Le Couvent Diary

Hello again. Did you think we’d gone forever? It took me a while to notice that our website went off line for a few days, an inexplicable dearth of e-mails prompting a call to our hosts who had us back online in moments.

I’ve also been away to England to help my mother arrange all the stuff you have to do when someone dies. My step-father, John, had the send-off he’d have hoped for. We had a full house while I was away which made for a difficult time made easy by help from our great pal Alex.

Sweltering weather here in France welcomed me home – it’s been between 33 and 36 degrees for the past ten days. Humans, dogs and chickens have coped well, but my tomato plants look exhausted and I simply can’t give them enough water. They sit in the middle of the vineyard in full sun, along with pathetic courgettes. The aubergines are fantastic, however. Heaven knows why they tolerate it so much better.

As if it isn’t hot enough, this is the time for jam and chutney making. Why does everyone think this is a snugly winter pursuit? The fruit is all hanging heavy on the trees so we’re making the most of it. Last week I made fruit salad jam. My own recipe. It seems very successful. Last night I made plum and apricot chutney. Kilos of it. Today I’ve been fighting with a recalcitrant printer, trying to do labels. I’ve given up and just ordered a new printer. It’ll arrive on Wednesday and I’m praying it will arrive already tamed.

I seem to be having a creative spurt at the moment. Ali thinks I don’t have enough to do already. So this week I also made beeswax furniture polish, lemon verbena hand + lip balm and aloe vera + lavender shower gel.  They’re all available here for a tiny handful of euros. Needless to say the house smells wonderful and guests wander round sniffing the air like Bisto kids.

This afternoon I’m considering dead-heading the roses and geraniums. I’m not eager since it is still about 33 degrees and there’s an awful lot to do. On the other hand, I’m paler than the guests after days of inside jobs, so it would be a chance to catch some vitamin D. I just wish I had a job that would demand this product. Are they serious?

 

 

A few years ago we had a lovely jazz singer to stay.  She has a friend who lives close by here who makes soap and she told us that her friend's soap was exceptional.  Now, I don't know about you, but to me the notion of making soap seems somehow rather arcane.  It's a process I know practically nothing about, I just know that like anything that's good, it takes effort, knowledge and skill to make it terrific as opposed to ordinary, and, hey, we all know that most bars of soap do the job in a wet and suddy kind of way but, basically, ordinary is missing the point.  Isn't it? 

So.  Ripple, lather, dissolve.  For the last couple of years we've bought our delicious organic soap from the Savonnerie de Saint Privat.  (Her lavender soap, by the way, is the very same gorgeous, purple stuff sold by Neal's Yard.)  Anyway I phoned the savonerie yesterday to find out if she or her partner were going to have a stall at Clermont market.  She told me she'd just had a baby and wasn't going to be making any soap for the next year or two.  Eekamouse.  PANIC.   

So today, on her advice, I headed for the Olive Oil Co-operative at Clermont l'Herault which is where all the local growers take their olives to be pressed.  I discovered that it also has rather a fantastic shop, which apart from olive oil also sells regional artisanal products like wine, pottery, honey and wine.  And soap.  Lots and lots of soap.  And also our girl's soap. 

I bought it out.

 

 

 

So, when you arrive, you may find in your soapdish:

Lavender (lavendre)

Honey and Geranium  (miel et geranium)

Rosemary and Spirulina (romarin et spirulin)

or

Orange and Cinammon (orange et cannelle)

I drove back with the car heavily, headily, drowsily pungent with all of the above.  Oh my, oh my, it smelt good. 

We can't actually afford to give you a whole big bar of these soaps because, like most things good, they're pretty expensive and it would be enormously wasteful to throw out almost all of a bar each time.  So we hope you enjoy trying a taste of something that couldn't be more real or more local. 

We're now into our second week of volunteers and I thought I'd drop in a quick word between all our guest bloggers. If you'd like to see what they've been doing you'll need to have a look at their diary .

When Ali and I bought the vineyard we've named Chateau Malaudos we thought it was beautiful. Abandoned for at least three years, it looked tired and neglected, but you could see those high cheekbones and exquisite structure nevertheless. However, we had no idea what a sleeping beauty the land really was until our volunteers started work. They've lifted off the dead skin, plucked her eyebrows, removed the blemishes, pulled the hairs from her chin, moisturised and given her some beautiful earrings. She has had a stunning new haircut and, needing no clothes, has revealed the body of a goddess. I think we're all thrilled at the revelation brought about by the volunteers and their fantastic work. Ali and I certainly don't have words enough to express our thanks adequately.

Each day two of our volunteers were responsible for preparing breakfast and dinner. For many this was the first time they had cooked for more than four - we were frequently at least 12 at the table.

 

 

Someone was always responsible for ensuring the dogs didn't get too stressed. 

 

So many excellent meals demanded hefty work to burn off the calories.

 

 

 

And when the volunteers had had enough of one job there were plenty of tools ready to start the next one.

 

 

But it hasn't been all work. On Saturday afternoon we all had a go at archery. It wasn't a wild success in the scoring department, although a couple of us did finally hit the target. Everyone seemed to enjoy the experience nevertheless.

 

 

 

 

Ali and I realised a long held plan when the first week's team painted a quotation from 14th century anchorite Dame Julian of Norwich on the wall of Le Couvent. It reads 'all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well'.

We have just two more working days to go and our list has been well bitten into. Today is a day of rest and our current team has gone off to explore; some to the Mediterranean coast, others to St Guilhem le Desert, and one couple are travelling about chewing over the notion of finding a second home here. Meanwhile Ali and I catch up on e-mails, clean up our neglected apartment and plan her forthcoming trip to see her family in Australia. It's been an extraordinary two weeks.

We're a bit behind with things. Not to be outdone by everyone else in the western world, Ali and I got the rotten colds the second Christmas was over. Dammit. This put paid to serious vine-pruning, gardening, sorting out general chaos - indeed anything that involved standing upright. But we're back, and on splendid form.

Today we have a heap of friends coming to lunch.  We'll be two Swiss, one Catalonian, two French, four English and Ali, who is Irish/Scottish/Malaysian. So, of course, we'll speak French - the first language of just two of us. I'm trying a recipe for sanglier, only I haven't got any wild boar, so I'm substituting pork. I'll let you know how it goes - and the recipe if it works. It uses heaps of red wine in honour of the five wine-makers who'll be eating with us. I'm daring to ask them to taste our new wine from last year's fated harvest. Yesterday our pal Rosemary George, Master of Wine and expert on Languedoc wine , tasted it and, very kindly, didn't choke. She was even rather kind and encouraging about it. Thank you

No doubt you'll have seen that France, like the UK, has been covered in a blanket of snow for days now. We, here in the south, have had more of a thin veil for just one day. The rest of the time it's just been absolutely freeeezing. Despite our colds, we've spent a fair amount of time chainsawing dead peach trees for firewood. When we bought our vineyard we inherited a once-upon-a-time orchard. After three years of complete abandonment many of the trees had withered and died. I've rescued quite a number, but those past it are now filling Le Couvent with the delicious scent of peach-wood.

Our recycling scheme is going well. As fast as new stuff appears on the website someone claims it. Recent good giveaways have a been a brand new skinny Mac keyboard, a swimming pool roller and cover, 22 bottles of white wine, a pair of designer shoes, two pairs of leather trousers, two sunbeds, champagne glasses and lots more. If you're reading this locally do take a look at C'est Gratuit . There are loads of things being given away - free - for nothing. At the moment there are some great Ikea wardrobes and an Ercol dining table up for grabs. Do take a look.

The new hens have settled in famously and are fast gaining on the big girls. Anyone who's been to Le Couvent will know that our hens are absolutely enormous, living on a summer diet of croissant, pain au chocolat, pain au raisin and anything else left from breakfast. This time of year sees bags of leftovers hanging on the gates of Le Couvent from our neighbours. From time to time their kindness is rewarded with some fresh, orange yolked eggs. The perfect exchange.

In an idle moment yesterday I was meandering through Youtube videos and came across this one. The chap's name is Michael Schulte. I like it a lot. Click on the big arrow, sit back with a coffee and think happy thoughts.

 

 

Ali and I wish you a very Happy Christmas and a peaceful, healthy and happy 2009. We hope to see lots of you next summer.

Bisous à tous de Lizzie et Ali du Couvent, Roujan.

What's been happening at Le Couvent during this six weeks of silence? Well lots actually. We lost the first week dealing with cops, garage and insurance when the van was broken into. Then my lovely mum & John came to stay for ten very gentle days of eating good food, touring and talking.

 

 

This is a typical photo of my Mum who has never managed to look straight at the camera. John's about to have his second period of chemotherapy in a year, so we all have our fingers crossed for him.

And now we're just back from a wonderful week in New York. After first class flights from Heathrow we stayed in the uber-stylish Gramercy Park Hotel on Lexington and 22nd (I've always wanted to say that) and spent our days, like all tourists, shopping, sightseeing, visiting galleries and eating too well. BA looks after its first class passengers very well so we arrived on fantastic form, refreshed and well slept.

The Gramercy Park Hotel can only be described as dark, luxurious gothic, with the emphasis on dark. Superbly situated near Union Square, it had the most comfortable bed I'd ever slept in and a wonderful large bedroom and bathroom, but you needed a miner's lamp to see your way round. The lift always contained some poor guest bent double peering at the floor numbers. And when we ate in the excellent Wakiya restaurant which is part of the hotel, there was a chap at the next table actually using a torch to read the menu. He was obviously a regular. It was a hoot, and I would have  loved to have been able to see the heavenly chilli lobster dish that will stay in my tastebud memory for ever.

But the main reason for our trip was to spend some time with four friends and to support Gill Carrick and Joan Armatrading who were running in the NY Marathon for the Women of the Year Foundation . They did brilliantly,  and can still be sponsored by clicking on their names.

 

 Well done girls!

 

 

We had a fantastic time cheering everyone on.

Macy's called for the next couple of days and Ali, who has gained a bit of weight, and I who've lost a bit, found some fab new clothes and shoes, and a new suitcase to lug it all back in. After that we geared up for a bout of sightseeing. Here's Ali at the top of the Rockefeller building. As you can see the weather had closed in rather. So we'd managed to shop during brilliant sunshine, then sight-see in cloud and rain. Lah di dah.

 

 

It's behind you.... Lizzie &the Flatiron building

 

 

....and Ali in Grand Central Station

 

We all met up for a fabulous lunch in the Grand Central Station Oyster Bar - to be recommended, especially the Ipswich Crab Cakes (I had those just for you Mum)

 

It wasn't always so glamorous - Ali and I were desperate to try out a real diner for brunch.

 

 

 I forgot to mention that we'd arrived on Halloween which put us in the party mood from the get-go, but the absolute highlight of our stay was being there for the US elections. Can you believe it? What an exciting time. On the day of the vote we pitched up at Election Plaza outside Radio City, where the party had well and truly begun.

 

 

But we decided the most comfortable place to watch events unfold would be our hotel room where we set out a picnic and watched it all on the box.

 

 

 And you know the rest of the story.

 

 

Well done President-Elect Obama. Those check-out girls in Union Square that we spoke to earlier in the day will be thrilled. As are we.

After all the excitement of the elections our friends Mandy, Miranda, Josie and Janet flew back to the UK leaving Ali and I to do a couple more days' exploring. We were very keen to see as many galleries as possible. MOMA was interesting, if exhausting. We managed to arrive at the Guggenheim, the one we were keenest to see, on the only day it was closed, so we headed up to the nearby Jewish Museum. Very interesting, if dark. I got into trouble for shining a tiny magnifying light on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Whoops.

 

Although the beautiful Guggenheim was closed, it was a treat to see a Kandinsky arrive to be tenderly handled into the museum.

 

 

It's all just over the road from Central Park, so that deserved a fleeting glance too. Unfortunately one week simply wasn't enough to do all that we wanted so we'll just have to go back - soon.

 

 

And finally, many many thanks to our lovely generous pal who gave us our flights, lots of delicious suppers and our hotel stay - you are amazing. And thanks too, to Jamie and Tara, developers of  Phoload, who came to stay at Le Couvent to look after the dogs, cat, chickens, fish and house so well. We feel refreshed and ready for a winter preparing Le Couvent for next season. God, holidays are a tonic.

By popular request we've offered an alternative date in February 2009 to come to help at Le Couvent, Roujan. If you're up for some fun and hard work in the vineyards and here in the old house, do take a look at this page . We've had volunteers apply from several other countries, so the talk should be good and the jokes multi-lingual/cultural.

Don't hold back - this will be an extraordinarily interesting week/fortnight. You'll learn loads and get fitter into the bargain.

There's nothing like a bit of teamwork for getting things done.

 

 

Today's my birthday and my brother's bought me a special rake for whacking the grapes down into the juice. Sometimes the best present is the thing you need right now. The vat of grapes is singing. The yeast is bubbling away and it sounds like a massive bowl of Rice Crispies.

Ten of us went to Meze for a lunch of heaps of shellfish. We had to wait long enough for the restaurant to go fishing before we eventually ate, but it was good, and thankfully no-one was in a hurry.

All in all it's been one of those times when our friends have absolutely come up trumps. Thank you so much Teddy, Nicola, Erzsi, Kathy, Richard, Clare, Rachel, Alex M, Alex C, Greg, Kate, Jenny, Jackie, Josh, Freddie, Michelle, Henny, Simon, Hans and Christa. You are complete stars. And to all the other people who were lined up to help with the harvest, can we please book you for next year?

As soon as we saw the damage and realised we had just a few grapes we could rescue if we did it immediately, we started ringing round our team. Within one hour of seeing the damage we had thirteen pals and all the equipment in the vineyard. What fantastic friends. We hit the remaining grapes like demons possessed in that thundery heat that threatens another storm. To the chorus of endless yells of 'BUCKET' meaning 'this ones full and I need another' - a signal for the porters to hurry over bringing empty buckets and lugging off the full ones, we cleared the surviving grapes in less than three hours.

 

 

As you can see, the grapes are not pretty. The hail has smashed them open, but they might just be usable if we're quick.

There's so little that we have decided to use them to make some wine for ourselves, so we take them to our new cuves at my brother, Justin's, house.

The grapes come up to the 750 litre mark on the cuve, but that includes stalks and skins so we'll have precious little when all that gets taken off eventually.

As if the day hasn't already been difficult enough, the cuve containing the grapes decides to lurch into a jaunty angle thanks to a rather-too-soft floor. There's only one thing for it, we have to move all of the grapes into the second tank. And there's only one way to do it - by getting into the tank with the grapes.

Here's Michelle, my sister-in-law, getting down and dirty with the grapes.

 

Now, you have to understand that we are wine-making virgins and all this has come upon us with a rush. So a hurried phone call to the charming and helpful winemaker, Simon Coulshaw , gave us these instructions.

And those led to a rather inexpert approach to measuring out the stabiliser and yeast.

After the addition of the stabiliser and yeast we got our mate Kate to say a few fine words to encourage the mass to turn to ruby nectar.

Now it's up to Bacchus and a fair wind.

Former guest Vonda had this on her blog and I thought it would be fun to do.

Here is what you do:

1. As a comment on this blog, leave one memory that you had here at Le Couvent. It doesn't matter if you were here a day, an hour , or a month, anything you remember.
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's fun to see the responses. If you leave a memory about Le Couvent, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.

With just over a fortnight to go I'm beginning to panic about our grape harvest (le vendange). Ali says it will just happen. I, as a Virgo, tend to think we need to plan it a bit. So our unsuspecting pals are about to be coerced into spending a few days bent double over our vines. I fear many of them will feign memory loss when we contact them. " Who are you? Never heard of you. Sorry. Bye"

Our wine cuves are still in northern France despite days on the phone and visiting transporters to beg them to bring them to us in time for the vendange - or indeed ever. We're having no luck with it at all. Looks like all our grapes will have to go to the cave co-operative in Roujan. We'd been very much looking forward to having a go at turning some of our Syrah into stuff that turns our tongues blue. But hey ho.

Meanwhile we are having a charmed summer on the guest front. Not only has it been our best season ever bookings-wise, we have had a stream of utter charmers. Everyone's been a complete delight. Ali and I feel very unstressed thanks to having such lovely, kind, thoughtful and easy people to stay. Thank you, each of you. We've loved having you here - and doesn't the old house smile when it's full of happy people?

We have just five weeks to go before then end of our season and as I sit here in lightweight summer clothes in brilliant sunshine it's hard to bring myself to phone the log man to ask for a delivery of 12 cubic metres of logs for the winter. But if I leave it until we actually need it he won't have any - or it'll be sopping wet and impossible to heave into neat stacks. Both Ali and I look forward to winters here. I can't say I felt the same when I lived in England. I love the crisp chill that puts a spring in your step, the bright sunny days that mean you can work outside, even if you have to wear a thick jumper. I'm looking forward to days cool enough to tidy up the garden, giving everything a haircut that will last the winter. Everything smells different as September rolls past. The air fills with the scent of smoke from wood-burners stuffed with fruit woods and oak.

But before then the air will be infused with the sharp smells of grape juice running through the streets. Small tractors will hurry along towing great trailers heaped with grapes, small blackboards on the back marked with the variety of grape. They'll deposit a trail of juice which will leave us in no doubt about how this region earns its keep. As one drives along towards Pezenas great draughts of wine-perfume blast out from the Cave Cooperative and Domaine Bourdic and the Chartreuse de Mougeres and Domaine de Montpeyrat and Chateau Fondouce - and all the other thousands of wine producers here in the Languedoc.

And the great thing is, it just happens.

 

If you're free in February 2009 and you fancy a heap of hard work in exchange for free bed and board, we're running two Volunteer Weeks . We haven't done this before, but we have had some wildly successful volunteer weekends and now that we're in danger of using up the goodwill of our friends we're hoping to spread the net a little wider. Our friends tell us they have loved the weekends, so we hope you would too.  If you're interested follow the Volunteer link on the menu at the top of this page, or click here .

Whoops - I've kept you waiting. Sorry. Glad you're back though. So four days ago the Tour de France chose to gallop through Roujan again after a 50 year break. And what fun we had.

Two of our poor guests had to leave early on the day of the tour to avoid closed roads and traffic jams. This was particularly rotten luck since one of them had broken her foot whilst here and had the 24 hour journey back to Western Australia to do encased in plaster. Hope you got home safely John & Julia - sorry you missed Le Tour. Maybe the whole of Roujan should be protected thus:

The fun starts some two hours before the actual cyclists show up, when a cavalcade of advertising vehicles rattle past lobbing freebies at leaping spectators. Grown adults diving like Grobelaar to rob tiny children of the fourth peaked cap or a triangle of cheese. Some of the vehicles are spectacular, like this one on top of a car.

Some aren't quite what they claim to be - for instance - what's eco about driving the whole of France in a big square box on wheels?

 

This poor women spent her entire time trying to avoid being decapitated by overhanging trees.

Whilst this chap looked none too enamoured to be spending half of July sitting in a cup of coffee. A career in PR anyone?

Mme Mas came out onto her balcony to wave, sporting a very appropriate and fetching Nike cap.

 Ali made sure we got our own bit of marketing in.

Our lovely French neighbour brought us out a plate of delicious stuff to stave off hunger (we were none too successful at catching the cheese triangles).

 Nicola & Ali bought silly hats.

And eventually the cyclists came in a sweep and a whoosh. All very exciting. We shouted for them to thow us drugs, but they seemed to have kept them all for themselves. Hey ho, you can only ask.

  

 So we all had a silly, noisy, friendly and lovely time. Wish you'd been here.

 Thanks Tour de France - see you in 2058.

Ali's gone shopping thank God. That means I don't have to. Winding the windows down is the nearest we get to air-con in our ancient Freelander. It's around 36 today so inside or by the pool's the only place to be. So our guests decided to cycle around the countryside early this morning - how wise.

I'm on a diet so I spend hours trawling through recipe books for luscious things to cook for supper. Tonight we're on spiced chickpea cakes with red onion and coriander salad. If it's good I'll put it in the recipe book here. The diet's going well thanks to my mentor Rachel . Thanks hon!

The only fly in the ointment at the mo is the spider/bee in the potager that stung /bit me the other day. As a result I have a fat hand that is causing me some consternation as it's now three days later and it's still swollen. At least I have Jan the homeopath on the case & it is a little better today in that I'm not tempted to just cut it off to relieve the itching.

 

 

Since I last talked about the new restaurant up the hill at Vailhan, Le Presbytere , lots of guests and friends have been and all declare the food very good. Ali & I went again the other day too. The co-proprietaire Sylvia is a bit cool so the food and the view have to make up for the lack of dynamism, but they do it brilliantly. The view is unbeatable and the food tastes wonderful and looks like this:

 

 

Tempted? Go on a balmy night and sit out on the terrace.

What's stoolball? It's an old English game, the fore-runner of cricket, originally played by milkmaids. You probably haven't heard of it because it's only played in Kent, East Sussex and now, Roujan. If you'd like to know more about the game you can check it out here .

Last year Ali & I made some wickets, painted them jolly colours and hauled together a team of friends and family & called ourselves the Languedoc Crocks. We were mentioned on a website and as a result the lovely Clare, captain of Causeway Stoolball Club in Kent, got in touch with us. Despite the fact that our team had played just twice Causeway was insistent on coming to play against us. It was a howling success as witnessed here .

Within moments of going home they booked to come for a long weekend again this year. So we did it all again. We had supper at Le Couvent, we went to Pezenas market, we played on the cricket pitch at St Pons de Mauchiens.

 

We laughed, we lost, we were 31 for dinner at Les Goutailles , we played again. Ali & Nicola got silly.

 

We were 36 for dinner in the vines at Chateau Mal Au Dos and then they squeezed themselves and all their bags into two people carriers and grinned their way back home to Kent. All between Friday afternoon and Monday morning. And then Clare wrote to book for next year. Hooray! What can we conjure up as a surprise then I wonder?

Thanks to all our friends and family who worked their socks off cooking and lugging stuff and providing wine, not to mention actually playing. And thanks so much to all our friends from Causeway Stoolball Club. It was fantastic. And we're going to beat you next year.