Benches and tables and garden design

Wondering about where to put that garden bench? At the end of the path where you can see it from the window? Or would it be better under the oak tree? And how to mow around it?

Problem solved. Look at the Andrew Crace website for more ideas. Like this wonky bench...

...with the extra-tall back. Or this fabulous table. 

Why doesn't any American company make stuff like this? A table where you never have a leg in front of you - brilliant. And so simple.

Function. Comfort. Humor. Every design needs those three things. If it doesn't have all three, you're not there yet. 

New Year

It only took a couple of days after the first rain, and the world began to turn green. At first it was just a thin green shadow under the dried grass, and then suddenly one morning the world was glowing green, as if lit from within.

Even the vineyard is greening...

...the new year starting while the old one is still on the vine.

I count the new year not from the calendar, but from the first green shoots of grass. I have a friend who has had a horrid year, she says she can't wait for this one to be over. Ellen: the grass is growing, it's a New Year! 

I still have tomatoes

Huge and meaty they are from seeds Mike at Forli Restaurant in Alamo gave me. The seeds came from his brother in Greece. No idea what they're called, but they are Ginormous. I start them from seed on heat mats in winter. If you come for Christmas dinner you'll have to work around the seedlings. 

One year is beginning while another is winding down. Leaves coat the surface of the pool, acorns ping off the metal horse and wake us. Squirrels thump onto the roof and harrumph across to raid the apple tree. There is not enough net in the world. But the apples are almost over, the grapes will be in this week, and we're having the last of the tomatoes for dinner. 

The French Laundry and Garden Envy

I don't have a lot of sun. My garden slopes down, and faces north. It's damp and gloomy in the winter, in summer the ancient oak trees shade everything. Tomatoes struggle. The soil is thin, the water runs off, the oaks steal the sun. I try, but every year brings disappointments. I read about the Beekman Boys smacking seeds in the soil and harvesting bushels of yummy stuff, and I am green. With envy. Here seeds rot, seedlings wilt, there are leaves on the tomatoes and pumpkins but few fruits.

So a level garden in the sun? I covet it. In an old river bottom with deep rich soil? I drool. With raised beds, organic compost and a host of busy gardeners? Oh dear. And grass paths.

The French Laundry has such a garden. I would like to lie down in the compost and stay. I would like to adopt the garden - or have it adopt me. The well worked raised beds are lined with drip irrigation (or as we used to call it in Landscape Architecture school, irritation).

When planted you can't see the drip, just the lovely labels...

...and the gorgeous chard. Or peppers.

Or salsify...

or pumpkins

and chickens!!

they have a chicken tractor! Check out my old blog posting on Chicken Tractors

I should back up. The French Laundry in Yountville is one of the two best restaurants in the world. The other is Per Se in New York, and they are both the creation of Thomas Keller who has changed the way we all eat. And how we eat - from courses (many and small) to plates (many and stacked. All white sculpture with your food). 

In France people travel and stay in hotels (sometimes in unattractive towns) to eat splendiferous food. Not so here - until Thomas Keller. Altho the Napa Valley isn't ugly...

Thomas Keller has three other restaurants in Yountville: Bouchon, Bouchon Bakery, and Ad Hoc. Try all three - breakfast at Bouchon Bakery, lunch at Bouchon (oysters and shrimp and a glass of rose - quick before Indian Summer is over).  Ad Hoc for dinner (it's really hard to get a reservation at the Laundry) or get take-away at Ad Hoc Thursday thru Saturday. Fried chicken or barbecue. Get the chicken.

Bon Appetit and happy gardening. I will be in my shady garden shedding tears on the thin soil.

More Notes from the Road

Some of my favorite things about Provence:

The paella at the market in Aix. French fast food. From the biggest paella pan I've ever seen. Beats the heck out of McDonald's, doesn't it?

Sundown. My favorite time of day anywhere, here the evening light glows golden on stone houses in narrow streets.

 Streets designed for cars and fire engines don't have this charm. Where I live form does not follow function, form follows parking. Everything is designed around the almighty automobile. Or the almighty fire truck. I suppose if your house is on fire and the fire department can't get down your street you'd go for a bit less charm...but only for a moment. 

The B&R picnics. In the most charming locations. One guide was so attentive she took Larry's shoes to the picnic so he wouldn't have to wear his slippery biking shoes.

Only one problem: how is he supposed to get to the picnic?

Oops.

The red houses of Rousillon. With contrasting car. They may not run but they are clearly what the well-heeled Provencal is driving...or decorating his driveway with... 

The tree-lined streets. Why can't we do this?

The occasional unexpected companion.

As we rode past the goats, Wally took a sniff and said "That explains the cheese!"

I loved the farms...

...and the clusters of dead snails on every weed stalk and fencepost. 

Seems a terrible waste in the land of escargot. But at least they're not eating my garden.

Tasting wine with Dennis McAuliffe, the only American sommalier in France...

...who is very entertaining. 

Did I mention we also learned some stuff?

The music...

...the dancing...

...and the local color. 

The Most Beautiful Villages Of Provence

Menerbes. Bonnieux. Rousillon. Gordes. La Coste. 

We ride through them all, stopping for coffee, strolling, shopping. And water.

The hills are long but not steep. Think about it - a loaded oxcart couldn't carry your stuff to market if the grade was too steep. And a full cart would run over the ox on the way home. So the climb is gentle.

Still, we're hot and sweaty when we roll into town.

Sometimes it's market day, sometimes's it's just time for coffee and pastry.

It's fashionable to be snarky about these villages: Peter Mayle put them on the "been there done that" list (I heard he'd been run out of Menerbes and has moved to Lumiere...love to know the back story on that...) But they are beautiful, charming, quaint, quirky, fun. And well worth the climb.

In Bonnieux...

...we stop for lunch at La Table de Sylvie. A little terrace with the most spectacular views, simple delicious food, and Cat Stephens and Louis Armsrtrong music coming from...

...this. We start dancing and Sylvie joins us, singing "Oh baby. it's a wild world." When she says wild she points at herself. Yup.

Sally finds her favorite singer, Francis Cabrel

Le Ancienne Poste in Menerbes is owned by a former B&R guide, Phillipe Brown, and available to rent. Check out the photos and don't be put off by the cartoon dog at the beginning - this is a seriously sophisticated house. En suite bathrooms - need I say more?Ancient (I'm talking rocks not Romans here) meets modern and spacious. Very different, very cool. Altho the dog in the website intro has got to go...

After all that climbing the pool at Le Coquilade is so inviting...

...Joyce can't wait.

It has been a day well lived.

On The Road Again

Day two of cycling - we have a short drive to meet our bikes and find Wally's bike. in a compromising position...

...perched in the fountain. There are some disapproving stares from the locals - this fountain is famous for great water, and people come with jars and jugs to get it. Hope they don't mind the footprints...

The muttering of the locals is getting louder as we ride out of town, and I think to myself, "This is how the revolution got started." 

We start the ride thru forests still cool from the evening. As we ride into the shade, it feels like diving into a pool. It's silent except for the morning calls of birds. We know it will be hot later, and of course we'll be going uphill then, but right now a jacket would be nice.

Onto the bike path...

...where even this car can't follow. Just in case the revolution has started. 

We stop in Fourcalquier where it is market day. Halloween not being a French tradition, these Musque de Provence pumpkins are sold by the slice - for eating.

Bright pink radishes share a box with their more modest cousins, the heirloom carrots.

There are plenty of cheesy purses and cheap clothing, but there are some gems mixed in.

Laguiole knives with olive wood handles, hand-forged hinges, jacquard tablecloths, and piles of sunny baskets.

A picnic in an old cloister (do you see a theme here? The aforementioned revolution created a lot of empty convents) then on to a modern perfume institute owned by L'Occitane en Provence for a smelly class (in more ways than one. It was a hot sweaty morning)...

We are given a box of scents...

...a basic recipe, and we make our own custom perfumes. 

You can let me know if you like it when you see me next. And remember, if you can't say anything nice...

More about Dinner in Sardinia later. Those hills were steep and hot, and I'm off to the pool.