COURTYARDS OF MILAN

My first visit to Milan lasted a mere fifteen hours and seven of them were spent in the seediest hotel I’ve ever walked into. For thirty years, Milan conjured up memories of questionable bed sheets, fantastic pasta, and a private moment with a masterpiece.

Cloister at Santa Maria delle Grazie

Arriving at the stern Milan Central station on a late afternoon of October 1988, my friend Raegan and I flagged a cab and rode to Santa Maria delle Grazie with only fifteen minutes to spare before the church closing time. We quickly dropped off our luggage at the entrance and walked into the convent’s refectory. In the middle of a huge restoration effort, the fresco on the back wall dominated the large dining hall: Leonardo’s The Last Supper was looming over us and another three or four visitors. It’s crazy to think that we just waltzed in and had the place virtually to ourselves: nowadays restricted timed tickets sell out months in advance.

Tickets are required to enter the refectory and view The Last Supper; the church itself and the cloister are open for free.

Three decades later, we decided to return to Milan for a proper visit. We opted not to secure tickets to The Last Supper, probably for fear of diluting our original emotions, but we did take the subway to reach the church neighborhood as it seemed to be lined with older buildings that opened onto lovely courtyards.

Your typical Milanese courtyard…

Not too shabby either

I am a sucker for courtyards. When I stroll the streets of Paris and notice a resident punching numbers on a digicode, I always pause and steal a peek inside the door. Sometimes, I even walk in to experience a quiet moment in the big city. Most of these cours intérieures belong to private apartment buildings but, once you’ve passed through the porte cochère, you can usually explore at your leisure.

Love the wrought iron gates!

Stately

Milan is a bit different in that respect. The large inconspicuous street doors are often left open but lead to wrought iron gates that don’t allow you to walk into the courtyards themselves.

Wow!

Many examples of coffered wooden ceilings, too.

The fer forgé is truly remarkable: those gates are both strong and delicate, practical and artistic, intricate and decorative.

I love the shadow of the gate, too!

So many courtyards, so little time…

Beyond the gates, courtyards are usually framed by columns and marble is lavishly used. As is typical of European cities that were built before construction materials could easily transit by train or trucks, local quarries supplied the stone. In the case of Northern Italy, it is marble: white, pink, red, blue-grey, black…

Care for some marble?

So elegant!

While I was not surprised that the Duomo (cathedral) would be completely built of marble, I did not expect to see so much of it used in “regular” housing: the charming interior courtyards I photographed were not hidden behind the facades of fancy historic palazzos.

Marble floor detail

Carving and sculpting marble also produces chips: they are recycled to compose mosaic-like flooring that often graces the entrances.

Wouldn’t you like to take classes in such a serene environment?

Palm trees!

A Milanese courtyard typically features stone fountains, exotic trees, trimmed bushes, and colorful flowers either in dirt or in pots, all arranged in an orderly fashion. It’s an elegant look but not overly formal.

When the gate is open…

Occasionally, it looks more like an English-style garden where the vegetation is free to “do its thing” without too much human coercion.

I hope you didn’t miss all the fancy light fixtures…

Courtyards have been a staple of Milanese architecture since the Renaissance and I imagine that, at one point, horses and their noble riders passed through the colonnades and quenched their thirst at the fountains. Nowadays, metal gates permit entrance only to bicycles and pedestrians. It makes these secluded places even more secret, enticing, peaceful, and photogenic than their Parisian counterparts.

So, which one was your favorite?

Vocabulary
Le digicode: electronic door lock with a numerical code
La cour intérieure: enclosed courtyard
La porte cochère: carriage entrance
Le fer forgé: wrought iron

OF BEADS AND FLOWERS

Any cemetery aficionados among you? Père-Lachaise, Montparnasse, and Montmartre often show up on visitors’ must-see lists. If you’re planning to visit any of them this week, brace yourself for large crowds and colorful seas of chrysanthèmes, the official flower of La Toussaint. November 1st is a paid holiday here: it provides an opportunity to flower the graves and remember our deceased loved ones over a family meal. Just like your typical Sunday lunch, minus the singing.

Shopping for mums in the 17th arrondissement

People visit Parisian cemeteries for many different reasons. Locals in search of a quiet haven within the bustling city can be found reading their book on a sunny bench, just as they would in the Luxembourg Gardens. Armed with maps apparently designed for a chasse au trésor, tourists scurry around wide aisles and narrow alleys in search of “that” grave, be it Oscar Wilde or Jean-Paul Sartre. Architecture and art lovers marvel at the variety of structures and sculptures that mark the burial sites of the famous and the unknown.

Funeral wreaths and glass enclosure at the Payrignac cemetery

My local cimetière is less grandiose and less crowded. No “walk-in” stone mausoleums housing crypts or sarcophagi there, but I’ve always liked the understated elegance of the glass enclosures that surround some of the older caveaux. I also find them practical because the iron posts make it easy to hang wreaths and, in particular, my favorite kind: les couronnes de perles.

Wreaths of white pearls are often used when the deceased is a child or a young woman

Most of the time, the outline of the wreath is made with purple beads

These exquisite glass bead wreaths seem more prevalent in old cemeteries en province. They were very popular for about a hundred years, roughly between 1850 and 1950. They usually measure about three feet in height; thousands of small beads are strung on thin metal wires, then shaped like leaves, flowers, or dentelle patterns; typical colors include many shades from pale mauve to deep violet, pink, green, white, and black.

Countryside setting

Some designs combine pearls and cloth flowers. Intricate work!

Rust: their worse enemy

As a little girl, I looked forward to my weekly trip to the cemetery before attending mass. While my grandmother set up fresh flowers from her garden onto family graves, my cousin and I scoured the dirt alleys, searching for loose beads that we took home to make bracelets for ourselves. We were already “recycling” before it was fashionable.

Loose beads are easier to find (and pick up) when you’re smaller and closer to the ground!

This past week, my aunt and I spent a little time sprucing up my grandparents and great-grandparents’ graves. I reflected that, after more than twenty years, grandma’s wreath still looked pretty good. I found myself meandering in the alleys and looking down in the vicinity of old wreaths, hoping to spot mes petites perles. I came home with a small handful of beads and a big smile on my face.

Grandma’s wreath

Vocabulary
Le chrysanthème: chrysanthemum
La Toussaint: All Saints Day
La chasse au trésor: treasure hunt
Le cimetière: cemetery
Le caveau: burial vault
La couronne: wreath; crown
La perle: pearl; bead
En province: out in the country, outside of Paris
La dentelle: lace

QUINCE RATAFIA

It’s good to be back home after an exciting 10-day trip to Northern Italy (there may be some future blog posts about that…) I’m sitting in a comfy Adirondack chair under my new porch, observing the changing colors of our woods, and sipping a small glass of the quince liqueur I made last year.

I never saw quince sold at my California markets. I think it was almost forgotten in the US until some fifteen years ago when it became fashionable to serve membrillo with Manchego, the Spanish cheese made of ewe milk. The French have their pâte de coing but we mostly serve it as a confection, like other pâtes de fruits. The most common quince product available at supermarkets here is gelée de coing: it’s a superb jelly to top a buttery croissant or to spread over neatly arranged slices of apples on a classic tarte aux pommes.

Maguy’s quince tree

My aunt Maguy planted several fruit trees when she retired at the farm some thirty years ago. We’re now neighbors and I’m always in awe of her fruit harvest. Her cognacier is particularly prolific and produces huge fruits like the one featured on my opening photo: that monster weighed close to 2 lbs! Quince is too astringent to eat raw; it’s also quite hard. Quartering, coring, and slicing quince to make jam or paste requires dedication, a large sharp knife, and a steady hand: my uncle even designed a “quince-cutting” apparatus that bears an uncanny resemblance to a massicot or a small guillotine…

Maguy’s 2018 harvest was huge and she gave me several quinces to play with. I didn’t feel ambitious enough to make jelly but I remembered how all the local farmers always served some kind of home-made liqueur that they called “ratafia.” There never seemed to be a specific recipe and different kinds of fruits could be used; more often than not, it just involves mixing fruits with sugar and alcohol. Perhaps I could make some quince ratafia? Searching the web, I ran across several references to Jane Grigson recipe from her 1971 book Good Things and made just a few adjustments. I liked the idea of simply grating the whole quince instead of peeling, cutting, and coring the tough fruit: I was pretty confident that my Microplane grater could handle the job. However, I stopped short of including the core itself: I thought I could eventually use the steeped quince shreds in a dessert (check the end of the recipe for an idea.) Quince is ready to harvest in October-November: if you’re lucky to spot them at your farmers’ market, pick up a few and make some ratafia: it will be ready for Christmas.

My jars of quince ratafia

Ratafia de Coing
Quince Ratafia

2 large quinces
1 cup granulated sugar
1” knob of ginger, peeled and sliced
1 star anise
Vodka

Thoroughly wash and rub the quinces under warm water to eliminate any fuzz on their skin. With a sharp cheese grater, shred the flesh of the fruits; discard the cores. Pack the shreds in a sterilized 1 quart Mason jar, add sugar, ginger, and star anise. Fill the jar with vodka. Seal the jar and store it in a cool dry place for 6 weeks, shaking occasionally. Taste the liquor after 6 weeks for sweetness; add sugar (or simple syrup) if necessary. To bottle the liqueur, use a fennel lined with a coffee filter.

After discarding the ginger rounds and star anise, transfer the quince shreds in a saucepan, add ½ cup of sugar, and simmer for 15 minutes. Set aside and let cool. Use the quince compote to line up a pie pastry and top with apple slices for a tasty quince-apple tart.

Note: if you’re not a fan of star anise, you can substitute a small stick of cinnamon or a vanilla bean.

Quince and apple tart

Vocabulary
La pâte de coing: quince paste
La pâte de fruits: fruit paste
La gelée de coing: quince jelly
La tarte aux pommes: apple tart
Le cognacier: quince tree
Le massicot: paper cutter

A STROLL IN THE LUXEMBOURG GARDENS

During my short stay in Paris last week, I popped into the Luxembourg gardens for a couple of hours. I always seem to return to that location as it conjures up so many great memories of my student days. It’s arguably the favorite park of Parisians and visitors. It’s easy to understand why: a stately 17th-century palace, the spectacular Medicis fountain, serene gardens in the French and English styles, a large pond usually dotted with remote-controlled toy sailboats, and plenty of green metal chairs that invite long reading sessions in the sun or in the shade. Marionnettes, donkey rides, and pétanque courts are a bonus.

The Luxembourg palace is where the French Senate sits

The metal fences that surround the gardens and the palace are often used to display photographic exhibits; the gardens regularly serve as the setting for art installations. For me, the gardens themselves are always the show, no matter the season. On that warm and sunny September day, they were glorious. One often hears a picture is worth a thousand words: I’ll let my photos do the talking.

Mosaïc-like patterns

Medicis fountain

No boats today

Garden chairs: until 1974, you had to pay to sit…

Explosion of colors

Saint-Sulpice towers in the background

Quiet time

Parting shot. Fabulous dahlias.

I hope you enjoyed the stroll. Make sure to include the Luxembourg gardens every time you visit Paris!

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

STONE AND PAINT

Farmhouse renovation, episode 4

Restoring a very old house is not for the faint of heart. It is always more expensive than building a new one from scratch; you must feel a deep emotional connection to the existing structure for the endeavor to make any sense. During the previous stages of our renovation project, a lot of imagination was required to reassure ourselves that we were not complètement fous. Now that the structural work was finished, each new task was bringing us closer to actually visualizing the dream…

Oak porch was stained

Stained beams in the living room

Our tile setter was still making himself scarce when we returned from California mid-April but Philippe and his crew of painters were very responsive. First, they stained the oak porch and the beams in the living room.

Painted walls and ceiling joists upstairs

My painted office, with a plunging view onto the cistern (Rick will eventually build a platform and staircase)

Then, we asked them to paint the walls upstairs: Rick would meticulously install the laminate flooring afterward. We also decided to paint the bedroom ceiling joists white: although we were able to save the original roof, the wood was not interesting enough to simply be sanded and stained. It is quite amazing how much difference a couple of coats of paint can make!

Laminate flooring installation

Joël finally showed up to install the stone flooring. We had selected some travertine from Turkey and it would cover all floors downstairs: in the cuisine, salon, chambre, and salle de bain.

Lily was very excited when Joël’s truck arrive with our crates of stone. So were we!

Travertine installation

Travertine with grout

It’s starting to look pretty sharp!

Raymond and his electricians spent a few days threading wires through tubes in the attic, under the floors, and through the walls. They installed switches, outlets, and light bulbs; set up a spanking new electrical panel under the (future) staircase; and made sensible recommendations regarding internet and TV service options. Rick always insists on having plugs everywhere: with strings of wires sticking out of every outlet, it looked like an army of colorful spiders were crawling up the walls.

Hopefully, someone knows what he is doing

But the most noticeable transformation occurred when the new stucco was applied on the outside walls. Until then, the house had been a jumble of ochre stone, red brick, grey concrete, and old grey-blueish crépi: in three days, the walls were sporting matching color and texture.

Scaffolding on the back side of the house, pre-stucco

Back side, post stucco and dirt removal

Porch with stucco

Next, it was time to get the kitchen installed so I would have a new playroom!

Kitchen installation

Ta-da!

The masons came back for some major digging. Rural areas are rarely serviced by city sewer systems and we needed to set up a large septic tank and a drain field. They had to use heavy equipment to drill through the rock.

Drillin’ n diggin’

We want drainage!

They tried to be as gentle as possible with our linden tree. Although a good chunk of its root system was removed, the tree survived the trauma and is doing well.

Phillipe and Bertrand brought the new staircase. It was engineered, built, assembled, and disassembled in their workshop. Now, they would set it up on-site and make the necessary adjustments: although it was custom-made, it still took a bit of time to have it fit between wavy walls that do not intersect at a 90º angle! I guess builders in 1850 trusted their eyesight more than plumb lines and T-squares.

Staircase components

More staircase components

The staircase

Joël’s team returned around the middle of June to tile the bathrooms. We opted to use the same travertine on the walls and the Italian shower stalls.

Shower stall and walls with travertine

Finished bathroom

Gilles the plumber could then install the bathroom fixtures, the boiler, the fuel tanks, and the radiators. He connected all the lines and filled the network of under-the-floor tubing so that we would be set to heat the house this winter. We are using the old cistern to house the equipment and it looks like the engine room of a small ship. We officially moved in on July 3rd, one year to the day of our departure from California!

La salle des machines, a.k.a. the engine room in the old cistern

The house was shutterless for a month and a half. Shutters are omnipresent in France as they provide safety and privacy. They also block early morning sunlight and offer superior protection against high (and low) temperatures. Although we certainly could have used them during the July heatwave, the house stayed remarkably comfortable thanks to our original thick stone walls and the well-insulated brick additions. Jean-Luc brought shutters and hardware at the end of July and Philippe removed them two days later to paint them in his workshop.

Shutters and hardware

He installed them back mid-August and also stained the escalier. Other tasks will have to wait for la rentrée when our subs come back from vacation. The roofer needs to install our downspouts. We hope to see Joël again so he can cover the porch area with travertine. And maybe, just maybe, EDF will bring the correct electrical meter: third time might be the charm…

The way it looks today. One year after the demolition started…

Meanwhile, we keep digging in our still-packed-to-the-gills garage to grab furniture and “stuff” we can use in the new house. Hey, it took only three days to reach mattresses and box springs! Lily quickly made herself at home and loves her new kennel location: under the staircase, like a real den.

I’m claiming this chair. Is that OK?

The interior is taking shape nicely with a blend of old and new, light and dark, French and American. Our Lapin Agile painting supervises my work in the kitchen. I’m slowly getting used to my induction cooktop. I still curse at my small oven (by American standards) especially when I want to bake cookies or prepare bruschettas for a dozen guests. There is no way on Earth that I’ll ever roast an American-size turkey in this “toy” but maybe it’s a good thing: after all, we’re in France. And we’re home.

A touch of Americana on a French porch

Relive the complete saga:

This Old House
Demolition
Walls and Roof
Doors and Floors

Vocabulary
Complètement: completely
Fou: crazy
La cuisine: kitchen
Le salon: living room
La chambre: bedroom
La salle de bain: bathroom
Le crépi: stucco
L’escalier (m): staircase
La rentrée: back-to-school (or back-to-work for non-students)

FAUBOURG SAINT-ANTOINE

Playing my Map Game before a trip to Paris, I was thrilled to draw L7. Faubourg Saint-Antoine is an area I first explored 37 years ago, during Rick’s first trip to France. Since he worked in the furniture industry, I thought it would be fun and interesting to stroll through the Paris neighborhood historically associated with menuisiers and ébénistes.

Passage du Chantier, the last vestige of the flourishing wood and furniture trade.

Chairs in various stages of construction, or renovation…

Private courtyard in passage du Chantier

For several centuries workers in this area outside the walls of Paris were exempt from taxes. Additionally, the proximity of the Seine meant that craftsmen had access to the wood supply coming into the capital. Already striving during the Middle Ages, Faubourg Saint-Antoine experienced its golden age during the XVII and XVIII centuries: its reputation in arts décoratifs was so well established that woodworkers, cabinet makers, upholsterers, and other artisans flocked from Holland and Germany to set up shop here.

Cour du Bel Air

Carriage entrance from rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine to cour des Bourguignons

Cour des Bourguignons. Charles-Auguste Hollande, a wood trader, had the two wings built between 1862 and 1866. They were rented to Maison Krieger and then to Henri Racault; both were furniture manufacturers who employed hundreds of artisans and wood workers.

The iron and glass structure was added in 1868, along with the 105’ brick chimney that topped a steam engine.

On both sides of rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine, between Bastille and hôpital Saint-Antoine, craftsmen opened up courtyards and passages: ateliers occupied the first floor while the upper levels were used for housing. More than 200 workshops were registered in the XVII century, all involved in wood and complementary activities such as varnishing, ironwork, textiles, ceramics, porcelain, marble, wallpaper, etc. Courtyards were like mini “villages” that composed a high-density community of people with related interests.

Floral shop at the corner of avenue Ledru-Rollin. Love the name.

Square Trousseau just off the busy street. Haussmannian buildings on the other three sides. Classic music kiosk and playground for children. A locals’ favorite.

Blé Sucré, a well-known boulangerie-pâtisserie across from square Trousseau. Perhaps the best croissants in Paris…

Like most areas in the city, this quartier has gone through substantial transformations since my first visit in the early 80s. Lifestyle changes (hello, Ikea) and the availability of inexpensive furniture from Asia ushered the decline of artisanal activities that had flourished since medieval times.

Passage Saint-Bernard. Co-working and IT consulting have replaced the traditional activities. Nice mur végétal and an inviting rooftop terrace.

The mosaic rhinoceros on passage Raush. Just a few years ago, there were seven other wild animals on the arcades of this building. I guess they all managed to escape their cages!

East Mamma trattoria at passage de la Main d’Or. If Mamma is around, hipsters can’t be too far away…

Cour de l’Ours

Ebénisterie Straure in cour de l’Ours. The santon of a woodworker sits in the window of the atelier.

Staircases open to the courtyards and lead to the upper (residential) levels

Some staircases have not been “gentrified” yet…

Thankfully, urban planners had the good idea to protect the courtyards and buildings of the area. Some have been lovingly renovated and still house a few furniture makers and restorers. Designers, architects, galleries, home decor shops round up the offering. So far, the gentrification efforts are progressing at a much slower pace than in the neighboring Marais or the area south of Pigalle. I feel le faubourg du meuble has not lost its soul and, at least for now, manages to retain some of its original population.

Cour des Trois Frères

Cour des Shadoks (their creator Jacques Rouxel lived here)

Two Shadoks! These cartoon birds appeared on French TV in 1968. They were absurdly stupid and I loved them.

This could be your lunch break area if you worked in the cour des Shadoks

Rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine straddles the 11th and 12th arrondissements (odd numbers on the 11th side, even on the 12th.) There is no significant monument or museum, which means the street is virtually free of tourists. That’s a good thing. If you like to stroll without an agenda, this is the perfect place to explore. You hardly need a map: start from Bastille and walk into every passage, courtyard, and porte cochère that’s open on the even side. When you reach rue de Citeaux, cross the street and repeat on the other side. Make sure to check the section of rue de Charonne up to avenue Ledru-Rollin: lots of gems there, too!

Passage Lhomme, off rue de Charonne

Passage Lhomme

Passage Lhomme. As you explore the neighborhood, you’ll see a lot of signage that evoke its original activities.

Cour Jacques Viguès; a little more “monumental” than most.

Cour Jacques Viguès

Floral shop tucked in a courtyard

Cour du Panier Fleuri. Where the floral shop should be…

Cour Damoye, a peaceful retreat just one block from place de la Bastille.

Perhaps you’ll find your ideal chair in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. This one is still “in progress…”

Vocabulary
Le menuisier: woodworker
L’ébéniste (m): cabinet maker
L’atelier (m): workshop
Le quartier: neighborhood
Le faubourg du meuble: furniture district
La porte cochère: carriage entrance

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

RANDY'S FRUIT COBBLER

Over my thirty-six years in California, my cookbook collection grew at an exponential rate. Not only did I purchase my own books, but I was also the recipient for hundreds of livres about French cooking that publishers sent me hoping I would select them for the Joie de Vivre catalog. When I moved back to France a year ago, I had to cull out the “special” ones from my library. If I had listened to Marie Kondo and only packed the books that sparked joy, I would have kept 90% of my collection. It was agonizing to decide who would get the ax.

A well-used recipe

I also had a binder of loose recipes clipped from magazines, recopied from newspapers, or collected from friends and family: Michelle’s chocolate mayonnaise cake, Justin’s zesty chili, Debbie’s carrot cake, Randy’s fruit cobbler are some examples. They have yet to emerge from the bowels of the garage, buried among the 356 cartons that we are gradually unpacking. Luckily, Randy prepared his famous cobbler when we visited in March and I took a photo of his recipe.

Apricot and nectarine cobbler

Actually, it’s Grandma Lang’s recipe. It recalls a time when people cooked from scratch (and from memory), perhaps jotted down a few instructions on index cards, and usually favored margarine over butter because it was cheaper and more available. I never got to meet Grandma Lang so, to me, this cobbler represents my brother-in-law’s signature dessert.

Strawberry and rhubarb: always a winning combination.

I don’t believe there is a French traduction for that word. Unlike other American foodstuff like hamburgers, tacos, milkshakes, brownies, or chocolate cookies, the cobbler has yet to make it to this side of the Atlantic. Compared to the regimented arrangement of fruits on French tarts and cakes, cobbler looks a bit free-formed and sloppy. Clafoutis could almost pass for a cobbler’s cousin but the batter is decidedly different. At any rate, I love the unique texture of cobbler and its versatility: just like Randy, I use whatever fruits are in season and vary the flavoring agents accordingly.

Simmering peaches and blackcurrant

Here are some of the combinations I like:
Apple, raisins, cinnamon, Calvados (or rum)
Strawberry, rhubarb, orange blossom water (or orange zest)
Apricot, sliced almonds, almond extract
Pear, cranberries, walnuts, Bourbon
Mixed red fruits, lemon zest, vanilla
Peach, blackcurrant, crème de cassis

All set to go into the oven

Pèche et cassis is my favorite. Blackcurrant is in season right now and good peaches are appearing on the market stalls. I never saw blackcurrants while I was in California: perhaps they are available in the East or Midwest? You could substitute blueberries for blackcurrant if necessary. Just remember to always choose fruits that are ripe but firm. And use butter, not margarine: tout est meilleur avec du beurre…

Le cobbler à la pèche et au cassis

Randy’s fruit cobbler
Le “cobbler” de Randy

For the fruit filling:
4 cups of fruit
½ cup sugar
1 Tbsp flour
Flavoring of your choice

 For the batter:
4 Tbsp butter (1/2 stick)
1 cup sugar
1 cup flour
1 tsp baking powder
2/3 cup milk

Preheat oven to 375º. Mix together all ingredients for the fruit filling in a saucepan and bring to a simmer so that everything melts together. Place butter in an 8” x 8” Pyrex dish and melt in the microwave. Mix dry ingredients for the batter; gradually add the milk until well blended. Pour batter over melted butter and top with the hot fruit mixture. Bake 25-30 minutes.

Vocabulary
Le livre: book
La traduction: translation
La crème de cassis: blackcurrant liqueur; also used to make Kir when mixed with white wine
La pèche: peach
Le cassis: blackcurrant
Tout est meilleur avec du beurre: everything tastes better with butter

THE "OTHER" TOWER

As a student in the late 70s, I took classes on rue de Rennes. Getting off at the St Placide métro station every morning, I could see the tall black stick looming a hundred yards away. The other tower in the Parisian skyline. The one we love to hate. The eyesore. Looking back, it is indeed puzzling how la Tour Montparnasse managed to satisfy the powers-that-be since it never seemed to fit in with the traditional architecture that Malraux set up to preserve. But de Gaulle wanted it, Pompidou had it built and it was inaugurated in 1973. The skyscraper remains the most decried monument in Paris. In fact, it was even elected “second ugliest building in the world” in 2008 by online readers of VirtualTourist.com.

Tour Montparnasse viewed from boulevard du Montparnasse

In spite (or because?) of my close proximity to Montparnasse during my student days, I was never inclined to visit the tower: my interest gravitated toward the local crêperies… I changed my mind just last month: saddled with a sudden hip inflammation that had me hobble to the pharmacy and purchase a cane as soon as I landed, I had to shuffle my plans and select activities that would minimize my walking and climbing les escaliers. Taking a speedy elevator to the top of the Tour sounded like a perfect alternative: I would get a bird’s eye view of the city instead of my usual streetside perspective.

Rooftops from the 56th floor. La Rotonde restaurant (red awning) at top left.

My expectations were quite lower than the tower itself (210 meters.) After spending a couple of hours at the 56th-floor observatory and the 59th-floor terrace, I kept wondering why I waited more than forty years to see that view. Let me tell you: it might just be the best view of Paris. Sure, the Eiffel Tower is about 100-meter taller but it is quite off-center and the crowds are maddening. Notre-Dame towers are perfectly located –it doesn’t get more central than that– but they don’t offer as wide a range and, sadly, it will be years before they reopen. The Arc de Triomphe just doesn’t cut it, although it is a lot of fun to observe the crazy traffic below.

Jardins de l’Atlantique above Gare Montparnasse.

The great thing about a 200-meter elevation is that roofs and walls of the buildings are in plain view: the monuments are easily discernable. If you don’t know Paris, it’s a great introduction to the layout of the city. If you are a habitual visitor, you will love recognizing familiar neighborhoods and following streets with your finger.

Montparnasse cemetery with its windmill to the right

Both the observatory and the terrace are set up with maps and virtual reality kiosks to help you identify all landmarks. Except one; more on that later. There is a café, a restaurant, and a boutique on the 56th floor; should you feel in a festive mood, grab a glass of Champagne on the terrace.

What a view! From left to right: métro aérien, bois de Boulogne, Ecole Militaire, Champs de Mars, Eiffel Tower, Palais de Chaillot, La Defense.

Given that Tour Montparnasse is located where the 6th, 14th, and 15th arrondissements intersect, most landmarks are located to the West, North, and East of the tower. A lot of tourists choose to visit early evening to watch the sunset but I would advise to go around lunchtime: I was there from 11 am to 1 pm and attendance noticeably dropped at noon. Groups simply vanished. At that time of the day, sunlight will hit all the places you are really curious about. If you can, avoid Wednesdays and Saturdays when you are more likely to share the space with groups of school children.

Palais des Congrès, Arc de Triomphe, les Invalides.

The panorama is breathtaking. With the help of orientation maps, looking from West to East, you can expect to clearly see the following: métro aérien (line 6,) bois de Boulogne, UNESCO, Ecole Militaire, Tour Eiffel, Palais de Chaillot, La Défense skyscrapers, Palais de Tokyo, Palais des Congrès, Arc de Triomphe, les Invalides, musée Rodin, pont Alexandre III, Grand and Petit Palais, Champs-Elysées, place de la Concorde, la Madeleine, Jardins des Tuileries, musée d’Orsay, place Vendôme, Opéra Garnier, Sacré-coeur, le Louvre, Institut de France, St Germain des Prés, St Germain l’Auxerrois, St Eustache, St Sulpice, tour St Jacques, centre Pompidou, Sainte Chapelle, Hôtel de Ville, Notre-Dame, palais and jardins du Luxembourg, Panthéon, tour Jussieu, jardin des Plantes, gare d’Austerlitz, Val de Grâce, Bibliothèque F. Mitterand, Port Royal, Observatoire, cimetière de Montparnasse, parc Montsouris. Oh my!

Les Invalides, musée Rodin, pont Alexandre III, Grand Palais, Petit Palais, and an unidentified building that looks like three gift boxes stocked on top of each other (top right hand corner.)

Place de la Concorde, La Madeleine, rue de Rivoli, Tuileries, Montmartre, le Louvre.

Jardin des Tuileries, Montmartre, Le Louvre, L’Institut, St Germain des Prés, St Eustache, St Sulpice.

Rue de Rennes, St Sulpice, Centre Pompidou, Tour St Jacques, Ste Chapelle, Hôtel de Ville, Notre-Dame, Palais du Luxembourg.

On a very clear day, you might even spot a plane taking off from Orly airport! Looking down toward the base of the tower, you’ll have a great view of the jardins de l’Atlantique that sit on top of gare Montparnasse and of the train tracks leading to Brittany.

Notre-Dame, Luxembourg gardens, la Sorbonne, Le Panthéon, tour Jussieu.

Looking East: Val de Grâce, boulevard de Port Royal, bibliothèque F. Mitterrand (“open book” buildings), the apartment buildings around place d’Italie.

And the “unidentified” building that looks like three gift boxes stacked on top of each other? It’s the new palais de Justice near porte de Clichy: the original location on the Ile de la Cité had become too small. I saw it up close the following day while driving on the boulevard périphérique. This new court building opened in April 2018 and the architect was Renzo Piano who also designed the centre Pompidou. At 160 meters in height, it is now the second tallest building in Paris after Tour Montparnasse. The western façade is sliced by a panoramic elevator that should offer lovely views of Montmartre but the general public can only visit the first four floors. It appears that Tour Montparnasse will remain the “other” tower with a view for a while longer…

The new Palais de justice near porte de Clichy

If you want to visit Tour Montparnasse, book your ticket online in advance. You need not specify a day or time and your ticket is good for one year. If the weather does not cooperate, it gives you the flexibility to pick a clear day.

Tour Montparnasse is scheduled to get a substantial “facelift” just in time (you guessed it) for the Olympic Games of 2024. See what the architects have in mind.

And here are more photos of the new palais de Justice.

Vocabulary
La crêperie: a restaurant that serves crêpes (sweet) and galettes (savory)
L’escalier: staircase; stairs
Le métro aérien: section of the Paris métro that runs above ground
Le boulevard périphérique: the ringroad around Paris proper