So, my lady has gone on a late morning constitutional to the Rauba Capéu (“steal hat”, in Nissart) and I had taken it upon meself to clean up, do the dishes, make things clear with the lock smith (don’t ask), and possibly buy socca for lunch.
As soon as I was going out to deal with the lock smith, I realized there was not going to be ready made socca for lunch. The convenience store across the street had most likely fresh figs, and goat’s cheese, and … I laid my plans.
A few minutes cleared up the business with the lock smith (they’ll be over on Monday, at 2 PM, you’ll be pleased to know), so, it’s over the street I go. Yes. Figs. Let’s take 8, just in case. Then, fresh goat’s cheese – industrially made but, hey, I am easy! Then, a bottle of liquid honey … OK. I pay my groceries, goes into the bakery (there are three: the one we do not go to, the one we have ceased to go to, and the one we do go to). It lost a bit of its soul when the lady working there with the pink hair moved to Antibes, but, the quiet little blonde lady is there and acknowledge me as a “client fidèle” with a small smile which is as personal as she gets. They are out of the multi-cereal so I’ll have to settle for ‘tradition’.
Back home, I rinse the figs, cut off the stalks, and make a deep cross in each, inserting a piece of goat’s cheese. I whisk on a few drops of cherry balsamico and liquid honey, then some grains of coarse salt. I put the figs in a casserole previously smeared with olive oil, and it all goes into the oven at 180 degrees centigrade for 20 minutes. This gives me time both to make a small cucumber-and-tomato salad, and assemble the IKEA lamp we brought from Sweden (Swedish men are ecologically selected for being dab hands at assembling IKEA furniture). The result looks strangely like something out of a SF-movie,
and will change between being a globe and a collection of high tech antennas by the pulling of a piece of string (the lamp, not the figs).
So Mrs L returns, having bought fresh mushrooms in the market place (Cour Saleyah), and a further supply of figs. Ready to eat, on the balcony, windy but warm, and with a view that in itself is worth a small fortune. A glass of rosé – by the Comte de Chevron ViIlette, in honor of the Rugby Club Toulonien – not an exact match but, it will have to do.
Note: Our bakery is Michel Tabarini at 220, ave Californie, 0620 Nice. Recommended.
Second note: WordPress blog editor is free and it is a piece of shit when it comes to placement of pictures.