Italian Food

Tomatoes, olive oil, bread, cheese and olives. And wine. That's all one needs to survive. Period.

Will's Adventurous Eating

Who knew Will would become an adventurous eater? One our last night in Naples he ordered spaghetti with octopus.

I could barely look at it.

Pizza

Joe is BFFs with the guys at our local pizzeria.

Loading the pizza on the paddle.

Into the fire......

Fat and happy.

The best pizza IN THE WORLD!

Naples is the birth place of pizza. We have vowed to eat it every day we are here. So far we are six for six.

The other night when we went to our little pizzeria 5 alleys over, Will decided to order spaghetti instead.

I said, "What? No pizza?"

Our waiter said, "No pizza. No party."

Will ordered pizza.

Good-Bye Florence!

Boticelli's 'The Birth of Venus'

Florence's Duomo

Ponte Vecchio

Good-bye Tuscany and Florence! Thank you for a wonderful week. The Renaissance art in your city is without peer. I loved your medieval buildings, your sculptures, the never-ending paintings, your rolling hills of grape vines, your acres of olive groves, your sunsets, your food and your wine.

I have rubbed Porcellini's snout, so I know I will be back.

Best Dessert EVER!

This has got to be, hands down, the best dessert in the world. Dunking biscotti into a glass of vin santo. The best.

Siena

After being in Siena, I understand where the Crayola crayon colour 'Burnt Sienna' comes from.

Siena's Duomo

The crazy colour scheme inside the duomo.

Saint Catherine's head is a relic at San Domenico Church.

(Photo taken from a postcard.)

One day this week, we took a day trip down to Siena. We wandered the medieval city, we took photos, and we ate. And we went to see Molly's patron saint at San Domenico Church. Well, her head at least.

A Day In My Life

On Sunday morning, Joe and I took Molly into Florence to attend mass. Paige opted to stay in bed, sleep late and go to the pool instead.

Florence is such a beautiful city and I was delighted to see it again!

We went to the 11:00am mass at Santa Croce. The priest rocked right through the mass and it was over in 50 minutes. Yahoo! Let's get outta here and go explore the city!

Since I love to take photos of every blessed thing I see, Joe kindly offered to carry my bag for me so that it wouldn't get in the way of my superior photography techniques.

We stopped at a 'tabacchi' (tobacco store) to buy some Italian stamps, a few post cards, and a couple of phone cards. The woman behind the counter was so sweet and patient with us. She knew no English, we knew no Italian. But that didn't matter. With the help of our Italian phrase book we all muddled through.

It was at that point that Molly said, "Mom! Where's your bag?"

We looked around. It wasn't in the shop.

I said, "Joe! You had it!" Joe said, "Molly! I gave it to you!"

Molly ran out into the street to the spot she had left it. It was gone.

The lady from the tabacchi was so upset. I told everyone it was okay.

There was no money in the bag. No passports. The only thing of any importance was my journal. And I can hold all those memories in my heart. I didn't need a book to do that.

A young man on the street asked us, "Have you been robbed?"

We said, "No, not really. We accidentally left a bag on the street."

The man said, "It's gone. The gypsies will steal the socks off your feet without you noticing."

Joe said, "Nanc, I'm sorry about your bag. Let's just put this behind us and not let it wreck our day." I agreed. Molly felt terrible, but I insisted that it was a cheap lesson.

As we walked away from the street, I said, "You know? That street was very quiet. There were no gypsies around. What if another tourist found my bag and handed it in to one of those stores?" Joe didn't think that was very likely, but Molly said, "Dad, it's worth a try."

So we returned to the scene of the crime and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk. How in the world do we ask in a foreign language "Has a pink bag been turned in?" Even our phrase book wouldn't help us in this situation.

As we were standing there, a woman from a pizza shop came out and began to speak to us in Italian. We had no idea what she was saying but as soon as she said Canada we knew we were on to something. Our faces perked up as she led us into her restaurant. Out from behind her counter she produced my pink bag!

She told us that the police had handed my bag in.

We were overjoyed! Our smiles were huge! We hugged and kissed the pizza woman.

We quickly ran next door to show the tabacchi lady that my bag had been found. She couldn't believe her eyes! As you can see from her bunched up hand in the photo, she was ready to slap both Molly and I upside the head. She wagged her finger at us probably saying, "Don't you EVER let that happen again! Do you hear me?"

We laughed, thanked her for her concern and went on our way with many 'Ciaos' being exchanged. We continued to explore Florence. With me holding my bag. And taking pictures at the same time.

As we wandered the city, I saw a large group of Japanese tourists looking at this building and taking photos. After they left, I went to see what all the fuss was about. I looked up at the coat of arms above the door and snapped this photo intending to do some research on it afterward.

Just then a man came out of the doorway. He looked a little bit surly, so I smiled at him.

He then motioned for me to follow him.

He said, "I want to show you something."

I quickly called for Joe and Molly to join me.

We followed the man into his beautiful courtyard garden.

He said, "This is my home. My oasis. Do you like it?"

Do we like it? We LOVED it!

The building was from the 1300s and Catherine Medici even lived in it at one point in her life.

He offered to take our photo. My only regret is that we didn't get one of him.

We thanked him for his invitation and generosity.

We were on our way.

We couldn't stop talking about the friendly Italians. We had only been in Florence a scant few hours and had met the most amazing people.

By this time we were feeling tired and thirsty, so we stopped at a bar. We asked the man if we could just have a drink and not eat.

(We asked this question because one evening in rural France we stopped in at a half-empty restaurant to have dessert. But the waiter told us, "Ce n'est pas possible."

We looked at all the empty tables. We looked at all the other diners having dessert.

"It's not possible?" we asked. We left before we heard the answer.)

The Florentine waiter laughed when he heard our ridiculous question.

With a sweeping motion of his hands he said,"No! No! Get out of here! You must leave!"

Then he showed us to a table and took our order......

......and then our picture.

I LOVE ITALIANS!!!!!!

Tunisian Lunch

La Goulette.

Couscous Tunisian style.

On Thursday we made a return trip into Marseille. The girls wanted to shop more, and Joe and I wanted to wander around that interesting city.

After two hours, we met back up and went for lunch. We were intrigued by the food people were eating at a Tunisian restaurant as we looked for a place to eat. We sat down and ordered. Out came heaping pottery bowls filled to the rim with couscous, vegetables, and meat. Lots of meat. It was delicious and we ate every mouthful.

I don't even think we had dinner that night.

Marseille

Marseille and the Mediterranean.

The port of Marseille. We hiked up the hill to the basilica.

The statue of Mary and Jesus on top of Notre-Dame de la Garde. To give you an idea of how big the statue is, Jesus' wrist is 42 inches around.

Inside the colourful basilica.

The Arab markets.

The busy side-streets of Marseille.

On Monday we drove into Marseille. This city was described to us as "an untouristy, semi-seedy-but-vibrant port city with 2,600 years of history." Sounds good to me!

I learned that Marseille is France's oldest city (600 B.C.) and is its second largest.

Marseille seems a world apart from France's other leading cities such as Paris and Lyon.

The influence of immigrants is huge here. More than a quarter of Marseille's population comes from countries in North Africa. We heard more Arabic spoken than French.

Our first order of business was to get some exercise, so we hiked up the long, steep hill to Notre-Dame de la Garde. This basilica is Marseille's landmark sight and looks out over the Mediterranean. Holy Hannah! Did we ever sweat getting ourselves up that road! But the views from up there were gorgeous and it was well worth the effort.

Molly and Paige wanted to shop for clothes (what else?) so as soon as we got got back down to the city we split up. The girls headed for Galeries Lafayette, and Joe and I to the Arab market. Joe quickly immersed himself in buying foods from Moroccan, Algerian and Tunisian sellers. We bought some delicious Egyptian wraps full of apples and ground round; and chicken and scrambled egg. We grabbed some Tunisian sweets and a couple bottles of fresh pressed juice.

When we met back up the girls, we headed for the port for a picnic. We just plunked ourselves down on wharf and devoured our North African lunch.

This is why I love travelling.....

Bouchon Lyonnais

Salade Lyonnias

Potatoes Gratin Dauphinois

Pot au Feu Cochon

When we were in Lyon yesterday, Joe really wanted to go to a restaurant that was 'Bouchon Lyonnais'. It is a restaurant that specializes in the typical food of the Lyon region.

Paige and Joe started with onion soup which they said was delicious. Molly and I both had a salade Lyonnais, which was also very tasty. We were so hungry we gulped it all down.

Our main dishes came out shortly after. Joe, always the adventurous eater, ordered a tripe sausage. Molly and Paige played it safe with steak and potatoes gratin Dauphinois.

I, on the other hand, had a hankering for some pork. So I ordered 'Pot au Feu Cochon', thinking it was a kind of pork stew.

Was I ever wrong! Out came a black kettle of pig parts (tail and ear) in a clear broth with one boiled potato and about 20 pickles. The rest of my family convulsed into laughter at the look on my face. I did eat it. And it was good.

Lesson learned: Cochon = Pig. Porc = pork.

I'll know better next time.

La Recreation

Cold tomato soup. Even Molly, our notorious TOMATO HATER loved it.

Lobster ravioli.

Foie gras.

Paige had the lamb.

Will had the filet of boeuf.

Joe and Molly had the veal wrapped in bacon topped with foie gras.

I had the chicken stuffed with mushrooms and drenched with truffle sauce.

The restaurant 'La Recreation' is in a former school house in the village of Les Arques.

On our final night in Martignac we went out for dinner to finish the end of a fantastic week. We dined at 'La Recreation' in Les Arques. We had been there 3 years ago to celebrate my 49th birthday and were excited to go back. The food was exactly as we remembered it. INCREDIBLE!

To quote Molly "French food never disappoints."

French Markets

Joe modelling his new basket for shopping at the market.

Joe buying strawberries at the Puy L'Eveque market.

The Cahors market underneath the watchful gaze of its cathedral.

A colourful place of commerce.

We love the markets in France.

Each village has one on the same day every week. It's been going on like this for hundreds of years.

Joe has even gone so far as to buy himself a basket to take to the market.

There is something special about buying food directly from the grower, preparing it hours later, then eating it. No wonder we are eating constantly here! IT ALL TASTES SO DELICIOUS!

So much food, so little time.....

Marche Gourmand

The banner advertising the upcoming marche.

The village square is packed.

A family of gourmands.

The remains of the paella.

I discovered the 'Marche Gourmand' 3 years ago. Literally translated it means "Market for People Who Like to Eat". SIGN ME UP!

Most villages have a marche gourmand on a weekly basis. I don't know who organizes them, but they sure do a good job. During the evening, tables and chairs are set up in the square. Food trucks and stalls dot the perimeter. Wine producers sell their delicious wine for only a few euros a bottle.

Add people and dogs and you have yourself a party!

Have I mentioned lately how much I love France?