The Cocktail Drinkers' Guide to Gardening: August/September

Born in Hampshire, England, my smart (brainy) and smart (elegant) friend James Clay is an artist and sculptor who settled down (somewhat) in St. Remy close to 20 years ago. Over the years, he created a gorgeous one-hectare garden, filled with fruit, palm, pine, and olive trees (he has 60 olive trees, all of them transplanted), plus many varieties of bamboo, flowering plants and shrubs. James knows pretty much everything about gardening in Provence. Plus, he likes to drink. Plus, he likes to write. So each month here on ProvencePost.com, James serves up essential gardening secrets with appropriate seasonal drink suggestions. Here’s what sprang from his fertile mind this month.

The 'dog days of summer'…what should one do in the heat of the afternoons? Find the coolest, shadiest place you know and take a book…

It’s been an incredibly hot August and holding more than one thought in my head has been rather more difficult than usual. I’ve been trying to multi-task (don't you just love American English? It can be so handy!), which would include entertaining guests, running to the airport, shopping five times a week, and generally doing far too much plate shuffling and waiting table.

Strangely--and probably unlike most people--I find gardening totally relaxing and a huge relief from the aforementioned chores. A long day spent in the garden picks me up, as opposed to a two-hour trip to a 'grande surface' or hypermarket, which leaves me asking myself if, in fact, I need counseling and a course of anti-depressants.

Early August was when I sharpened my shears and attacked the lavender beds. By that time they weren’t looking their best and, rather like us, when a haircut is overdue they begin to look rather messy. The idea is to cut down the spears and take the plant back to its original dome form. Once you've clipped one or two you’ll easily get the hang of it. This year, I’ve pulled up most of the lavender as it has 'passed its sell-by date. Six to eight years is as much as one can expect lavender to look good; after that it becomes woody and thin, which then attracts nesting wasps and, believe me, those are not pleasant surprises to come across when you’re clipping away!

I shall replant lavender in October or November. Being an impatient soul, I tend to buy year-old plants but you can buy lavender 'pied nu'--young plants without soil sold in bundles in the markets. 

I read somewhere that the Romans used lavender in their baths so one year I tried it too. The result was fantastic, really relaxing, but don't do what I did and simply throw the lavender heads directly into to the bath as you’ll find that they block up the entire plumbing system. And the unblocking of drains is not at all relaxing.

Speaking of drains, that reminds me of my brother-in-law who, one August, kindly volunteered to check out some dreadful odor emanating from one of the bathrooms. My sister and I left him to it, he in full-length rubber gloves, and headed off to the local shop to pick up some cranberry juice.

This month’s cocktail is in fact named in honor of my brother-in-law for his courage in dealing with that incident! So here's “A Brother-in-Law.” Don't worry, this months recipe is simple (not unlike my brother-in-law), as it’s been far too hot lately to spend much time in the kitchen. You’ll need a large bottle of chilled vodka, loads of cranberry juice and eight to ten limes. Take a tall tumbler and fill with ice; pour over it a generous amount of vodka; top up with cranberry juice then add the juice of half a lime and mix well. Not complicated but truly delicious on a warm evening in early Autumn.

Pip Pip!

The Cocktail Drinkers' Guide to Gardening: July

Each month here on ProvencePost, Gardening Guru James Clay dishes up great advice about two of his favorite subjects: gardening and drinking. This month he's all excited about datura--an amazing white shrub for the terrace--and one of his all-time favorite boissons, the classic margarita. "If the cocktail doesn't blow your house guests away," James reports, "then the plant most certainly will!" 

(*Note to houseguests: Yes, datura is poisonous and yes, James makes a lethal margarita. But here James means blow you away in the 'you'll be delighted and amazed' sense...not in the 'what, you're leaving so soon?' sense or the 'oh dear, I've killed the houseguests again!' sense.*) Anyway, here he is...

It's fitting that the Romans brought so much to Provence that even the month of July was named, by Mark Anthony, in honor of Julius Caesar. I also note from my intense research (lasting all of eight minutes) that St. Julian is the Patron Saint of Travelers and Hospitality—something that we who live in Provence know a lot about. Well, we certainly know about the 'hospitality' side of things. If, like me, you have house guests coming and going, here are two items that I feel they should share with you during this month. They’ll love both. 

As you have to admire the datura plant with a margarita in hand I suggest that you pop down to you local pépinière (nursery). The shrub (evergreen to semi-evergreen) I have in mind is really amazing, commonly named "Angels Trumpet" (not that I'm in a hurry to hear one of those). It’s also known as datura and for those who are fluent in Latin (and who isn't these days?), it’s the Brugmansia solanaceae. The specific variety I recommend, because it's hardy (meaning it’s tough and will come back next year like certain house guests), is suaveolens. It’s white, with hanging trumpet flowers (15-20cms/6-8 inches) that are very heavily scented and open only as the evening commences. In fact, usually at the cocktail hour! By morning they’re wilting but a new crop is always there for the first drink of the evening. Bees go crazy attempting to get into them as the flowers quickly open, so quickly that you can almost watch it happening if you have a mind to give them your attention for half an hour or so.

As we all know, beauty generally comes with some cost and in this case, it’s that the datura is rather poisonous, particularly the seeds. In fact, the whole thing could kill you if you ate it but then again it wouldn’t be on my list of favourite things to eat.

It’s not advised to plant datura if you have small children around or perhaps it’s ideal if you don’t want any around. I’ll leave that up to you to decide.

Great--so far so good. You’ve found the datura and now you have to plant it up. It wants full sun and protection from the wind, as would you if, like this shrub, you were native to South America. The terrace is therefore a great place to plant it (plus, this allows you to view it from your lounger, which makes it almost ideal).

Datura can get quite big, up to two meters or more, so give it some space. I don’t recommend planting this variety in a pot. Once it’s up and running (not a gardening term I’ve ever heard but, hey, you get what I mean), water it well but only once a week. If you see it flagging when the weather gets super hot, water it some more.

Speaking of flagging and all that shopping and ‘planting up’ your fantastic new tropical shrub, it’s getting close to cocktail hour. On your way home from the garden center, you should swing by the store and pick up the following: one bottle of Tequila (Silver or Gold), one bottle of Cointreau (or Triple Sec) and at least a dozen fresh limes to make juice. Use Pulco Citron Vert if you can’t find fresh limes.

Yep, you’ve now got the ingredients for the Classic Margarita. Here’s the low down: three, two, one. (Math was not my favorite subject at school but those proportions you just can’t forget!) Here’s the recipe.

Three measures of tequila (ever noticed how close that word sounds to ‘to kill yer’--I’ll let you mull that one over); two measures of Cointreau ; and 1 measure of fresh lime juice (if using Pulco Citron Vert, make the proportion a half measure as it’s a concentrate). You have to have loads of ice: that way it lasts even longer and the melting ice will take some of the power out of what otherwise, even standing up, can become a major event. Crushed is best so either you have a fancy machine or you put the ice in a bag and smash it against something hard (preferably not your partner).

Now you’re all set. Wet the rim of a cocktail glass and lightly dip it into a plate of salt--the salt provides a nice sour/sweet contrast and has the effect of making you drink even more! Make up a pitcher-full; that way you won’t have to stagger back to the kitchen to make more. 

Cocktail gardening is not quite as ridiculous as it may sound, particularly in July when the opportunities for actually planting are few.  The 'cocktail hour' is also the perfect watering time for the pots on your terrace; at the end of the day, in the cool of the evening—and just like us--they too enjoy a good drink. I recommend that you water them very well every two to three days and not lightly every day…you will soon notice a difference. Enjoy July! It is, after-all, high summer and time to relax.

Pip Pip!

The Cocktail Drinkers' Guide to Gardening: June

Originally from Hampshire, England, James Clay is an artist and sculptor who has lived in St. Remy for almost 20 years. He knows pretty much everything about gardening in Provence. Plus, he likes to drink...and write...often at the same time, of course. Each month here on ProvencePost.com, James goes out on a limb for us, serving up essental gardening tips along with appropriate seasonal drink suggestions. Here's what sprang from his fertile mind this month....


Finally "Flaming June" has arrived. A lot of us were beginning to feel she wouldn't get here at all this year. But yet again we find ourselves poolside, sun drenched and happy that Provence continues to live up to its brilliant image. The lavender is in its full glory. The olive trees appear to have fruit (after such a severe winter, it’s somewhat surprising). I’m trimming hedges and cypress trees like crazy. Most men (I've noticed) love to clip, cut, trim--and when it gets to chain saws it really is party time. So this last week I found myself up and down a ladder non-stop, clipping my ‘Italian’ cypresses. These are not native to Provence but nonetheless have been here for ages. They’re the tall, thin trees one sees in gardens and formal entrances  and not the 'Provencal' cypresses that are planted for wind breaks along many of the roads and in lines throughout  the countryside. 


The best method of dealing with ‘Italian’ cypresses is to keep them quite tightly clipped so the branches don't get too big and literally fall out and start making the tree look a mess--somewhat like a good hair cut where you have the odd stray hair sticking out (or up as the case may be). 


One of my neighbors took it into her head to get her gardener to re-shape her trees in the form of what can only be described as the 'male sex organ' which has somewhat added to her reputation. The only thing that I got round to doing to mine was chain sawing off the tops (of course off the top because off the bottom wouldn't work).  I took off six feet as they had become so tall that I thought I would have to rent a light aircraft to trim the tops.


So, should you find that your ‘Italian’ cypresses are becoming too much for you, I can assure you that cutting off the tops does not harm them and, in fact, appears to strengthen the growth at the bottom. 


Here I must just mention that shears are the only tool for clipping; if you have an electric or powered trimmer, I'd suggest you throw it away as soon as possible. Like most things in life, hand-made or hand-done is the best. Power trimmers tend to gnaw and shred and lead to diseased trees and hedges.


Trimming trees and the like results in giving one a heavy thirst so it wouldn't be unusual to start mulling over the recipes for a thirst quencher.  Once you've finished for the day, store your shears--and your ladder--safely away. This is something a 'real' gardener always does when finishing work, even in mid cut as it were. There’s no difference between this and vacuuming a room; if you hadn't  finished you wouldn't leave the vacuum there overnight! 

Were you fortunate enough to have friends staying or your partner handy, they may well have started preparing the evening's 'apero' or cocktail. After a quick shower to wash off the thousands of cypress clippings which have managed to stick to you during the afternoon, you’re now ready to join them on the terrace and, if luck is truly yours, then placed in your hand would be a sparkling glass of Champagne Jen.

Champagne Jen

1 part Cranberry Juice

1 part Orange Juice

1 bottle Champagne

Combine all ingredients in an iced punch bowl. Serve cold. 

And there you have the perfect recipe for a flaming Provencal evening in June. Or, for that matter, July or August or...

Which reminds me of Lily Bollinger's famous quote about bubbly, sent to me recently by a friend who loves Provence as much as I do:


"I drink it when I'm happy and when I'm sad. Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company, I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I'm not hungry and I drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it, unless I'm thirsty."

Pip Pip!

Watercolor by James Clay: Cypresses surround an old Roman aqueduct near the village of Fontvieille.

The Cocktail Drinkers' Guide to Gardening: March

Born in Hampshire, England, James Clay is an artist and sculptor who settled down in St. Remy 20 years ago. Over the years, he lovingly created a gorgeous one-hectare garden, filled with fruit, palm, pine and olive trees (he has 60 olive trees, all of them transplanted), plus many varieties of bamboo, flowering plants and shrubs. James knows pretty much everything about gardening in Provence. Plus, he likes to drink. Plus, he likes to write. So each month here on ProvencePost.com, James serves up some essential gardening secrets...with seasonal drink suggestions. Today James is musing on Mad Hatters, jumping hares, his new riding mower, sisterly advice, the origin of the word cocktail and more.

I was thinking about Alice in Wonderland and the Mad Hatter the other day and wondering if I would have enjoyed taking tea with them. It seems March is the month that hares, in fact, do go a little mad or at least do some really dumb things like leaping directly up in the air. After the winter we've had, I feel I could go join them quite easily. We've even had the 'in like a lion, out like a lamb' start to the month, with yet another heavy snow fall where I found myself bashing the olive trees with a rake to stop the snow accumulating and breaking off yet more branches. I did ask myself, as I made my way back to the house in the dark, with my fingers and feet frozen, just what on earth is happening in the world that we are getting so much snow here in Provence?

I was very relieved that it only lay a few days and that the sun came back to warm us all up again. I love the Provencal people who go in to deep decline if they don't see the sun after three days or so. How they'd cope in Northern Europe heaven only knows. I know I myself can't bear it anymore. After a month or two of grey skies I too tend to lose my smile.

So here we are--March 21st just passed and we are officially in Spring.

I'm a very happy man as I have just splashed out and bought a new tractor lawnmower. Forget iPhones, iPods and the like--give me a power mower any day. I was even sentimental about seeing the old one go, having ridden it every season for the past 12 years (sounds like a race horse); it had become a part of my life and when one considers all the musing one does as one toddles round, I think it's understandable. I suppose I could have driven it to Paris and back in all the time I've had it. (Now there's a thought, like that movie The Straight Story.)

Now we have milder, warmer weather and I've been able to get out and prune some of the olive trees. I'm determined to get them down to a reasonable height so it's easier to pick the olives. I work with a bonfire going so I can burn the cuttings as I go. I learnt years ago that if you get the fire hot enough, the olive branches will burn cut straight from the trees. I've always enjoyed pruning. There was a fashion in this region some years back to 'crew cut' the olive trees so they appeared to have a flat top; a rather strange fad I thought. I like the traditional form of the doughnut! Open in the middle and rounded: better for the tree and a better harvest.

Some years ago I planted a thousand or so daffodil bulbs around the base of some olive trees closest to the house. For me they represent spring and I'm so glad I went ahead and did it. They come up earlier here and don't quite last as long as in the north but if you like 'a host of golden daffodils' then get to it this autumn and go crazy! They will surely gladden your heart next year.

One of my sisters called the other week and we were chatting away, mainly about gardening, and she reminded me not to 'overdo it'--and I'm passing that advice on to you. This is not an age thing, as my new 22-year-old gardener overdid it and cut himself very badly (tired and not paying attention) so he's not around for the next six weeks. I shall heed my sister's advice again this spring and knock off at a decent hour so I can enjoy a drink before dinner. This reminds me that I did some research into where the word cocktail originated. The earliest known printed use of the word ‘cocktail’ was in The Farmer’s Cabinet, April 28, 1803:

“Drank a glass of cocktail — excellent for the head . . . Call’d at the Doct’s. found Burnham — he looked very wise — drank another glass of cocktail. It renders the heart stout and bold, at the same time that it fuddles the head."

Moreover, and this I love as one can always trust the French not to be left out: "Coquetel, a mixed drink from the wine growing district of the Gironde" (quoted from Brewer's Dictionary).

And here's a quotation from the man himself, the inimitable Dickens: “He could...chew more tobacco, smoke more tobacco, drink more rum-toddy mint-julep, gin-sling and cock-tail, than any private gentleman of his acquaintance.” (Martin Chuzzlewit, 1844).

I think I should like that as my epitaph.

Great to know our forefathers were as bad as us! Here, for historical research purposes only, is how to make a quick rum-toddy.

2 oz. rum

1 tsp sugar

5 1/2 oz. boiling water

Place a sugar cube or equivalent into an Irish coffee cup or mug. Fill 2/3 full with boiling water. Add rum and stir. Garnish with a slice of lemon, dust with nutmeg and serve. This is per person.

Pip pip!

The Cocktail Drinkers' Guide to Gardening: January

Born in Hampshire, England, James Clay is an artist and sculptor who settled down (somewhat) in St. Remy close to 20 years ago. Over time, he lovingly created a gorgeous one-hectare garden filled with fruit, palm, pine and olive trees (he has 60 olive trees, all of them transplanted), plus many varieities of bamboo, flowering plants and shrubs. There are few things James loves as much as gardening...and drinking is one of them. So it only made sense to combine both of his passions in this monthly column. This is month #4; to read previous months, click on James' name in the labels at the very bottom of this post. Enjoy!

Happy New Year from sunny Provence!

Yesterday we were having one of those 300 days of sunshine we get here every year which in January makes me feel very happy indeed. I am happy also that I have decided not to 'give up' anything again this year; I have always considered that a silly custom. Who on earth would want to stop drinking cocktails in January? There are summer cocktails, of course, but equally there are 'winter warmer' cocktails which are just as delicious--heartier and more robust.

I had lunch outside on the terrace; the temperature in the shade was very low but in full sunlight, lunch was a pleasant experience indeed. I then decided to do some digging. I have some small ponds which need clearing out and this is the time of year to do it. So, spade in hand, I attacked the job, watched by a robin who decided to keep me company. I'd forgotten how tame they appear to be; this one came so close I thought he was going to help in some way. There is something unusual about robins--they appear so watchful and benign and seem to delight in human company--that I found myself fancying that they incarnate the spirits of loved ones dead and gone. And so, in some way, he did help.

As the sun was beginning to set (and my back too), I packed in the digging and thought to stop by the pool house where I 'winter' my pots of citrus fruits: lemons, limes, grapefruits and oranges. During the greater part of the year they're outdoors on the terraces but are put away from early December to late March to protect them against frost. The lemons can be harvested even by mid- January and are already starting to fall from the branches. Time, I think, for a Whiskey Sour. These are just the ticket for this time of year, very healthy and full of vitamin C. I put the spade away and picked up a basket to collect some lemons. As I walked to the pool house, it started to snow. Now generally we get very little snow, if any, so it came as a huge surprise that so much should be falling. Needless to say the lemons were calling and, if not them, a whisky sour even louder. A little later I was to be found in the kitchen squeezing lemons for juice.

To make a delicious Whiskey Sour you will need:

Juice of 1/2 lemon

1 1/2 teaspoons sugar

2 measures Whiskey

Soda water to top up

Shake the ingredients in cocktail mixer with ice and strain into a small tumbler.

Add a good dash of soda water.

Decorate with a slice of orange and a cocktail (maraschino) cherry.

It was time now to light the fire and get back to my book. The snow was falling thick and fast. As I was just finishing my drink, the electricity went off...nothing rare in Provence, winter or summer. (For some reason only known to themselves, the E.D.F never thought of burying their cables so, as a result, any heavy weather results in blackouts). At least I had a good fire and the Whiskey Sour was keeping me pretty warm as well. But, three hours later, there we were, still with no power, no water (as even that is pumped by electricity) and it was off to bed by candlelight and to sleep. I cheered myself up thinking that it all felt quite cosy and Dickensian!

This morning, I woke to a Provence I could scarcely recognize, snowbound! It appeared 20 to 25 cms of snow had fallen overnight. I saw straight away that the olive trees had suffered badly--one or two have large branches broken off from the weight of the snow. I wonder what it must have been like in 1956, the morning after the big frost and mistral that killed so many olive trees in Provence. (If you've followed my columns, you may remember I wrote in November about why so many olive trees in Provence grow in a circular fashion around a dead inner trunk.) There was still no power and the house was beginning to feel distinctly chilly.

What to do next...? I remember when I used to dislike mobile phones while everyone else was delighting in them. I felt like someone from the last century (in fact I am someone from the last century). A quick call to my friend and fellow gardener, Didier, and he came to rescue us. Let other pens dwell on the difficulty of the rescue...

Gathering up some lemons, the Whiskey and my partner, we set off back to Didi's house.The whole countryside had simply disappeared under a blanket, no, not a blanket but a duvet of snow. Happy to be warm again, we are now planning a fireside get together this evening for all those who still remain without electricity (which appears to be quite a few). I am happy I remembered the lemons, that I had resolved never to give up anything for New Year and that I have some really good friends. You never know when any or all of them will come in handy!

Stay warm.

Photo taken in Marseille by James Wilf, via Flickr.com. To see more of James' work, go here.

The Cocktail Drinkers' Guide to Gardening: December

Born in Hampshire, England, James Clay is an artist and sculptor who settled down (somewhat) in St. Remy close to 20 years ago. Over time, he lovingly created a gorgeous one-hectare garden filled with fruit, palm, pine and olive trees (he has 60 olive trees, all of them transplanted), plus many varieities of bamboo, flowering plants and shrubs. James knows everything about gardening in Provence. Plus, he likes to drink. So he combines both of his passions in this monthly column. It's a great idea, no? This month, the third installment, James suggests some great holiday gifts to delight the gardener in your life...and a classic cold-weather drink to go with. To read James' previous columns, click on his name in the labels at the very bottom of this post. Enjoy!

December: Manure and Mulled Wine

I don't know about you but I love both--and this is the season to enjoy them! Not only is it party time and I get to tell my "Joke of the Year" (as often as I can), but I get to spread manure too! I don't see why you should be spared my joke so here we go.

"What did the inflatable headmaster of the inflatable school say to the inflatable schoolboy who brought a pin to school?"

"You've let me down, you've let the school down and, furthermore, you've let yourself down."

I wonder why I like this joke so much? Probably because it sums up my educational background. School was such a letdown.

If you're a gardener then you already know why I love manure. If you're not, but your partner or friends are, then I have some original ideas for Christmas presents. Go along to your local nursery or garden centre and check out the manure they have in plastic sacks. Horse manure is the Rolls Royce of manures and is always generally available; if you prefer to make the grand gesture and can find a horse riding school, a small truck load of horse manure delivered to your loved one will thrill a true gardener to his or her core.

You'll be amazed by what we gardeners consider fantastic Christmas gifts...and here are a few more ideas. No gardener is complete without a good pair of secateurs; you can make up a basket of small gifts including seed packets, balls of string (I'm always delighted to receive string!), plant labels, bulbs, flower pots, etc. Don't forget the hyacinths, daffodils and narcissi that are already potted up and almost in flower.

We are lucky here in Provence to have great weather later in the year so we can still be outside enjoying the garden. My potted citrus trees have all been taken indoors by now to protect them from the frost. I water them very infrequently at this time of year but they still need a little now and again. It is worth cutting out any dead wood and then spraying them for red spider mite, which love citrus trees.

Like many French gardeners, I am totally won over by Bouille Bordelaise (copper sulphate). I'm sure you've noticed it everywhere in the region and afar. Years ago, I always wondered why some house fronts had a blue hue to them, not realizing that in fact the owners had sprayed their vines with "bouille" as it is commonly called and, by late winter, all the leaves had gone and exposed the stained walls. My first experience with spraying bouille was unfortunate as the wind changed direction and I found myself covered from head to foot in a heavy shower of blue.

At least I had the satisfaction of knowing I was safe from getting mildew. My gardener has taught me so much over the last 13 years and one of those things is that Bouille Bordelaise is indispensable, so add that to your Christmas shopping list!

Now that the subject of manure is out of the way, then let us turn to something that smells sweeter: mulled wine. This recipe is by the bottle of wine so just add more bottles to cater for as many people as you invite over.

Ingredients:

3 cups of water
1 cup of sugar
12 cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
1 lemon peel
1 bottle of red wine
1/4 cup of brandy

Bring water, sugar, cinnamon and lemon peel to a boil in a stainless steel pot, then simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and add the wine; now bring back to a drinking temperature BUT DO NOT BOIL. Then add brandy.

Season's Greetings!

Photo by Karen Trinko. To see and purchase her work, click here or go here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/62982325@N00/

Cocktail Drinkers' Guide to Gardening #2

In a post dated September 25th, I introduced you to James Clay and his new monthly column. And then I forgot to post October. So we'll pick it up again with November, and call this column #2. If you're dying to know what James wrote about in October, drop me a note or post a comment below and I'll happily send it to you.

First, a bit about James: Born in Hampshire, England, he's an artist and sculptor who settled down (somewhat) in St. Remy close to 20 years ago. Over the years, he lovingly created a gorgeous one-hectare garden, filled with fruit, palm, pine, and olive trees (he has 60 olive trees, all of them transplanted), plus many varieties of bamboo, flowering plants and shrubs. James knows everything about gardening in Provence. Plus, he likes to drink. So in this monthly column, he'll serve up essential month-by-month garden tips...with cocktails. It's a great idea, no? Without further ado, James tells us what's happening in his garden--and his glass--this month.

November: Olives and Martinis

Of course it was the Romans who brought olive trees to Provence (Provincia Romana) and how lucky we are that they didn't forget to pack them! Trees are my favourite thing on this planet (apart from my partner, who may or may not actually be from this planet). I believe olive trees to be mystical, magical and so reassuring. I say this as they live so long. Some are reputed to be 700 to 800 years old; the one picture above, in Greece, is said to be 1500 years old.

Here in Provence, I find olive trees are a much discussed topic. Everyone seems to have an opinion about the planting, pruning and harvesting to the extent that, when I first arrived here, I found it all very bewildering and somewhat off putting. If I had ever thought about olives then it was only as decoration for a martini!

Have you noticed the olive trees in our area and how many seem to be made up of four or five smaller trunks forming a circle at the base? This, in fact, is unusual, as like most trees they should start growth from a single trunk. The reason they are like this is because in 1956 there was a tremendous frost and at the same time a mistral; the temperature plummeted and thousands of trees were killed over just a few days. Fortunately, all was not lost and over the next few years these trees began to produce shoots around the dead trunks (which were then cut down to ground level). As a result of careful pruning, these shoots are now what we see today, 50 years or so later, happily producing tons of olives every year.

Before I start on about Saint Cecilia (Ste. Cecile), it's time to knock together quickly a dry martini. Pour one and a half ounces of gin and the same of dry vermouth into your shaker (or very large glass) already full of ice, leave for a few moments to chill, then serve into a V-shaped cocktail glass, adding an olive to finish.

You can't escape Saint Cecilia and neither can I, as she is the patron Saint of music and my partner always honours her with non-stop music throughout the day. But also her name day falls on November 22nd and this, by tradition, is the date when one is supposed to begin harvesting olives. Have you ever picked olives? Doing so on a cold, bright, sunny November day, it often strikes me what an ancient, timeless occupation this is. There is a feeling of time standing still and forming a mystical link with our ancestors. I do wonder at times whether it is the beauty of Provence that makes me a poet manque or just many years of cocktail drinking.

Once your crop is in, then it's off to the mill. Some mills actually ask you to make a reservation. I found a very good one some years back (no appointment required): Moulin Saint-Michel in Mouries (Cours Paul Revoil, 04-90-47-50-40). They're very friendly and well organized. It's a great experience to take your crop along and line up with all the other harvesters to have the olives weighed in. Last year I arrived late in the evening and there was a crowd waiting, everyone chatting away and swapping advice. You can collect your virgin oil after mid January.

If you're thinking of planting olives at this time of year, it's possible but better to leave it ‘til the spring as at times there can be early frosts. It is said here that you "plant olives for your grandchildren" (considering the time they take to grow) but if like me you are somewhat impatient you can buy more mature trees. I often see trucks carrying huge olive trees, which are being transplanted, and would like to follow them to see their new homes. (I wonder if I am alone in this?)

I hope now, while enjoying your dry martini, stirring it gently with an olive on a stick, that you’re able to remember all this trivia that I've imparted!

Chin Chin!

The Cocktail Drinkers' Guide to Gardening #1

Born in Hampshire, England, my smart (brainy) and smart (elegant) friend James Clay is an artist and sculptor who settled down (somewhat) in St. Remy close to 20 years ago. Over the years, he lovingly created a gorgeous one-hectare garden, filled with fruit, palm, pine, and olive trees (he has 60 olive trees, all of them transplanted), plus many varieties of bamboo, flowering plants and shrubs.

James knows everything about gardening in Provence. Plus, he likes to drink. And he likes to write. So in this new monthly column, he'll serve up essential month-by-month garden tips... with drinks. It's so obvious, no?

If this all seems familiar to you, it's because you read something similar (by which I mean identical) on AlpillesNews.com, where it first appeared. Without further ado, here's James' thoughts on September.

Column #1: Laws of the Lawn

I always breathe a sigh of relief come September. The major heat of the summer is past and, with luck, I've managed to get to this point without losing the lawn; I don't mean in the sense of having misplaced it, rather that it hasn't died on me. Whether you water by a sprinkler system or by irrigation flooding (the ancient and better way), it's always nerve wracking when you lose patches (and it’s ugly to boot).

It's common sense to water your lawn either late at night or very early in the morning. With the intense heat, the grass, if watered during the daytime, is liable to burn and of course the water tends to evaporate very quickly. I often think how crazy it is to water during a mistral with blasting temperatures--something one does see here in Provence, which constitutes the equivalent of burning money!

I wonder if you’ve noticed what I think of here as a second spring? By mid month, we enjoy a milder heat and what with the abundant water system installed by the Romans, there is a period of growth which is quite surprising. (To quote from the Monty Python film The Life of Brian: "What did the Romans ever do for us?" to which a character replies: "Wine, aqueducts, under-floor heating, roads"...the list is almost endless!)

Lawns in Provence are high maintenance and quite expensive to keep up so I always advise people (if they are determined to have one) to keep them as small as possible. Another tip during the hotter months is not to cut the grass too close but to let it grow longer than you would do, say, in the spring.

I’ve finally progressed to a tractor mower (my pride and joy) and they’ve become far less expensive over the last few years. I find mowing quite therapeutic and it gives me time to survey the garden as I trundle round.

Again, it is best to mow later in the day as the heat declines. The other great thing about mowing is that you can anticipate the coming evening and perhaps reflect on what might be delicious to serve your friends who are coming over to enjoy the cool of the evening on the terrace with you.

Cousin Neil and his delightfully witty wife Becky came to stay last month. Her stunning impression of Skippy the Kangaroo (remember the Australian children's TV show from the early ‘70's?) had people in tears of laughter; she managed to hold herself back when it came to the jumping element natural to that species! On seeing yours truly alight from his orange (YES orange) tractor calling for a drink, this funny lady suggested making a ‘Lawn Boy.' So here’s the recipe for this thirst-quenching cocktail.

Put three handfuls of ice and six shots of vodka in the blender, toss in a handful of fresh mint, blend until smooth, adding sugar to taste; fill with lemonade. Add more vodka if you like! Pour into a pitcher, serve in tall glasses--et voila! As your guests are chattering away, take a second or two to admire your freshly mown lawn (always a satisfying moment). My darling Ma would always say, "Keep the lawn cut and the paths weed free and the garden will always pass as well kept."

How right she was...Have a cool September! Cheers.

Where Should We Eat?

I'm always asking friends to tell me about great restaurants they've found around Provence, where the greeting is warm, the food great, the prices fair. At the same time, people ask me the same thing: where should we eat? So I decided to start a new feature --One Restaurant I Love--and anyone who wants can take a turn writing it. This week, our guest reviewer is James Clay, my smart, funny and oh-so-worldly friend in St. Remy. James isn't a hardcore foodie--he actually spends most of his free time making out with his garden--but he throws super parties, loves to eat out and, when invited (or not), is great fun as a guest. (Speaking of James' real passion, plants, in the next week or so I'll debut his monthly column "The Cocktail Drinkers Guide to Gardening." Don't miss it!) But first, let's hear about One Restaurant He Loves: Chez Gigi. James writes:
After 20 years of hanging out in Provence, I've learned to keep a few things secret. So now you're asking yourself then why's he going to tell us about this restaurant? Well I've decided I have to learn to share--they do say giving is better than receiving (though a Cartier watch wouldn't cause a problem for me anytime).

Ok, mustn't lose my train of thought which is so easily done here in Provence in the summer, what with the cicadas chirping away and the heat et al. My favorite resturant in Provence (and oh boy, is it chic--not!), is to be found by the side of the Route National between between St. Rémy and St. Etienne du Grès in Mas Blanc des Alpilles. Chez Gigi can be spotted as you drive (slowly, please) through the little village.

The first time I ate there a few years back I had a Caesar salad which blew me away....so much garlic it could have been called spicy. By French standards, very spicy.

The entrées are imaginative and made with the best local fresh vegetables and meats. In fact, some are so good it's great to chose all of them and eat them tapas style with your friends. 
The principle plates vary from basic pizzas to dorade, ribs, duck, stuffed quail and carpaccio de boeuf with a terrific sauce.

Desserts tend to be fruits in season, chocolate mousse, brownies or whatever else they dream up that day.

Chez Gigi has all the right attitudes toward food and service (which can be mildly erratic but amusing nonetheless). The menu is hand written on boards: another good sign as it changes often. The wines are mainly local and excellent. If the 'vin en pichet' is good, then you know the meal will be too. The bread is great as well.

Owners Michel and Gigi Sivauossian--he's from Nice, she's from Quebec--have travelled widely and, for that reason, the food is so varied and interesting. For a 'local' like me, it's such a relief to find dishes that aren't always typically Provencal.

Michel and Gigi (pictured above) know their market and, as the French say, are 'correct' in terms of cost. Believe it or not you can actually get a three-course lunch including wine and coffee for around 15 € per person. They do dinner during the high season on Friday and Saturday nights...make sure to book for that but it's not neccessary at lunch. And don't dress up--this place is really casual.

There's a 'terrace' (always a high point in my book) and remember this is a fun place so don't go looking for linen table cloths and crystal. I may regret spilling the beans if I can't get a table next Friday night but then I'll know I've 'shared' and that's a good thing, isn't it !? 

If you go, please mention ProvencePost.com or say I sent you! Bon Continuation!

Chez Gigi

RN #99

Between St. Rémy and St. Etienne du Grès

Mas Blanc des Alpilles

04-90-49-10-80

www.chezgigi.beaucaire.net

Photo by James Clay.