Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The weather forecast in the local newspaper blithely ignores the thick mist swirling like sea billows around us . For the next week it predicts blue skies and temperatures between 29 and 32 degrees . No mention of fog to be found.
En route to the cafe in the square we park in a side street full of 1920's style art deco houses . All boarded up . The French don't want to live in towns and the foreigners want elyssian farms in the country . As a result all these once fashionable little townhouses stand empty and forlorn .
Warm and still . A perfect night for sitting out under the stars with a Chicken Xacuti . ' The font ' comments on the fact that the recipe calls for no less than 10 dried red chillies . '' Do you think it's a misprint ? " I'm asked . To accompany it a Corsican wine . Neither of us can remember ever having drunk a Corsican wine before. Certainly the grape varieties - Niellucciu an Sciaccarellu - are a first . A perfect accompaniment to the hot and spicy Xacuti . Younger members of the family might say this ten chilly pepper delight was ' rocking ' .
The Cortisone has given Wilf a cast iron stomach. He has a small amount of rice and chicken with his evening kibbles . A quick game with a favoured toy then he falls asleep on the doorstep , snoring solidly until dawn . His attitude to food and to life : " If you wait , all that happens is that you get older ".