Vacation Playlist

We weren’t really prepared for the amount of time we spent in the rental car going from town to town.  I. had burned a couple discs and figured we’d pick up some blank CD-R’s in Europe–but blank CD-R’s were elusive in the small towns were we were most of the time.  As a result, we listened to these three albums over and over again, which in and of itself was an strange (occasionally tiring) experience (save for our time in Guethary–the house playlist there was CSN demos mostly, but Le Madrid had an amazing and very diverse rotation).  Here they are:

1.  Dirty Projectors Bitte Orca

All I really knew of Dirty Projectors was “Stillness is the Move.” I’d listened to the album a little, but had by no means gotten hooked.  After three weeks of constant listening, I LOVE this album.  It’s just totally insane.  Half the time it sounds like they’re making up the lyrics on the spot (Longstreth at least) but what they are playing and saying is so good I just don’t care.  Lines about living in the basement and washing the dishes?  Led Zeppelin references mixed with out of this world female diva sopranos?  It’s just too much fun.  Winding through the tiny country roads of the Luberon, this sounded like the perfect vacation record.

2.  Phoenix Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

OK, brace yourselves.  I’m about to make a seriously unpopular statement.  There are about three tracks on this album that are really fun, but the rest of it is completely unlistenable.  Actually, there was a bit of arguing in the car every time we got past the first couple of tracks.  I’d start making fun of the lyrics, “So sentimental, not sentimental no!”  And the title of this album?  Yeah, I get it, it’s “ironic.”  When is irony going to go out of style?  It’s so tired.  Yes, fun, but fleeting.  Nothing I can listen to for three weeks straight.

3.  Wilco Wilco (the album)

Again a potentially unpopular statement, I’m not the biggest Wilco fan.  I like them.  I think they make good music.  I’ve listened to their albums quite a bit, but they aren’t really “me.”  I’m not their audience.  But this most recent album is possibly my favorite ever.  There is a great stylistic range to the songs, which is essential to any album you plan on listening to everyday for three weeks.  While Bitte Orca was an instant favorite, and Phoenix’s “Lisztomania” goes down saccharine-sweet the first time, Wilco (the album) is more of a creeper.  I love the rock and the ballads.  And with a track featuring Feist I couldn’t resist.

Roussillon

Roussillon was my favorite neighboring town to Lourmarin when I was a child.  It was the most far-out place, and when you went there you inevitably got dirty.  Although I was pretty prissy as a child, the type of dirty you got in Roussillon was all right with me–it wasn’t muddy blasé brown, it was bright orange.  That was a kind of dirty I could get down with.

As if the bright orange and red cliffs aren’t enough, all of the buildings in Roussillon are built with the pigmented clay that surrounds the village.  The naturally occurring ochre in the hillsides was mined until the 1930’s.  Mining has since been banned in order to protect the site from destruction.

Being in Provence inspired an obsession with crumbling old walls with plants growing out of them.  Roussillon’s reddish ones are particularly high on my list because of the red/green contrast (these pictures are so much more vibrant in original–the upload to WordPress just ruins the color).

And my favorite door, from 1678.  Well, I’m not sure about the door, but the doorway is from 1678.

If you walk to the highest point in town you find a ceramic-topped circular map of the region, with Roussillon at its center.  You’ll find similar maps in many of the neighboring towns.

Right before you reach the map at the top of the hill you’ll find the 16th century church surrounded by lavender.

The exterior is fairly simple, but there is intricateness to be found inside.  One of my favorites is the altar.

Wheat and grapes have been the primary crops of Provence since the middle ages.

The baptismal font was added in the 17th century.

I love the intricate high relief on the ceiling.  Very dramatic.

After the church we walked back through town to the cemetary, which is quite beautiful.

I like calling this guy “Eqyptian Jacques.”

Bonnieux: Le Fornil

I know it’s a lot on Bonnieux, but I really think Bonnieux is worth it.

Le Fournil is one of the restaurants featured in Gilles Pudlowski’s guide to Provence and the Cote d’Azur.  This place is an absolute pleasure.  It fits in perfectly with the relaxed atmosphere and beauty of Bonnieux.  The food is refined yet unpretentious.  The service is friendly and on the lively side, which gives the place a bit of a younger vibe–totally welcome after a week at Mas de Guille (“Relais du Silence”) where we were the youngest people by twenty years.  And judging by the stares I got when I was taking pictures, this place is equally appreciated by tourist and locals alike, which lends credence to the chef’s work.

Le Fournil at 7:30pm

We’re early eaters at home, it’s no secret.  But I swear we were eating at 9 and later in Guethary!  But during that first week away in Provence, we were still adjusting.  Add to that the heat and our minimum of five miles of walking per day (assessed by pedometer no less) and we ended up really needing that first reservation of the night.  Plus it made for good pictures right?

Le Fournil’s menu

Fish paté amuse bouche

I’m a little bit of a wuss when it comes to something like fish paté (and I. even more so) but this was absolutely delectable.  I never expected such a texture to work–but Le Fournil made it so.

Petits farcis provençaux servis tíèdes

I have no translation for “petits…” but based on the little I know about Provençal cuisine, stuffed crudité appears to be somewhat of a tradition.  We had several incarnations of this dish at different restaurants and this was indubitably the best.  The stuffing is bread crumbs, herbs, and other fabulous Provencal things.  Sorry I can’t be more specific, but aren’t the colors great?

Bouquet de haricots vert et cocos frais, ris d’agneau poêlés vinaigrette d’herbes

If only this could be recreated.  I’m not sure what the cut of lamb was, but it was so tender.  Perfect with vegetables and some aged balsalmico.

Contrefilet de beouf poêlé, chutney de cerises, blettes au jus

The pièce de résistance: contrefilet.  Although my favorite steak of the trip was at Le Madrid (Cote de Beouf with Bearnaise) due to its total simplicity and melt-in-your-mouth qualities, this contrefilet is a very, very close second.  The cherry confit had the perfect balance of sweet and tart to the meat.  Every bite was a pleasure.

As we left everyone was still enjoying.

Lunch at Le Madrid, Guéthary

You might start to notice that I’m working backwards now, which is slightly awkward, but I’ll make do.  I’m finding it less awkward than starting from the day I stopped blogging and working forward.  I hope you’ll stick with me on this strange anti-chronological journey.

Le Madrid was the unofficial (official?) hang of our stay in Guéthary.  Our first two days in Guéthary it was closed for two days before officially opening for the summer season, but Le Madrid was all I heard about for those two days from our Parisian friends and hosts.  It was so inflated as a “spot” that it hardly occured to me that the food would be any good.  When I ate dinner there for the first time on the night of the 8th I was absolutely blown away (some of you might remember a tweet of mine about the Cote de Beouf melting in my mouth).  Those kind of dinners aren’t for stopping every few minutes to photograph.  We were among friends, telling love stories, and sharing wine and Cote de Beouf (with Bearnaise of course), and since the best parts of the ephemeral meal were only captured in memory, I pledged to return in a more alert state so that I might record some of my meal for ARL.

Of course, the real way to do Le Madrid is this: aperitifs at home (our aperitifs of choice on this trip were foie gras (forgive me), radishes, and wine).  Savor all this from approximately 7pm-9pm, then make your way to Le Madrid for the real meal.  Oh, and having Manzana Verde post-Cote is the digestif de riguer.  The few images I have from Le Madrid at night:

Customers entering Le Madrid behind lovely Martine at approximately 9pm

The view from outside Le Madrid at approximately 9pm

So, that said, on to lunch.

The view from the terrace

The menus

It is worth explaining that I. and I fell in love with the menus as pieces of art in and of themselves.  We loved the fonts, the illustrations, and the color.  When we mentioned this to our friends they explained that the menus are designed by Martine, one of the owners, who was a graphic designer before she was a restaurateur.

The lunch menu

The essential rosé

Looking back towards the restaurant from the terrace

My companion’s club sandwich (I had a bite–absolutely delectable)

Maigre a la Plancha, pate fraiche & herbes

The perfect lunch.  The oil for drizzling has parsley and tarragon, the cherry tomatoes are roasted, and the pasta has a crisp piece of bacon artfully arranged at an angle atop.  And, how is it that the French know how to salt meat so perfectly?  You can see the small crystals of sel de mer on the maigre here.  Delicious.

Now that we’re in Spain it seems impossible, but I am actually missing Le Madrid.  If you are in the area go, sit for a few hours.  People watch, imbibe, and go back a few times to sample a variety of what’s on the menu.  You won’t be disappointed.

If you are as in love with Le Madrid as I am, you can click here to see the dinner menu:

Martha’s Vineyard, Day Two

Sun came out today.  It was nice.  Went for a walk on the beach.

The fog was still so thick you couldn’t see 100 yards down the beach, even with the sun out at 4pm.  The tiny dot in the distance is the Gay Head lighthouse.

There were lots of starfish on the beach.  I threw a bunch back in the water.

We collected wampum.

It got overcast on the way back.  The cliffs above the beach are streaked with deep red clay.  Access is restricted to tribal members by federal law.

Martha’s Vineyard, Day One

69˚ and cloudy, but great clam chowder

the house

Since I’m a bit flu-ish and the weather is bad I didn’t make it more than about thirty yards from the house, but I discovered some interesting things nonetheless.

The visual effect of the vine along this trunk is beautiful, but the vine itself looks to be parasitic–I can’t imagine an oak tree being very happy to have vines wrapped around it, but maybe I’m wrong.

more vines

wild ferns

water lily on the pond

the view

Next Stop: Old Faithful

One of the several faithful geysers of our great country is in Calistoga, California.  It was my first geyser experience!  Very fun to watch, and frankly an amazing spectacle.  It truly engaged my sense of wonder around geology.  Can you believe that there is that much pressure just constantly ebbing and flowing beneath our feet?  Makes you feel a little insignificant–in a good way.  Plus they had fainting goats and llamas.  Not sure what the connection is.  

Threatening steam

and spouting!

Refreshment

A major perk of the visit was that the gift shop carried Vernors–my favorite ginger soda!!  Particularly exciting was finding it in the bottle.  A first. 

Palm Desert

the view

the walk-in fridge

walk in fridge: everything from Goji juice to Bud Light

Three types of Bloody Mary mix…jic

Nevada City Soothes

Once we were able to navigate the driveway, Nevada City became the soothing Victorian winter wonderland it is at heart.  The houses are adorable and very well-kept.  Red bows, garlands, lights, and wreaths abound, which makes it all feel a lot like Christmas.  

Rain came yesterday to wash the snow away, which was a blessing given the driveway situation, but I snapped some White Christmas pictures before it all melted:

I just love the even blanket of snow on the roof.

I’m not sure what kind of tree this is but the little red berries are divine.

This one is for sale and it’s right at the top of Broad Street that runs through the old-fashioned downtown commercial district.  Quel adorable!

Christmas Vacation!

Subtitle: Getting your car stuck on an icy driveway in a winter wonderland!

My family and I departed Rockridge at approximately noon in a “boys car” and a “girls car,” respectively, not purposely protracting heterosexist world views but doing so nonetheless.  It was a fairly uneventful drive to Nevada City, California, where we have rented a log cabin/lodge big enough to sleep ten, replete with hot tub, grand piano, a sign above the back door that says, “Friends are like pottery, you can never get enough.”  Now, I wasn’t aware that you can “never get enough” pottery, but…now I know.  (Thankfully the sign is very small and only over the back door off the den leading to the hot tub, AND the other strengths of our rental–foosball, a violin, and multiple wood-burning stoves—outweigh any textual elements that have been incorporated into the decor).

When we drove into Nevada City on highway 49 we were greeted by visions of a beautiful snow topped Victorians and evergreens.  It was breathtaking.

But, what really took my breath away was the two-foot high moguls that compose the 400-yard inclined driveway to the lodge.  We made it about 20 feet up before getting completely stuck.  

Fun!

Ironically, we had contacted the proprietors of the establishment earlier in the day to ensure that no such problems would occur.  Did we need chains?  Nooooooo!  Was the house accessible?  Yeeeeeees!  Did we get stuck?  Yeeeeeees!

It took about a half hour to locate a shovel while the light was quickly fading.  Our fearless leader saved the day: 

Unfortunately, the job took a little more than a shovel.  One hour, phone calls to every major national rental car company (we wanted to rent a 4WD vehicle.  None of the national car rental companies had ANY 4WD vehicles, not even at the Sacramento Airport, but Enterprise offered me an “all weather” vehicle, that they really wanted me to rent that “might” have 4WD, but was not listed as such), multiple phone calls to the proprietors, countless trips up and down the first 20 feet of driveway, and a trip to buy chains, we had the good fortune of making it up the hill to the lodge.

The proprietor came and salted the driveway, and made vague intimations of a “maintenance crew” coming by tomorrow.  

There was absolutely no food in the house.  We had reservations at the New Moon Cafe in town.  Very soothing.  We also had reservations about going down the driveway and needing to get back up, but our hunger got the best of us.

We had a fabulous dinner.  New Moon Cafe has a phenomenal wine list.  I ordered a great Anderson Valley cab for my dad since he’s a cab guy, and a nice Barbera for myself.  Everyone else was generous enough to go along with my wine selections.  I had an unbelievable sturgeon filet with a mustard seed crust and white wine buerre blanc.  Amazing.  But more on that later.  

We got to the driveway and I got butterflies in my stomach.  I wasn’t driving and I just had a bad feeling about our prospects for getting back up the hill.  We got that same 20 feet up the hill and got stuck.  The driver started to reverse to try again–but the rear window had fogged up, what with five people in the car–and the driver couldn’t see when he was reversing and ended up reversing part of the way down the embankment on the left side of the driveway so that the left rear wheel was sort of, you know, hanging off a tad.

Fun!

The elders jumped ship.  I. and Rimpletide and I spent about 45 minutes trying to get the left rear wheel back onto the driveway.  I stayed in the driver seat and let the boys be boys.  We tried all combinations of chains, twigs, and spare boards wedged under the wheels.  Pushing didn’t really do much since we were going uphill.  I suggested calling my roadside assistance, but the boys were sure that they could be mountain men and get us out of the embankment through sheer will and ingenuity.  So I went along with it until I was just too cold.

So at approximately 10PM I trudged up the driveway and called Geico Roadside Assistance (no cell reception up here).  Within 30 minutes a tow truck was at the base of our driveway.  K., a pleasant and burly fellow came to pull us out of our rut.  K. was wearing shorts and shoes with no socks in 38 degree weather.  K. was missing a few of his front teeth, and saw “no reason” why we were not able to make it up the driveway, and saw “no need” for chains on our tires.  

Within five minutes he had knelt down in the snow, attached our car to the pulley on the truck, and yanked us out of the embankment.  To prove how easy it is to drive up this particular snowy/icy/narrow mountain driveway, K. offered to drive up back up to the house, free of charge.  

Without much ado, we piled in.  K. reversed down to the based of the drive, and then sped up to 30 miles and hour as we blasted over the icy moguls known as our vacation rental driveway.  

K. is part of a towing establishment known as “Kilroy.”  When he announced the name proudly to us he said, “Kilroy, ever heard of that?”  We assured him we did in fact study WWII and that the $10/month I spend on Geico Roadside Assistance is probably the wisest investment I’ve ever made.  Seriously.  Major Geico plug.

Love you K.  Love you Kilroy.  Love you Geico.  

Happy Holidays from A Rockridge Life via Nevada City.