About 15 years ago when I was first studying naturopathic medicine, I remember mentioning the dangers of vitamin D deficiency on a forum for young mothers I used at the time. The reaction was patronising and along the lines: ‘poor sleep-deprived lamb! Should we alert the men in white coats now, or shall we watch her unravel a bit more first?’

New theories always go through the same tedious, but inevitable cycle: ridicule, violent opposition, and finally acceptance as self-evident.

Many medical circles, and certainly the WHO, view orthomolecular therapy with the same scathing derision as they did vitamin D 15 years ago, despite increasingly compelling evidence from more and more studies and trials worldwide. Facebook, the great financial interest-free adjudicator, even zaps all reference to therapeutic benefits claiming ‘fake news!’ And yet they give air(head) time to The Orange Toddler who, in a recent attempt to denigrate Sweden’s lack of confinement in response to the Covid-19 pandemic, said: ‘Sweden is suffering very greatly, you know that right, because they’re doing the herd, they call it the herd’. He really needs to learn to keep his mouth shut, preferably for ever.

In France a legal request has been submitted to the government by six doctors to petition the use of orthomolecular treatments, in particular the IV vitamin C protocol used by Professor Marik of EVMS, on the premise that it is unethical to withhold treatment that could help or cure patients. (Protocol here.) At low doses, vitamin C is a nutrient; at high doses, a therapeutic drug. Unfortunately I doubt anything will come of it because, as usual, financial interest will prevail.

My cooking is a bit eccentric at the moment as I’m using anything and everything to hand to avoid going shopping. My last visit to the supermarket was traumatic: They had created makeshift queue separations with clingfilm (I kid you not) and I propelled myself into one of these extremely aggressive bouncy plastic ‘walls’ trying to distance from someone practicing close social proximity. I must have received an electric charge, because my hair stood on end and the clingfilm and I became one. Any vague semblance of dignity I might have managed to conjure in my fetching builder’s dust face mask vanished in a heartbeat. Clingfilm 1, hair 0.

I didn’t have basil so substituted celery leaves and celery. The result was surprisingly creamy and delicious. Garlic is a great antiviral so I used even more than usual. The added bonus is that it makes social distancing easier!

Recipe for celery leaf pesto (serves 4)

• Handful of celery leaves
• 1 celery stick, peeled and sliced
• 75g pinenuts
• 4 cherry tomatoes
• 3 cloves of garlic, peeled
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
• Chilli powder to taste
• 2 tablespoons grated parmesan cheese

Blend the ingredients in a food processor to form a thick paste and stir into freshly-cooked pasta.

My annual old lady thermal cure was relaxing and very therapeutic, but not without incident. At the beginning of the first week I knocked myself out swinging on the shower rail. I wasn’t actually swinging on it, but I might just have been judging by the way it collapsed. Afterwards the nurse was very solicitous, and I think I caught a glimpse of ‘hopeless klutz’ and ‘not fit to be left unattended’ on my medical file. My slurred character wasn’t helped by The Great Hanky Haul a few days later: Luc, never one to do things by halves, asked me to pick up 16 (really, I mean wtf?) boxes of tissues and a bottle of whisky on my way home. The cashier, cheeky monkey, asked if I was ‘planning on coming down with a nasty virus then drowning my sorrows’.

During the course of the second week, I arrived back to the car to find it wedged in on both sides. My only option was to reach the front seat via the boot. Spending a morning saturated in mineral water and mud leaves you, or leaves me at least, absolutely stoned with little or no capacity to reason. This meant that my journey through the car via the back seat was complicated further by the fact that I hadn’t thought to remove my voluminous bag which was over my shoulder. To cut a long story short, the owner of one of the offending vehicules returned to find me swearing, sweating and stuck midway with my feet flapping. I felt I couldn’t give him too much of a bollocking as he graciously helped me exit through a side door, a bit like a doctor performing an emergency c-section. 

This comforting casserole is the sort of thing you can leave on a very low heat nearly all day, while you’re out and about causing havoc.

Recipe for braised beef with winter vegetables (serves 4)

• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 onion, peeled and sliced
• 2 shallots, peeled and chopped
• 4 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
• 800g stewing or braising steak, cut into rough pieces
• Cornflower to dust
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• 2 parsnips, peeled and cut into large pieces
• 6 carrots, peeled and cut into large pieces
• 1 fennel, rinsed and cut into chunks
• 3 tablespoons tomato purée
• 1/2 bottle red wine
• 275ml beef stock

Preheat the oven to 150°C. Put the olive oil into a casserole dish over a medium heat, adding the onion, shallot and garlic and fry until golden. Toss the meat in the cornflour, season and then add to the casserole. Add the vegetables and tomato purée, wine and stock, gently stirring. Transfer to the preheated oven and cook for 3-4 hours or until the meat is falling apart tender. If you want to leave it longer check there is enough liquid and turn the oven down.

Our cat, Minou, is tiny, opinionated and ferocious. Hugo has, in the past, tried to take him on – on the premise that he is top dog – but quickly thought better of it; he knows when he’s beaten. Java sometimes tries to play with Minou – on the premise that she is as daft as a brush – but it invariably ends badly for Java.

Yesterday Luc and I were standing on the lawn discussing the horses’ hooves, as you do. Hugo is always irrationally put out when Luc and I talk to each other outside (I’m not sure why), and doesn’t hesitate to let it be known. Yesterday, he showed his exasperation by sitting on my feet and boxing my legs with his paws. This, of course, provoked Java (because my legs belong to HER), and she torpedoed Hugo, threatening him with her tiny, bared teeth. Next it was Minou’s turn to be annoyed (manifestly, he is the only one allowed to attack Hugo), and he launched himself between the two dogs, intercepting and separating in a matter of seconds, like a particularly effective anti-ballistic missile. Which begs the question: is this normal, or is our cat a psychopath?

I always love making this casserole in the spring. It’s satisfying, yet light and fresh. And making it takes my mind off my unstable animals.

Recipe for chicken printempier (serves 4)

• 1 tablespoon of olive oil
• 1 onion, sliced
• 4 chicken thighs
• 2 glasses of dry white wine
• 450ml chicken or vegetable stock
• 10 baby carrots (or 4 normal carrots ‘julienned’)
• 4 small leaks, rinsed and sliced
• 4 small turnips, peeled cut
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 1 bay leaf
• ½ teaspoon paprika
• ½ teaspoon fenugreek
• 1 courgette, cut into rounds
• 80g of peas (either shelled or frozen)
• Fresh mint, chopped to garnish 

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Gently brown the onions in a casserole dish in the olive oil. Add the chicken and brown gently for a couple of minutes. Add the wine and stock and bring to a simmer. Add the carrots, leaks, turnips and seasoning. Cook for an hour in the preheated oven and then add the courgette and peas, making sure that there is still enough liquid. Cook for a further 20 minutes and add the fresh chopped mint just before serving. Delicious served with new potatoes.

Léo and I attended a morning course at the Driving School yesterday, along with about ten other learner drivers and their frazzled parents. In France, following about 20 hours of lessons and a pre-test, learners are able to drive accompanied until they reach test age at 17. The aim of the course was just to check in with everyone and see if there were any concerns or questions (ha!). What struck me was how many parents seem to regard their teenage offspring as basically just really tall, inconsequential, hormone-drenched toddlers.

When asked how his daughter’s driving was coming along, one man, with tears in his eyes, kept repeating mantra-like, : ‘I can’t do it anymore, I can’t do it anymore’. His poor daughter, sitting beside him looking slightly bemused, didn’t seem to have it in her to comfort him anymore. Somebody else asked if it was possible to hire a dual control car, because if not there was no way in hell that they would contemplate going out with their child again. One man was very hot and bothered every time they hit a roundabout (and that’s a whole lot of hot and bother because roundabouts are all the rage in France now).

Yet another father was very troubled by the fact that his son somehow managed to hit sixth gear before he’d reached the end of the driveway. He had a virtual spreadsheet in his head, details of which he regaled us with at length, of every time he changed gear. He kept saying: ‘I don’t think he gets it, he’s just not made for driving’. Luckily for both of them, the son took his father making him out to be a total cretin in very good humour.

All in all, it was not dissimilar to an AA meeting so when it was finally my turn to speak I said: ‘hello, my name is Fiona and I break out in a cold sweat and start shaking every time we approach an intersection’. As Léo explained to me quite resolutely afterwards, I ‘need to go and make peace with my bloody intersections because I’m the one with the problem, not him’. He has a point, but the good news is I certainly don’t seem to be alone!

These mussels make a nice change from ‘moules marinières’.

Recipe for cider and bacon mussels (serves 4)

• 2 kg fresh mussels
• 30g butter
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 2 shallots, finely chopped
• 2 cloves of  garlic, crushed
• 6 rashers of bacon (cut into strips)
• 4 sprigs fresh thyme
• 1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 150ml dry cider

Wash the mussels in cold running water making sure to remove any grit or sand. Discard any that float or any that are already open. Heat the butter and oil in a large saucepan over a low heat. Add the shallots, garlic and bacon and cook for a few minutes until softened. Add the mussels and coat well with the melted butter, oil and shallots. Add the herbs and seasoning and then the cider. Bring to a simmer and cook for about five minutes until the mussels have opened.