Home Sweet Home

I'm home. Finally. A little early, and not feeling so hot, but soon to be fixed. Tomorrow I go in to see a surgeon that will hopefully fix my tummy next week. I left France so suddenly that it's a little strange to suddenly be here, and not there and figuring out how to finish my finals from this side of the Atlantic. But so worth it, I can't describe how fabulous it is to be home: sleeping in a soft bed, a whole enormous kitchen to play in (thanks mom!), Oregon homeyness, familiar faces, my own culture. Not that I won't miss France, I will, I'll miss it a lot, but it'll never be home. Still it's hard to believe that I was gone for 10 months, that I did and saw so much and that's already over, or really, that I'm now graduating from college. I know it's impossible for such an experience to not change you, and I know it has. Still it's hard to put a finger on exactly which ways it influenced me, other than the obvious; such as I speak French pretty well now. But France has definitely made me:

— a drinker of coffee
— habitually late
— an appreciative owner of an American passport
— a wine snob
— bilingual
— a connoisseur of cheese
— a penny pincher (I'm so excited to not multiple prices by 1.5 anymore)
— seriously infected with the travel bug

And it's strange to come back and watch people eat burritos big enough to feed a small family, not worry about the bank closing at noon for several hours, my mascara costing $2 not €8=$12 (dear god), and remembering to say 'excuse me' and 'hello' in English. It will also be nice to not wake up at 6 in the morning and feel like I've overslept.





← Intestinal Obstruction.
← Why I'm home early.
← Really painful.
← Apparently caused by abnormal adhesions in my guts, which are putting kinks in my plumbing.
← Fixable!!!

France with Keith

My brother Keith came to visit me this for the last part of my Easter Break for a 12 days tour of France. We started with a two day drive down the Loire Valley, a stop in my city of Montpellier, a week in a tiny chalet in the French Alps, and two more days tasting every wine between the Jura and Paris. Keith's rental of a little Toyota allowed us to get off the beaten path, discover little local B&B's and wind down the back roads of France sampling Cheese and Wine galore. Certainly the best 12 days I've spend in Europe yet!

Keith and I being tourists in the Loire Valley.
The view out our kitchen window every morning while I was making breakfast.
Cheese!
Last night's B&B in Champagne. We sipped a delicious bottle of Champagne on the little porch attached to our room after dinner.

Café Paradiso

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A few weeks ago when I was in Books for Cooks, the amazing bookstore I found in London, I picked up a copy of a new book called Wild Garlic, Gooseberries ...and Me. It was full of short essays on specific foods, seasonality, sustainability, life, cooking and passing thoughts. The pages were mixed of beautiful pictures, and elegant recipes; I sat on the couch reading it for quite a while. Since it was £20, I sadly slipped it back on the shelf and made a note in my journal for a later Christmas List. Last Friday as I stood in The Winding Stair in Dublin I pulled a beautiful volume off the shelf called The Café Paradiso Cookbook. The color, the simplicity, the ingenuity, the absolute deliciousness of each recipe drew me in, and I thumbed to the front of the book to find an address for the café. 16 Lancaster Quay - Cork, Ireland. Perfect. But it wasn't until I was double checking the hours online this morning did I notice that the author of Wild Garlic, Gooseberries ...and Me, and the chef and writer of The Café Paradiso Cookbook, were one and the same. One Mr. Dennis Cotter to be exact.


Since The Café Paradiso is closed on Sunday and Monday I waited eagerly during my first two days in Cork to treat myself to lunch. Feeling a little silly, but unable to resist as the sun was warm and shinning, I wore the pink sun dress I bought on sale in Dublin. The café was small and cozy inside, and I felt at home. The food was appropriately slow from the kitchen, this was lunch made after I ordered... the vegetables were fresh and just so lightly cooked, warm and piled over two semolina cakes. And of course I had dessert, and it was breathtaking. I think, possibly the best dessert I've ever been served dining out. Long stems of rhubarb were poached and then laid, still warm, over a block of obviously homemade ice cream, so lightly flavored of orange blossom, poppy seed & saffron. I finished my late lunch with a generous pot of tea and lingered over my book, basking in the ambiance and secretly wishing this was my café peaking out over the River Lee.



Cork has been a wonderful stop on all fronts, not just gastronomically. It couldn't be more different than Dublin; it is small and quaint. Life has that slowness here you lose in the city, and I've spent three afternoons in a row sipping tea and lingering in the towns many bookshops. I even stopped in at the Cork Butter Museum. On Sunday when I arrived it was drizzling and since most of the shops were closed, I scurried from awning to awning exploring the little streets. In the morning the sun was making a valiant attempt to take back the weather and I hopped on a bus to Blarney Castle for the morning. I've been fascinated with the Blarney Castle since I was little kid, and it never fails to be a little awing to suddenly be seeing things I used to read and dream about when I was little and I certainly wasn't going to pass up my chance at the Gift of Gab. The castle itself and the grounds were incredible as well, Ireland definitely lives up to its reputation for beauty. It was basically a serene park on the outskirts of a little village just South of Cork. After kissing the Blarney Stone, I took the path through the woods and around the lake to enjoy the spring weather. I ate a delicious pic-nic of fresh Irish Soda Bread and Tuna Salad I'd picked up at Cork's famous English Market before catching the bus that morning.


This morning before blowing todays entire food allowance on Lunch I took the bus East along the River Lee to the harbor and the tiny town of Cobh (pronounced cove). I was perfectly content to wander up and down the streets poking my head into shops and enjoying the sun. Cobh sits on the second largest natural harbor in the world; it also happened to be the last stop of the ill-fated Titanic. Waiting for the bus I sipped tea in a homey little café looking out across the harbor, nibbling yet another scone. This is a life to which I could become accustomed.

Easter Break Begins: Ireland

Well, I didn't do such a great job with catching up on my blogging last week but I did somehow manage to cross things like my taxes, and finishing my research project for Dr. Giusti off the list. Phew. Exhausted as I was, I was ready to leave for Ireland on Friday, and kicked off the trip by missing my 5:47am train out of Montpellier, after three hours of sleep. Thankfully things have gone considerably smoother since, and I had settled into my hostel by early afternoon. A good find too, located right in the center of the historic Temple Bar District. I spent the better part of the afternoon exploring the city, including browsing the fabulous collection of cookbooks at The Winding Stair. Dublin is beautiful and vibrant; certainly high on my list of favorite cities. The cobblestone streets are crammed with used bookstores, tearooms, sandwich shops and alluring local eateries, bio stores, even little boutiques full of clothes I would actually wear.

Later I met up with the friend of a mutual friend who had agreed to meet me for tea and maybe show me around. Billy took me to a local tearoom to escape the rain where I snacked on Chai tea and a Scone while he took a late lunch. We hit it off well, discovering we had a lot in common and plenty to talk about. He walked me around to all his favorites nooks and crannies, cluing me in to a fabulous bookshop tucked down an alley, a covered market selling everything from vintage dresses to handmade fudge, a million cafe recommendations, and a whirl around a simply decadent health food grocery.

Blueberry Scones at the Market.
In the morning I walked around the corner to a tiny food market hiding in an alley, which Billy had recommended. I bought a traditional Lamb Pie, imported olives and some little purple broccoli sprouts that I stashed the hostel kitchen for lunch later in the day. I walked down the Liffey, munching a blueberry scone (they're different than in England, and I have to say, the Brits do it better...) while enjoying the lack of tourists. I window shopped my way to St. Steven's Green, feeling totally, and completely lazy. St. Steven's Green turned out to be one of the most beautiful parks I've visited yet, and it was bursting with Tulips, Hyacinths, and Pansies. Cherry trees were in full bloom and the paths wound along a gorgeous creek, crossed by little wooden brides; there was even a waterfall. I wished desperately it was warm enough to take off my shoes and coat and curl beneath a big oak to read in the sun. Instead I enjoyed my stroll, eying the rain clouds playing hide and seek with the sun. I finished the morning with a tour of the Trinity College and visit to the Book of Kells and the Long Room in the college library. The Book of Kells is considered perhaps the oldest book in the world; a Christian bible in remarkable condition given it dates back to the 7th century.

St. Steven's Green.
In the afternoon I met up with Billy again, who planned to accompany me to the Guinness Factory, but after a look at the line we decided to have tea instead. Later we splurged on a nice dinner at a trendy Dublin restaurant called, The Larder. Sadly my meal was ho hum, but the atmosphere and company were great, as was the slice of cake we shared for dessert, raspberry and amaretto torte; so I enjoyed the evening just the same. After dinner we managed to get on the list to a private party being thrown at a little cafe near my hostel where the girlfriend of Billy's cousin worked. I chatted with Billy's so Irish cousins while we sipped Mojitos, and watched an old Jack Lemon film projected onto the white wall of the building across the street.

A stall full of tasty looking breads at the Temple Bar Market.

England: A little closer to home

So I'm more than a little behind on posting about my recent adventures. I apologize. Blogging is on my long list of things to do this week, which also includes:

Doing my taxes
Copious E-mails
Catching up on school work, yet again
Closing my French bank account
Planning my 6 days in Ireland next week
Finding maps, and other important details for Keith's visit
Finishing Pt. II of my research project
Making sure for the 90th time I'm actually graduating in four weeks
Arranging an alternative final in my 20th Century Lit course


Ugh.

But trust me, it's worth it. In my whirlwind attempt of cramming as much as possible in before I head home, I spent last week in England with Ruth Van Dyke. It was a simply fabulous 8 days. The week before I left was equally busy, including a visit from my old friend Allison and her mom. I will try and finish posting about the rest of my adventures in Eastern Europe and Allion's visit later this week.

Ruth and family picked me up from the airport on Saturday morning on their way out to the second residence in the country: the Rose cottage. It was lovely to see some familiar faces and I melted happily into the bliss of country life in English. I felt so cliche in a fabulous way, and equally relaxed. It's a life I could love. We stopped on the way to the cottage at a local farm for veggies and fresh meat. After lunch and settling into the cottage, Ruth, Rosalie and I explored a nearby Manor House and old Church for a lazy afternoon running to and form stops and the car in brief patches of agreeable weather.

In the morning the sun had reappeared and after breakfast I took a stroll down the lane through the fields and hedges lined with new daffodils and lively creeks. I spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch with my book and cup of tea before we headed into London in time for a late dinner. But we didn't stay in London and before even the birds had dared to peep, we were headed back out into the country, this time to the West. On the way we stopped for we stopped for tea in the coziest Tea Room, and I ordered two enormous scones, one plain and one fruited, with jam and clotted cream to accompany my morning cup. This is exactly what I had been looking forward to trying the most, as you can't even find clotted cream in France. (Clotted cream is basically heavy whipping cream that has been heated, cooled and then left to sit for several days till it settles into a thick spreadable paste with a soft butter like consistency but a rich cream like flavor. It is traditionally eaten with scones, Real English Scones, in the Western parts of England.)

We spent the rest of the morning at Avesbury, a stone circle 500 years older than Stonehenge, much less visited, and rather quaint with a little English town plunked down practically on top of it. After a pic-nic we headed south to Stonehenge itself and shoving our way through crowds of American's on vacation and hoards of French school Children to see what Rosalie claimed was just a pile of rocks.
Instead of driving all the way back to London the same day, we stayed in the little hostel in Salisbury. We visited the famous cathedral there and had a delicious dinner in the town square. In the morning we stocked up on goodies for lunch at the local farmers market. I bought a wedge of Stilton to share, and yes, it was oh so smelly and good.

The next three days I spent exploring London during the day and cooked dinner and chatted with Ruth in the evenings. I wasn't feeling super motivated as a tourist and mostly just wandered around London, while stopping to eat lunch and read in the beautiful parks or window shop down Portabello Road. I did, however, visit Westminster Abbey, where I had to ask which one was Newton's tomb. It's the huge one with a statue in the middle... I snapped a few photos of Big Ben and the Buckingham Palace, took a tour of the reconstructed Globe theater, walked around the Tower of London and explored the Borough Market with Ruth, where she bought a traditional meat pie for dinner for me to try. She enjoyed trying to cook traditional English foods and we ate a lot of boiled potatoes along with some roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, a massive crumble and a Sheppard's pie. I loved puttering in the kitchen with her and chatting about politics, feminism, literature, London, childhood memories and good ol' Oregon.


The nearly perfect replica of The Globe Theater. Perhaps on another trip I'll be able to stay for a play. I'm not sure about standing for the whole thing though...
Imported Greek Olives and beautiful Feta Cheese at the Salisbury Market.
This was probably my best find in London, a book store with nothing but cook books or other food related subjects. I spent the better part of my last afternoon flipping through recipes on their couch.
Apples at the Borough Market in London. Apparently Jamie Oliver is supposed to have "rediscovered" this London Market, and it is one of my favorites in Europe. I sampled a rather delicious slice of Banoffee Pie here as well.

On to Vienna for Cake and Music, but mostly Cake.

After a lazy last day in Prague, I headed to Vienna by way of Brno. In Brno I visited the abbey of Gregor Mendel and his famous peas, there's a museum of genetics there now. I finally got to sample a plate of extra tasty beef goulash at the Brewery next door, delicious beer too! Today I explored old Vienna and checked out a couple museums including one dedicated to Austrian painters. It's been snowing most the day, so I took up refuge with my book in the Cafe Mozart after I'd had my filled of museums for the day.

Snow in the streets of Prague the day before I left, which also seems to have followed me South.
Kraut!
Easter eggs at the little Easter Fair I stumbled upon today. How fitting for the first day of Spring! And then it snowed all afternoon....
Hot Apple Strudel in a lake of Vanilla Cream Sauce. Installment #1 in my Coffee and Cake tour of Vienna.

St. Patrick's Day: More blue than green.

This morning I headed out of Prague to visit Terezín, the infamous concentration camp an hour north of the capital. It is unique in that it was considered the model camp and was filled with notable Jews, mostly artists, writers, and musicians. They filmed several propaganda films here to show the world what a nice alternative living situation the Nazi's had provided for the Jews. However, the city which is located in the remains of the lower fortress held around 7,000 thousand people including it's militia prior to the occupation. At the peak of its use nearly 60,000 people were interned here contributing to high death rates due to poor living conditions. There were hundreds of executions here as well, but the majority of prisoners were shipped east to their deaths. A few years ago I saw the play I Never Saw Another Butterfly in Bozeman. It recounts the stories of the thousands of children that were here and the rare education programs that were instituted by the Adults, the result was an incredible amount of drawings and writings that survive even today. After the play a survivor of Terezín who now lives in Bozeman spoke about her experiences as a child in the camp. Being there today was a powerful experience, especially walking through the Lesser Fortress which served as a prison and housed the SS members. There are still rows of bunks in the old cells, and the old crematorium is still intact. It was chilling to walk over rooms that had served merely as holding places for bodies before their disposal.

The edge of the main fortress, which is where the ghetto was located. Today it's a town again, but the bleakest and most silent town I've ever seen.
This is the ceiling of a secret Synagogue in the ghetto of Terezín hidden in a building cellar. The religious dedication of the Jewish faith has started to awe me, and it makes me wonder what beliefs I would fight so strongly to keep.
The entrance to the Lesser Fortress.
So after such an uplifting morning I continued on to the little village of Litoměřice for a change of pace, and was greeted with lots of brightly painted buildings and not a postcard in sight: a real Czech town! And with a cake shop of every corner to boot.
I set out in search of lunch right away, having not wanted to eat in one of the three glum looking cafés in Terezín and found a busy little hole in the wall. After a good ten minutes puzzling over an incomprehensible menu, the waitress brought me another version with a chuckle and I ended up ordering "Chicken Specialty Mixture with Mushrooms" and potato pancakes with a little apprehension. It was delicious! This was Grandma's cooking for sure, and well worth the wait.
After lunch I bought dessert at a bakery with a line out the door. One thing I've quickly learned is while annoying, lines usually means something good is at the other end and generally worth a few extra minutes, even when you're not quite sure what you're waiting for. Turns out I was waiting for a little pastry filled with poppy seeds, danish cream filling, and plum preserves. The little kid standing in line in front of me was really excited to get his. To full to have cake as well, but knowing full well I'd not seen curkrárna, a cake shop, yet in Prague and I'd seen over five in my few hours in Litoměřice, I decided to buy a piece of what looks like walnut cake for dinner later. It's waiting for me upstairs...