First of all, I want to reassure
my blog's numerous (3)
regular followers:
after some ten days of silence
sound resumes its presence.
In writing, that is.
I know you folks
all dislike the "sound of silence".
You'll be entitled to full-scale reports about my goings and comings during the last week or so, but I want to start with one prominent feature: Alison's birthday party, last night in Bonnanech.
You may have noticed the four candles on the anniversary pie, an elegant indication of the age at stake ... or a close approximation at least. To tell the truth, our goatkeeper and cheese-maker was born on the same day as my very own grandmother (I think) - but who cares ? - on the year's longest day: June 21st. But she delayed the celebration event, partly to suit my own convenience. Thank you, Alison.
Among the invitees, you could spot some of her local friends, both farmers from the close vicinity and various neighbours living in the nearby villages. Some had done a longer journey, as this gracious Irish citizen, a goat farmer in spe herself, with a lovely singing voice and charming eyes. She cooked a dish of potato balls with red beet I had never eaten before: quite tasty.
Nelly, the faithful beer brewer, had issued a Cuvée Spéciale for the occasion, her "Alison" brand of course. The thing is rather strong in alcolhol (8 vol %), with a definitely hopped character, a slightly bitter aftertaste - as should be - and not overmuch residual sugar. I'm very partial to that one and took more than one sip, before addressing the wines and after-dinner cordials. Water flooded my gastric mucosa as well and the next morning ( 11 a.m.) saw me alive, almost kicking and without a hint of Kopfschmerz, quite an achievement.
The "boys next door", occasional helpers in case of dire events such as a breaking-down tractor, flooding waterstorm, goats on the run and so on ..., had ignited the charcoal and set up a very long kebab-stick, gently revolving above the glowing ambers through the clever doing of an old 12 volt windscreen-wiper motor linked to a bicycle sprocket and chainring. Oh, I forgot, two suckling goat-kids were revolving as well ...
Sandrine had fixed some "meringue à l'italienne", topped with quite outstanding home-made Chantilly, to be covered in strawberries and fresh peppermint leaves, as my picture shows. There were two huge such pieces of pie ... which disappeared allright in the end. Both Maury and Rivesaltes got a chance to make an appearance, all in perfect time.
I contributed a modest added bonus by means of a small "tapa": the kidneys, livers and hearts of the victims, quickly fried in a mixture of butter and olive oil, gently seasoned with garlick, basil and parsley: your very British "steack and kidney pie" of a kind, only without any dough or beef, with a different type of spices, and devoid of long simmering ...
When all was swallowed, I lighted my small contribution to the well-being of the Cuban folk and started to pay attention to all things Hebridean ... and peaty it was!
Meantime, the ladies started an extended polyphonic a capella recital, with the occasional intervention of some of the male voices. I prudently refrained as the evening had managed to remain dry so far. And then, snare-drum and tambourine joined in. Much later, the guests gradually started to leave, one by one (or rather in pairs, as a matter of fact), and I finally made it to my bed around 3 o'clock, also as a pair. Bright sunshine woke me up just short of midday.
Happy birthday, Alison, and thank you again for having us.
Your party was perfect and Christine and I enjoyed - once again - the craftly
designed pillows which you were kind enough to grant the two of us.
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