A vegetarian expat cooking & gardening in the Tarn
A slow blog in which not much will happen. Please join me as I learn to become a steward for the herb and flower garden, kitchen garden, orchard, olive grove, and trees on the property and to make the most of this bounty in the kitchen. Along the way I’ll introduce you to the bugs and birds who share this space, along with a few cats, and post the occasional recipe. I will track the weather and showcase this region and culture, and when I successfully navigate some bureaucratic challenge I’ll share what I have learned, but this is a “why to” not a “how to” blog. Feedback very welcome!
POSTS BY DATE (reverse order)
Mowing
There is grass here. A lot of it. And weeds. Even in summer when the grass is kind of brown and sad it needs to be mowed. We get a break in the coldest months, but by March we had better mow every 10 days or less or we will need to get Yvon to…
Growing roses from cuttings
In my March 20th post I talked about the roses I grew from cuttings for the lavender/rose hedge, and I thought that deserved a post of its own. So here it is. I did buy some roses (including two shrink-wrapped and waxed packs of three barely rooted, allegedly red, roses from E.Lecerc — at least…
Places to sit in the sun (& shade)
Perhaps because I spend so much time reading, writing, and when I am lucky just thinking, I also spend a huge amount of time sitting. An opening assignment for my Writing Fellows (stolen from my colleague Jens Llloyd) is to take a picture of and describe where they like to write and tell us why.…
Allium pearls
In his guest post [March 12, 2026], Alex Jacobsohn wrote about the thing they call wild garlic here. In the market I called it wild leeks and was roundly corrected. If they look like leeks, taste like leeks, and grow like leeks . . . they are garlic. Whatever they are, they are the thing…
First garden plot of 2025 — update
A rose and lavender hedge by the olive garden In 2025 my amazing sister spent a week getting up with me before the worst of the heat drove us inside to create a bed along the fence between the “road” and the olives. That meant we had to remove a lot of stones, small rocks,…
First garden plot for 2026
The orchard garden On the west side of the orchard there are three separate garden plots, two surrounded by a low fence that would not keep much of anything out and a few feet of space before the next one. Walter says that the man who owned the house when he was a child had…
Before the soup potatoes, were the artichokes
Guest post: Alex Jacobsohn
I am reading “Hold the Duck Fat” blogs with my mother, Andrée. We have just finished ‘all the plums’ and were about to start ‘soup potatoes’, when Andrée sagely announces that before the soup potatoes were the wild artichokes. And perhaps even the wild asparagus.
The issue of Expertise
When I started this blog I did not intend to name anyone aside from Andrée, who would not let me not name her. My friend Becky Howard had a blog for years and used terms like “the Beloved Partner” and “La Granddaughter” to refer to folks who they might otherwise have called by name. But…
The other side of stewardship
Tending the Orchard, part 2 I was feeling good after my work on the orchard. Thinking “perhaps I can do this!” But it is good to be reminded that it is never that easy! Beautiful spring flowers, delightful birdsong, industrious bees, and the promise of fruit to come is balanced by plants that froze in…
Tending the Orchard, part 1
This week I got my first course in orchard management Last week my agronomist and historic garden curator/manager brother-in-law (my go-to expert on all things that grow in the ground) explained “the plumbing” of trees, how the energy moves to certain buds and shoots and how to facilitate that. We looked at a very sick…
Moules
This is in many ways a timeless post. The images come from different mussel feasts, but the feast itself differs only by who makes the moules, what kind of fries we have, and where we eat. The picture on the right is the gold standard though. Nadine’s moules in the cast iron dutch oven I…
Market Day
Actually, every day could be market day because every place has a market on a different day. In order of both size and proximity, we have: Les Cabannes on Wednesdays, Cordes-sur-Ciel on Saturdays, Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val on Sundays (most of the shops are closed on Mondays). I always take visitors to the market in Saint-Antonin because it’s…
WSW, gusts 22, 27 later; Rain or showers; Good
In Watching the English, a fascinating book I recommend to students on our London semester and anyone trying to make sense of navigating England, Kate Fox lays out the “rules of weather-speak” with painful accuracy — she has a whole chapter on it. The rules she describes do not apply in the US or France,…
Apples
You don’t think of apples when you think of South West France — or at least I didn’t. I’m English, as are apples. I grew up eating apples from the trees, and when I moved to the US I pretty much stopped buying the mealy things they called apples in the supermarket except to cook.…
Fête de l’Osier
In France you can buy a perfectly good basket at the regular market — I got both of my market bags at the Cordes Saturday market and adore them, especially the one with both regular handles and shoulder straps. I felt much more at home when I had my own panier de marché instead of…
Grape vines
Today felt like spring, so the garden called. And between the showers I decided to tackle the easiest of my land stewardship tasks: grapes. As I’ve been driving back and forth to Gaillac and Albi this end-of-winter I have been closely observing what is happening in the vineyards that line both roads. Before the snow,…
Suddenly spring
There is a reason pre-Christians placed their holidays when they did! Two days ago I was giving shade to Imbolc and claiming it was still firmly winter, then this morning the air changed. There is still a wind and it is still strong, but the air is soft the way it is when the wind…
Light
This is one of those posts where nothing happens. But tomorrow is the day when we technically celebrate the coming of spring (Imbolc named for the sheep heavy with lambs, I’m told), also a day when pre-Christians (and current day neopagans, Wiccans, and others) celebrated Brigid, who is supposed to bring the light and run…
Sunsets
When I am in the US and Walter is here we send each other sunset pictures. It’s cute. Sometimes sunrise as well in the winter when they aren’t so early. In winter, Walter’s pictures pop up on my phone in the early afternoon, and if I send one back it is as he prepares to…
Reality check
As I work on this blog I sometimes find myself thinking of Voltaire’s Candide: or, The Optimist (1762) — hey, I’m an English teacher. While it is satire (against the philosophy of Leibniz if you are curious), it ends with Candide deciding to settle down and arguing that “we must cultivate our garden.” It is basically a…
A jar of truffles
In memory of Claude Blanc (28 août 1954 – 1 octobre 2025) The featured image is not mine. I couldn’t take a picture of the particular jar of truffles in question, so here is one from a website describing what to do with small truffles, what Nadine, our host, had done. Take a mason jar, place…
Taking out the trash
For most of my years in the US, and growing up in the UK, we had our own trash can and later recycling bin, which we dragged to the curb once a week for emptying. In 1993, I moved to the US apartments I just moved back to, and that was the first place I…
Early Spring Pruning
I have been itching to prune this mess for at least a week. These Salvia microphylla bushes (aka baby sage or Graham’s sage) get really scraggly in summer, but they flower almost constantly and they are very forgiving in the hotest months, not surprising as they are mostly seen in Arizona and mountain areas of…
This is 95!
On January 11, 1931 — 95 years ago today — Andrée Berger was born, followed a 16 months later by “my little brother,” Guy. January 9 is the anniversary of their mother’s death when Andrée was in her late teens, and for as long as I lived with them, Peter always used to buy her…
Laundry
I grew up doing laundry by hand. When we got home from school we would change into our play clothes and, like all the neighbors, my mother soon had our school blouses and gym clothes on the washing line for tomorrow. If the day was damp, they’d be finished in front of the fire or…
Il a neigé
Not much, but enough to bring back the magical joy of childhood in England when my mother would wrap us all in warm clothes and positively rush us outside to build a snowman as soon as we had half an inch of snow! Clearly I get my urgency to go build something from her, along…
What the camera can’t capture
The road to Gaillac is my favorite drive in any season, but it has been gorgeous since the fog came down. On normal days, the hills, curves, and steep bends mean new vistas are constantly opening around every bend and over every hill, but best is when you curve through a long (and thankfully well-cambered)…
Freezing fog
We are on the sixth full day of freezing fog, which started on the evening of December 30. In Paris it snowed, and relatives sent beautiful pictures of it on rooftops and gardens, but I still find the frost and fog more beautiful. It is cold, but no colder on the thermometer than New Jersey,…
Logs & sanglier
It takes a lot of wood to heat our house, and a lot more to keep the three stoves burning here and at André’s and the house across the road from her when there are people staying there, as there were at Christmas. Wood here is ordered by steres (one cubic meter), which for my…
Happy 2026
The last sunset of 2025 was spectacular. One of the things I love about being on the same (almost) time-zone as my brother and sister is that we can all post sunset pictures within an hour of each other — and we all start Friday happy hour at the same time. When I’m in the…
Feline update
The day after she arrived, Mia developed an abscess in her mouth, probably as a result of her bad teeth. We went to the local vet, Dr. Anne-Laurie Plessy-Monroy at Clinique Vétérinaire Codes Sur Ciel, who turns out to be awesome. She speaks English (husband grew up in the US) and is thoughtful and patiently…
The weeds fight back
When I got to the house the first time after it had sat (almost) empty for months, both courtyards were a sea of mid-thigh high deep rooted thistles, the kind that insist on populating my mother-in-law’s field and torturing my brother-in-law Alex who, like me, is a compulsive weeder. They had sprouted within the bushes and…
Christmas Day is for Duck & Vegan Wellington, & the best roast potatoes
Magret to be precise, and here is where the duck fat comes in. The assembled meat eaters had Magret, garlicky roast potatoes, and green beans with mushrooms and more garlic. Followed by warm fennel salad and green salad, a fruit salad, and then cheese of course (goat and sheep because two of us need to…
Seven Fish for Xmas Eve
Christmas is different in France. Or at least our part. It is not the frenzy of gift buying, wrapping, and excessive spending. There are gifts, and decorations, but it seems to be more about people and food and visiting those you love. Meals are long with food well spaced and bathed in conversation, music, and…
The last Christmas tree in the Tarn?
My tradition has always been to cut greenery and make wreaths and mantel decorations on the winter solstice and then think about Christmas afterward. At the old house I used to put branches on the banisters and porches as well as decorating inside. Here, I do the fireplace mantel and put wreathes on the front…
Christmas prep
Shopping on the last Saturday before Christmas in a country where it is celebrated is always a trip. When I was first in the States I used to go to the mall at 11pm on Christmas eve just to watch (and join) the last minute frenzy. At a certain point it ceased to be a…
I know I’m home when I hear the owl
The Eurasian Scops-Owl to be precise (Otus Scops). Which according to the “Merlin Bird ID” app is a: “Very small owl with golden-yellow eyes. Cryptic and well-camouflaged, with streaky gray-brown plumage that blends in perfectly with tree bark. Small ear tufts raised when alert. Much more easily detected at night, when monotonously repeated and well-carrying…
Mia Goes to France, continued
She is here. Gabapentin is amazing! Four half pills over a 24 hour period and she was the mellowest cat you can imagine. Children petted her as she poked her head out of the carrier at the airport (I did keep a tight grip on her harness); I carried her through TSA check in Newark…
My other life
For those who know me from my “real” life as a professor of Writing at Drew University, please rest assured that I have not left or retired—I’ll be back (and I’ll still be working with dissertators and thesis writers this Spring). I’m just taking some time out for research, writing, and family care. I will…
Queen Mia moves to France
I recently posted about bureaucracy and the need for patience. After all, the word itself is French. But I also noted that the US is not immune. I am in the process of relocating my aged cat to our house in France. The USDA has a website with instructions. So does Air France (I want…
Building networks
Being able to use community-connections to find local contractors and services is only the first step. Your connections make the connection but then it is up to you. Once they stop by to learn about the task, comes “the negotiation” — and this is where I would fail without Walter. The is important part. I…
Connections
Finding a community Many posts to the FaceBook group “Expats move to France,” are about how hard it is to make connections and become part of the community, and to be honest, I don’t know how people are able to move to France without knowing anyone in the town/village they selected. My mother-in-law did that…
“Bon Courage”
If you tell an expat you are going to move to France this is probably what you will hear, even from people who do not describe themselves as French speakers. Several people I know in the village have asked me if I really want to move there and encouraged me to speak up if I…
Holding space
However many new friends we make, we are delighted that our house has room for old friends and family to visit and they are currently doing so at such a pace that I started a spreadsheet so we can keep track of who we have invited. One of the additional attractions of the house is…
Soup potatoes
I mostly see these at the little Wednesday market at the bottom of the hill from us in Les Cabannes. And when I see them, I buy them. The variety is identified as Bintje, and they are actually from Eastern Europe I think. But they are the most perfect soup potatoes, alone or with other…
So many plums
I’m sure there will be a post like this every year as I struggle to handle the bounty from all of our plums. The original gardener here was amazing, and among many other riches left us three kinds of plums and greengages, with at least two trees of each. The earliest is small red bursts…
Welcome to our House
Celebrating our one year ownership-anniversary. Happy new house day. I say I bought this house sight unseen, but that is not entirely true. I had seen pictures of the courtyard. And I fell in love with this house because of the courtyard. The extended in-law family had all seen it of course, and various of…
Sunrise over the oaks
Another misty morning Today began with a bit of a frost, just enough to make the field silver and shimmery. We have tempestuous firestorm sunsets here, but sunrises are lower key and generally pastel like the one in the image to the left. I grew up with the saying “red sky in the morning, sailer’s…
About that duck fat…
So why did I give my blog this name? The area of the Tarn we are in is duck country, and I mean gastronomically. If you come here and you are not averse to doing so, you will eat duck — both in forms you recognise and in forms you may not. There’s the classic…
The Village
There is so much to say about this village and why we are here, but I will start with some pictures. Of course. We are deep in the Tarn, so the signs are all bilingual French and Occitan. When I first came here a lot of the older people did not speak French, but today’s…
Friperie, flea market, & brocante
When we were ready to move to France we confronted the challenge faced by every ex-pat: to ship or to sell everything before leaving and start all over again once you arrive. Having just spent a year rescuing and cleaning what family heirlooms and books survived our house fire, we were not about to leave…
Why this blog?
In these days of short reels and equally short attention spans, micro-blog instagrams, and AI everything, why would I start a longer form blog? Well that is exactly why, actually. As I move into a new, slower, life in a rural community in south west France my first order of business is to slow down…
How we got here (for those who ask)
The easy answer: a house fire. Our house in New Jersey burned, not to the ground, but if it were a car it would have been totaled: the amount it would cost for us to repair was more than we could sell it for. We thought we were going to rebuild anyway so we paid…