Sailing from Palermo to Palma - 3

A computer generated chart with weather overlay for 0000 hours Sunday 12th September

As we came on deck to commence our watch at 0000 hours on Sunday 12th September the lume of the lighthouse set up on Isola Del Toro was still visible behind us. The sky had cleared as the Sardinian coastline, and illumination from that landmass had slowly vanished behind us. The moon had set early in the previous evening intensifying the darkness. Gazing into the dark firmament above, our star identification was somewhat lacking, given the multitude of stars to chose from; However, Venus shone brightly directly above our position, and the clearly visible milky way stretched forward towards the western horizon.

The lively chatter during the watches made the time pass very quickly and enjoyably. As Fenix was under mainsail, genoa, but principally powered by her engine, and steered by autopilot (the eight crew member always known as George), there was little to do apart from chat, do a token bit of sail trimming when required, and plan lunch and dinner for the day ahead.

The next watch from 8 a.m. to 12 midday was just as easy going because the wind continued to moderate. Once breakfast had been dispensed with, time was allocated for the raw recruits to partake in knot school. Before long all concerned were coping with the bowline, sheet bend (and variations thereof), clove hitch and reef knot. There was a clear blue sky above, but we were nicely shaded by the sails, and the line of the horizon was unbroken; nothing in the way of shipping was sighted. Approaching midday we saw a sea turtle paddling in the water. The turtle casually turned and looked at Fenix. It then wheeled itself around as if to give chase. There was an anxious moment, or two, as we thought it would get fouled in our fishing lines. Unfortunately it did so for a few seconds running out over 50 meters of line and thankfully got free. We continued to spot sea turtles along our route during the day and current reported sightings stand at five in an otherwise empty sea. One short of a dinner service!

While preparing lunch, I overheard Steve and Moritz discussing some distant cloud formation which had appeared on the horizon off the Starboard bow. Steve inquired what Moritz’s view was of this isolated strange cloud formation. It could only be one of two things; incoming weather, or land. On the basis that the cloud formation was too small for weather, Steve quickly concluded that it must be cloud associated with land. Minorca was the only potential candidate. Luckily enough, where there is land there is also a headland. Applying the headland rule, Steve suggested to Moritz he should select the wine for lunch to ward off all evil spirits, keep the gods happy, and ensure a safe arrival in Palma. The Sicilian chardonnay produced by Planeta was released from the fridge, and immediately deposited on the table.

Melanzane Pizza

Lunch was served in the main saloon and consisted of a platter of cold meats and salamis, cheese board and three pizzas. We had bought part cooked pizza bases in Palermo, and there was considerable debate what the formulation of the three pizzas would be. Normally I would not be a fan of a pre prepared dough or base but theses were very good. I adore anchovies, and there are few places better than Palermo to source them. However, I was not convinced everybody would share my opinion. The tomato sauce to be used was the left over of the tomato and vegetable sauce, which had matured overnight. To secure some consensus and allow a certain amount of token democracy enter the galley, I asked Moritz to nominate his skipper’s pizza of choice. I decided to keep everybody else happy with two renowned crowd pleasers. Moritz chose the unique prosciutto and pomodorini pizza. This pizza is cooked without mozzarella, and was finished with a mixture of grated pecorino sardi, parmesan, and garnished with three handfuls of rocket. The second was a melanzane with mozzarella, garnished with the same mixture of grated cheese and freshly chopped parsley. The third was a cinque fromaggi consisting of a mature goats cheese, mozzarella, and an Italian blue cheese (the name of which sadly escapes me now). Once removed from the oven this pizza was also garnished with the grated pecorino sardi, parmesan and freshly chopped parsley.

The "book club"

Following lunch the entire crew returned to their favoured pursuits for the day. The ladies opted for the book club reading and giggling at “A year in the merde” by Stephen Clarke and other good reads. Fishing was also actively pursued. Everybody employed their own favoured method or technique to land the catch of the day. Unfortunately, there was to be no giant fish landed, or any fish for that matter. Tuna fishing bans have been discussed for the last few years to be put in place in the Mediterranean because stocks were so low. Whether they were implemented properly, or observed, is unclear and a matter for ongoing debate. Such a ban could damage the economies of small communities, but the price to pay is clearly extinction of the blue fin tuna. Having spent Easter in Palermo this year, and admittedly it was a little early for the arrival of the tuna, the indications were that there would be very few tuna seen during the coming season. The days of the mattanza are long gone, and in this era of modernity large factory ships employ helicopters to spot the big schools of tuna. The consequences of this assault on the blue fin tuna mean the schools are taken in their entirety; nothing is allowed to escape. The swordfish or spada does not share the same value at the market place, but its destiny must also be in question.

A deadline of had been set for 1800 hours, before a fine cut of roast beef was placed in the oven. Between 1800 hours and 2000 hours the deck entertainment continued. It was our last evening at sea. The sun set was quite spectacular as we sailed westward. Slowly the sun descended to the unusually clear and crisp line of the horizon, leaving graduated layers of orange, red, pink and blue above it, and the growing crescent of the bright moon with Jupiter close by. To our great amazement, not long after sunset Steve had sighted the island of Mallorca. The gods of the headland had to be appeased, traditional obligations invoked, and once again Moritz was called upon to select a bottle of wine. A Beronia Crianza 2005, an excellent Rioja, appeared to accompany dinner.

Being Sunday, some attempt was made to produce a traditional English repast. With the ingredients selected from the markets in Palermo certain departures from the traditional menu were made. Served up with the roast beef were roast red and while onions, roast potatoes, griddled courgettes, and boiled fagiolini and borlotti beans lightly pan fried in butter with garlic and parsley. We only ran out of gas once!

A computer generated chart with weather overlay for 0130 hours Monday 13th September

The deities of the headlands had seen to favour our passage after our initial beating on Friday. Our final forecast prediction had 20 to 25 knot winds descending from the Gulf du Lyon, which threatened to upset the final hours of passage. The expected time of arrival of the wind coincided with our landfall at Punta Salinas. As the afternoon had worn on, high altitude cloud resembling horses’ tails had appeared and we believed it was only a matter of time before the wind would arrive. This was not to be the case. We continued unmolested on a calm sea to Punta Salinas, and the short distance to Cabo Blanco. The bright constellation of Orion slowly rose sideways over the dark cavernous eastern horizon behind us. Our progress was only momentarily impeded when we thought we saw emerging before us in the dark water a net and floats stretching out across our path, but Fenix was not to be snagged so close to her final destination.

The cathedral, a distinctive landmark on the skyline of Palma da Mallorca

We entered the Bay of Palma as the sun rose and docked a little after 7.30 a.m. Despite their size and weight the sails were quickly folded and bagged before we disappeared into the town of Palma for further exploration, and a gin and tonic. Corinne just about managed to control her patience as I brought her on a personal tour of my favourite patisseries and art deco buildings around the town.

The past few days were a fantastic experience and adventure, sailing with great friends. The trip commenced with a dinner with Alexej Paladino and the crew in Arenello, near Palermo, at Casa Tonnara Vincenzo Florio, where we ate a magnificent array of dishes including ricci, caponata, and spada tagliata. We ended the adventure with a meal in Cellar sa Premsa, in Palma da Mallorca, feasting on their local dishes of frito mariniera, sobrasada, calamarines frigit, caracoles and merluza, accompanied by their unlabeled and unpretentious house red wine. We are off now to gather walnuts in Franche Comte!

A detail from the Art Deco inspired dental Clinic building in Palma da Mallorca

Sailing from Palermo to Palma - 2

Departing the Bay of Palermo

The arrival of September is almost akin to a gate closing in the Mediterranean, Tyrrhenian and Ionian Seas; the weather becomes unpredictable and storms become more frequent, and increasingly violent. At this time of year, examination of the forecasts and route planning are key to a safe passage. We delayed our departure a little longer, to let some wind blow through. Mid Friday morning, I decided to set myself my first test of seamanship; making a batch of crème caramels in the galley. While it was easy to begin with, obviously fishing a bain marie from a hot oven in a lively sea has its interesting points.

Just after midday we motored out of the Bay of Palermo, and were not surprised when we passed Capo Gallo to find winds which were not favourable to our intended course. This was in fact expected, and forecasted, and we beat our way out to the island of Ustica accompanied by a pod of small eager dolphins. We tacked just to the south of Ustica just before 1800 hours.

Lighthouse marking the western point of the Bay of Palermo at Capo Gallo

Our new course would keep our track a good safe distance seaward of the north west of coast of Sicily, and was sufficiently far enough north for us to take early advantage of the expected lift in the wind. By sunset, thunder clouds had begun to develop and roll in towards the Sicilian coast. Heavy gusts of wind preceded the cloud systems, however we avoided much of the rain which was destined for the shore. The wind increased continually through the night, and coupled with the sea state, the conditions provided a challenging environment for preparing food and indeed eating it. Needless to say there were a few casualties, who found life difficult, but a small few did enjoy the lasagne which was hastily portioned out into bowls and passed around on deck.

Approaching Ustica on port tack

There was only a few percent of the moon visible and this thin crescent set early in evening. Without the normal illumination from the moon the night was very dark and sinister. The night was made even darker by the low dense cloud cover, but gradually the clouds began to light up. At the helm, as the wind passed your face, you could feel the rapid changes in temperature giving some indicqtion the air was highly charged. From midnight to 4 a.m. the sky was continually alight with flashes of lightning, as the thunder clouds all around Fenix released their charge, sometimes with extremely dramatic effects. A phenomenon which never ceases to amaze me, and this night was no exception, is that you go an entire day and not see a ship. However, in stark contrast at night you may sight many ships and vessels, as you monitor the horizon, and closely follow their respective courses.

The next 12 hours on Saturday 11th proved to be slightly windier than forecast, and we made good progress towards Sardinia, the eastern coast of which we finally sighted at about 1 p.m. Lunch was a minimalist affair in the circumstances, and wedges of monreale bread filled with salami, cheese and tomato were well received by those that wished to partake in that feast on deck. Some did not.

Fenix beating into the setting sun as the wind moderated

By 1600 hours spirits on board began to improve because the wind had moderated, and begun to move into the north as it was forecasted to do. We had intended to pass close enough to Sardinia to update our weather forecast, and our course closed in upon the Isola Dei Cavoli, and the Golfo Di Cagliari. The news was good and we continued our way along the southern Sardininan coast parting with it just after midnight.

All hands were on deck for dinner at 1900 hours, which commenced with a large platter of prosciutto, brescaola, capocollo, and various salamis, served with olive oil and bread. Technically, because we had passed a headland, and not wanting to offend the sea gods and the deity of the headland (a close and revered relation), we opened a bottle of wine to procure further good fortune and ward off evil spirits. A Sicilian chardonnay produced by Planeta was sourced from the chiller for this purpose.

A more leisurely approach towards the south western tip of Sardinia

The main course was an epicurean affair, preparations for which had commenced two hours earlier with the production of the tomato and vegetable sauce. Four onions and three cloves of garlic were cooked in olive oil salt and pepper. To this was added a thinly sliced red pepper, pomodorini, about seven salad chopped tomatoes, a thinly sliced bulb of fennel, a tin of tomatoes and half a tin of tomato concentrate. This melange was cooked for an hour, and then blended and left to stand. At the same time the onions were being chopped, two bulbous Sicilian aubergines were thickly sliced and sprinkled with salt. After an hour they were washed and patted dry, and placed into a hot oven with olive oil and seal salt. The accompanying sauce and side dishes prepared, attention was turned to the fresh ravioli filled with ricotta, speck and radiccio. Dinning was al fresco, and all the crew were served with a bowl of ravioli, topped with tomato and vegetable sauce, roasted aubergine, and grated pecorino and parsley to garnish. All bowls were returned to the galley both empty and spotlessly clean as we advanced towards Cabo Spartivento and Cabo Teulada, and a glorious sunset. Only 275 nautical miles remained to Cabo Blanco on the south eastern corner of Mallorca.

A computer generated chart with overlay for Saturday 12th September at midnight

The Good Life - St George's mushroom

A small panier of St George's Mushrooms

“Les Champignons dans la Nature” by J. Jaccottet [Neuchatel, 1925] opens with the following line: “L’Homme a eté creé pour la marche….” which simply translated means “Man was created for walking”. The improvements in transport noted then in 1925, which he lists as including electric trams and bicycles, reduced ones desire for walking and therefore ability to access the countryside and forests. For one who enjoyed nature as much as Mr Jaccottet, the day was always too short, the sun rose too late and set too early.

Anybody who has done some mushroom hunting will appreciate the fact that there is rarely enough time in the day to find what you are looking for. A combination of patience, luck and a good eye may bring good results but there is no replacement for experience in this pursuit. Finally, when you find the particular variety you have been looking for it is important to never reveal the location of your discovery. People have been known to go to their graves without parting with such closely held secret.

The are a small number of mushrooms which work their way through the earthy ground at this time of year, but among them the St George’s mushroom, which is also known as Tricholome de la St George, Thricholome Georgii L’Écluse and Mousseron du Printemps, is the most highly prized. While they are said to grow in meadows and grassland, they are most likely to be found on the edges of woods. The season described by most writers is from April to June and they traditionally emerge on or about St George’s day and continue in season for a few brief weeks.

In Ireland and England their caps are primarily white, but they can be found elsewhere coloured yellow ochre, and rare varieties are known to be brown or chamois. The caps, which have a dry appearance, vary in size but they can grow to be 15 cms in diameter. By the time they grow to any great size they are more than likely going to be providing refuge and nourishment to a small worm colony, so it is best to pick the small ones when they are found, and check the larger mushrooms for infestation. Beneath the caps the gills are white and fragile. This mushroom has a large foot and grows in tight groups, so you generally will find more than one in any one location. When cut in half the flesh is firm and white. One of the most distinctive characteristics of this mushroom is its smell; the odour is quite strong and pleasant, and has been described as resembling freshly milled flour.

Ignoring Mr Jaccottet's esprit de vivre, we steamed around the hillsides and meadows in an old Peugot 405, which cut down some of the vast wandering required to locate these mushrooms. With the small basket of mushrooms we had collected I decided to make an omelette. After cleaning them, they were cooked on a pan over a low flame in mountain butter with a little salt and pepper. We had earlier liberated some eggs from chickens nearby, and these were whisked and poured over the lightly cooked mushrooms. After two or three minutes I put some grated Comte cheese from Frasne on the runny surface of the uncooked egg and mushroom mixture and finished the omelette under a hot grill. It looked great and tasted really good, but I was scolded for not slicing the mushrooms finer and for overcooking the omelette. I accepted these criticisms graciously while drinking a glass of undated, but assuredly ancient, white wine from the Jura.

In preparation for the meal I found a book entitled “60 Champignons 190 Recettes” by Suzanne Fonteneau and Philippe Joly published in 1978. These authors rate their mushrooms with a star system; four stars being the best, and so on. I will not query why they did not chose a system of marks out of 10 or 5 for example, being nice round figures allowing for a wider variety for distinction, however in their opinion both the Truffe du Perigourd and Tricholome de la St George achieve the lofty and distinguished score of a perfect 4. Among the recipes they offer for the Tricholome de la St George is `Tricholome á la paysanne`. For this recipe you shall require 400 grams Tricholomes de la St Georges; 50 grams of butter; 2 spoons of vinegar; 1 spoon of flour; 1 egg; half a glass of dry white wine;2 spoons of bouillon; salt and pepper.

The method given is as follows: After cleaning the mushrooms, cut them into slivers (remember not coarsely or in chunks!). Gently cook them with half the butter and the vinegar. At the same time make a roux with the remainder of the butter and the flour and mix in the suggested half glass of white wine and the bouillon. All this time, you should keep the juice of the mushrooms moving on the pan seasoning with salt and pepper. The recipe is completed by turning the mushrooms onto the sauce, mixing together, and just before serving stir in the egg yolk into the ensemble to bind it together.

The recipe as given does make sense however; you may wish to experiment with another variety of mushroom and the suggested quantities a few times to gain some confidence in it and to satisfy yourself in advance of cooking these highly prized mushrooms. I would also suggest using white wine vinegar in preference to any other, and it appears that the tablespoon measurement is the weapon choice for this recipe.

A traffic jam or "bouchon" in the Haut Doubs, Franche Comté

A short trip to Lyon - Gallia Lugdunensis 1

A view across the Rhone towards Notre Dame de Fourviere

It was 20 years since I had been to Lyon and back then I did not stop for too long before moving on to my ultimate destination to the southeast of Lyon. For this trip, at the end of January, I decided to read up on Lyon to identify a few sights I would like to visit and add to my basic knowledge of the city, and its culture. I decided to refer to Elizabeth David's book on Provincial French Cooking, but I was surprised at her comments. She was of the opinion that one must be a Lyonnais to properly appreciate the local cooking and then proceeded to moan in an unappreciative manner about the anti climax that she experienced from the fountainhead of French cuisine. I suppose I should not be surprised to read this from somebody who ignored the Jura and Franche Comte in the same publication, but it still a good book despite these shortcomings. To assist me on my journey, I decided to travel with three books The cuisine of the Rose by Mireille Johnston, The White Cities by Joseph Roth, and Roman Gaul and Germany by Anthony King.

 

Lyon is not a monumental and decadent city in the mould of Paris. This ancient city has grown up and expanded at the confluence of two of France's most important waterways; the Rhone and the Saone. The Roman colony of Lugdunum was founded in 43 B.C by Lucius Munatius Plancus, a leading officer serving under Julius Caesar during his campaigns and battles to subdue the Gallic tribes. The site chosen by this officer, who is also reputed to have founded Augusta Raurica in 44 B.C. not far from Basel, was previously a Gallic hill fort occupied by the Segusiani, and today this vantage point towers over Lyon and is known as the Fourviere hill. Its significant position on the Rhone and Saone lended this site to being used as an administrative centre with easy and speedy access north and south on the navigable river systems which passed through the city. Over the next three hundred years this settlement would be favoured by a number of Emperors and Lugdunum flourished as a result. Features of this development still visible today are the numerous aqueducts, theatre, odeon and the amphitheatre.

A view looking south across the Roman theatre, Fourviere, Lyon

The steep featured flanks of the Fourviere descend to the Rhone and a number of bridges and passerelles make communication with Presqu'ile quite easy. As the name suggests, Presqu'ile is not quite an island but a strip of land that has been cut and narrows to a point where it finally reaches the confluence of the Rhone and Saone.

Roman Gaul is proving to be a tourist attraction for the modern town of Lyon and the Roman theatre on the Fourviere hill is the most visible representation of this period of the city's history. When the Roman builders arrived on site in or about 15 B.C. to build the first theatre structure in Gaul, they must have welcomed the prospect of building a theatre structure on this site because the steep hillsides in the vicinity could be easily employed in the construction of a theatre. While the slopes would minimise the need for a freestanding outer wall and a complicated series of vaults, arches and supports there are visible remains of radial substructures supporting the cavea. The theatre measures 108 meters in diameter which makes it a little larger than those built at Arles (Arelate) and Orange (Arausio). The remains of three cavea are visible, the media cavea and summa cavea are only to be identified by the series of vaults and hemispherical wall structures that would have supported them, and the remains of the ruined vomitoria quite immense. The date of the initial construction of this theatre places it firmly within the reign of the Emperor Augustus and there is evidence to suggest it was restored and extended during the reign of Hadrian, and it is suggested the scaena frons was added during this period.

A view looking west towards the cavea of the Roman theatre, Fourviere, Lyon

Although it faces east and overlooks most of the city of Lyon today, the scaena frons structure situated in front of the seating would originally have been approximately 30 meters high, and thus the great panoramic view to be seen today over Lyon would have been not a particular feature of this theatre. The structure would have been ornately decorated and some elegantly carved column bases are to be found on site today.  The hillside has a number of other interesting structures, and just to the south can be found the Roman odeon which is thought to have been constructed during the 2nd Century A.D. This is 73 meters in diameter and also backs onto the hillside for support and its cavea are surrounded by an immense boundary or outer wall, which is quite distinctive and sets it apart from its neighbour the theatre. The orchestra measures 21 meters in diameter and is decorated in opus sectile with porphyry and other exotic stones and marbles from the distant far flung corners of the Roman Empire.

A column base from the Roman theatre site

To the north of the theatre and also nestled into the hillside is the musee de la civilisation gallo-romaine the exhibition spaces of which are sunk into the hillside. It houses an important collection of sarcophagi, inscriptions, decorative mosaics and other materials found in excavations from the area. The mosaic of the circus race is quite well preserved and evidence of the fact that one of the four circus tracks to be found in the Gallic provinces was located not too far from the Fourviere hill, and in close proximity to the Gier Aqueduct. The aqueduct may have been the source of the water used in the fountains along the spina depicted in the mosaic.

Detail of the Circus Mosaic, Musee de la Civilisation Gallo-Romaine, Lyon

The remains of the amphitheatre are to be found to the north west of Place des Terreaux. Leaving this grand square, travelling north, and proceeding towards the district of La Croix Rousse, it was not long before I was walking up a steep hill into which the amphitheatre was built in circa 19 A.D. This is another example of the Roman engineers and builders exploitation of the terrain to construct and support their structures.

 The remains of the amphitheatre, La Croix Rousse, Lyon

The amphitheatre was excavated and investigated in circa 1818, and the quartier was developed thereafter. The remains, which are now incorporated into a garden, are presently covered by roads, modern buildings and indeed cut in half by a tunnel built to alleviate the flow of traffic leading up to La Croix Rousse. The size of the amphitheatre is debatable but is clear that it was improved and extended through the centuries and must have been an impressive sight. Some commentators are of the opinion the structure was smaller than those at Arles and Nimes. However my impression is that, in its most developed state the amphitheatre in Lugdunum would have been as significant as the amphitheatres built at Arles and Nimes. The principal difference in Lugdunum, is that the amphitheatre was both reliant upon and contained by terrain it was built into.

An important inscription was found in 1957 yielded evidence for not only the build date but the people who financed its construction; the inscription pays testament and records the fact that a Gallo-Roman family from Saintes (Santons), most likely seeking to underline its loyalty to Rome and the Emperor, constructed the amphitheatre at their own expense. It must be noted that there is also a magnificent amphitheatre to be found not far form the centre of Saintes.
 

 An aerial view of the amphitheatre using Google Earth

Having left Corinne at the ugly Gare SNCF Perrache, (she was going home for the day), I struck out for La Croix Rousse on foot. After viewing the amphitheatre, I descended through the town peering in through the windows of various boulangeries as I went. This city has a number of sweets and delicacies which were invented here, and can only be found elsewhere in specialist shops. The lush red pralines, crystalline crusty coated almonds, appear in most windows in one guise or another; dotted in various types of sweetened bread or tart pralinee or sables pralinees. The choclatier Voisin has a number of stores around the city, and they are responsible for the famous coussin de Lyon; a sugared elegant green marzipan filled with rich chocolate grenache in the shape of a cushion.

I crossed the city towards Fourviere and climbed the steep hill, absolutely breathless and weak by the time I found the theatre in bright winter sunshine. The day was bitterly cold and nobody was there. After spending half an hour wandering around looking for the remains of the aqueducts, and various mausoleums, I was quite conscious of the fact that the bells had stopped chiming in the nearby churches, and lunch would be now available. Wandering back through the streets of St Just towards Vieux Lyon, I eventually arrived at the point where I had commenced my ascent of the Fourviere hill at the top of Rue du Boeuf.

The path of least resistance led me down the narrow cobbled street to a restaurant on Rue du Boeuf called Les Adrets. Being both hungry and thirsty, I entered a long narrow dining room paved with tiles with strained and heavily deflected ,wooden beams overhead. It was full but a space at a table was found and I ordered terrine de gibier to be followed by tete de veau along with a refreshing pot of cote du rhone. Despite being obviously foreign, my choises engendered me to those sitting beside me, and they inquired about my little adventure and what I places I had visited and offered advice on what I should see next.

In the restaurants of Lyon you frequently end up wondering if there is anything that you would like to eat on the menu. You need to be adventurous. The menus can be viewed with some intrepidation if you are anxious about ordering various types of tripe, offal or combinations of both. My tete de veau probably shortened my life by two weeks, but it was unctuous and bitter and satisfying; the mellow sweet flavour of the gelatinous fat was cut by a parsley vinaigrette dressing. This dish would be relished and devoured, without a second thought, by a boatman who had been working his vessel up the Rhone, from perhaps Valence, for the previous 20 hours, against a strong current and a bitterly cold mistral wind. Arriving at the quays in Lyon, with his hands paralysed by the cold wind, this dish would have revived such a man. My meal was finished with a fantastically rich quenelle of chocolate mousse and a coffee, and the knowledge that I would be sentenced to at least three months hard labour for eating everything that put in front of me on this trip.

Opus reticulatum and opus mixtum still visible on a support of the Gier Aqueduct, Lyon

As Lugdunum thrived in the 1st Century A.D. the requirement to augment the water supply became a necessity and it was decided that four aqueducts would be built to attend to this need. The longest of the aquaeducts is 86 kilometres in lenght using the river Gier as its source. Evidence from inscriptions and archaeology has not been of great assistance in the dating of this aqueduct. Some archaeology suggests it could have been constructed during the reign of Augustus but it is more likely that it was operational under the reign of Claudius. Inscriptions found at Chagnon and St Joseph date to the reign of Hadrian and introduce a ban on ploughing and sewing in the vicinity of the aqueduct.

I have already refered tothe lenghty pondering I experienced reading a number of Lyonnais restaurant menus, and my chosen reading prior to the trip had not fully prepared me for this very distinctive cuisine. The books probably were too heavily influenced by Dijon and the Bourgogne and neglected the indigenous fare of the Lyonnais. Over the five days of thisparticular visit I have discovered the Bouchon, which is a type of Lyonnais restaurant serving earthy, homely food, but typically Lyonnais using just about every edible part of a pig, cow, chicken or available fish; lentils, onions and macaroni are a feature of the Lyonnais cuisine.

The first Bouchon we dined in was La Meuniere. It was one the most enjoyable meals I have ever had. Most of the prepared food was laid out on a bench in the middle of the very dated and somehow complimentary dining room. It appeared not to have been decorated since the 50s or 60s and was somewhat spartan in appearance, however posters celebrating Beaujolais wine served as a strong suggestion as to what you should be ordering with your meal. The staff engaged with you in a very familiar way, and some diners received a reproach for failing to clear their plates. While I had a terrine to start, I decided to have poulet fermier a la vinaigre for my main course. I did not expect this dish to be as agreeable as it was. It was very good. Thereafter, I received slap on the hand when I thought the canut, a soft cream cheese with herbs and garlic, was my cheese course of preference. Instead I was directed to two large wooden boards full of locally produced cheeses.

The next Bouchon, was the similarly celebrated Le Garet. The menu of the day was noteworthy because it sums up for me what Lyonnais cuisine is all about; Salade de dent lion aux oreilles de cochon (a salad of dandilions with pigs ears); Omlette a la truffe Francaise; Ris de veau a la creme et champignons. I began my meal with an offering of five bowls from the kitchen containing, Lentil salad, mousseau (pickled face of cow thinly sliced), pied de veau, saucisson de veau et cochon, and tripe; collectively known as salad de cochonailles. A pot of Crozes Hermitage worked very well with this selection and the following plate of le tablier du sapeur, which was a section of marinated and fried tripe. The dessert was a homemade blackcurrant ice cream, barely sweetened, which was served with a bottle of vieux marc to use as you pleased, and I did!

 Some of the creations of the Patissier and choclatier Richard Seve

Food forms a very important part of Lyonnais living and they are proud of their traditional servings and just as proud of their influences on the new modern cuisine developing in France today. It is not based upon fusion or any passing weakness for a modish taste but merely a celebration and presentation of French food and its industry at its very best. The master boulangers, patissiers and affineurs that base themselves in Les Halles Paul Bocuse are representative of this ideal. They are some the best boulangers and patissiers in France and strive to produce the best quality food to a very high standard. You rarely witness crowds of people surrounding a butcher stall focusing on a butcher dressing a rack of lamb but this occurs most days at les Halles Paul Bocuse.

Street markets are also a feature of Lyon life, as they are of most French villages, towns and cities. Local producers sell their fresh vegetables and fruit and anything else they think the pubic will purchase. I spotted one vendor selling walnuts, walnut spreads, and huile de noix; the oil produced from the pressing of the walnuts. They also sold the tourteaux de noix, which is the dried remains of the pressed walnuts. It can be used much in much the same way as chestnut flour to flavour flour in making biscuits or in general baking.

My personal preference leans towards the everyday and traditional food of the bouchon which preserves the old dishes in an unglamorous and less ostentatious way. This food is generally consumed with the three princes of Lyon; Beaujolais, Cotes du Rhone, or Crozes Hermitage and after a few days my fear and intrepidation has turned, with a little understanding, into a sense of surprise at every menu. This understanding will no doubt encourage me to return and continue my exploration of the Gallo Roman ruins.

French Christmas Adventure 2

This post is a little late going up but it is still worth looking back over good times. One of the great tasks we have when going back to France is "casser les noix" or breaking the nuts! These walnuts have been dried and stored since they were carefully harvested in mid september. They taste stunning and there is no comparison to those you might buy bagged in the shops; they are full of flavour and rich in their natural oil. Afterwards the brittle shells are used to light the fire in the morning and we often relax with a cup of coffee in hand watching the shells glowing red.

The marche in Besancon was a hive of activity throughout Christmas. All the butchers were busy displaying inticate pretty joints of meat, and many different types of specially raised foul from Bresse and elsewhere could be purchased. The rest of the stalls had magnificent displays of fresh fruit and vegtables. Winter reveals the wealth of smoked meats available in the this region which are particularly renknowned. I have been told that in Roman times the smoked ham was a prized export and I have no reason to doubt this. During Winter the region of the Haut Doubs could become isolated and its inhabitants cut off due to long periods of snowfall. In order to surviive it was necessary to prepare food and preserve as much as possible of it. The people were required to be self sufficient to survive on their communal stocks and stores in their large characteristic farmhouses, which would also be employed in the sheltering of the cattle and their feed as well. The typical farmhouse would have a large chimney indicating a smoking room and attached to a wall of most houses would be a hemisperical wood fired oven.

Le Reveillon was a magnificent marathon of a feast commencing with the extra special marinated foie gras of Jeannine Marie Reine Delacroix, followed by the prawns and monkfish a la bourgogne. After an interlude, when Pere Noel made an appearance to deliver gifts, the meal recommenced with Jeannine's slow roasted leg of lamb. In the south of France it is customary to have thirteen deserts, a task which I was thankfully spared. Instead, a selection of homemade berry sorbets and the buche du noel were served following the selection of locally produced cheeses.

Christmas day arrived and the snow had by now melted and the river Doubs had begun to rise, flooding the low lying fields that borded the river. Another marathon meal was planned, and I contributed a tart au citron and a tart aux pommes to the menu. The new taste for small courses served in verrines or small glasses, was much in evidence as a succession of courses were served during the afternoon prior to the principal dishes of snails which were followed by magret de canard served with a pumpkin gratinee and traditional sweet chestnuts.

After Christmas we planned a day trip north towards the Vosges Mountians and Alsace. The Irish have a long history in this part of France dating back many centuries; St Columban arrived in the vacintiy of the Vosges mountains now within the departments of Haute Soane and Alsace in about 587. He founded a monastary on the site of the then ravaged gallo-roman settlement of Luxonium, the modern town Luxeuil -les- Bains. Excavations had been taking place on the site of the funerary church of Saint Martin for a number of years, but from October and throughout December there were many media announcemnts on television and in the papers relating the recent developments and finds associated with these excavations. The excavations were concluding during January and among some of the most important finds disclosed in the reports were 125 sarcophagi dating to the Merovingian age, and the crypt of Saint Valbert.

Our day trip began early on the 26th December, and we took a train witha destination a little further north of Luxeuil into the Vosges to the city of Colmar in Alsace and the department of Haut Rhin. It was a bright still morning and through the lingering freezing fog we could see the countryside was covered with a mantle of thick coarse frost. The first part of the trip took a course along the banks of the Doubs which in places was still flooded and frozen, and in others where the valley narrowed and the river turned tighly around a succession of bends we saw the waters rise in great acts of rejection to counterflows and currents as the river swelled and flooded unpredictably. Leaving Mulhouse we entered a different landscape; a plain with the Vosges mountains bording the horizon.

Colmar

The foundation of Colmar is recorded to be in the 9th Century, but settlements such as this one often have an earlier origin. The site became one of the most important in the area by the 12th Century.  Today this quaint city is too easily passed and missed on the way to Strasbourg. At school I learned of the constant change of this region's borders; this struggle appears at this remove as a constant series of ceding and annexation of borders. While the ecclesiastical history has made a visible impact on the medeval city the proximity of Germany and its historical influence is also quite visible. On the edge of the medeval city there is a small quarter which has network of canals passing through it, and indeed small streams shaped the contours of some of the streets as they pass through the city. While St Petersburg and Amsterdam may be compared to  Venice, Colmar also shares this elegant quality and atmosphere.

 Church of St Martin built between 1234 and 1365

It was a day of firsts for me as I had decided to add to my Christmas girth by having a choucroutt with it meats for lunch with a local reisling wine. We commenced our meal with a tarte flambee, which was for me a lesser known Alsation staple dish. This is a very thin and crisp dough topped with creme fraiche, onions and lardons and cooked in a very hot wood fired oven. We followed it with my first choucroutt garni. There is no pomp and ceremony afforded to this dish of fermented cabbage and pork, but it worthy of some celbration. It was a considerable feast with various types of pork sausage, poitrine, lard and quenelles de foie perched on and around the mound of pale sweet cabbage. I failed to clear my plate, which is a statement in itself, but was sufficiently fortified to walk around the pretty streets of Colmar for the afternoon.

This unusual photograph I have included because I have come to associate a number of regions with their distinctive and indigenous local stone; locally quarried stone used in the edifaces and walls of many structures throughout a town gives a city a certain individual character. In Besancon there is the striking and austere grey and blue limestone, but a little further north I was greeted by the soft and warm combination of yelllow and red sandstones. This example comes from the side wall of the Unterlinden Dominican Convent which dates to the 13th Century. It is now known as the Unterlinden Museum housing primarily a religious collection and the Isenheim alterpiece, but there is also an archaeological collection with objects from the La Tene, Gallo-Roman, and Merovingian periods.

At Christmas time in Alsace many cities have special markets in the town's center and Colmar's Christmas market is quite exceptional. The curved and twisted short streets, and narrow or small squares of this medeval city were filled with huts selling everyting from artisanal bakers to vendors of vin chaud. The streets were filled with people wandering about gazing into these huts and musing over their wares. We purchased another Alsation favourite to nibble on the way home on the train: Kugelhopf is akin to an upside-down  brioche, being cooked in a barley twist mould containing dried fruit and dotted with sugar. The flavours and sights of Alsace and Colmar had escaped my attention previously, but it is worthy of severable visits and is again evidence of the great regional diversity of tradition, food and wine in France.

The Good Life - Approaching the end of September

The greenhouse at Ardgillan Castle in north County Dublin

It was yet another dry and warm weekend. Cloud would gather in the sky and suddenly break up bringing warm spells of bright sunshine. In the hedgerows damsons or bullace plums had spent a number of weeks ripening in clusters their under leafy cover and were now ready to be bagged for gin and jelly. The last two evenings have been spent washing and cleaning these tart little fruit in order to stew them and extract the rich claret coloured juice. I have promised some friends a jar or two to taste and may try and force them to take a jar of my experimental blackberry and elderberry jelly as well.

In the allotment on Saturday afternoon we dug a small trough in the ground and filled it with charcoal and surrounded the earth oven with bricks. We had prepared a little salad and brought some wine to drink (Cotes du Jura Port Lesney by Domaine de la Pinte 1999), and then proceeded to cook beef, corn and fennel on a cheap cake stand which had been quickly reengineered as a grill. While we were eating I set about cooking a fillet of pork for Sunday's evening meal. After seasoning and rubbing in some herbs de provence and a little olive oil, I placed freshly cut branches of mint and thyme by the fillets. The fillets were then covered with heavily scented fronds of fennel. Occasionally turning the meat I replaced the mint and fennel with a fresh batch setting the spent and dried coverings on the coals causing it to smoke the meat above. Normally I burn meat on a BBQ but this really worked well; it took about 40 minutes to cook and it looked as if it had just come out of a wood fired oven. This was just at the right time because the mosquitos were beginning to arrive in force for their own evening meal.

The pork, which had an good strong herb and smokey flavour, was sliced and served with some homemade coleslaw and a melange of broad beans, garden peas, borlotti beans and french beans. These were the spoils from clearing a few of the raised beds. They were lightly boiled together and then strained only to be fried in a parsley and garlic butter. We finished the meal with a seasonal apple and damson cobbler. It is now inevitable I will be forced to take to my bike in the coming weeks to counteract the weight gain!

September has always been the most reliable month in Ireland but this year it has certainly been exceptional. It has almost been too dry and the ground is now dry and hard. The birch forests are finally losing the green colouring of their foliage passing quickly but not uniformly into a golden phase, turning these forests into a mosaic of colour when the low sun beams its rays deep into the woods. The other deciduous trees will follow their lead and then the countryside will plunge irreversibly into the last days of Autumn and Winter.

The caterpillars have stopped eating the broccoli!

A weekend trip to France

Figs and Mirabelles

The last post was complicated by issues with my Irish fraudband but thankfully I have been upgraded to intermittent poor service and can now type and save without too much difficulty. Last weekend I went to France to be with Corrine to help her out. Having arrived in Paris, I had a few hours to occupy before catching the TGV to Frasne not far from the Swiss border. I normally try to visit a small street market called the Marche de Ternes situated close to the Rue de Ternes and Porte Maillot. A good breeze coming up the Seine meant that the temperature would never be too stifling and I could walk around in comfort. The market is quite compact and occupies a portion of two small streets that radiate from a "v" shaped intersection. Street traders operate from stalls in front of an array of specialist shops and stores selling an assortment of produce including fish, meat, cheese, green grocers and fruit merchants.

Girolles

Turning the corner and arriving at the market with damp cobbles under foot I was confronted with a scene of busy preparation as the last additions were being placed on elegantly prepared displays of seasonal shellfish and fruit. Large tables of cool yellow girolles required little immediately caught my eye before it quickly travelled to the vast quantities of diminutive blushing golden mirabelles, adjacent to plums and gages and ripe figs. Bunches of opalescent pale chasselas grapes signalled the early season harvesting of grapes. In Dublin we are still picking artichokes and I thought the European crops had come ot an end by the early summer but I spotted an enormous variety of artichokes with large fleshy leaves dwarfing bunches of suedes and cauliflowers.

Artichokes and suedes

August is also one of the best months of the year for shellfish and despite the annual evacuation of the Parisians at this time of year to the South of France and Guadeloupe a great variety of shellfish was set out in well crafted icy displays grouping together vast mounds of langoustines, amandes and cooked shore crab.

Quite close by is one of my favourite places in Paris; Maison Pou on Rue du Ternes is not Fauchon, and never will be, but it essentially does the same thing cooking and preparing classic meals, dishes, meats and pates causing the havoc with the decision making skills of the hungry Parisian. The shop's style shirks the modernity and the crisp neat shapes and abstract forms that one might expect from Fauchon. The cooking and presentation of the food is easily recognisable as what I would consider to be classically French.

Delicacies of Maison Fou

I purchased my tickets in Gare de Lyon and wandered about for a while trying to find somewhere to eat. Eventually, I happened upn a neighbourhood restaurant of Reu Didertot and was put through my paces with the chef's foie gras to start, Lapin au moutard for main course and mirabelle clafoutis to finish. By this time the warmth of the sunshine needed to be suppressed and I allowed myself a refreshing glass or two of rose from the Pays du Gard.

I awoke the next morning in the small village of Couvieres. With warm sunlight flooding in through an open window that also allowed a comforting breeze circulate the room I breakfasted on coffee, toast with a reine claude plum jam and peaches fresh from the tree. Courvieres is immediately surrounded by pastures where the Monbelliard cattle graze and horses roam. The pastures are bounded all around by vast forests of tall straight powerful pine trees.

Horses near Couvieres

On Sunday morning we went for a short walk in the forests to hunt down a few mushrooms. There had not been much rainfall in the past few weeks in Courvieres, and we did not expect to find much. However, through one stretch of forest we doscovered a proliferation of Phallus Hadrian or stinkhorns; some spent and fallen down on the ground from where they literally hatched, others still proudly standing to attention freshly emerged from their embryonic sack with pitted and ribbed caps at the tip. If and when the rains arrive there may by a mycological explosion but it will not last long because the frosts will begin to become quite severe at 850 meters above sea level by the middle of September.

Phallus Hadriani emergging from the forest floor

Reading the newspapers it is difficult to escape the difference in the news reporting; the Irish media dwells upon one crisis followed by another where we have apparently been the author of our own misfortune (in reality a series of disasters created by a select few). In contrast the L'Est Republican carried a front page story on the announcements of various wine producers that they were in the last throws of preparing for the start of the vendage, or the picking of the grapes for their annual wine production. Elsewhere in the paper, my eye was caught by this full page add heralding the arrival of the Mont D'Or cheese. This cheese available during the Autumn and Winter months is one of my personal highlights of the year and launches me into new world of goumandises and a few weekends of gluttony.

The arrival of the iconicly seasonal Mont D'Or cheese

A cruise on the Saone and Canal du Rhone au Rhin

Sunrise on the river Saone just north of St-Jean-de-Losne

On Friday 19th September we arrived at Dole where Corinne had chartered a boat for the weekend. For the next three days we were going to be travelling on the Canal du Rhone au Rhin and venturing onto the river Saone. The boatspeed is limited and can only be described as leisurely, primarily to preserve the banks of the canals and to prevent incidents in the vacinity of the locks. As a result the distance we were going to be able to cover was restricted. However, visits to a number of small villages and towns along the canal and the Saone were possible.

The weather in France had not been reliable prior to the trip and we were quite lucky with the conditions, with clear blue skies throughout. This was possibly the last weekend where a trip on the canals would have been comfortable without using the onboard heating, because Autumn was clearly upon us and there was a noticeable chill in the air at night.

Autumn images

Having done a few trips on Irish canals a few years ago, I was not new to the experience, however having said this the French canals are different. The waterways appear to be wider and many of the locks are automated and extremely easy to use. Many villages have small docks where you can pull in and stay for a few hours or overnight, which is a convenient alternative to mooring up alongside a canal or riverbank overnight, as navigation by night is not allowed on the canals or rivers in France

The canals and locks create a great panorama with mature trees and a beautiful countryside surrounds you en route. Many beautiful houses and idyllic farms have been built along the canals over the years, and among them and worthy or mention are the lock keepers houses. Some have what appears to be a millrace to one side and a number also have small pools or a harbour for docking and turning.


We spent our first night docked at a small village called L'Abergement. Initial attempts to use the gas powered twin burner stove resulted in minor synges an burns, but finally a simple meal of fondue fresh bread and cold meats were washed down with a Cotes du Jura chardonnay.

We rose with the sun on Saturday morning, and it was not difficult to seek out the local boulangerie; the few inhabitants of the village that were on the move by foot, bicycle or car were all converging on the same point, and it seemed ludicrous to go against the grain at this early hour. My insticts and expectations were not disappointed and after coffee and some excellent croissants, with fresh bread and honey we were set up for the day. We cast off our lines and began our passage for the river Saone and the first town St-Jean-de-Losne.

St-Jean-de-Losne

Exiting the Canal du Rhone au Rhin you access the broad river Saone with low clay banks, and with it begin a brief excursion into Burgundy. Everything changes including the air you breath and smell, and the colours you see; the countryside is much flatter, the buildings are quite different with more brick employed in their construction, and the cattle were made up largely of a mixture of charolais and limousin varieties with very few montbelliard to be seen.

St-Jean-de-Losne is about 45 minutes downstream after exiting the canal system. It is not a large town but it is positioned on a major crossroads in canal and river terms. From this point you can access the Canal du Bourgogne the city of Dijon and onwards, or the south. Map of the French Canal System.

As I have indicated, St-Jean-de-Losne is now small and sleepy, and it is clear that this was not always the case because the town is dominated by a large marina basin where both leisure and commercial canal barges are tied up, and a number of boatyards and slipways would suggest that this area saw substantial commercial traffic in the past.

Barges at a slipway and yard at St-Jean-de-Losne

Auxonne is an hour and a half upstream and is accessed via a spur canal which cuts a corner off the route taken by the river Saone. Arriving from the south, your first view of the town is the fortifications and walls which you will eventually dock beside. Auxonne was a frontier town in the 17th century and as such was well fortified, being walled with ramparts, ditches, demi-lunes, tenailles, contre-gardes and redoubts beyond the walls. These works were commenced under the supervision of Francois de la Motte Villebret, Comte D'Aspermont and were continued after his death by Sebastien Le Prestre, Marquis le Vauban. The latter was responsible for some noteworthy buildings in Auxonne during this period; the Arsenal, which manufactured of cannon and munitions, was constructed in 1674, and the Caserne, a soldiers barracks, was constructed in 1688.

One of the entrances to the Arsenal designed by Vauban

The Comte D'Asperment's Porte Royale is an elegant structure and had iis insparation in the Italian classical tradition; the central gatehouse being akin to a triumphal arch. The two flanking pavillions give the overall design a strength and symmetry while also providing a means of access to the battlements.

The Porte Royale designed by Comte D'Asperment

Only in a number of places has the modern Burgundian town of Auxonne breached the perimeter walls where they still are standing. While the walls today are only partially preserved, they remain impressive and one gets an insight into the extent of the formidable defences that were originally constructed.

Auxonne is dominated by the church of Notre Dame. The south trancept is the oldest part dating to the 12th century with further works taking place during the 13th and 14th centuries. The grand portal was finally added in 1516 and is richly decorated with niches containing statues of the saints.

Detail of the Porch of the church of Notre Dame at Auxonne

As a second lieutenant and student at the Artillery School, Napoleon Bonaparte was based at Auxonne from 1788 to 1791. In 1857 the town's inahbitants erected a statue sculpted by Jouffroy to Bonaparte which is situated in the square in front of the Hotel de Ville and beside the Church of Notre Dame. The ground floor of the Chateau Louis XI is devoted to a collection of artifacts and some personal belongings of Napoleon; a number of sculptures, prints, swords and cabinets displaying a Sevres dinner service. Almost hidden away in a corner of the room can be found a glass cabinet, which contains possibly one of the more interesting exhibits on display. Inside is the solemn plaster death mask of Napoleon, which may be one of the plaster casts produced by Dr Francesco Antommarchi.

Statue of Napoleon at Auxoone

Napoleon Museum at Auxonne

After a good lunch prepared on board we lounged on the afterdeck in the warm afternoon sun enjoying the river life, and later went for a wander through the laneways and streets of Auxonne. We decided to depart around 6 p.m. after purchasing fresh supplies, and made our way through the lock and basin en route for the Saone. There was no chance of making St-Jean-de-Losne in daylight so we pulled into the rivers edge and tied the boat up for the night.

Parked on the riverbank, dinner was a grand affair with scallops, pasta and a salad. A simple plate of cheese closed the proceedings. The night was still and cloudless, and not a sound was to be heard from the slow moving river as it slipped past us. The countryside awoke gently just before dawn, and a gentle breeze edged its way downstream. As the sun reached above the trees it gave life to the river and the fish began to turn and roll in the surface of the water beside the boat.

Leaving Auxonne en route to the Saone

We decided to get some fresh bread from the small Sunday market at St-Jean-de-Losne, and also took the opportunity to look at the entrance and basin surrounding the Canal du Bourgogne. This was impressive very neat and well laid out. Time was not on our side, as we were due back in Dole by 5 p.m. for the handover of the boat. Once again we cast off our lines and made our way back to the Canal du Rhone au Rhin and the nine locks that separated us from Dole.

Along the way we shared the locks with another barge with seven Swiss guys on board. They had been released by their respective families and allowed to travel to France for a trip on the canals, where they presumably ate very well. We had a pleasant surprise however when we discovered they had provisioned the barge with wines from the Marcy vineyard at Saint-Prex. At least two of the guys were winemakers and we sampled two of their excellent wines as we travelled along. Arriving at Dole roughly on time we bid our farewells to our Swiss friends and brought Corinne's brother, sister-in-law and niece for a short spin on the boat.


It is my experience that your memories of a trip can fade quite quickly. The travel experience today is often rushed and difficult to absorb and appreciate. There is a certain irresistable natural inclination to relax that goes hand in hand with the pace of lfe while travelling on a canal. I like to think that this is something to do with the fact that canals were the first super highways of a Europe, and often better developed than the contemporary roads. They were initially constructed for transporting heavy goods and raw materials for industries that may have thoroughly disappeared today.

French canal development began in the 17th century, and the two canals I mention here commenced construction in the 18th century and became operational in the early 19th century. The main attraction for us today is that these canals take routes that motorways cannot. Motorways are a purely utilitarian and "a" to "b" experience, operating in a epoque where time is of the essence, and routes often block out views as they cut through towns or hillsides to shorten the route or prevent distraction. Travelling along the canals offers the senses the complete opposite. Canals may not always be direct, but they are often set into idyllic landscapes or sublime river systems, where motorways and modern roads do not exist or rarely venture. You immediately feel as if you have been cast off into another world. You cannot but appreciate the beautiful countryside, the blue flash of a kingfisher, or the easy and relaxed conversation of fellow travelers. For many years the canal network has blended into and been lost in the countryside, but the redevelopment and upgrading of the canal networks has brought about their recovery, and with it the rediscovery of a world lost in time.

Sunset on the river Saone just north of St-Jean-de-Losne