The first full day after having slept, we designated as a rest and orientation day. The only really important task was to make sure everyone could maintain blood sugar, body temperature, levels of serotonin, and personal hygiene.
1. 5 a.m. I popped awake with one thought: obtain and demolish the half-sandwich Mark had stowed in the fridge. I obeyed and then slept four more hours.
2. 9:30 a.m. Kids awake already, so I am deprived of obligatory two hours drinking coffee in silence. Cognitive issues, also lack of coffee, led to struggle with the drip coffeemaker. Gave up and used off-brand Nespresso pod to make bad espresso while Mark figured it out.
3. 11 a.m. I head out with a shopping list of toiletries. First I find a bakery-café that will still sell me a Formule Petit-Déj, and I eat an apple chausson. It comes in a wicker basket and I get pastry flakes all over my black dress. The double espresso is better than aparment Nespresso. I write yesterday’s blog post and put up a picture.
4. 1 p.m. We all go out to lunch immediately after I return from the store with shaving cream and shampoo and deodorant and paper towels and better coffee. I am flustered and tired and my brain is not working, and I misunderstand my family’s intention to walk around looking for a place, and I march up and ask for a table at the first restaurant we hit when we get to the beach. Before we know it we are seated at the seaside and Leo is explaining to me that the plan was to walk around choosing one, whereas I had gotten the impression that (a) everyone needed to eat sooner and (b) they had already preselected this particular restaurant by internet search. Oops!
Fortunately the sea breeze is lovely, the umbrellas are perfectly shady, and the restaurant has pizza which both boys demolish eagerly, as well as really good frites.
The boys say the pizza tastes like the English muffin pizzas I made using tomato paste, when they were little.
I have the salad with goat cheese toasts and proscuitto and honey. Mark, duck breast and fries. I say I can’t possibly eat it all because my appetite is all screwed up but I slowly and gradually plow through it. And I force myself to drink lots and lots of water, which I know I need after the travel day.
4. 4 p.m. Mark returns from the beach with children and I return from shopping again with vegetables and limoncello. (After lunch and a nap I had paged through Provençal recipes and settled on a “light vegetable soup”). We open the limoncello before it is quite cold enough and drink some, then we have glasses of leftover red wine. Then Mark takes Leo shopping for a wallet and I begin chopping vegetables.
The onions, leek, celery, carrots, zucchini, potato, and green beans are all finally in little tiny dice when I discover that I can’t figure out how to operate the electric cooktop. We poke at it for a while, discuss whether it is induction or infrared, search fruitlessly for a manual, google without the help of the model number, drink more wine, break a wine glass and clean it up, and finally Mark finds a YouTube video and learns how to defeat the cooktop’s child lock. I am delighted to open a cabinet and find a food processor, which my recipe requires but I had resolved to do without.
Meanwhile, Simon makes himself a sandwich of rosette de Lyon on “Harry’s Extra Moelleux Pain de Mie Nature” and is very pleased with it. And Leo goes into town and comes back with apricot preserves and is very pleased with them.
5. 7 p.m. I have sautéed lardons of smoked bacon in olive oil, followed by the hard vegetables and then the soft vegetables, then added water and a potato (1/4 of it in a chunk and 3/4 of it in small dice) and a parmesan rind and thyme and bay leaf and pepper and salt. I have simmered, then added two ripe whole tomatoes, and then retrieved them and peeled them before puréeing them with the soft potato chunk and a bit of brothy vegetables and added them back to the soup. I have removed the parmesan rind and bay leaves and added white beans, red wine vinegar, and half a jar of pesto.
We eat it with chilled Macon-Villages white wine, marinated olives, a bowl of blueberries and a bowl of greengage plums, a package of jambon de Bayonne, and chunks of baguette spread with ordinary French grocery store butter, which is to say it is amazing butter.
Somehow without having to work hard at it we manage to sit at the table for almost two hours leisurely enjoying our food and wine. I have to go lie down on the couch for a while though, while Mark and Leo do the dishes.
6. 9 p.m. We go out in search of gelato (look, we are right on the border, all the glace is Italian-style, I’m calling it gelato). I fail to take any pictures, but trust me, we found it. Leo orders the ice cream except for mine. Mark declares his cone (one scoop of chocolate, one of coconut) the best so far. I have a serviceable but melty scoop of banane. Simon has a lemon sorbetto that tastes exactly like a tart lemon drop, which he declares perfect; Leo has that plus coconut. We walk back along the roaring stony beach, put the cooled soup away, and that ends our rest day. We have indeed been fed.
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