Strawberries
April is sailing by and here in the beautiful Quercy glorious summer is already on the horizon; the weather is delightfully warm, our summer migrants have arrived – both birds and humans – and the stage is set for six months of outdoor living.
Asparagus, strawberries and globe artichokes are the quintessential signs of early summer, and the backdrop of the current market scene. I spent a happy hour wandering round the aromatic stalls in Cahors, picking the crispest of the new salads and choosing the sweetest fruit and the fattest, freshest artichokes and asparagus to grace the first all-afternoon outdoor lunch of the year.
The table was set on the terrace; old pine and creaky teak were neatly covered with acres of white linen cloth, two-dozen glasses and a stack of plates.
Whilst I sawed the crusty bread into innumerable portions with lightning speed, a vulnerable hand and complete disregard for personal safety, our guests gathered by the young pomegranate tree beside the pool, yet more glasses in hand, gently imbibing pastis and Muscat. The breezes were warm and inviting, and they were discussing the chances of our olive trees making a good crop this year – small appeared to be the general consensus! They picked little bunches of budding lavender for the table and went on to discuss last year’s vintage.
Asparagus
Meanwhile I was boiling vast pans of water with furious concentration and heaping quiverfuls of lovely asparagus on to steam.
“Anything I can do?” A newly highlighted blonde apparition appeared in the kitchen doorway, sunglasses in one hand and wineglass in the other. She didn’t look as if she did anything more gastronomically energetic than open a pot of yoghurt once a week, I resisted the temptation to ask her to chop the herbs, or – God forbid – make the hollandaise.
“No, no, all done.” I murmured brightly, and she smiled with relief and disappeared back to the group round the pool. I turned back to the task in hand. Why do I do this?
But of course the answer to that one is blindingly obvious. I do it because I love it. There is nothing to compare with sitting out in the early summer sun, sipping wine from vineyards you can see from your chair whilst mopping up the delicious juices from asparagus picked early that same morning. I’m privileged, who wouldn’t love this life?
Back in the kitchen the huge stuffed artichokes were about to make their entrance. I found myself wistfully inspecting two broken nails and wishing I could look like the newly highlighted blonde while still rustling up a lunch for twelve – but you can’t have everything. I staggered out with an enormous platter full of artichokes, set them under the orange tree – in full, delicious blossom – and lapped up the applause. They were exquisite, tender and succulent. The sun was hot on my bare shoulders and the blonde was totally forgiven! I was in my element.
A good two hours and four or five bottles of Chateau Eugenie later, we launched into the sweet, fragrant strawberries, just tart enough to prick the tongue. A perfect ending to a perfect early summer lunch.
Anyone for an Armagnac?
© Amanda Lawrence 2007
Summer on the Way from French Vie
Tags: Cahors, The Quercy
