francofiled

2004, Entente Cordiale, Commemorative Crown One of the beneifts of social media that I appreciate is the ease with which I can keep in touch with news and stories from France. I have a particular interest in Le Berry in the Région Centre and so will often browse to the local edition of newspapers.  Recently a story caught my attention in Le Berry Republicain .  A statue had been found in a clearing in an estate in the Sologne. It used to belong to a factory in Vierzon but had been moved when new owners took over in the 1960s. The statue was referred to as La Française and it made me think of my favourite French symbol - Marianne.   Although the French flag is the only official symbol for France, Marianne embodies the values of the nation.  She has two sides to her character - the angry warrior on the Arc de Triomphe or the sower, scattering potential, as depicted on French coinage and stamps. The newspaper article refers to the Roman goddess, ...

Château Franc-Pourret, 1981 News programmes these days seem to be full of claim and counter-claim about the budget deficit and the effect of cuts in public spending.  Old certainties such as buying property seem no longer to apply as house prices fall, leaving some in the position of negative equity.  Canny investors suggest putting money into art purchases and others into buying and cellaring fine wine. Back in 2000, I invested in some wine. It was more of an emotional decision than a financial one because I only bought one bottle.  Not any old bottle mind you! It was a Saint-Emilion Grand Cru from the Château Franc-Pourret, belonging to the Ouzoulias family. Its vintage is 1981. Now 1981 is special because it was the year in which we got married. The wine was already 19 years old when we visited the lovely medieval town of Saint-Emilion. We had family lunch in the square and still had some hours to spend before continuing our homeward journey. ...

Hotel Tatin at Lamotte-Beuvron, France Ever since I can remember I have loved apple tart.    As a child it was sometimes served with a taste of milk in a small bowl or saucer and at Hallowe’en the pie would hide a buried treasure - a sixpence wrapped in greaseproof paper.   Now when I see it on a menu, it’s hard to say no!   Much though I am a fan of that closed, deep-filled pie variety if Tarte Tatin appears on a menu, that’s it.   Forget profiterolles or crème brulée, I’ll be making straight for the luscious, caramelised upside down apple tart.   Given its gourmet status on many posh restaurant menus, Maxim’s for example, it is hard to believe it was created by accident.   When I bite into a portion, I guess I feel a bit like Marcel Proust tucking into a madeleine and being transported back through time to old memories.   Tarte Tatin brings me back to France and its Région Centre, to Lamotte-Beuvron in fact.   I first went there...

It has long been the custom in our family to celebrate Bastille Day and this time for the 14 July we had booked an evening meal in Bastille Restaurant, Belfast We arrived to the sound of jazz music rising from the basement entrance and were warmly welcomed into the restaurant, under the canopy of a huge French flag suspended from the ceiling. We were escorted to our table and were soon enjoying a welcome glass of fizz having been invited to choose our meals from the extensive à la carte menu. We ordered and, fizz in hand, sat back to enjoy the atmosphere. Diners were in party mood and t he place had filled up well. There was plenty of lively conversation, punctuated by the voices of a group of French people on a short visit to Belfast. It wasn’t long before our starters of quail salad, with provençal olives and quail egg; and foie gras arrived. Senses heightened with the aromas, tastes and sounds, Belfast soon melted into France . We continued with our main courses of seatrout...

French voices are increasingly common around Belfast as we make progress towards becoming a more metropolitan place to live and work. Although the city is quite compact and well signposted you occasionally see people consulting their maps, wondering where they should go next. It’s a particular pleasure to hear visitors speaking French and so when I overheard a group discussing which direction they should take to get to our “big fish” I decided to introduce myself. To their obvious delight, I got them going in the right direction and walked part of the way with them, speaking French. That makes my day. I get to use the language and it is an opportunity to sustain the reputation for being friendly and welcoming. The truth is that I don’t get to France as often as I would like these days and look for ways to keep the connection strong. This francofiled blog is part of that process and so too is surfing social media to keep up to date through Facebook, Twitter and the web. If you...

Kensington Palace Gardens, backing on to the grounds of the Palace itself, is an impressive avenue of varied architecture, the London homes of many of the world’s ambassadors. I had come, on Monday 29 March 2010, with my family and some friends to the French Ambassador’s Residence for a ceremony in which, along with a dozen others, I was to be decorated as a Chevalier in the Ordre des Palmes Académiques for services rendered to French culture. We were made to feel very much at home, although I was a bit anxious as I knew that I had to make a short speech to the gathering later on. The welcome glass of a crisp white wine helped to steady the nerves and I was able to relax into the occasion. The Residence is a beautiful, elegant home embellished with marble busts and tapestry. The salon being used for the ceremony was infused with a soft purple light accentuating the colour of the palme’s ribbon. The Ambassador, a charming man, immaculately dressed, introduced himself and welcomed us...

I find it hard to part with books and have several old texts from my school days. One such is a book of French Translation Passages. It dates from the late 1960s and when I found it again recently I flicked through to an extract that has come to mind several times over the years since. I have the book beside me now, open at Passage #42, relating to the writer, Anatole France . The extract appeals to me. In summary it refers to a charming, greying man, nearly 70 but with a young disposition. Someone whose age suited him and who in the salon preferred to give way rather than argue. Described as a seductive speaker, drawing on literary references, he disliked stubborn, argumentative people, saying about them : - They think it is important to be right! That sounds to me now like good role model behaviour. I wonder if I also thought that as the 17-year old translating the piece for the first time. As I engaged in the lengthy, technical process of translation back then I wonder if those desc...