Spring Blossoms.

Spring is more than making up for her late arrival this year.  All of the below (in no particular order) started making their appearance in the neighborhood over the past week:

American Dogwood 

Lilac

Sugar / Red Maple

Magnolia

Cherry (on the south side of the hill; haven't seen any trees on the north side blooming yet.)

Forsythia

Norway Maple

Bradford Pear.  (Possibly my favorite.)

Next up will be the cherries and lilacs on the north side of Spring Hill, apples, Japanese dogwood...

Better Late Than Never.

Started the squash seedlings; prepped up a 'test' to see if my tomato seeds are still viable.

Pulled norway seedlings and other undesirables out of the containers on the back porch. Planted peas, cukes, curly-leafed lettuce and a new (to me), hopefully bitter green: mustard spinach.

If the weather holds up, will turn the soil over out back and sow some wildflower seeds.

Am wondering if, instead of flowers in the front boxes, I might want to plant herbs. Cilantro, parsley, catnip and sage might all work out nicely in those long, shallow, rectangular containers. Might have to sow the dill elsewhere, though.

Am very pleasantly surprised that the kale planted 3-4 years ago continues to reseed itself.  Found in one of my containers a lush start to a lovely salad / stirfry season.  The plant with the saw-toothed leaves that is sharing space with my lovely kale is a dandelion, of course.  Those do NOT get pulled; they're one of my favorite potherbs.

May Bells.

This is the first time in memory that the May Bells hadn't bloomed in time for the First of May.

For those who celebrate, I offer you a bouquet of stems and leaves.  Have a peaceful, restful day.

Something that I really love but can't handle like I used to is milk. Could still manage yogurt and cheese, but in fairly limited quantities. Going out for an ice cream cone is done after a cost/benefit analysis on my part*.

Last Fall, all hell seemed to break loose stomach-wise; became too frightened to eat. First thing folks worried about, of course, was appendicitis. That ruled out, allergies were looked into - mainly celiac and soy. The Celiac was easy to determine; all it took was a blood test. A few days later, the doctor called me to let me know that I was okay in that regard. She then suggested that I lay off of all dairy and soy of all things.

Now, the dairy part I'd been dealing with for some time, so that wasn't a problem. Soy however: how to live without that? Soymilk's what I'd drink instead of regular milk. Miso's like peanut butter to me; soy sauce like ketchup. For crying out loud, Tofu was my staff of life. I could serve it for all three meals and have it for dessert. This was going to be tough**. Then I discovered almond milk, particularly the Diamond Brand stuff. What I like best is the unsweetened, low-fat, fortified with calcium kind; taken neat, it's got a nice, subtle, nutty flavor. Also seems to be a good, neutral taste for most recipes, sweet or savory.

Interestingly enough, had a hard time finding the same quality of almond milk when I returned to France. Everything I'd found was a.) more expensive b.) shot up with sugar c.) with nut : water proportions considerably inferior to what I'd gotten used to here. Found oat milk (of all things - labeling in the EU is not so clear as here, so it took a while to figure out where this came from. Thought the brand was Italian; turns out the contents are Swedish.). It's a pretty acceptable drink, but am not crazy about cooking results.

Back to the States again, found that my lovely almond milk nearly doubled in price.*** Since I ain't made of money, am trying to work this out. I consume about 1/2 as much of the almond milk as I'd like and have been trying to spoon a bit of regular yogurt or buttermilk on things from time to time. It's not been too bad. Still haven't touched the soy, and I really don't plan to. A visit to an emergency room last Winter in France (same pains, just worse) showed something interesting though not completely related to the GI and which could be influenced by the soy. We'll see; have to hit the doctor again soon.

*****

* Is it good enough to make it worth the pain afterwards? There are relatively few places where this ends up being the case: Christina's in Inman, Dairy Queen because of its rarity here - love the soft serve dipped in their nuclear red flavored coating, a stand in Fort Mahon that still is allowed to serve treats from unpasteurized cream. Normally I'd be a bit iffy about that, but they're very clean and am sure that at the first case of Resort Town Diptheria, they'd close. Anyway, my favorite there is sea-salt caramel. The Frenchie likes mint.

** Particularly, too, because I found that if I got a good bit of soy in me in the weeks before my (ahem) time of the month, the PMS symptoms - migraines, cramps, a chest that felt like there were two Ridley Scott aliens just waiting to burst forth - would be vastly reduced. Even the depression symptoms went from, "just give up, Be" to, "sigh, and this too shall pass."

*** Not surprising, given the general rise in commodity prices, not to mention transport.

Pancake Day.

Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today; knew that the only thing that'd help was bacon.  It being a Friday in Lent, that wasn't an option.  Decided that the second best solution would be something that I'd been craving a lot lately, but rarely indulge in:  Pancakes.

Took a look in the largely paleo-prejudiced larder to see what I could scrounge up to make something more cakey than omelette - y.  Adopted, Adapted, and, if I do say so myself, seriously Improved upon the classic Joy-Of standby:

1/4 c spelt flour
1/2 c almond meal
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1Tbs honey
2 eggs
1/2 c butter milk

Combine spelt, almond meal, salt, baking powder.  In a small bowl, beat together eggs, milk, honey.
Add liquids to dry ingredients and mix together until smooth.  (You'll note that the batter is pretty liquid; this is okay).

Spoon the batter in your desired pancake-sized dollops onto a greased skillet.  When you see bubbles formed all over the cakes, flip carefully, then continue cooking until the down side is lightly browned.

These turned out thin like crepes, but more substantial.  The combination of spelt, almond, honey and buttermilk was wonderfully tasty.  Though I could have eaten them plain, knew that the the day was going to require some serious lily-gilding.  Ended up with butter, some of last Summer's peach jam, a handful of blueberries and a dollop of sour cream.

This was a pretty hefty portion for one.  Downed it all and called it Brunch.  Would make a good, lighter meal for two, with the inclusion of something like bacon and more fruit.

A Knitted Hug.

Would that I'd not have broken my nose four times over the course of my life (eyeglasses will never set straight). Would that I could find a decent haircut here at < $75. Would that I'd stop looking so sad when I was actually pretty happy.

This said: had to show the front view of my gorgeous new shawl / shrug / sweater thingy.
It appears as though there'll be plenty of time to get some use out of it, as, gosh, it's darn cold out.

This was what was to be my Birthday / Valentine's Day present to myself this year. The darn thing's huge, with a wingspan of something like 8', so decided to tie it in back to wear like a Scandinavian heart warmer shawl.

Project notes and a link to the pattern here.

I need to put this recipe up, because I get so many compliments on the finished product (and the online recipe seems to have disappeared).

Clementine Marmalade

2 cups thin strips of clementine peels
4 cups cold water
Pulp and juice of 8-10 clementines
1/2 cup lemon juice
2 cups boiling water
3 cups granulated sugar

In a heavy saucepan, combine clementine peel and cold water.  Bring to a simmer, covered, over moderate heat.  Continue to simmer until peel is tender (about 30 min); drain thoroughly.  Remove seeds and white membrane from peeled fruit; dice fruit.

To prepare marmalade:  combine cooked peel, diced fruit, lemon juice and boiling water.  Add sugar and blend thoroughly.  Quickly bring to a boil and cook until mixture is thick and reaches 220 deg F on a candy thermometer.

Remove from heat, skim off foam, and ladle into hot sterilized jars.

(Process if you feel the need to.  Have never bothered with this, myself.)

Fallow fingers were feeling The Itch after a few weeks of inactivity, so decided to see, per a conversation with a friend who is a talented quilter, what would happen if I attempted to knit a quilt block.

Am more of a fan of lace than colorwork (stranded or otherwise), so decided to use that as my starting point.  Searched out an appropriate pattern as didn't much feel like 'reinventing the wheel,' then just let the fingers get busy.
  Cornus Kousa.

 Using Lion's Fishermen's Wool on size 9 (5.5 mm) needles, knitted this up to a 20" x 20" square after blocking.  Haven't decided how many more blocks will end up making (either 11, 15 or 19 more; we'll see.), though I do know who the finished piece is intended for. 

Am happy to have the hands moving again.

Fruit Salad à la française.

Breathing.

One of the reasons why I'm not out every day enjoying my ballon de rouge in a café along the Champs Elysées is that that's an awfully expensive pastime*. Another reason is that I'd most likely end up suffocating after about a week or two of this sort of thing given the state of my lungs and the air quality in The City. Some days are better than others and I've learned to look out the window to see if it's worthwhile to quit the digs in suburbia and possibly paint the town red (or, in my case, something secondary like a muted purple or orange).

Was having a pretty good run of things breathing-wise up until last weekend.

After a period of relatively clean, clear, slightly damp weather, things took a turn for the worse last Sunday morning. Actually woke myself up choking, despite the major doses of antihistamines I've been taking to calm the effects of some scary food reactions. Popped a pill, donned a dust mask, then waited for both the coffee to brew and the breathing passages to clear up. On heading over to market, noted this:

Keep in mind that, as the crow flies, the Eiffel Tower is 6.7 km/4 miles from where I took the picture and it was relatively dry out.

Ran my errands, headed home via the Back of the Hill (more trees and also, hopefully more sheltered from this), took it easy for the rest of the day.

Headed out in the evening, saw that the air had cleared somewhat and so profited from that.

Still a bit hazy, though a little afterwards a fog did roll in. The light from the beacon was reflecting off whatever particles were in the air.

The next few days followed in a fog, or a cloud of dust, or something. Concentrated on cleaning house, finding healthy stuff to eat that wouldn't close up my throat** and just breathing.

When I can, I get as far from The City as possible. Wooded areas are my preferred stomping grounds. Wooded areas with ponds or streams, even streams that have been covered over and run out of faucets, are my favorites.
 

View from the Parc de St-Cloud, approx 8 km or sixish miles from the Eiffel Tower. Note the well-defined layer of brown in the air. There was a nice breeze blowing from my back while I was facing The City. From here, my eyes and nose were running a lot and I did cough some, but wasn't having trouble breathing.

Today - more of the same.

Again, from Mont Valérien. Just beyond what I think is the Tour de la Porte Maillot is Sacre Coeur atop Monmartre. That's roughly six miles from the house. The Eiffel Tower is to the right of the edge of the picture.

From what the Frenchie tells me, this haze of pollution is going to last at least through the weekend, possibly longer. Will deal with it; I'm old hand at that sort of thing. Am wondering, though, if taking up smoking might not help strengthen me up some more.

***
* I can't even imagine how much a glass of red would cost at Foquet's. If I really want ambiance with my coup de pinard, I'll go to Rond Pont in the Cité. Love the headwaiter there; he's like Jacques Tati, only with a voice. Is totally on cue with my accent and anglicisms. I am (and no doubt many others are) going to miss him when he retires. Is kind of the soul of the place and, more in general, a living symbol of a Paris that is disappearing as time marches on.

** Another story for another time.

Compote de Poires.

Was very pleased to see the little seckel pears at market again with the new year.

The last of last week's batch before hitting la casserole.

Every year at about this time, these little beauties are packed into plastic bags and sold at ridiculous prices*.  Last week, they were going for two kg for four euro (that's roughly a dollar a pound).  I bought four kg with the intention of turning 1/2 of that into a gingery pear butter.  That never happened, as we found we loved the 'compote' or sauce as is (no sugar, no nothing added).  Was great as a side with ham, over our yogurt, snuck out of the bowl in the fridge by the spoonful.

This week, I saw that they were down to three euro for five kg.  Bought a huge bag of pears along with some tiny, toothsome sweet/tart apples with the intention of freezing a bit of the compote for later use.**  On one hand, would really like to make more fruit butter.  On the other, the fruit's already so sweet and full of flavor that the addition of sugar/spices seems a bit like gilding the lily.  

***

* I asked the Frenchie if the cheap prices and the sale au marche had anything to do with these fruits not conforming to EU standards on size/shape.  He said that those regulations were retired a while back, but it wouldn't surprise him that people are now conditioned to not want "imperfect" or "normalized" fruits, thus forcing the vendors to sell so low.

** Wouldn't a granita or nectar be lovely on a triple-digit hot Summer day?  A girl can dream.

Star-Crossed.

It's interesting to see how much space in the French women's magazines is devoted to horoscopes, this being the land of Enlightenment and all. To be fair, in some (but certainly not the majority) of the American ones I've looked through, you'll have a little blurb on your sign from month to month. This is nothing compared to the French editors' fascination with the stars and their predictive abilities, though.  I can normally count on two supplemental booklets (one for the New Year, one for Summer vacation) plus other exposes on things like Numerology, I Ching...everything short of augury and necromancy, actually*.

New Year this year was a little different as I think the government is really pushing homeopathy right now.  As a result, the little supplement booklets I normally get with my detailed (and often contradictory) profiles were replaced with something telling me to consider alternative treatments for things like diabetes and depression. Was a little disappointed at first, but that feeling soon gave way to marvel when I looked over the cover articles of one publication:

 Right side, four down from the top:  Astro Mode.  Ce soir, je m'habille Lion ou Belier?  That is - Fashion by the Stars.  Tonight do I dress like a Leo or an Aries?

"For heaven's sakes," I thought, crossing myself.  "This is what I've been waiting for!  Here is my secret to losing some of that native frumpiness."

Wasted no time this time mulling over crafts or "recettes bluffantes," went straight to the money article, the pertinent to me parts of which are roughly as follows**:

Fashion by the Stars.

"It's a proven fact:  the Signs of the Zodiac influence our Fashion Sense.  But...for when the clock strikes Twelve...will I be feeling more...an Aries or a Leo?

Air Signs:  You are a Gemini, Libra or Aquarius.  The element Air evokes a Breath of Fresh Air, Light, Communication, Joie de Vivre.

Aquarius:  Originality in the form of a woman!  Ahead of her time, she's a style-maven nonpareil, a source of inspiration for others.  Her colors:  Black, White, Parme (Lavender,) Sky Blue."

- Modes et Travaux, January 2012.

 Following were pictures of three-inch stilettoes and lots of accessories in patent leather or vinyl.  Even if they did get it right about me horoscope-wise (yes, I am indeed an Inspirational Original, a Creative Force of Nature, Lightness, A Breath of Fresh Air), am not really sure about the dominatrix-wear as am more given to earth tones and sensible shoes.

***

* The latter two would be a great tie-in to a feature on cuisines du terroir, come to think of it.

** If you're interested in your astrological fashion profile, drop a line. Would be glad to share; just didn't feel like putting it all out here.

Did I mention previously how much I learn not only culture-wise, but vocabulary-wise from these magazines?  They're a treasure-trove of pop imagery, current argot, etc. 

Case in point:  the other day, I brought home a favorite weekly (which I get mainly for the recipes; they're really good.  I should just get their magazine devoted to cooking; can't resist the more general one, though.) called appropriately enough "Modern Woman."

 As you can see, I'm not making this up.

Mentioned to the Frenchie that one of my Beauty resolutions for 2012 would be to find 'le bon make-up pour booster mon look trendy.'

"Huh?"  He looked up at me.  "I think I misheard you.  What did you say?"

"Pour 2012, je dois choisir le bon make-up pour booster mon look trendy."

"What did you say?  Forget it.  What the hell does that even mean?

I sighed at his vieux schnookitude* for not understanding modern French.  "Okay, Pepe:  Pour 2012, je dois choisir le bon maquillage pour renforcer une allure tendance."

"That's better.  Thanks." (Could just hear the "Kids today" tacked on to the end of that sentence.)

***

* being an old geezer.

**  The correct French translation of "pour 2012, je dois choisir le bon make-up pour booster mon look trendy" which is Frenglish jive talk for "I've got to choose the right make up to ratchet up my trendiness quotient."

La Presse Feminine.

Will admit to a guilty pleasure here:  women's magazines.  Though I don't subscribe to any, I do like to pick a little something up at the press kiosk from time to time to see how underachieving/unfashionable/unhealthy I am according these publications.  I also like to keep up with what I guess is Popular Feminism around the world*.

What's interesting about a lot of the French ones I look at is that they tend to mix the sex and fashion right in with the family counseling stuff, the recipes and whatever cute little decorating hints they might have.  A couple of the ones I really like have a knitting pattern** plus an offer for a free sewing pattern***.  I guess one could say that they're a hybrid between Cosmopolitan and Martha Stewart****.

Aside from that, the fashion/diet/relations with men stuff is pretty similar between the French and American magazines.  Briefly put, it's always assumed that you're looking to lose weight to fit into the otherwise unwearable (not to mention overpriced) fashion they're pushing that month.  You're also probably having a tough time navigating your relationship, so need whatever advice you can get - good, bad or otherwise.

Of course, since we're talking about a couple countries facing one another but with an ocean separating them, there will be other minor differences*****. To wit:

In the average American magazine, you're an young, independent, intelligent, gifted (insert whatever other positive adjectives you can think of here) woman on the go.  You don't need a man, but you might want one around anyway to pay for drinks and lift heavy stuff, so here's 25 sizzling contortion acts you can do in bed (all vetted by the magazine's team of sex/emotional/physical therapists) to keep him interested.

In the average French one, you're a sophisticated, intelligent, gifted (etc) young woman whose been married for a bit and you've found out that your partner's had three kids by a succession of girlfriends on the side.  Since you're the one with the ring and the piece of paper, not to mention the honor of doing his laundry, you'd like for him to lay off the other women.  In confronting him, you get told you're "not much fun" or "a bore."  What do you do?  Well, you write to the magazine's team of philosophers/sexologists who will take time out from their busy lecture circuits and second careers as psychoanalysts to ask you just what the hell you want out of your relationship.

Refreshing, isn't it? to see that we're all more or less in the same boat?

***

* Then there's the vocabulary boost I get from the French and German editions.  See?  It all isn't a waste.
 
** No matter how easy the project, I like to see that promoted.

*** Really nice, as those can be expensive.

**** Try wrapping your mind around that one.

***** The German stuff I read is actually for the 'mature woman' (that is, for women over 40), so happily we're spared the fashion and sex advice.

 Epiphany.

Though yesterday was technically the Feast of the Magi, weak stomachs kept us from digging in to the traditional Epiphany Cake or 'galette des rois.' Instead, saved them for today's breakfast.

There's a lot to be said for delayed gratification.

Traditionally, these are either just straight puff pastry or pastry filled with apples or almond paste. Nowadays, you'll find filled with chocolate, other fruit fillings, even Grand Marnier-infused spice cake. We like to stick to the frangipani, or almond, as that's our favorite. Also, since these cakes can be very heavy, we bought small individual-serving ones rather than a regular-sized one (which serves 6-10 depending on how you cut it.)

Was very pleased, too, to add to my 'feve' collection.

King Louis XIII was the first feve I ever got.  Then came the Citroen fire truck.  After that came the 'Lapin Cretin' - or 'Special Needs Rabbit,' as I like to call him.  This year, we got the two little girls:  the Indian was in the Frenchie's galette and the African was in mine.

Back in the Old Days, a small feve, or bean would be baked into the pastry and whoever found it would be crowned King for the day.  Nowadays, a little porcelain toy is substituted.  Like lots of folks am sure, I actually get the treat for the toy.

Happy Belated 12th Day of Christmas!

The weather's been very odd lately. Temperatures have been averaging about 12-15 degrees celsius (that'd be about 55-60ish f). The winds, though not as rough around the Channel, are still a bit wild. Black, black, really black storm clouds are quickly rolling in and out, bringing with them rainbows, cloudbursts and sometimes even hail.

We were treated to a double rainbow the other day while errand-running in Lower Suresnes.  Two minutes later, serious cloudburst.

Storm clouds gathering again over the Bois du Boulogne.

Naturally, with conditions like this, there're a lot of nasty bugs going around that would normally be killed by a good cold snap.  I unfortunately got waylaid by one (more on that later - I promise/threaten...) and ended up watching today's show from the sidelines.  Hopefully things'll be better tomorrow, as it's supposed to be glorious out.

Resolutions and Resolve.

I just don't see the point of New Year's resolutions. Why the arbitrary first of January for making all sorts of drastic changes? Doesn't do much except crowd others out of the local pool or gym until the end of the month when impetus and interest peter out. If I want to try something new that requires a bit of discipline, am more likely to have this new interest take if I *don't* start it at around the darkest/coldest time of the year up here.

This was certainly the case with the low-carbohydrate diet I decided to put myself on last Summer: the first two weeks were kind of hellish not from the lack of caffeine or sugar or alcohol or what have you, but more from my body getting used to deriving its energy from proteins or fat rather than the other sources. After that, things were more or less smooth sailing*. Now that I've changed continents, latitudes and cultural attitudes about food, it's been a bit more of a challenge. Started eating a bit of bread and jam in the morning (Jam's homemade. I know because I made it). Dairy products are de rigeur.

Exercise-wise it's tough, as my being so far north here means that the days are noticeably shorter than even those in the northern part of the other continent I come from. There's also the feeling of being cloistered by the seven foot high, locked gates that separate all properties. Sometimes I just don't want to leave the house because of all the locks on the doors. Don't think that there's the same exercise culture here as where I come from either, meaning that I'm often the only non-buff-warrior-athlete type out jogging (when my body can take it)/speed walking on the local paths.

Anyway, resolutions to me seem like false bravado. This time of the year, I'd just like a Second Wind to blow through - helping me to combat inertia and clearing the cobwebs out that have accumulated during the shortening of the days.

***

* All my life I've struggled with my weight. What can I say? Some of us have problems that the mere "eat less, exercise more" that we're told to do just doesn't work so well on. Like the folks mentioned here, I have to be *constantly* on my toes - logging everything I eat, all the water I drink, every step I take in a day. It's damn tiring and, if I'm under stress as I have been for the past two or three years, it ain't happening. Sorry.

I really like the low-carbohydrate approach as I do seem to have more physical energy. Noted this when I was on Weight Watchers when younger: cut out the bread and you don't feel so logey. It can, however, be a bit high-maintenance (though maybe not so much as the more à la mode practice of veganism. Been there, done that. Ain't gonna happen again.). Following a pastiche of different and sometimes disparate approaches, have managed to lose 20 lbs (going from my second-highest weight ever of 195 to a more manageable 175). Still would like to lose another 15. Am really worried, though, that I'm either not going to be able to do that while here or am even going to backslide.

First Day.

It dawned warm, damp and gray; not too bad, though, if you're accustomed to frigid Januaries. Enjoyed a bit more truffles and eggs, then decided to take a wander about the neighborhood.  Wanted to see the old sights with new eyes for the New Year.

A view of the American Cemetery from La Terrasse.  The trees in the foreground are planes, historic staples in French landscape architecture.  (If you've ever driven down a departmental route - the US equivalent would be a state or maybe county route - or wandered alongside a canal here,  these would most likely be the trees you'd see lining them.)

The Frenchie calls Paris a very 'mineral' city.  He's right about that, both for the living and the dead.  It was a little strange to see the well-kept lawns of this American (or garden-style) cemetery at first, to hear the carillon play the "Star Spangled-Banner" Sundays at noon and five p.m.  Now, it's become a comfort.  Often, when I'm finding myself a bit out of sorts, I'll go and walk around the soldiers' graves like what I used to do when I was child with my dad on Memorial Day.

A January Rose in the gardens along the Terrasse.   Have seen cherry trees and mimosas in bloom as well.

Some Suresnois red roofs.  As always, the skyscrapers of La Défense are looming almost sinister-like in the background.

Quiet Night In.
 

Just us with some mollusks & feet from the stomachs, a big crustacean, a bottle of Loire Valley bubbly and some Strauss on the radio.

Time for bed now, though it isn't quite midnight; have had enough of 2011.  Hopefully your New Year's a happy and safe one.  Best wishes for 2012.

Three Easy Pieces II:  Felt.  

Heavens, did life get a bit hectic lately.  Took a trip back to the Heimatstadt to visit my dad, came back to the launching pad, then flung myself across the Big Blue again.  Somehow papers managed to get sorted somewhat and stuff got mailed that needed to be mailed right away.  The knitting WIP pile is slowly shrinking, though not as quickly as I'd like.  Other stuff will get done in due time.

When I couldn't concentrate on some of the larger projects (have three shawls going right now) for love or money, took to knitting scraps of wool into squares or rectangles, beating the fibers into submission in the washer and dryer, then playing at origami:

Three little green bowls.  Sent them off to Karen as a sort of half-a$$ed housewarming gift until I get her real one done and, well, her new house gets finished being built.

Two resolutions for 2012 are to work through more of my yarn stash (greatly augmented by my new thrift-store sweater unraveling mania) and to get better organized. I'm thinking that these guys could help me kill two birds with one stone.  A recipe for the square versions pictured below can be found here.