This week I somehow managed to turn the gentle art of gardening into a full-contact sport. I was ambushed by a giant palm tree and ended up with a two-centimetre spike embedded in my scalp. Apparently, palm fronds have a reputation as effective weapons in the jungle, which, in hindsight, feels less surprising than it should. I do seem to have form when it comes to hazardous flora; years ago, I ended up in hospital after a geranium-related eye injury. Was my fascination for John Wyndham’s ‘The Day of the Triffids’ as a child a coincidence?

When I first arrived in France in 1986, I craved Indian food with obsessive dedication. I’d think nothing of driving seventy kilometres — usually all the way into the centre of Paris — for a madras or vindaloo fix. I still adore Indian cooking and make it often, but after so many years here, my tastes have become influenced. These days, I find myself longing just as much for the bright, fragrant dishes of Vietnamese cuisine or the rich, spiced warmth of Moroccan food.

May is the 11th annual Sunshine Month and the initiative encourages people to embrace the benefits of longer, brighter days. It highlights how sunlight can boost mood, support physical health, and inspire outdoor activity. The month serves as a reminder to enjoy nature, recharge, and make the most of spring’s warmth and light.

Research shows that sunlight functions, not just as a source of vitamin D, but also a whole-body regulator. Its effects extend to circadian rhythm synchronisation, nitric oxide release, mitochondrial energy production, neuroendocrine signaling and metabolic regulation.

Recipe for Vietnamese chicken salad (4 servings)

Salad:

• 125g egg noodles, cooked and cooled
• 2 cooked chicken breasts, shredded
• 1/4 of white cabbage, thinly shredded
• 2 carrots, peeled and cut finely
• 1 small cucumber, sliced
• 1 cos lettuce (or any crispy lettuce), shredded
• 2 small spring onions, sliced thinly
• 60g salted peanuts or cashews, crushed
• A handful of mint and coriander, chopped
• 1 tablespoon sesame seeds

Dressing:

• 2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
• 1 tablespoon coconut amino sauce (or soya sauce)
• 1 tablespoon rice vinegar (or lime juice)
• 1 tablespoon maple syrup
• 1 small garlic clove, crushed
• 2 teaspoons hot chilli paste
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Add the salad ingredients to a salad bowl. Mix the dressing ingredients together until well combined. Pour over the salad, mixing well. Garnish with the coriander leaves, mint leaves and sesame seeds.

Following on from my previous post about Jazz, our thoroughbred Arabian horse and his water-sensitive coat, I’m pleased to report that he now fully-equipped with suitable waterproof attire, and his neuroses are calmed. He is so pleased with his new coat that he showcases it, with a little pirouette, for anyone that hasn’t already admired it. With the Jazz problem sorted, attention-starved Bijou decided to perfect turning on the taps and lights in the grange with his nose at 3am. As we hear the noisy water pump inside the house, and the lights make Java bark, he has become the cause of many an interrupted night. It’s not too surprising though; he has form as a night time pest.

Léo was speaking to a Turkish Erasmus student last week, who said that she had seen more male genitalia since arriving in France three weeks ago than in 21 years of life in Istanbul. Léo, rather taken aback, and not wishing to delve too deeply, would have left it at that, but the poor girl, bewildered — and slightly traumatized — went on to say: ‘What on earth is it with you Frenchmen and whipping it out and peeing in the street?’ She said that in Turkey, men wouldn’t think of indulging, as it’s illegal. As Léo replied, it’s illegal in France too, but it doesn’t seem to stop anyone. Just so you know, the fine for ‘pipi-sauvage’ in France is, on average 68€, but in Bordeaux, where this conversation was taking place, it’s 450€! The Bordelaise certainly like to live life on the edge.

Recipe for tagliatelle with prawns and Pernod (serves 4)

• 4 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 shallots, peeled and chopped
• 1 fennel, trimmed, rinsed and coarsely grated
• 2 large garlic clove, peeled and crushed
• 1 small red chilli, finely chopped
• 360g tagliatelle
• 300g raw king prawns, peeled and deveined
• 50ml Pernod (vermouth would work too)
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
• Small bunch of parsley, chopped

Gently heat the oil in a frying pan and fry the shallots, fennel, garlic and red chilli. Cook the tagliatelle (al dente) according to the instructions. Adding the prawns to the mixture in the frying pan, cook until pink. Add the Pernod, seasoning and parsley, stirring well. Toss the prawn mixture in the tagliatelle and serve immediately.

I drove 30kms last week to have my watch battery replaced. The jeweler, who was very patient and more interested in nurturing her inner teacher than her inner profiteer, took the time to show me that the big hand was on the 10, and the little hand was on the three. She said this meant that the watch was showing 3:10, and as it really was 3:10, the watch battery was still working. She then went on to compliment my very blond hair and blue eyes; it was only once I’d left that I realised the subtle point she had been making!

Since Brexit, it has become exceedingly expensive and complicated to send packages to the UK from Europe. Also, the sender is now inundated by far too much information. I recently sent a parcel which took 10 days to arrive. Every single day, I was the delighted recipient of intricate details of its progress. For the record, I’m OK with not knowing when it leaves the post office, when it gets into the van, when it sets off, when it crosses the border, when it stops for a potty break… What next? It’ll be setting up a Tiktok account and papping the posties.

What a boar!

A few evenings ago, hearing a terrible commotion coming from the forest, Leo’s immediate reaction was to ask where Java was. I assume this was based on the premise that where there is Java, there is commotion. Java is currently going through a bit of a phase: Despite angelic airs, her leaning definitely tends more towards criminal than cherubic. As it turns out, it had nothing to do with poor Java, who was snoring on a sofa. (It used to be we blamed it on the boogie; now, apparently we blame it on Java.) The neighbours’ dog had attacked some wild boar, which caused the neighbour and her daughter to escape up a tree, out of harm’s way. When Léo arrived to rescue the damsels in distress, they were still stuck half way up the tree, yelling futile instructions at their dog to leave the boars alone. Java, meantime, was still snoring on the sofa.

Although in Texas and Mexico where chili con carne originated, it is usually served with tortilla chips, I like this variant as the courgettes cool and complement the spices beautifully.

Recipe for chili con carne courgette gratin (serves 4)

• 250g pre-cooked red kidney beans
• 500g minced beef
• 2 tablespoons of olive oil
• 2 medium onions, chopped
• 2 cloves of garlic, crushed
• 6 tomatoes, blanched and skinned
• 1 red bell pepper (cut into strips)
• 4 chilli peppers (sliced)
• 6 mushrooms, peeled and sliced
• 2 tablespoons of tomato purée
• 2 glasses of red wine
• 250ml beef stock
• 1 sprig of rosemary and 2 bay leaves
• 1 tablespoon Worcester sauce
• 1 square of 80% dark chocolate
• Seasoning to taste : sea salt, black pepper, chilli powder
• 3 courgettes, cut into rounds
• Conté (or any other hard cheese), grated

Pour the olive oil into a medium-sized casserole dish and heat. Add the onions, garlic, mushrooms and mince and brown well, stirring around a bit. Once browned, add the bell pepper, the chilli peppers and the tomatoes and continue to cook until gently simmering. Add the tomato purée, the kidney beans, Worcester sauce, seasoning, stock, red wine and herbs and bring back to a simmer. checking from time-to-time that there is enough liquid. Add the dark chocolate, stirring well to melt, then place the chili in an oven-proof dish and cover with the courgette rounds and finally the grated cheese. Cook in the oven, preheated to 180°C, for about 45 minutes, or until the courgettes have softened and the cheese is bubbling.

 

 
 

I was on the loose in town today sans glasses. I realised they weren’t on my nose as we were leaving, but Léo was driving so I didn’t think it would be too much of a problem. Also we were running late, and the whole ‘when and where did I last see them etc.’ thing would have been too boring and time-consuming. It would obviously be easier to wear them all the time, but as I’m short-sighted, shallow, vain and in denial, it’s never going to happen. Anyway, Léo is a 16-year-old know-all learner driver boy racer, so out-of-focus is definitely the way to go. Far less white-knuckle stress.

While Léo was having his French horn lesson, I went shopping. All things considered, I didn’t do too badly. I bought baby peppers instead of tomatoes, but you know, who cares?  And I had to ask the owner of the shop to tap in my credit card code but again, no big deal. I waved like a maniac across the shop at someone who didn’t know me from Adam, but she was very nice about it and we chatted for a bit. In hindsight I realise she maybe just felt sorry for me, but is hindsight always a good guide? Going in to the post office I misjudged the doorstep, which resulted in an expedient and slightly melodramatic head first entrance. I then ‘Madamed’ a Monsieur, although he didn’t seem too put out – he was obviously quite woke; it’s so last century to fixate on gender.

I went back to the car to wait for my chauffeur (I got into the right car after just one small blunder), and passed the time contemplating my seemingly smooth, almost Photoshopped, wrinkle-free forehead (I’m making myself sound like a simpleton/lunatic now). I concluded that forgetting your glasses is cheaper and more effective than botox, probably less painful too, although that might be open to debate, as my doorstubbed toe will attest. It can be quite comforting to not see things too clearly all the time – I’m not sure that an obsession for detail is necessarily healthy. Think big picture. All in all, blurred worked pretty well for me today.

These ribs are a bit time-consuming, but so worth it. I had given up making ribs because they didn’t seem to be available to buy. We have now found a great butcher who has them all the time. They’re really not particularly healthy, but in a way they are because they’re so delicious they make you happy. And anyway, moderation is the key.

Recipe for BBQ ribs (serves 4)

For 4 racks of pork ribs (approx. 400g each)

For the marinade:

• 1 teaspoon cumin seeds
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 orange, juiced
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 2 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
• Combine the ingredients to form a runny paste in a food processor.

For the BBQ sauce:

• 1 onion, peeled
• 2 cloves of garlic, peeled
• 1 chilli, seeds removed
• 1 teaspoon fresh thyme
• 1 tablespoon fresh coriander
• 1 teaspoon chilli powder
• 50g brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
• 50ml tomato ketchup
• Dash of Worcestershire sauce
• 1 teaspoon mustard
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Combine the ingredients to form a paste in a food processor.

Rub the marinade over the rib racks and leave in the fridge overnight. Preheat the oven to 125°C, place the ribs on a baking try and cook for 1½ hours. Remove from the oven and wrap the ribs in tin foil and cover with the sauce. Return to the oven for another hour. Open the tin foil wrapping and increase the oven temperature to 200°C for a further half hour.

I inadvertently surround myself by fussy men. My father was very tricky to buy presents for, and I always ended up buying him books which was an interesting challenge. Well-written, knowledgeable, lively, original and slightly wry biographies about Winston Churchill or Napoleon were usually a good bet, and most things by Philip Roth or Ian McEwan usually passed muster. Books that tried to be too witty or too clever would be cast aside in disgust, as were novels by PD James who never ‘got to the bloody point’ quickly enough. It was with great sadness that I recently saw there was a new Churchill biography out because I’ll never know what he thought of it.

Luc and Léo are inordinately difficult to shop for because they’re both strangely obsessed with the weight of all shoes and clothing. Léo also has an aversion to pink, yellow and anything patterned. And not only must everything be feather-light, any zips or buttons must be ultra rapid to avoid, god forbid, slowing him down. Luc is a big fan of parachute silk and doesn’t care if his clothes make him look like gay Hawaiian televangelist, as long as they’re diaphanous. Mon dieu!

But it is Hugo that takes the biscuit (unless they’re dog biscuits which he spits out). His bedding is a source of sleepless nights for everybody. We are currently testing bed number four as the first three were not to his liking, which he made very clear. I do understand because I’ve had unpleasant experiences at times with uncomfortable bedding, but I don’t show my exasperation by growling and huffing and puffing all night.

Little Java is a breath of fresh air. Although I suspect she must have a preference for cashmere cushions (who wouldn’t?), she sleeps anywhere and on anything. She also eats absolutely everything (including dressed salad, mustard and melon, which, as dog owners will know, is incredibly random). There is literally nothing that makes her unhappy. Except gunfire; gunfire unhinges her, which is ironic as she was born and bred to be a gundog…

Recipe for Beef Rendang (serves 4)

• 1 onion, peeled and  chopped
• 5 shallots, peeled and chopped
• 4 cloves garlic
• 1 stalk lemongrass, chopped
• 1 teaspoon turmeric (or fresh turmeric, grated)
• 4 fresh chillis, washed and chopped
• 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
• 600g braising steak, cubed
• 2 tablespoons coconut oil
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 6 cardamon pods
• 4 kaffir lime leaves
• 500ml coconut milk
• 1 lime, juiced
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place the onion, shallots, garlic, lemongrass, turmeric and chills into a food processor and blend to obtain a smooth paste. Add the meat to the paste, mixing well and leave to marinate in the fridge for at least a few hours. Heat the coconut oil in a casserole dish and fry the meat/paste mixture for a few minutes until well browned. Add the cinnamon stick, the cardamon (releasing the seeds from the pods beforehand) and the kaffir leaves.  Add the coconut milk, lime juice and seasoning and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook for about an hour and a half, stirring frequently. The meat should be tender and the sauce reduced and rich.

Java has a boyfriend. In fact, she has two. One lives about a kilometre away to the east, and the other a kilometre to the west. At the moment they have different visiting times but, as one of them in particular is making himself more and more at home ‘chez Java’, it’s inevitable that one day they’ll turn up at the same time and I’m afraid it won’t be pretty. Especially if drama llama Java has anything to do with it.

Meanwhile, Hugo is delighted because it gets her off his back for a bit; when either of them turns up,  he shrugs a gallic canine shrug, sighs with relief and leaves them to it. There are only two prerequisites to be Java’s dogfriend: speed and stamina (although Hugo would no doubt say stupidity was another one). ‘Dates’ consist of running around the house at break-neck speed for hours on end, stopping only occasionally either to change direction or to slurp noisily from the pool. If they tire before she’s had enough, she barks at them manically. A catch she is not – just ask Hugo.

In other news, I noticed the other day that a couple of the hens had blobs of Farrow and Ball’s ‘Folly Green’ paint on their wings. Thinking that they’d just been hanging out too long in the workshop, I rinsed them down and forgot about it until Luc started to rant that the hens’ ‘tattoos’  had faded. Apparently he’d been colour-coding them according to how many eggs they lay. No doubt this information was to make its way onto a complicated spreadsheet to determine whether they’re paying for their keep, and if not, whether their next port of call should be a Le Creuset casserole dish. As he knows that I refuse to cook any beast that I’ve fed and built up a relationship with, it seems rather futile, but whatever floats his boat. And spreadsheets seem to.

These scallops seemed to float everyone’s boat when I last made them. I served them with rice, but they would be delicious with noodles too.

Recipe for stir-fry scallops (serves 4)

• 4 tablespoons sesame oil
• 10 mushrooms, peeled and sliced
• 1 red onion, peeled and sliced
• 2 small carrots, peeled and sliced
• 75g greens peas
• 1 red pepper, sliced
• 500g scallops
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed
• 2 teaspoons fresh ginger, grated
• 1 teaspoon chilli powder
• 4 tablespoons soya sauce

Heat the sesame soil in a large frying pan or wok, add the mushrooms, onion, carrots, peaks and pepper and stir fry until tender. Add the scallops, garlic, ginger and chilli powder and stir fry for about two minutes or until the scallops become opaque. Add the soya sauce heating for a further minute and serve. I served with a combination of wild rice/thai rice.