Yes, I am a liiiitle bit behind in my posting but it seems like I am not the only one who is taking her sweet time dipping into 2012. And yet I certainly have nothing to complain about as the year started with a bang. Well, the pop of a champagne cork to be more precise. We were invited out to lunch with our friends in the country for the day of the 1st. Thank goodness our friends are so generous with us and that we are now smart enough to just say, “Why thank you, we’d be delighted.”
We clinked our coupes outside, each turning to let the sun give its first bisou de l’année on our cheeks. Talk about an air kiss! How could you not be conscious of having good fortune under such circumstances? We almost, almost could have had lunch on the patio.
Ah, but not quite and some things deserve one’s full attention. Oh yes, indeedy. Chef Remi had volunteered to bring the entrée and as we had been decidedly low-key on the cooking front throughout the holidays, I knew that the stops would be pulled out. And yet nothing could have prepared me for the insanely delicious and yet very simple dish that he whipped up. A lobster gratin with mushrooms and hearts of palm in a champagne cream sauce, each served in its own little bowl to keep it piping hot. I immediately declared it the best thing that I had eaten this year but of course, under the circumstances, that wasn’t saying much now was it?
How happy we all were. The Pic St. Loup was flowing as was the discussion of who, this week at least, was looking to be the likely winner of next years’ elections. Time taken to eat well and just enjoy that we had somehow made it to another year! As you can see, a certain furry creature was well-positioned to take full advantage of our open-hearts.
For the main course, we devoured a gigot d’agneau that had been roasted for several hours until it was falling off the bone. We all took seconds. If it had been physically possible, I would have taken thirds.
There is that moment after a French lunch, that turning point where either everyone decides to go for a walk in a desperate effort to digest or take the express train to Napville. As on this particular afternoon it seemed to be the latter, I took my little camera in hand and followed by my trusty pupper, let the light lead me around the garden by the nose.
Yes, I know. How many times am I going to publish photos of this view? As long as it continues to make me so happy, I suppose. But really? The curve of the pines, the glisten of the olive grove, the monstrosity of the Chateau des Baux in the background…only in Provence.
A tiny moon was rising as if the champagne cork had taken flight and had become trapped in the stratosphere. The greens started to glow golden, the rough reds relaxed into a softened clay. How lovely to have these moments alone, save for Ben sniffing furiously behind me, all while knowing that friends and my honey were so near.
It was my time. To look and listen, waiting for the whispers of where this new year will take me.
