Temps de la Toussaint

Well, the Mistral wind did rear its ugly head yesterday, rather sneakily too, I might add, slowly building to a crescendo that was positively Wagnerian. But, alas, this is France, so we can’t go without bread, no matter the weather. In Soulier, my permanently rosy-cheeked friend behind the counter explained simply “C’est le temps de la Toussaint”–the weather that traditionally arrives with the All-Saints Day holiday. With a shrug she added “it’s just a little early this year. Be careful going home.”

Warning well-heeded. With the garbagemen still on strike, there was even a greater number of UFOs to worry about than usual and at 110 kilometers per hour–we drive that fast!–the Mistral can rip off loose roof tiles and whip them through the air like playing cards. Even once, safely inside, I was hounded by the howl of the wind whiplashing the garden and shaking up the chimney. Maybe all of those souls for Toussaint were visiting a bit early too.

Only one thing to do in such circumstances, eat a meal to knock the life back into you. So here is the Mistral Menu that we served yesterday evening:
For the apero, toasts with tatziki dusted with paprika and red pesto dotted with balsamic reduction.
My soup–this time with butternut squash, sweet potato, apples, ginger and mystery spices.
My honey’s Made In A Rainstorm Duck Confit served with garlic potatoes and chanterelle mushrooms.
A barely touched cheese plate with fig jam.
Our friend Patrick’s compote made with apples from his brothers garden in Alsace.
All of this washed down with a 2008 Crozes-Hermitage and an insane Gaston de Casteljac cognac.

We had to huddle in a pack to walk our friends back to their hotel but there is nothing like an evening spent in fine company to take the mystery out of the Mistral.