Live like no one’s watching
Today, I contemplate the sorry state of our front gates and the French obsession with discretion, plus a very green market haul and a recipe for Puy lentils with roast beetroot and Roquefort.
Yesterday, there was a ring on the bell. I came downstairs, walked along the hallway, through the front door, down the steps and across the garden (no convenient Ring doorbell, about which more later), and on the other side of the heavy gate stood a very polite man in a gilet. This happens a lot, right down to the gilet. Neatly dressed men of a certain age appear, praise the work on the house so far, then - regretfully but emphatically – point out its remaining flaws as they hand me their business cards. Yesterday, Monsieur Gilet’s card read, ‘Spécialiste du décapage par aérogommage’, a specialist in stripping using air or soda blasting. He also does sablage and hydrogommage, sandblasting and waterblasting. In short, my gate’s a state. Not only the gate, but the railings too.
In the process of renovating this house, the best free French conversation lessons I’ve had have been conducted through these rusty railings while I’ve been gardening or scrubbing something too filthy to be brought into the house.
Even these small, sociable acts would have been impossible when we first moved in. Not only was the garden a thicket of impenetrable bamboo, but all along the railings the previous owner had tied a green plastic screen, further to shield the house from view. I got rid of the bamboo (more expensive attention) and got rid of the ugly screen. Let the chats begin.
I enjoy these conversations very much, and I think my co-conversationalists do too, though sometimes I detect the merest suspicion of, well, suspicion. While people seem to enjoy having a good old look at the house, unobstructed by thuggish bamboo and green plastic, such nakedness doesn’t seem very French.
When we first arrived, one of my English friends said the concealment of the house from view reflected the French obsession with privacy. It’s certainly a country of fences, screens, metal panels, high hedges (often poorly pruned, browning Leylandii).
…no doubt they’re eating dinner with their fingers, talking too loudly, drinking Australian wine and asking the cat how much she earns.
What are they hiding?
I always feel very flattered to be invited to a French friend’s house, rather than the more usual suggestion that we meet in a restaurant or bar. In our first year, we had some French friends over for lunch. As I was setting the table and doing last minute prep in the kitchen, my friend walked with me through the house, chatting, drinking wine. He said, only half-jokingly, ‘I’ve seen more of your house in the past few minutes than I might have seen of a French friend’s house in a decade’. Goodness knows how strong the attack of the vapours might be if confronted by that habit – more popular in America than in England, I think – of giving new friends a guided tour of the whole house before the ice even has a chance to melt in the apéritifs.
I read somewhere that because, essentially, French culture remains quite formal, people make a distinction between their public lives, where proper etiquette is required, and their private lives behind closed doors, where no doubt they’re eating dinner with their fingers, talking too loudly, drinking Australian wine and asking the cat how much she earns.
This love of privacy means that some of the things we associate with modern life, such as taking photographs of strangers in the street and posting them on social media, exploring our ancestry through one of those DNA services, and yes, using Ring doorbells, are either problematic here or even against the law. As far as smart doorbells are concerned, they can only record still pictures, no live video, and they must not face the street. As our doorbell is on the front gate not the front door, and so can only be angled directly onto the avenue de la Marine, I am destined to get lots of fresh air every time it rings. This is no bad thing. It does, however, mean I may never discover the identity of the kids who ring the bell and run away on the regular, especially on Sunday afternoons for some reason. If anyone knows the French for Knock Down Ginger, I would be very glad to learn it.
Puy lentil, beetroot and Roquefort salad
This is such an easy, substantial salad to make and it’s very adaptable. If you don’t like Roquefort, use feta, add some lardons if you like, use an apple instead of a pear if you can’t be bothered with the nonsense of pears and their ripeness. It’s also a good home for any leftover roast lamb, pork, beef or chicken. One way or another, I probably cook a batch of Puy lentils every week and dress them while they’re still warm in a sharp, mustardy vinaigrette. I add them to all kinds of salads or plonk a fried egg on top for a quick lunch.
Serves 4
200g dried Puy lentils, or other green lentils
Chicken or vegetable stock, or water
1 bay leaf
2 garlic cloves, unpeeled but bashed to break the skin
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
5 tbsp/75ml olive oil
1 shallot, about 30g, finely diced
A couple of handfuls of mâche/lamb’s lettuce, baby spinach or rocket
350g cooked beetroot, about 3 medium-sized beetroot – I buy this ready roasted and peeled, usually
I pear, cored and diced – you want it to be on the slightly firm side of ripe
50g pecans or walnuts, lightly toasted and roughly chopped (see TIP)
About 10-15g parsley leaves and fine stems, roughly chopped – a biggish handful
About 5g mint leaves, roughly chopped – a smallish handful
80g Roquefort, crumbled into large-ish pieces
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Rinse the lentils in a sieve under cold water. To cook the lentils, you can use water, though using stock will add a bit more flavour. You can use dilute home-made stock or a stock cube. Bring a pan of stock or water, with the bay leaf and garlic and some salt added, to the boil and add the lentils. Bring to a simmer and cook f0r 20 -25 minutes. Try a couple after 20 minutes – you want them to be cooked, but still with a bit of bite to them. If they’re still too hard, keep simmering them and try them every couple of minutes. Drain well and discard the bay leaf and garlic.
While the lentils are cooking, in a small bowl whisk the vinegar with the mustard and a pinch of salt then slowly whisk in the olive oil until you have a thick emulsion.
As soon as the lentils are drained, while they’re still warm, place them in a large bowl and toss with the shallot and all but about a tablespoon of the vinaigrette.
Toss the salad leaves with the remaining vinaigrette until well coated and use them to line a serving plate or four individual plates.
Toss the lentils with the beetroot, pear, pecans and herbs (keep some of the herbs back to scatter over the top to finish, if you like). Taste, season with salt and pepper and toss again. Arrange the lentil salad on the platter or divide it between the plates. Crumble the Roquefort over the top and serve.
TIP
How to toast nuts
Place them on a baking sheet and bake them at 180C/160C Fan/Gas 4 for about 7-8 minutes until fragrant and lightly coloured. Use a timer. You think you’ll remember but you probably won’t, until you wonder where that acrid-smelling smoke is coming from. These days, I usually do them in my air fryer for 4-5 minutes at 190C, without preheating it.
Market haul, 23 January 2024
This week’s market haul comprises: tangerines, leeks, pears, fennel, avocado, spinach, a yellow cauliflower, a big bag of mâche (lamb’s lettuce) for €1, 13 eggs, as is traditional, a wedge of Roquefort, garlic saucisson, coriander, chard, Puy lentils, salad onions (two bunches for the price of one), endive, frisée lettuce.
it's the idea of the French 'drinking Australian wine and asking the cat how much she earns' that got me - such a delicious image!
My mouth waters over all those luscious greens. Today I am making the Baked Cheese Cauliflower. Great recipes!