalls that on Sundays, he used to leave home without eating lunch, to go and join the group for practice.
Early in the new year, the shop itself and the rooms behind will be renovated and modernised. So I’m delighted that I’ve been able to speak to M. Robert, take some photos of him and his shop and get a bit of his own history.
When asked what he planned to do when he retires, he said – ‘Go fishing’……
Merci M. Robert for your time, and very good wishes for a happy retirement.
I decided to give myself an early Christmas present a few weeks ago …. a week-long course in Montpellier of intensive French classes. I’m not sure it was much of a ‘present’ – it was fairly hard going, but I chose to do two afternoons of a cooking class at a local restaurant as an optional extra.
What can I say – it was intensive, but fortunately classes were held only in the mornings, with the afternoons free – to recuperate! And Montpellier is a fairly special city to do it in. I have to say it’s my favourite city in France, though I haven’t visited many.
It’s obviously the favourite city of many others too – it’s the fastest growing city in France and the one that most French people (according to a recently published survey) say they would like to move to.
Christmas tree in the Place de la Comedie, Montpellier
A side street off the beautiful Rue de l'ancien Courrier, Montpellier
Dog inside a jewellry store
It really did feel like being back at school again – most of the students were in their early twenties, and from many different countries (Saudi Arabia, Brazil, South Africa, Australia, Japan – and these are just the very few people I met).
However, there were a couple of people in my class of 5 who were closer to my age, which was very reassuring.
I'd like to think I'm now beyond making dreadful blunders, but I think not.
But I have to say, the highlight of the exercise was the cooking class at Msr Lyachi’s restaurant - Le Jardin des Pâtes.
Msr Lyachi and me (looking a little apprehensive) - peering over our respective specs ....
So, while I’m not sure whether there’s much improvement in my French, my one week away in Montpellier has given me the impetus to continuing learning the language and to keep experimenting with new ideas in the kitchen. Let’s see how it all pans out!
And back here in Bize, the weather has finally turned. After months of unseasonal balmy weather, we’re in the middle of a cold snap, with a few flurries of snow today, and the outlook is more of the same.
There’s not been enough snow to stay on the ground, but certainly the temperature is way down there! So today’s activities have been somewhat centred around the fire.
Recently though, there has been a bit of activity at Nic’s – painting.
Indigo is very industrious and loves helping and so she joined in with much enthusiasm. Not only does she like to get stuck in with the painting side of things, she’s always enjoyed cooking. So she whipped up a batch of biscuits and brought them upstairs to share with us before getting well and truly dressed for the occasion, and mucking in ……. and I have to say she did a good job on the end of the roller.
And surprisingly, for a kid of her age, she didn’t get sick of it after 5 minutes. She was up for the same on day two!
Yesterday I was coming back from Narbonne quite late and it was pitch black. I was about 5kms from Bize when something ran across the road in front of me – I had oncoming traffic and couldn’t avoid it. It looked like a small-ish dog, and unfortunately I hit it full-on.
I turned around when I could and went back to see that it wasn’t just injured, and had a quick look from the car. I couldn’t see very well from my side, but I had June in the car with me who said it was definitely dead, and that it was probably a small wild pig (sanglier). There are plenty of them around this area and they’re a real prize for the hunters.
As sad as it was, I figured that someone in the village would be delighted with the sanglier, so phoned to ask Duff to come back with me to collect it! I picked him up and we headed back, armed with a black plastic bag.
Pulled off to the side of the road, hazard lights on, and discovered it wasn’t a pig at all. It was a hare! The poor thing wasn’t too damaged at all, but appeared to have died instantly. It broke the bumper on my car – I certainly hit it full on and he didn’t stand a chance. And he was huge! I have never even seen a hare (un lièvre) – dead or alive - but I know they’re highly sought after by the hunters too.
So the plan was to offer it to my elderly neighbour, who often goes out hunting with his old dog. I’ve seen him come home with the odd pheasant, and take it inside for his wife to clean (I know this is how it works now!). And so we did offer it to him – he came into the garage to see it, and was very happy indeed to take it off my hands.
Now, unfortunately that wasn’t the end of the story. Ten minutes later, he was back with a few ‘désolées’ – and returned the hare.
Madame said it was too much work to clean it, and obviously cleaning wasn’t in his remit. His work apparently starts and finishes at the hunting stage! I know he was genuinely ‘désolé’. He’d been telling us the different ways he could cook it – roasted or casseroled – both delicious he said.
Next, I rang Claude and Ellyette – Claude’s sister who also lives in the village was visiting, and yes she would love it. So five minutes later, I had a very happy Rosemarie drop by and take it off my hands…..
And so mercifully we were spared the next option: having a go at cleaning it for ourselves – not something I was looking forward to!
