A Day Off

Saturday, September 15, 2007
Verderonne

We changed our minds about going to Chantilly when we were informed by Jack’s French friend that all such sites would be mobbed with people out taking advantage of the Journees du Patrimoine (Heritage Days) this weekend. So we instead stayed home and saved our energy and money, gathering up again into our bags all the clothes and stuff littering the table, desk, spare bed, etc.; reading Jack’s New Yorker (the food edition) so we can give it back to him tomorrow; and after lunch, walking down the street a few hundred yards to pay 5 Euros to see the gardens and theatre of Verderonne, which were once a part of the Chateau’s grounds, but which are now owned separately. The theatre was even visited by Marie Antoinette, supposedly. It was tiny, as if it was designed for children, with a balcony that could only hold ten people at most. But the large arched window at the back of the stage overlooked the pond and the gardens with its wide variety of plants and flowers, now at their slightly worn-out phase, ready to call it a season, yet still lush, and home to a variety of chickens. The owner’s fierce dog barked at us from the open window of an upstairs room, like a nightmare of a gargoyle. My favorite place was the glass orangerie; I would sit and read a book in there every afternoon if I lived there, soaking up the sun. The chateau is fabulously beautiful from a distance but up close I could see the windows with broken panes, covered up completely on the inside, which could only mean that those rooms, facing south, I think, get no use. How horrible to own such a treasure, a beautiful building, and not be able to keep it in good condition. Like this manoir house, only on a larger scale. Fortunately the stone doesn't need much maintenance. Hard to imagine what it must have been like for that place to have been Caroline's weekend country house when she was a child...or to picture her coming out of the chateau in her wedding dress when she was married.

I stayed out of the kitchen today and left my dirty dishes at the sink after breakfast, confident that I had worked more than my share this week and that it was time for a day off. Of course, I still ended up cleaning up the kitchen before I could cook dinner; I had tried to do dishes after lunch but was waved away, only to find the mess waiting for me at 6 pm when I came down to find out what to do about dinner. Still, I had time to read quite a bit before lunch, sitting with Reed in the garden outside the kitchen while he ate an egg that I cooked for him in cream in the microwave. Caroline made a very soft and tasty ratatouille for lunch, followed by endive salad (yuck), manchego from Spain that Javier and Nilsa brought with them, and then by orange-flower and peach flavored fromage blanc (white peaches from Chateau de Sacy, bruised and dripping), accompanied by some almond and pistachio pastries from a North African pastry shop in Paris that Caroline visited during her visit this week.

A little while ago I could hear lots of drunken singing from across the square, but now the village ruckus has mostly calmed down, aside from a few young yahoos yelling from their speeding cars; Verderonne was celebrating its annual “moules-frites” dinner of mussels and French fries this evening. Caroline had 3 tickets so Walt went with her and guest Javier while Jack and I and Javier’s wife Nilsa stayed home to eat raclette. Nilsa doesn’t speak French, Jack preferred raclette, and I was in the mood for a quiet, simple meal. Reed was too, he begged for fried eggs (more comfort food!) at 7 pm instead of waiting for raclette so I fed him eggs and apple tart and got him into bed by 8. I really wasn’t in the mood for a big dinner in the dining room with the whole main course, salad, cheese and bread, dessert routine tonight – I love the formal meals twice a day and all the good food and conversation of course but sometimes just wish we could all eat sandwiches and eat tortilla chips right out of the bag – so I was very happy to do raclette at the kitchen table, which is a cozy way of eating potatoes, ham, and cheese, invented by those resourceful Swiss. The raclette cooker is a little broiler with individual dishes for melting slices of raclette cheese, which you then pour onto your plate of boiled potatoes and sliced ham. Pickles are a traditional accompaniment and we did indeed enjoy ours with cornichons. It goes wonderfully with white wine, just like a fondue. I predict everyone in the US will have raclette cookers within five or so years, they’re so much fun. Then, we had the pleasure of eating more of the tarte tatin, which had not gotten any worse overnight. Walt got home around 10 after the moules-frites, smelling of smoke and bemused that he could not understand a word of French at the event despite trying very hard, and then he snuck down to the kitchen for one of the last two pieces of tart.