The Dinner Party and Glenn's Departure

We were 9 for dinner last evening: Pat, June, Paul, Joanna, Rosie, Nick, Ellen, Glenn, me. We started with an assortment of olives and an aperitif of Kir Royale: Kir and Cremant de Bourgogne bought by Nick and Ellen when they stopped over in Beaune on their way south. Nick mixed the drinks so they were heavy on the kir, the way he likes them (for the colour). In fact, he seems to be very attuned to colour and fashion, as he admired Glenn's outfit too: blue checked shirt, purple checked shorts, blue and white striped espadrilles.

We had the dinner proper on the upstairs terrace, and started with a chilled tomato soup with a dollop of fresh goat cheese, a bit of Nyons olive puree and a sprig of mint. Due to a bit of trouble with the timing of the potatoes (roasted with garlic on a bed of rosemary and liberally doused with local olive oil), we had a big tossed green salad and bread next. By the time we had finished that the potatoes were ready and they accompanied a daube of pork with julienned sweet peppers (and a little kick of hot pepper as well). I had made extra and a good thing too as we managed to finish it all off, and then did some significant damage to the cheese course. June supplemented our brique de brebis and some rather pedestrian brie with a more challenging selection of goat cheeses (including, I am almost certain, one picodon -- a cheese with which I have an ambivalent relationship but last night was good). At this point in the evening we had been treated for some time to a display of fairly dramatic lightning, and the skies opened just as dessert was served (nougat glace with blackberry-peach compote and roasted figs from the tree just off the terrace), so we moved that all indoors and enjoyed it with a glass (or two) of muscat de Beaumes de Venise, and everyone exchanged e-mail addresses etc. until we became aware that it was 11:20 pm so Glenn and I scampered off like Cinderella's coachmen, squeaking into the night.

Morning came quite early -- 4:30 am to be precise. By 5:00 am we were on the road to the Avignon TGV station, but got a bit turned around in Avignon itself. I dropped Glenn off just before 6:00 am for a 6:11 am train, but I am told by others that should be lots of time as there are only 2 tracks and he was right by the access point to them. At any rate, I waited until the train should have left (but before my free 20 minute parking elapsed) before leaving and I have not heard from him since. In many ways our hasty farewell was a blessing, as I would undoubtedly otherwise have been teary-eyed to say goodbye to such a fine travelling companion.

I had a very uneventful trip home and hit the laundromat just as it opened and while it was washing had a little coffee and read the Daily Telegraph and watched the vendors setting up their market stalls. At home I did all the Sudokus and the cryptic and made more coffee and spent quite a bit of time trying to evict the little white kitten (flea-ridden I fear) that Glenn befriended and which has found any number of ways to get into the house, and likes to lounge against the shiny silver blow-up pillows Glenn made from the bladders of the boxes of rose, whilst engaging in a little haphazard and insufficient grooming and some energetic scratching. It had been dividing its attentions more evenly between our place and the residences of the other inhabitants of our little hameau, but the arrival of Rosie's dog appears to have altered the rhythm of its daily round of visits!

After a 2-hour nap, I finished off the leftover pistou with some olive fougasse and am now debating where (and whether, or should I say, weather) to take myself for my birthday dinner. The skies are quite grey and there has already been a little drizzle so I would no doubt be confined to the indoors of wherever I go, which would not be as pleasant as a terrace and especially since we are experiencing a canicule, a hot and humid period when there is very little difference between the daytime and nighttime temperature. It strikes me that this would not be a very useful word to know in Toronto, since it would not serve to distinguish any one day from the next.