LA RENTREE

The unmistakable signs had been there for three weeks. Daylight was shrinking and mornings were cooler. Birds were helping themselves to the plump grapes hanging on that last row of grandpa’s vineyard. There were empty seats en terrace and parking around town was easier. And, at the supermarkets, promotional aisles of rosé wine and pastis had given way to piles of cahiers Clairefontaine and packs of Bic pens.

Clairefontaine notebook: my favorite! Always a pleasure to write on such smooth paper.
Photo credit: Clairefontaine

Yes, la rentrée was upon us. It felt a little odd to be at the farm with no plan to go back to school in September, as was always the case when I was growing up. My current life follows a different pace, far from the ring of school bells and the constraints of public transportation.

Old-fashioned classroom at Musée de l’Ecole in Carcassonne

I felt a tinge of nostalgia as I observed kids and their parents shopping for supplies. I always loved school. A new school year meant that I would select fresh rouleaux de couvre-livres and, perhaps, a new tin of Caran d’Ache crayons de couleurs (the set of 48 was akin to the Holy Grail.) In Primary school, I lusted after a cartable à bretelles: backpacks were only used by mountaineers. In Junior High, I picked a Parker stylo plume: it was my trusty companion throughout my school years and my first job in Paris. It followed me to California. And came back to France!

Library room at Musée de l’Ecole. Fun to peruse old text books!

A couple of years ago, I visited the Musée de l’Ecole in Carcassonne. Set up in a real (but now closed) primary school, it’s filled with all the “treasures” that could be found in French classrooms like the ones I frequented in the early 1960s: blackboards and white chalk, wooden desks with inkwells, colorful maps and quaint posters showing how plants propagate.

Sample of classic cursive on Seyès (a.k.a. French ruled) notebook. The small lines are designed to guide the writer when practicing ascenders and descenders.

I sat at one of the desks and contemplated the ink pen that was resting inside the groove in front of me. I remembered my struggles with that instrument and how much I admired my friend Annie who could effortlessly write line after line in looped cursive. Her penmanship rivaled our teacher’s while mine shockingly resembled chicken scratch.

Tools of the trade

I picked up the pen –how light it was!– and carefully set it between my pouce and index, resting it slightly on the majeur. I dipped the pen into the inkpot and slowly wrote one violet line, hoping my hand would remember how to join all the letters in one continuous stroke. I blotted the sheet and took a long hard look at my scribble. I thought I heard a voice in my head: peut mieux faire…

My classroom, 1968

Vocabulary
La rentrée: back-to-school
En terrace: outdoors, at a café
Le cahier: notebook
Le rouleau de couvre-livres: roll of paper to cover (and protect) books loaned by the school
Le crayon de couleur: colored pencil
Le cartable à bretelles: lit. satchel with suspenders (a satchel with over-the-shoulder straps)
Le stylo plume: fountain pen
Le pouce: thumb
L’index (m): forefinger
Le majeur: middle finger
Peut mieux faire: can do better; room for improvement

Musée de l’Ecole in Carcassonne

BRIQUES ET GALETS

This year’s edition of Le Tour de France is wrapping up and I can only admire the courageous riders who are braving an intense heatwave and climbing treacherous Alpine passes. It’s nice to see the maillot jaune on the back of a Frenchman but, as I mentioned in my post La Grande Boucle, I mostly watch for the scenery, especially the aerial views from helicopters that keep track of the peloton along with stately chateaux nestled in the hills and cute little villages stretching along a river bend. Le Tour vu du Ciel archives short videos that highlight some of the architectural marvels revealed at each stage (addendum: France TV doesn’t seem to allow viewing the videos in all countries; try searching for Le Tour vu du Ciel on YouTube instead.)

This used to be a barn…

Even a casual observer will notice the amazing variety of construction materials used in France. A trained eye would probably recognize a particular region based on the stones gracing its buildings: tuffeau in the Loire Valley, marble in Provence, blue granite in Brittany, etc.

In Grenade-sur-Garonne, there are many examples of houses built with bricks and river stones.

If you find yourself in the vicinity of the Garonne river around Toulouse, Montauban or Agen, you will see countless examples of structures made with briques et galets. Although Romans introduced brick-making in the Toulouse area, builders in medieval times favored wood and mud. Brick was used in Toulouse again in the late 11th century during the construction of the Saint-Cernin church. Sainte-Cécile in Albi was built in 1282 and eventually became the largest brick cathedral in the world. But the high cost of bricks made it prohibitive for common folks.

A “briques et galets” wall adjacent to Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption church in Grenade

Mostly bricks, a few river stones… Window at the Grenade church.

Bricks are made of clay that’s molded, dried, and fired in large ovens. Clay is plentiful along the Garonne and Tarn alluvial plains: draining the swampy river banks provided the raw material for brick-making while reclaiming more land for agriculture and reducing the mosquito population. The rivers also held another treasure: smooth fat galets. Walls build with a combination of bricks and river rocks were less expensive and gradually replaced the fire-prone timber structures from the Middle Ages.

Stables at the château de Merville

While nobles and rich merchants continued to build their homes with bricks alone or paired with cut stones, farmers combined briques et galets to construct retainer walls, barns, and pigeonniers. Many civil structures such as public markets, cemeteries, and city buildings also used the same technique. I first noticed them when my sister moved to Grenade-sur-Garonne.

This old wall has seen better days but it’s still holding up.

Too fancy a wall for Pink Floyd, I guess :-)

Unlike standard bricks that are prevalent in Northern France, brique Toulousaine (or brique foraine as it is also called) is large and flat: its width to length ratio is 2/3 instead of 1/2. Walls made with briques et galets are thick; they provide better insulation and help regulate seasonal temperature fluctuations.

Loveliness at every street corner. Check out those shutters in Cadours!

One added benefit is of an esthetic nature: river stones break up the regimented structure of bricklaying and introduce variations in colors and patterns. Necessity might be the mother of invention but it sometimes leads to artistic solutions as well. Don’t you agree?

It looks like someone chose very large river stones, or got a bit carried away with the concept…

Vocabulary
La brique: brick
Le galet: river stone
Le maillot Jaune: the yellow jersey worn by the leader of the race
La Grande Boucle: the big loop, the nickname for the Tour de France
Le tuffeau: white chalky stone widely used in the Loire chateaux and houses
Le pigeonnier: pigeon house
La brique foraine: from Latin foraneus (coming from outside); suggesting those bricks were not made on site but brought from a brickyard

75 YEARS

The leading stories on French news last week were all about the celebration of a momentous event in world history: the 75th anniversary of D-Day, the Normandy landing that ushered the end of WWII.

La maison Lafon played its part during WWII

Queen Elizabeth II and heads of states gathered to commemorate June 6, 1944 with all the pomp and circumstance that’s appropriate for such an event. French TV broadcast documentaries detailing the preparation, unfolding, and aftermath of that pivotal day, the carnage on French beaches, the ultimate sacrifice paid by thousands of young soldiers in one single day.

Three of the family houses were built with stones from this quarry

When statistics are mindboggling, I tend to focus on something more relatable. Individual stories that capture the psyche of the moment. Personal endeavors that highlight fear and courage, uncertainty and hope, excitement and dread. I’ve never had to put my own life on the line so I won’t pretend to even have an inkling of the kind of emotions that might rush through one’s mind. But reading about Tom Rice, the 97-year-old US paratrooper who jumped out of a C-47 transport plane and landed pretty close to the very same spot he hit seventy-five years ago, brought a grin to my face and some tears to my eyes. I can only imagine the significance of both these jumps for him.

Stones discarded from the old quarry

So what does D-Day mean to me and my little corner of southwestern France? In the wee hours of June 6, in all rural areas of France, a multitude of French men grabbed whatever weapons they could find and regrouped in le maquis. The 2nd DB Das Reich was based in Montauban; on June 8, a long convoy of tanks, trucks, and German troops left the city and headed to Normandy. In Cahors, they split in three different directions. The 1st battalion Der Führer drove through Gourdon and continued on D704 toward Sarlat.

La maison Lafon is barely seen through the trees above Départementale 704

My great-grandparents’ farm was located next to D704, 4 km north of Gourdon. One of the houses on the property –la maison Lafon, named after its builder– sat on the flank of a high cliff. The location had been chosen due to its close proximity to a stone quarry, one of my playgrounds when I was growing up. The house offers a vantage point on the curvy road. It was unoccupied at the time and served as an occasional meeting place for a small group of local maquisards. On the morning of June 8, they gathered to improvise a way to stop (or at least slow down) the column of Germans. They armed themselves with a few hunting rifles. My uncle René –age 18– had joined the group that day and was outfitted with a pistolet; he had never fired a handgun before. The plan was to fell a tree, drag it across the road, and shoot at the Germans.

Cécile’s house and maison Lafon nestled within the trees

Word about Das Reich retaliation against civilians was spreading fast. My great-aunt Cécile had heard how massive the column was; she figured that a tree trunk and a handful of “kids” with hunting rifles (and one gun) would be no match for the German tanks that led the move. As a young bride, she had lost her husband in the very first weeks of WWI and her only son had been wounded during the current war. René had spent the first five years of his life with her; the other youths were sons of friends and neighbors. In this particular case, she felt the strike would be pointless and inevitably lead to a massacre. She persuaded them to abandon their hasty plan and to join a more organized group. It was still early morning when the battalion of loud tanks and trucks moved past the house and Cécile’s anxious eyes. Fifteen minutes later, five miles up the road, five maquisards and five civilians were shot to death while trying to slow down the battalion on the Groléjac bridge. Two days later, 642 inhabitants were slaughtered at Oradour-sur-Glane and their village destroyed.

Entrance to the cellar

La maison Lafon was inexorably linked to René. When my grandparents split up the property between their four children, he inherited that house and the land around it. In the early 70s, after spending most of his working years in the greater Paris area, he returned to his roots with his family and significantly remodeled the house. The original structure comprised four parts: la cave at the lower level, a real wine cellar that always held about twenty oak barriques; at the second level, a small bedroom and a great room that included a fireplace, a stone sink, and a trap door to dump grapes into the concrete cuve below; a large attic; an open terrace to the southwest. During the renovation, the terrace was enclosed and walls were built up to the attic level; the attic itself was turned into three bedrooms; the main floor now includes two large rooms, a staircase, a kitchen, and a bathroom; the cellar continued to house wine barrels until 1977. The musty smell still permeates its walls today.

The view from the new terrace: a change from looking at the main road!

Rick and I recently moved into la maison Lafon, which now belongs to my cousin. After a year and a half in a retirement home, Mom decided to return to her own house and we wanted her to enjoy all her space. We “think” our house will be ready for us at the end of June. In the meantime, I’ve settled at René’s old desk, in an office that exactly occupies the location of the former terrace. The French doors and balcony give me a plunging view of D704, albeit through the thick lush trees that have grown between the road and the house. Seventy-five years ago, my young and foolish uncle was watching that same road, holding a pistol in his hand, thinking he might have a chance to become a hero.

I’m only holding a pencil.

P.S. My grandmother turned the gun over to the gendarmerie after the war.

You might also like Cent Ans and This Old House

Lily sitting at René’s old desk and watching the action through the French doors.

Vocabulary
Le maquis: shrubland; in this context, it also refers to résistance guerilla bands that were hiding and operating in rural areas.
La maison: house
Le maquisard: guerilla band member
Le pistolet: handgun, pistol
La cave: cellar
La barrique; barrel, wine cask
La cuve: vat for grape crushing and fermentation

DOORS AND FLOORS

Farmhouse renovation, episode 3

Rural France can be extremely quiet in Winter: nature hibernates and the pace slows down, including that of construction workers. After the new roof and new walls were erected in late 2018, the house was officially hors d’eau.

Jean-Luc’s workshop

Since Rick loves wood, we took a short ride to Montfaucon and visited Jean-Luc le menuisier in his workshop. Everything is custom-made. As you can see in the opening photo, he gets raw planks from the scierie, cuts them to size, preps and assembles them to create the six exterior doors and eleven windows that we need.

Kitchen door with opening for Lily the dachshund

Because he builds everything from scratch, we could ask him to customize the kitchen door and cut out a panel to accept Lily’s doggy door. Jean-Luc installed doors and windows on January 10: the house was officially hors d’air.

French doors. In France…

Meeting with the subs on a cold January morning

A meeting with all the subs quickly followed to review the blueprints and “fine-tune” the schedule. Originally, we were shooting for a completion date of mid-February but it was becoming pretty clear it was unrealistic. We were now looking at a late April move-in date.

Blueprints. They’re not blue.

Jean-Luc and crew were back very quickly to install poplar ceiling slats between the beams in the great room.

Poplar ceiling between the beams

Poplar “ceiling” viewed from the (future) walk-in closet upstairs

Next, Gilles le plombier and Raymond l’électricien would come to perform the unsexy (but essential) part of the project: install all the tubes that would bring water and power to the various rooms.

Plumbing and electrical tubes running from their respective meters

A lot of tubes converge into the old cistern; it will house the furnace and the water heater.

Then, Dominique le plaquiste and his team of drywall workers started insulating the new walls and the ceilings.

Kitchen insulation

Ceiling insulation upstairs

They covered the new walls with sheets of plasterboard. They partitioned the upstairs addition to establish the walk-in closet and my future office.

Kitchen drywall. Lily is the inspector-in-chief.

The premise of a partition wall between the office and the closet

Philippe le peintre and his crew stained the wood beams in the kitchen and the great room. They also smoothed the walls and applied base coats.

Rémi stains the kitchen beams

Valérie preps the wall before painting

Thierry and Michel –the two masons who were instrumental in the demolition– returned to finish the old interior walls.

Interior stucco with a rough finish. The old stone sink will get refurbished later on.

We had decided to apply an interior stucco on two of the walls and to have them point the stones on the other two. Love the result!

Keeping the old stones visible

Jean-Luc came back to install the subfloor in the upstairs bedroom.

Subfloor installation

While we were in California in March, Joël le carreleur barely found the time pour the first concrete slab. Then it needed to cure for a good 10 days before Gilles could install the floor insulation and thread the tubes for our sub-floor heating system.

Gilles applies foam panels to insulate the floor

A maze of heating tubes running all over the floor

That was the state of the house on April 2, just before we made a family emergency trip to California. We would be gone for only a week; all the subs had been briefed about the sequencing of their work; we hoped everybody was on the same page…  

View from my future office on a crisp February afternoon

Vocabulary
Hors d’eau: lit. out of water; waterproof. In construction, it refers to the stage where all walls are built and the structure is covered.
Le menuisier: woodworker
La scierie: sawmill
Hors d’air: lit. out of air; airtight. In construction, it refers to the stage where all openings are equipped with doors or windows so the house can be sealed.
Le plombier: plumber
L’électricien (m): electrician
Le plaquiste: drywall worker
Le peintre: painter
Le carreleur: tile setter

Missed Episode 1? Read it here.
Missed Episode 2? Read it here.
Read more about This Old House

WALLS AND ROOF

Farmhouse renovation, episode 2

It’s really happening! We’re actually building a house or at least, it feels that way. Let’s be honest: our subs are doing all the heaving lifting. But after witnessing an extensive demolition during the Summer, it has been quite rewarding to see our future house take shape under our watch. As much as I would have enjoyed moving straight into my finished house, I must admit that it is a tremendous advantage to live less than one hundred yards from the construction site and be able to address issues as they invariably crop up.

Kitchen foundations

First item on the list was to build an extension so I could have une vraie cuisine to play in. We decided to pretty much follow the footprint of the 19th century house which included some low structures for the farm animals. My new kitchen will sit where the cochons and the lapins used to reside! I have high hopes that our Lapin Agile painting will eventually find a home on one of the kitchen walls.

Preparing the kitchen floor

After digging trenches for the foundations and pouring a rough slab, les maçons laid out waterproof membranes to prep the kitchen for a smooth pour of concrete.

Great room floor before the concrete pour

Wood planks and subfloor had been removed from the “great room” (i.e. the old fireplace room) and the downstairs bedroom during the demo. The exposed dirt got the same treatment as the kitchen.

Pouring concrete

On October 2nd, a huge cement truck negotiated its way between the linden tree and the boxwoods, deployed its telescopic arm, and started shooting a steady stream of dark grey béton all over the rez-de-chaussée.

Michel smoothing concrete in the future bathroom

The kitchen slab

For a few hours, the smooth wet floors glistened under the bright sun. Lily didn’t feel the urge to check them out too closely and was kind enough to leave them alone, free of souvenir paw prints.

Great room slab after curing

Kitchen walls are going up

The concrete cured rapidly and our masons were back onsite with pallets of red brick blocks to build the kitchen walls.

New walls!

By mid-October, they also had erected the walls for the downstairs bathroom and brought up the walls of the downstairs bedroom up to the roof level (we wanted one height and pitch throughout instead of the three different roofs we inherited.) New openings were created for les portes and les fenêtres. They also consolidated (hum, rebuilt) the chimney.

New beams in the bedroom

Downstairs, Jean-Luc le menuisier brought and installed rows of beams to define the ceiling above the bathroom and the bedroom. Oak, chestnut, poplar, and fir are routinely used for construction as they are plentiful in our area. Instead of going to the local Home Depot equivalent, woodworkers order what they need directly from the local scierie and beams are custom made for your project.

The great room, original ceiling removed

We knew the ceiling planks above the great room were weak and would need to be replaced. After testing the beams and noticing a fair amount of wormholes, we decided to err on the side of safety and install a fresh set of those as well.

Adjusting the new beams for the great room

Steel bars prior to pouring concrete on the porch

It was almost time for Patrick le charpentier-couvreur to get started on the roof. But first, the masons had to come again to pour some concrete on the future porch area so that Patrick could set up his scaffolding all around the house.

Building the roof above the bedroom and bathroom

To frame the roof over the added rooms, Patrick and his team brought in some fermette or what I like to call roof-in-a-kit: the trusses are pre-assembled in triangular panels and lifted up to sit on top of the walls.

Patrick and his son framing the roof

Waterproofing the roof

Almost covered

Finished! Time for a ride…

In a protected area like ours, roof pitch dictates the type of tile (and the color options) that can be used. For the main body of the house, we chose a tuile à côte universelle, a traditional tile widely used around 1900 on residences and public buildings; for the kitchen and porch where the pitch is shallower, it would be a tuile double canal, a stronger and more water-proof version of the tuile canal typically used in Southern France.

Working on the kitchen roof

When laying tiles on the kitchen, the roofers used the buddy system: one stayed down and would throw a tile up to his friend who was stationed on the roof. For the roof over the main house (two stories), they would load their green backhoe loader and use it as an elevator.

Timber frame construction with fitted joints for the porch

Beautiful oak. Note the wood pegs…

It was fascinating to see the porch take shape. The oak posts, beams, and rafters were custom-made for our location. Instead of butt joints and nails, the components are shaped to lock-in together with wood pegs holding the fitted joints. These guys still follow the same artisanal techniques that were used centuries ago.

Oak rafters and poplar planks

Facade hors d’eau

When we left to visit my sister for New Year’s Eve, our house was hors d’eau: all the walls were up and the roof covered. We figured we might only be half-way through the renovation project but, at least, we were getting a pretty good idea of what the house would look like in the end. I think my grandparents would approve.  

Missed Episode 1? Read it here.
Read more about This Old House

Vocabulary
Une vraie cuisine: a real kitchen
Le cochon: pig
Le lapin: rabbit
Le maçon: mason
Le béton: concrete
Le rez-de-chaussée: first floor
La porte: door
La fenêtre: window
Le menuisier: woodworker
La scierie: sawmill
Le charpentier-couvreur: carpenter-roofer
La fermette: pre-manufactured scissor trusses
La tuile: roof tile
La côte: hill, rib. In this case, the tile has a rib running down lengthwise to better channel water.
La tuile canal: this tile is shaped like a half cylinder.
La tuile double canal: two-thirds of the tile is shaped like a half cylinder, the other third is flat. Unlike the tuile canal, all tiles are laid out curvy side up.
Hors d’eau: lit. out of water; waterproof. In construction, it refers to the stage where all walls are built and the structure is covered.

DEMOLITION

Farmhouse renovation, episode 1

The biggest challenge when tackling a house renovation is choosing what to keep and what to give up, let go, abandon. Finding a way to retain the feeling of the original structure and tweak it to fit the new owners’ lifestyle. On ne fait pas d’omelette sans casser d’oeufs. So, we broke a few eggs…

The house in February, prior to renovation

Our renovation project started many years ago, at least in Rick’s mind. He already had several sketches ready when we approached my aunt’s friend Richard last year. Richard used to be an architect in Great Britain. He and his wife bought and restored an old farmhouse twenty-five years ago; they now live in France year around, 15 miles away from us. Richard got his French architect credentials as well and is fully bilingual: as our maître d’oeuvre, he is the perfect liaison between our tradespeople who don’t speak much English and Rick who is far from fluent in French.

Northeast corner of the main room. French doors will be set into that large opening.

Because my grandparents’ house sits in an area designated as a site protégé, the building permit had to be approved not just by the mairie but also by the Bâtiments de France: they focus on architectural elements to make sure the future construction respects and blends in with the specific heritage of the area. Pitch of the roof, tile design, metal used for gutters, paint color on the shutters, etc. are some of the elements reviewed before the project is approved. I had heard many horror stories about the process but everything went very smoothly for us.

See through! In addition to opening the back side to instal French doors, we also enlarged the old cellar door on the front side. It will lead to the new kitchen.

Our building permit was issued late 2017 and we had hoped the chantier would start in March so we could move in early Fall. Alas, a wet Spring delayed all masonry work in our area and work had not been started when we arrived early July. The updated schedule listed that the demolition work would commence the last week of July; the masons would then take four weeks off in August, as is customary in France; and resume early September.

Thierry frames a new window upstairs

The first order of business was to create new openings in the old structure. Traditionally, stone farmhouses didn’t have many windows in order to stay warm in winter and cool in summer. There never was central heating in this house and my grandparents chiefly relied on the cantou to heat the main room downstairs. I have vivid memories of carrying a hot brick wrapped in wool to the small bedroom upstairs and placing it between the sheets fifteen minutes going to bed. As much as I enjoyed spending Christmas breaks here, I confess it was hard to get out of bed in the morning: the bedroom was so cold, I would literally see my breath. I could (somewhat) laugh it off when I was eighteen but I’m pretty sure my amusement would be short-lived if I had to do it again.

The masons’ ladder substitutes for the demolished wooden staircase

Since all the wood floors were rotten and had to be removed anyway, we made plans to install “some kind” of heating system (more about this in a future post) and we were anxious to add a few windows in order to bring more light into the rooms. Large chunks of stone were removed and gaping holes appeared on three sides. Once the floor trusses, old parquet, and original escalier were removed, the house looked like a war zone, a shell of its previous self. I emailed pictures to a couple of friends who had visited in prior years and they both asked how hard it was for me to see my beloved house in such a sorry state. Honestly, I did all my grieving last February when we completely cleared out the house. Sure, there was some sadness when the doors were ripped out and the jackhammers brought in but, overall, I could at least maintain a “neutral” state of mind. I knew from the get-go that we would only be able to salvage the walls and the roof trusses.

Thierry removes the old plaster

It’s not easy to get excited about demolition; and yet, breaking stuff sometimes leads to beautiful surprises. I was filled with joy when the masons removed the interior plaster and revealed the stone underneath. We knew the murs de pierre were quite thick but they were completely covered when the house was last renovated in 1940: I had never seen the exposed stone before. And my, are they glorious!

Stone wall revealed!

The downstairs bedroom was added in 1967 and never communicated with the great room, as I like to call the one room that served as kitchen, dining and living room when my grandparents were alive; a door opening was created between the fireplace and the old stone sink.

Michel framing the opening between the main room and the downstairs bedroom

Downstairs bedroom: another war zone

We also pretty much demolished grandpa’s shed as it will become an ensuite bathroom.

This used to be the shed; it will be a bathroom. The cistern is to the left.

A door opening was carved into the old cistern: we will use that space as a wine cellar and pantry. The top of the cistern will serve as an elevated terrace, a few steps down from my future office.

Peeking into the cistern

Work in progress… View from the West

Of course, I would need a kitchen… and this could only happen through an extension to the original house. The bobcat had to work extra hard to dig deep enough for the foundations: in that area, the hard rock layer is not far from the surface.

After removing the stone wall on the road side, the masons dug out in front of the old cellar to create the footprint for my future kitchen.

Naturally, we encountered a few setbacks. For instance, we found out that the ceiling of the downstairs bedroom was a foot lower than the ceiling of the main house. The height on some windows needed to be fine-tuned. Adjustments had to be made when walls did not intersect at 90 degrees… I have to say that our masons have been extremely accommodating. Instead of complaining when things don’t go according to plan, they have come to us with different options to work around obstacles. These guys are true craftsmen with years of experience dealing with the idiosyncrasies of old homes, and their owners. They get a kick out of Rick who communicates with them with a little bit of French and a lot of gestures. He spends an inordinate amount of time observing their work, not because of lack of trust but out of genuine curiosity: they just don’t build houses the same way as in the US.

Demolition complete!

Read more about This Old House before the remodel
Read Episode 2 of the renovation

Vocabulary

On ne fait pas d’omelettes sans casser d’oeufs: one doesn’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs
Le maître d’oeuvre: general contractor
Le site protégé: protected site
La mairie: city hall
Les Bâtiments de France: a government agency that –among other responsibilities_ monitors the harmonious insertion of new construction and renovations into areas protected for their architectural or cultural heritage
Le chantier: construction site
Le cantou: walk-in fireplace
Le parquet: wood floor
L’escalier (m): staircase
Le mur de pierre: stone wall

CENT ANS

My grandfather never told me about La Grande Guerre. I was merely eight-years-old when he died and my memories of him gravitate toward the joyous moments shared with a doting grandpa: plucking cagouilles from the bushes behind his house in Royan, watching him prepare his collapsible wired nets before heading to the creek to catch crayfish, or uncovering the Easter eggs that he hid among the vegetables of his meticulously kept potager.

When the Ordre de Mobilisation Générale was posted at the mairie on August 1st, 1914 he was a little bit too young to be sent to the front. With 800,000 French soldiers in active duty, three million reservists, and the expectation of a short war, it seemed doubtful that he would ever be involved. Optimism waned quickly: by the end of 1918 eight million Frenchmen had served in the war, around 40% of the male population. So, Pépé René became a poilu. He walked and crawled in muddy trenches. He dodged bullets and obus at the battle of Verdun. He was among the lucky ones: he came back from the war with “only” some exposure to toxic gases and a life-long addiction to cigarettes, a soldier’s comfort liberally distributed in the trenches. Like all veterans, he kept tokens of the war inside himself: in his case, lung cancer.

The monuments aux morts of Payrignac includes memorials for WWI, WWII, and the Algeria War.

As France gets ready to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Armistice, TV viewers are overwhelmed by a slew of documentaries serving archives, old photos, and silent black-and-white reels. A newscast shows a group of pre-teens in Indre-et-Loire brushing and scraping their village memorial to expose the names of those who died for la patrie. Another group of youths at the necropolis of la Doua near Villeurbanne sets up a candle at the foot of each cross in the military cemetery (6500 of them!) In Champagne and Pas-de Calais, men clad in uniformes d’époque roam the trenches, the shelters, the observatories like their ancestors did; some are even spending several nights there this week.

The lake, right behind the monument aux morts.

Far from Paris where some sixty heads of states will join President Macron, my small village is also getting ready for Sunday’s commemoration. There will be a special mass (dominical services are no longer held in our church except on Palm Sunday and Assumption) and a wreath will be placed at the monument aux morts. Because we are in France, the ceremony will be followed by a vin d’honneur, a pre-lunch aperitif served to all citizens.

The WWII memorial

After dropping Rick off to French class this morning, I stopped by the village and parked in front of the school. I could hear the voices of ebullient, care-free toddlers playing in the courtyard. Fifty meters away, everything was peaceful and the lake gleamed like a mirror. Birds occasionally flew out of the golden catalpas nearby. Our grey WWII concrete memorial is nestled into this serene shrine of greenery. The names of the fallen are listed alphabetically, engraved on two slabs of marble. Thirty-eight names. One of the soldiers, first name Justin, shares my maiden name: a distant cousin, no doubt. Four others bear the same last name. I picture an anguished woman whose family was annihilated, her husband and sons reduced to red letters carved in marble. Red like their blood.

She, too, was promised that war would be “la der des ders…”


The official website for the Centenary: http://centenaire.org/fr

Vocabulary
La Grande Guerre: the mighty war; refers to WWI
La cagouille: snail; colloquial French from the Charente region
Le potager: vegetable garden
La mairie: city hall
Le poilu: a hairy man; refers to WWI soldiers in the trenches who could not wash or shave; prior to that, men who were “poilus” were thought to be especially strong and brave.
L’obus (m): mortar shell
La patrie: homeland
L’uniforme d’époque (m): period uniform
Le monument aux morts: war memorial
Le vin d’honneur: celebratory event where wine or other libations are offered
La der des ders: abbreviation for “la dernière des dernières”, the last of the last, WWI. It was so horrible, it seemed inconceivable that it wouldn’t be the last war, ever.

ETRE ET AVOIR

I don’t think of myself as a materialistic person. Imelda Marcos would probably faint at the sight of my shoe closet. I rarely accessorize my outfits with jewelry, preferring to wear (without fail) the two rings and one necklace that are meaningful to me. The above-mentioned outfits are chiefly composed of Levi’s and T-shirts. I guess I always wanted to spend my disposable income on “experiences” long before the concept became fashionable. Food, wine, and travel: that’s what matters to me.

I returned to France, the land of food and wine, exactly two months ago. Not for a mere two or three weeks of vacations as I had done regularly for the past thirty-six years: this time, I was really going home for good. I closed my business and we sold our California house to renovate my grandparents’ small farm in the Lot. This could be viewed as the ultimate experience for me, a return to my roots and to the place that has been in my heart all my life (I recently posted on Facebook an old photo of my first stay at the farm when I was just two months old.)

But it doesn’t feel like I am home. Not yet.

Home can be an elusive concept for expatriates or people who move frequently. It takes a while to get comfortable with a place, to form emotional connections, to feel that you belong and can be yourself –your whole self– there. Surprisingly, this transition is turning out to be a bit more difficult than I expected considering that I would be en terrain connu. Granted, I no longer am who I was forty years ago. But a big factor is that I can’t settle into my new home. The renovation will take six months and, in the meantime, we are staying in my parents’ house. Although we are there all by ourselves, we can’t rearrange the space to better fit our lifestyle and I have to make do with Mom’s tiny kitchen and her quirky tools. I have been frustrated and rudderless.

Our woods viewed from the veranda

This sense of suspended animation is uncomfortable but not completely foreign to me: I experienced a few such episodes in the past, usually when I was between jobs. I know the key for me is to regain (some) control over my surroundings and to build a new routine. I’ve also realized that in order “to be” I need “to have” my own things. We flew over with our dog, two suitcases of clothes, and two rollaboards filled with paperwork and computers. Although we received our 40’ container less than a week after our arrival, all 332 cartons were unloaded and immediately restacked in our garage. Each one is numbered and we do have a master list with corresponding descriptions but trying to find a particular object aptly illustrates the challenge of looking for une aiguille dans une botte de foin. As Rick opens his numerous boxes of tools and sets up his workbench, I’ve asked him to keep his eyes open for “my” tools: I’ll be immensely happier when I get my hands on my own vegetable peeler, my Microplane grater, and my Shun santoku knife! Just yesterday, he installed a new countertop in Mom’s kitchen and it’s already improving my mood and my efficacité. 

Gratuitous shot of my office chair in its unnatural habitat

The biggest challenge has been to get back to writing. No lack of inspiration: in fact, there are plenty of stories to tell. But I needed to have my own space. Getting set up in Dad’s old office (that also doubles as a laundry room…) or bringing pen and paper to the dining room table simply would not do. And I had to get a proper chair, one that would allow me to spend a few hours in front of the computer without prompting my lumbar vertebrae to go on strike.

Looking into my new office

So, today, I’m finally writing again. I boxed up some of Mom’s stuff and claimed sixty square feet of space in the veranda. Rick topped an old table with a fresh panel of melamine from Bricomarché and brought a power strip close by. I filled my glass with a diabolo menthe and set up my new chair behind my new desk, facing our woods. A chair with a view! And here I am, writing my first dispatch from the farm, trying not to get too distracted by the butterflies waltzing above the wild flowers. I have a good feeling about this…

A desk with a view

Vocabulary

Etre et avoir: to be and to have
En terrain connu: in known territory
Une aiguille dans une botte de foin: a needle in a haystack
L’efficacité (f): efficiency
Le diabolo menthe: a drink made with mint syrup and limonade (soda similar to 7-Up)

FOREVER 29-PART THREE

The final installment of my Joie de Vivre retrospective where I wrap things up after 29 years in business. Catch up on Part One and Part Two. Thanks for the memories!

10/2009 Kitchen Pantry

French classics in the garde-manger. 56 pages. Notable: rillettes and pâtés Hénaff, Amora mayonnaise, Bénédicta sauces, Lapalisse walnut and hazelnut oils, Carte Noire coffee, Lu Paille d’Or and Chamonix Orange, Margaux cherries in Armagnac; St Dalfour giant prunes and luscious figs; Batna, Carambar, and Hollywood gum; Rochers Suchard; Bistro de Paris red-and-black porcelain dishes; Mont St Michel eau de Cologne; Paris folding umbrella.

10/2010 Vintage

I found a spectacular collection of glass objects featuring vintage images of Paris. 56 pages. Notable: Rougié pâtés and foie gras from Québec; Eric Burr prepared lentils; L’Epicurien flower confits; Eiffel Tower salt and pepper shakers; Tintin et Milou mugs; Paris Map neckties.

10/2011 Un express, s’il vous plait

Pillivuyt Brasserie series paired with heart-shaped sugar cubes and Goulibeur shortbread featured on the Martha Stewart Show. 56 pages. Notable: Plantin’s truffle condiments; Eric Burr canned sauces; La Tisanière herbal teas; Ricoré; Abtey La Route des Liqueurs (a.k.a. The Booze Tour;) glass butter dish; five Opinel knives; Paris Puzzle Map; Clairefontaine notebooks.

10/2012 All about Lavender

Even the new French-sized reusable bags feature the star flower of Provence. 56 pages. Notable: Christian Potier sauces in a pouch; Castelas extra-virgin olive oil; La Trinitaine madeleines; Pierre cookies; French cookie cutters; Crème de caramel au beurre salé; CartExpo thermometers.

10/2013 Champagne

The French golden age of posters: Pommery Champagne on a tray along with mini pink cookies from Reims. 56 pages. Notable: mushroom-infused wines, an exclusive; Banyuls and champagne vinegar; culinary lavender; fleur de sel from Camargue; langues de chat; La Vosgienne; Bonté vintage tins of hard candies; Le Petit Prince toys and books; Bébé T-shirt and accessories.

10/2014 Brasserie Bleue

Breakfast time with large bowls and toast stamped with the Eiffel Tower. 56 pages. Notable: mackerels in white wine; Alziari olive oil; chocolate Gavottes; Sablés de l’Abbaye in commemorative D-Day tin; linen kitchen towels; Jean Vier cotton bread basket, with a cherry pit cushion to keep the bread warm; Bérard olive wood cutting board; Taylor and Ng French Creatures mugs; Laguiole steak knives, made in France, the real thing.

10-2015 Thieffry

A superb Thieffry linen tablecloth from Northern France serves as the backdrop for the new glass creamer and sugar pot. 56 pages. Notable: Rougié cassoulet; Groix et Nature seafood rillettes; Délices du Lubéron eggplant caviar, aioli, and rouille; St Michel palmiers; La Dunkerquoise waffles; Instants Parisiens chocolate Eiffel Towers; Métro oven mitts; France Map cutting board; Filt filet net bags; Caran d’Ache color pencils because it’s the adult coloring craze.

10-2016 Une Belle Salade

A Pillivuyt porcelain bowl, olive wood salad servers, and ingredients for a superlative vinaigrette. 56 pages. Notable: chicken, beef, and vegetable stock concentrates; sardine fillets; Peronneau regional honeys; St Michel grandes galettes with sea salt; palets Breton in the Citroën tin; François Doucet chocolate raisins with Cognac; Provençal tablecloths; cotton totes with vintage poster images; Savonnerie de Nyons soaps in vintage tins.

10/2017 Le Lapin Agile

The cover of the very last catalog. If you read my book, you know the story behind this reproduction of the famous “agile rabbit” of Montmartre… 56 pages. Notable: the trio of confits for cheese; Francis Miot artisan jams; Sablés in the Mont St-Michel tin; Les Liqueurs de France in dark chocolate bottles; Andrée Jardin bath accessories; Le Chatelard scented soy candles; Eiffel Tower stocking holder; real French bérets!

Vocabulary
Le garde-manger: the larder, pantry
La langue de chat: cat’s tongue (a cookie)

FOREVER 29-PART TWO

Read Forever 29-Part One for a recap of “the early years” of Joie de Vivre.

Continuing with my retrospective of Joie de Vivre, it becomes apparent that this second decade was transformative. The kitchen table operation became a “real” business. The catalog grew from 36 to 56 pages. The website was launched in 1999 and featured rich content like recipes and in-depth product stories. And, as evidenced in my yearly column, I found my voice. I even got on my soapbox once in a while, sharing my thoughts about globalization, the Euro becoming the common currency for (most of) Europe, or the importance of good food whether in school cafeterias or on the Space Station…

10/1999 At Home

Photo shoot at the house and Jeff uses our Italian armoire as a backdrop to highlight our Provençal pottery. 40 pages. Notable: Maison Pébeyre truffle products, Hénaff pâtés, Puget Olive oil, Malongo Grande Réserve coffee, Provence napkins and placemats, Pré de Provence gift soaps. I launch our website, frenchselections.com.

10/2000 Brasserie

Timeless Brasserie series by Pillivuyt is my inspiration this year. 48 pages. Notable: first catalog to offer Fabrique Délices fresh sausages and pâtés by mail. First-boil truffles by Pébeyre; Aromont sauces and stocks; Tarbais beans; Délice de l’Amandier, first gluten-free cake; Côte d’Or chocolate; pastilles Vichy, Anis de Flavigny, and Cachou Lajaunie; La Française hollowed candles; lavender linen water.

10/2001 La Rochère

Glassware by La Rochère, the oldest glassmaking factory in France (since 1475!) 52 pages. Notable: fish soup; Gold medal winner Château Virant extra-virgin olive oil, Guyaux chocolate truffles, Cémoi chocolate cerises, candied fruits.  Also, our famous raclette grill and Digouin vinegar maker. 

10/2002 L’Ardoise

Because today’s specials are still handwritten with white chalk. 52 pages. Notable: Jean de France rosette, the only saucisson that ever was legally (albeit briefly) imported from France; Connétable sardines; La Tisanière herbal teas; Francine crêpe mixes; silver dragées; Le Petit Prince dinnerware; Marius Fabre soap flakes.

10/2003 L’Epi de Provence

Beautiful soap and toiletry collection from southern France. 52 pages. Notable: Fabrique Délices pâtés en croûte; Giraudet pike quenelles in Nantua sauce (JDV was the only US retailer to offer this product;) Artzner goose confit and rillettes from Alsace; cod brandade from Nîmes; Eiffel Tower tabletop; Grand Hôtel flatware; Marius Fabre liquid soap.

10/2004 Le Pain et l’Huile d’Olive

Ready for a dip? The cover features Revol’s porcelain cruets and a bread basket set on the Bistro des Amis linen tablecloth. 52 pages. Notable: Delouis French mayonnaise; Butter galettes in a Quimper tin; Miaou mugs; first French music CDs; four French-inspired doormats, including Je Garde La Maison (dog); pétanque set (bring your own Pastis.)

10/2005 Le Cassoulet

Yes, it’s true: cassoulet is finally here again. 52 pages. Notable: Folies Fromages, great jams to pair with cheese (that’s when that whole trend started…) Not just cassoulet but also foie gras and pâtés from our Canadian cousins; truffle condiments from Les Truffières de Rabasse; Arnaud extra-virgin olive oil from Les Baux; L’Epicurien vegetable confits; chocolate coated orange and lemon zests; silver and gold-plated charms; French music CDs. 

10/2006 Paris Black-and-White

Coffee is served in the striking Paris mug, along with a dark chocolate square by Monbana. 52 pages. Notable: Pérard fish, crab, and lobster soups; Lubéron appetizer spreads; Blessac crème brûlée mix; caramels Dupont d’Isigny; France wooden cheese platter with Laguiole knife; bowls for chat and chien.

10/2007 Absinthe

La Fée Verte is legal again and very trendy; our French absinthe fountain and accessories take us back 150 years. 56 pages. Notable: Fabrique Délices saucisson sec; Connétable vintage sardines and tuna in oil; Espélette pepper; Biofournil par-baked bread; St Dalfour Gourmet-on-the-go salads; Mirabelle jam! Paris Souvenir tidbit dishes; three exclusive T-shirts, including Joie de Vivre and La Deuche.

10/2008 Relax

The Ellesca collection brings aromatherapy into our homes. 56 pages. Notable: Fabrique Délices rosette de Lyon; Blessac dehydrated sauces; Nectar de Bourgogne fruit coulis; boudoirs; fruit cake from Pont-Aven (still mourning this one;) poterie Renault; three more exclusive T-shirt designs, including Merde Happens.

Follow me to Part Three.

Vocabulary

L’ardoise (f): chalkboard
La dragée: the French version of the Jordan almond (thin sugar coating)
Le pâté en croûte: a pâté encased in pastry
La quenelle: a dumpling
Le chat: cat
Le chien: dog
La Fée Verte: the Green Fairy