Summer visitors

Having people to stay. Laughs, lunch, laundry, my seaside landlady life, plus a recipe for Moroccan meatballs.

Kefta mkaoura, Moroccan meatballs with poached eggs.

When you move to the South of France, one thing you can expect, along with three hundred days of sunshine a year and a life gently scented with pastis and peaches, are murmurations of visitors migrating south, not just for the winter but all year round, a weekend, a week, two weeks, more… Since we moved here eighteen months ago, we’ve welcomed thirty-four friends, some of them more than once. I’m convinced the car could do the Béziers airport run on its own.

By now, I have the fridge-stocking shopping list committed to memory: charcuterie, cheeses, pâté, cornichons, tapenade, crisps, olives, bread, salad, wine, all the makings of quick lunches and pre-dinner snacks.  We have a rough itinerary of delights. It includes the Tuesday market here, the Friday morning flower market in Beziers followed by lunch at PicaPica, Pézenas market on Saturday mornings with coffee at the Café des Arts, the Sunday brocante at the Parc du Peyrou in Montpellier, visits to La Cabane, Tarbouriech, Les Demoiselles Dupuy and Coqui Thau for mussels and oysters, cocktails in the courtyard at Noilly Prat, louche evenings of bone marrow and local wine at the Delicatessen restaurant, coffee and or rosé at the Marine Bar (the rosé’s cheaper than the coffee, if you’re on a budget), walking the dogs along the port, ice cream sundaes at La Glacerie, and visits to the archaeology museum in Cap d’Agde. Do I get my blue badge yet?

Laughs, lunch, laundry.

On the terrace at Tarbouriech.

Summer comes to the port.

There is a special gift all visitors bring, and it’s not jars of marmalade, tea, shortbread or Marigold washing up gloves. I was thinking about this today, as we get ready to welcome two of our oldest and most beloved friends, Shona and Louise, on Thursday. I was thinking I should warn them that we’re a work in progress, the house isn’t perfect, there’s still so much to do. It’s easy to forget when you’re juggling builders and bureaucracy, dust, language lessons, endless project lists and budgets, how lucky we are, to live in this house and place of dreams. Visitors make me see it all with fresh eyes. The gift they bring is the chance to walk through the front door for the first time again, to take in the tiles and the mouldings, the painted glass and the pink marble stairs, to fall a little more in love.

In my new life as a seaside landlady, I am very keen on the kind of forgiving recipes that allow for late flights, more time in the market than you planned, a few more drinks before dinner, unexpectedly long naps, an extra walk on the beach. Today’s recipe for kefta mkaoura, Moroccan meatballs with poached eggs, is just such a gentle friend. You can make it ahead – in fact, I think it’s better made the day before, then all you have to do is poach the eggs in the sauce at the last minute. It’s easy, forgiving, doesn’t make a fuss, and it’s there when you need it. Just like all the best old friends.

The first time I walked into this house, the moment everything changed.

Kefta mkaoura

Meatball tagine with poached eggs

We often buy these meatballs with poached eggs on market day, from the La Déguste Chez Nahid stall in the halles. They make an easy and delicious lunch. For a few weeks, the ladies weren’t there and I had a craving for it so made it myself. I buy a couple of their msemen, the square Moroccan  flatbreads, but you can serve it with baguette, flatbreads, even pita. You just need some sort of bread to dip into the eggs and for scooping up the delicious sauce.