The sun, a ceremony, and a droopy bottom

A miracle? It seemed like something rather grand was going on yesterday, because after the rainiest spring we can remember, the sun was out, and the sky was a beautiful blue.

That made for a much more pleasant stay at Daglan’s war memorial, in front of the restaurant Le Petit Paris, for the ceremony to mark the Allies’ victory over Hitler’s forces on May 8, 1945 — 79 years ago. It is an important day for France, and May 8 is a national holiday.

As in the past, Jan and I were there with a small crowd of other villagers, to see the flag raised, to hear the Mayor’s speech about the war and the eventual victory, and to listen to the national anthem. Here’s a view, as the Mayor reads to the group:

The gathering at the war memorial.

The pizza follow-up: And now, what about that “droopy bottom?” Well, this goes back to my last post, which was “Our new (local) place for burgers,” on April 19. In it, I wrote that the cheeseburgers from L’Annexe that Jan and I enjoyed were “very good.” But what about the pizzas, another speciality?

In my April 19 post, I referred to comments from a friend here in the village. “My friend,” I wrote, “is well-travelled in Italy, and he said the pizzas at L’Annexe stack up well against the Italian offerings.” So naturally, I had to try them — and ordered one for take-out a few days ago, while Jan had another cheeseburger plate.

And while I give the cheeseburgers a rating of 9 out of 10, I’m afraid my pizza deserved no more than a 6 or 7. Why? Well, the taste was actually very good — with thin slices of chorizo sausage, well-caramelized onions, black olives, and a sprinkling of arugula. But when I picked up each triangle of pizza, the crust simply drooped away, tending to have the topping slide off. This is, I have found, a common problem with French pizzas.

In my view, a pizza bottom should be crisp enough to hold its shape when you pick it up, but with still a bit of chew. So why is there a problem here? Temperature of the oven floor too low? I really don’t know. But I do know that the next time I want to have a take-out lunch, I’ll be having the cheeseburger. Here’s my pizza, by the way:

At least it had a very tasty topping.

Our new (local) place for burgers

Jan and I happen to like good cheeseburgers, but they are not always easy to find in this part of France. For some time, our go-to place for burgers has been Chez les Filles in the neighbouring village of Cénac, but now we can get burgers right in Daglan.

The place itself isn’t so much new as it is reinvented. It’s called L’Annexe, and it’s the creation of local chef and caterer, Fabrice Lemonnier.

L’Annexe was actually opened almost two years ago, and I wrote about it on May 8, 2022, in “At last — an afternoon place with promise.” Unfortunately for us, the promise was never quite fulfilled. For one thing, it was open for service only in the evenings, and Jan and I always have our main meal at lunch, not at dinner. So, despite several friends giving rave reviews to the burgers there, we never took advantage of the place. For another, the hours of service never quite seemed to be fixed, so most people weren’t sure if they could get a meal when they wanted.

Now, however, M. Lemonnier promises that L’Annexe will be open for lunch and dinner starting each Wednesday and running through Sunday. Yay!

The short story, for us, is that we recently ordered cheeseburgers to be carried out and eaten at home, and they were very good. Jan had hers with a bit of coleslaw and French fries on the side, while I had mine with a bit of coleslaw (too little) and a side salad (way too big). But the cheeseburgers really were juicy and delicious.

L’Annexe is at the south end of Daglan, in the direction of St. Pompon, and is located in an old stone building that’s been gussied up a bit. Here it is:

A view of L’Annexe from the street.

Leading out from the restaurant itself is a patio with tables, as you can see in this next photo. (Correction: In my post yesterday, I wrote that the pizza oven needed to be fixed or replaced. But last night I was reliably informed by a friend that pizzas are now being served. My friend is well-travelled in Italy, and he said the pizzas at L’Annexe stack up well against the Italian offerings.)

Looking down from the street to the tables below.

Next on my list: Try a pizza.

Our bloomin’ house

In my last posting (April 6), I showed off two of the more spectacular displays of wisteria blooms in Daglan. But I shied away from providing photos of our own wisteria, because the flowers had not yet fully developed.

Here is what I wrote about the two vines on the front of our house: “Once again, it appears that the vine on the right (as you face our house) is winning the flower competition. It has lots of flowers hanging down from the vine branches, but it will need a few more days before it’s at its best. When it is, I’ll be sure to show it off.” And so, with no further adieu, here’s our best:

An impressive showing.

Jan and I don’t take much credit for our flower-raising skills — we tend to operate on the basis of benign neglect, particularly when it concerns the plants on our front steps. However, the benign neglect has paid off when it comes to the azalea at the top of our steps.

The plant was a gift from a friend a few years ago, and by and large it sits without much attention, although I suppose we do offer it some water when days get really dry. But all winter, it sits there quietly, not asking for attention, and not getting any. And then, suddenly in the spring, we get this:

You can’t say it’s not colourful!

So, despite our well-known ability to kill off virtually all indoor plants (like orchids), we do seem to have a success on our hands with the azalea. Nice, eh?

Daglan’s wisteria welcome

Our beautiful old village is, well, beautiful and old — but in the spring it gets even prettier as the wisteria in various parts of Daglan come into bloom, serving as a nice welcome to visitors. In this posting, I’ll show off two of the more impressive growths.

This first photo shows a large vine at the north end of Daglan, as the road veers to the right and heads up to the village of St. Cybranet. Here it is, growing on top of a large fence and over a gate:

All along a fence.

The next photo shows a wisteria even closer to home: a vine in full bloom that is growing up the front of a neighbour’s house, just a few doors down from us:

Against a neighbour’s house.

Loyal readers will know that Jan and I are the proud owners of two vines, one on each side of our front steps. I’ve written about them often, to describe how they are performing in the flower department. Once again, it appears that the vine on the right (as you face our house) is winning the flower competition. It has lots of flowers hanging down from the vine branches, but it will need a few more days before it’s at its best. When it is, I’ll be sure to show it off.

Our village as a garden centre

It’s now a March tradition for our village to host a Spring Festival, which is a chance for garden enthusiasts to stock up on plants — just about any kind imaginable. I wrote about this in my blog posting of March 15, “The call of the garden.”

Indeed, the festival took place last Sunday (March 17), and seems to have been a huge success: the village was overflowing with vendors of all kinds, and lots of buyers.

Following is a small selection of photos, taken by my friend Chris, that will give you a good idea of the size and scope of the various offerings. I haven’t added captions, as the photos are quite self-explanatory.

The call of the garden

This is the time of the year when the call of the garden hits hardest, and countless people feel obliged to start work outside their homes, even if they’re only planning and not yet planting.

Of course this is in sharp contrast to the sentiments in July and August, by which time people are sick of weeding and fed up with trying to give away huge quantities of vegetables that nobody seems to need. But for now, it’s all positive.

And so this weekend, Daglan is once again hosting a Spring Festival, which is another way of saying a gigantic plant sale. On Sunday (March 17), our streets will be jam-packed with stalls selling every conceivable plant, from tiny herbs and flowers to large shrubs to tall trees. Have a look at the details:

Our Carnaval’s brighter look

It’s been nearly 13 years (good grief — where does the time go?) since I first wrote about the traditional figure in France known as Pétassou. The jugement de Pétassou, as it’s known, is a feature of school children’s lives in many communities, around the time of Lent. This year, it seemed like “the judgement” got a bigger and brighter treatment as part of Daglan’s Carnaval. But let’s do some explaining first.

This is from my posting of April 11, 2011: “Believe me, it wasn’t easy finding a coherent story, and I checked newspaper articles, other blogs, Wikipedia, our Mayor’s newsletter, and more. What I learned is that Pétassou is a sorcerer, a prototype of Harlequin (Arlequin, in French), a legend, an evil man. He is often associated with rags, and may be pictured as a man covered in all sorts of rags. In one blog [that I read] the Pétassou made by the school children in another French village was an octopus. In some stories, Pétassou is responsible for all the crimes that have taken place in an area for a whole year.”

Once Pétassou appears, he is put on trial, with an adult serving as a sort of prosecuting attorney and the village children rendering judgement. And then, inevitably, he is found guilty — and burned at the stake.

Here is some more from the 2011 posting: “Personally, I found the punishment for stealing some cookies and some sausages a bit harsh, but no one seemed particularly fazed by all this. Later, one friend in our village told me that as a kid, he wasn’t afraid of Pétassou, and just accepted the legend as one of those things. Another friend, whose daughter took part in the ceremony, said that at the end of the trial the school children were thinking less about Pétassou going up in flames and more about the cookies and other treats they were about to be served.”

Now back to yesterday’s Carnaval (Saturday, February 17). It began in the late afternoon with a march through the village, including right down our street and past our house, with both school children and adults dressed in a wide of variety of costumes, and drums beating loudly. As they marched, they were following a tractor that was pulling the figure of Pétassou himself. And here he is:

And here he comes — arriving at the parking lot behind our community hall.

Once the figure was put in place, there was a lot of chanting and singing, as people in costume danced around. The range of costumes was, frankly, terrific — and interestingly, there is no particular “theme” to them. I gave up trying to keep score, but I know I saw people dressed as Santa Claus, hippies, various animals, pirates, two Scots in kilts, prisoners, two monks, a surfer, Batman, and more. Have a look:

Just a few of the students and adults at yesterday’s event.

When it was time for the trial, it was the village Mayor who read out the charges against Pétassou, who had done so much mischief over the past year — from causing the river to run dry to stealing frites from the school children’s lunches. And the verdict? Again, it was to be burned at the stake. Here the fire begins:

Pétassou and his guitar start to burn.

Everyone backed away at this point, so that the fire could really get going. And it surely did, as you can see:

And there he goes — up in smoke.

The sentencing carried out, people started to drift away. But Jan and I felt that this was the best and brightest of the Pétassou trials we have seen so far. Special congratulations to all the villagers who dressed up in costumes to join the children.

Early glimmers of spring

February is transition month, here in the Greater Daglan Area, as we move in fits and starts from winter to spring. And, at last, we are experiencing some touches of spring.

As for the past winter, it is best forgotten, at least in terms of the weather. It was not a particularly cold winter, as I recall — I think Jan had to scrape frost off the windows of her car just once — but miserably rainy. January in particular seemed to have no weather except for rain, or drizzles, or fog. Grey skies were the norm.

But on Sunday, as we left the Salle des fêtes in the afternoon, after the annual meeting of the Club de l’Amitié, a man walking behind me said “Hey — what’s that, up the sky? That big bright yellow circle?”

This afternoon I had an appointment in Cénac and was delighted to drive there and back under a sunny, cloudless sky. Could this be the day spring actually starts?

We shall see, of course, In the meantime, I was delighted to find that my favourite spring flowers were now available at the supermarket in Cénac. And here’s a bowlful, decorating our dining table:

A bright spot in the darkness of February.

An excellent (and delicious) start to the New Year

Several good, nay excellent, things came together for this past Monday — which of course was New Year’s Day — and created an event that was an excellent (and delicious) start to this New Year. And what were those things, you may ask?

For one, our good friends Elisabeth and Gerhard were back in Daglan, staying at their holiday home just a few steps from our house. And for another, the restaurant O Moulin in Carsac had announced a special Menu du Jour de l’An, a one-time event for New Year’s Day. Eagerly, we signed up for the 75-euro lunch, and also went for the Forfait vins, or wine pairings, for 35 euros.

I won’t go on and on about O Moulin, other than to say that it’s located in Carsac, about 30 minutes from us, and it’s our favourite fine-dining restaurant in the Greater Daglan Area. I’ve reviewed it many times before, so you can just check the archives.

But at the outset, let me say that when the lunch was over, all four of us agreed that it had been the best meal we’d ever had at the restaurant. And with that, I am going to go through the dishes, course by course, to give them their proper due.

We begin with what I know looks pretty ordinary: a crusty roll that we could spread with rillette of goose. (A rillette is somewhat like a pâté, although not smooth; it’s made up of shreds of confit meat, like duck or goose.) In any case, the warm bread and rillette went very well with the glasses of Champagne we had ordered (the champers was in addition to the wine pairings, which were served with the main courses.) Here is my plate:

A warm, crusty roll for the goose rillette.

Then the real meal began, with a tray of three amuse-bouche. On my dish, below, you can see (from the left) a small ball of cabbage wrapped around roast pigeon meat; a dish of oyster cream with incredibly finely diced cucumber throughout; and then an escargot in an onion foam with bits of fried garlic:

Treats to enjoy from left to right.

Next came the entrée, which was my favourite dish of the meal. At the centre were three perfectly cooked scallops from the Bay of the Seine, placed on a thick, rich sauce made almost entirely of creamed potatoes, and decorated with salsify and bits of local black truffle. Here’s my plate:

This entrée was truly delicious.

The meat course was dos de chevreuil, which is a filet of venison taken from the small deer (like roe deer) that abound in our woods. It was dusted with a mixture of fine bread crumbs and herbs, and served along a piece of seared foie gras. The plate was finished with a mousseline of salsify and a mushroom cream, with dots of beet ketchup. Here is my serving:

Beautifully tender venison at the heart of the dish.

The cheese course was anything but the usual serving of cheeses in France, which typically is a platter featuring three or four wedges. This was a bowl of mousse de beaufort des Alpages, a cheese made from the milk of a shaggy black cow that grazes in high mountain pastures. It was served on a disc of Parmesan, and decorated with leaves of rocket (arugula). Again, a deliciously different take on the cheese course:

Not the usual French cheese course.

For sheer beauty, the dessert course was the winner: A mold of bananas and chestnut cream, with surprisingly good dabs of sweet-and-sour cassis (black currants). Here’s my serving:

The dessert was as delicious as it was beautiful.

Jan and I are at the stage of life when staying up into the wee small hours of the morning is not a tempting way to spend New Year’s Eve. But a special New Year’s Day lunch at O Moulin? Now that could become a tradition.

The tree, the truffles

At this festive time of year, one of the traditions of Radio Free Daglan is to show off our village’s Christmas tree. The tree always gets front-and-centre treatment, since it’s placed at the front of the Place de la Liberté, in the beating heart of the village.

Upholding the RFD tradition has not been easy this year, because the weather has been so rainy and generally miserable that I thought I wouldn’t have enough sunshine to photograph the tree until Easter, when it would be too late.

But yesterday there was a bit of break in the constant rain, and while the sky wasn’t exactly sunny, there were some glimmers of light. So I managed to take the following photo:

And here it is: The 2023 edition of the Daglan Christmas tree.

The verdict? It’s mixed, at best. There are those (me) who think it’s not too bad. And there are others (Jan) who think it’s so scrawny that it’s almost embarrassing. On the positive side, it does have a straight trunk. On the negative side, it’s a bit skinny, and not decorated awfully well. Certainly it’s not what you would call “full.”

For the sake of comparison, here’s a photo of the 2022 edition of the village tree:

The tree for last year’s Christmas.

Based on this review, I’d have to say that this year’s edition is indeed a bit scrawnier than last year’s tree. But at least it’s up, and it does look pretty good at night, when the lights go on.

Truffle time: Another pre-Christmas activity here is the opening of the village’s winter truffle market, held on the grounds of the local primary school. It’s when the local producers bring their produce to market, and sell the delicious fungi at quite reasonable prices.

Last Sunday marked the opening day, and Jan made a trip to the school yard to see what she might score. The result? Nothing. Apparently all the truffles had sold out in 15 minutes or so.

So if you’re interested, be sure to be on site at 11 a.m. sharp on Sunday. Otherwise, no luck. The winter truffle market is due to take place each Sunday until mid-February.