food like nature

if i take more food photos when we are in southern france, it is not because i have a strategy to shoot more food. and it’s not really because food is more beautiful here. it just happens. i think it’s because the food here is so much closer to its natural state, that it still resembles the plant or animal it came from. these grapes, still warm from the sun, are much more part of a vine than they are a fruit sitting in a basket on someone’s counter. it’s part of what we love about being here. the earth creates splendid things in this region, but those splendid things are never very far removed from the earth.

grenache gris grapes

settling in and stocking up

we’ve taken almost two weeks to settle into our rented house this time. longer than previous visits. one would think we would be getting more efficient at it, rather than less.  perhaps it is because we feel less urgency, less doubt, or maybe less adrenaline. on the other hand, perhaps we are just getting better about slowing down. we know we have five months ahead of us, what’s the hurry? the pantry can be stocked tomorrow. the laundry can wait another day. we’ll make the rounds and say hi to everyone next week. one part of living in this part of the world is internalizing the importance of slowness. on the other hand, there is one thing that can’t  get put off, and that is my STILL blog gathering and the building up of my specimen table. in between wine-soaked evenings on the terrace, midday coffees at the cafe, and an important daily sunbath, i have been keeping my eyes open, stopping the car, interrupting walks, and picking up those particular things, that, for reasons i don’t always understand, tell me they need to be a part of my life for a while. today was the first day i felt i had enough bits built up to be able to make an assemblage. it is very mediterranean, and, by now very familiar, if no less full of magic than always.

an assemblage of gathered green bits in august in southern france: locust leaves, cedar cones, locust seeds, fennel flowers, rosmary leaves, wild thyme, chardonay grapes

seasons

one of the lessons of living in rural languedoc is a lesson that also lies at the heart of STILL blog. namely that, yes, there are four seasons that we all accept as normal. but there are seasons within those seasons. if you accept a certain japanese way of looking at the world, there are actually 72 microseasons, one approximately every five days. in the languedoc, the year has much less to do with the calendar than with the unfolding of budding, blosssoming, fruiting, and ripening, dependent on climate and weather. tonight we received a plate full of figs from our next door neighbor. in his orchard, three seasons are in play right now. not just three seasons but, in fact, three seasons related specifically to figs. the white figs are mosltly past their prime. the gray figs are are at their peak. and the black figs are just coming into prime. this plate was our dessert tonight. and the gray figs were sumptuously sweet. but the black figs were just slightly tart. that’s because it is gray fig season just now. in approximately five days, it will be near the end of gray fig season, but black figs will be wrinkled and dark, and they will taste like sweetened jam. after that…well more seasons will follow. and we, breathless with anticipation, will follow them.

figs–grey and back morphs

a parking spa

the curly bark of the eucalyptus tree reminds me of paper birches back home. but the paper birches don’t shed their bark quite so picturesquely as the eucalyptus here. the tiny lot in the corner of the village where we park our car is underneath at least two varietals of large unkempt eucalyptus trees. the front tires of our rented renault crush rolls of eucalyptus bark every time we pull in to park. and when we pull out, our front hood is decorated with a random assemblage of fallen scrolls. if only the bark smelled as sublime as the leaves…then i might be less likely to leave the evening parking duties to  @sjrhoffman .

eucalyptus bark curls

in the nick of time

the season of reine claude plums (greengages in english) is short and intensely flavorful. we got here for the very tail end of it. we have had to do some triage of a few mushy plums past their prime, although we have done it with pleasure, given the reward of their floral, juicy, inimitable, ripe siblings.

reine-claude prunes (greengages)