These St Vaast days are measured and pleasurable. On Monday we are invited to lunch chez Taille. I take some of my Ceviche de Dorade which we nibble before soused mackerel facon Francois (he uses white wine and vinegar), the warmed langue de boeuf with a Sauce Gribiche which is similar to an aioli or a mayonnaise sauce with chopped hard boiled eggs, capers, pickles and herbs. Francois uses only the egg white. The tongue is served with little new potatoes ‘en robe de champs’. There are grilled red peppers which I love. A slice from a pretty tart with fresh fruit on top of a creamy crème anglaise and almond meringue is accepted to be polite……….. although it is delicious for sure. And too much champagne and white winecannot be resisted. But the price of two hours of siesta is paid.
On Tuesday morning I return to the Taille establishment to spend a couple of hours with Fefe on English tuition. We leaf through a book of Michael Payton sailing cartoons and I give her the best translations I can. But first I needs must find out what words like reefing, dodgers, dead reckoning mean to old salts. Then I search for ‘a load of old balls’ and end up with ‘Tout ca c’est des conneries’. I’m learning too!
Wednesday afternoon is spent at the beach with Anne, Chloe and Noe, later joined by Christine and Lena. I am now putting in two swims per afternoon, fuelled by coffee and perhaps one or two of Anne’s tiny pistachio and raspberry mini-muffins. With a novel to dip into and a few stretches of legs to look for driftwood and threadable artefacts this is the epitome of a summer afternoon.