I am pretty excited to reveal what I’ve been working on the last two months but there are just one or two details to finalise… I’ve been clocking 15 hour days (and weekends – sorry kids) to create our new website  so I haven’t been as present as I would like here. Mea culpa!

What I can divulge is that I am working with a really wonderful and gifted collaborator and starting May 2015 and after many requests we will be offering intimate gatherings and retreats in Provence.

We have created an itinerary of activities including:

• Guiding you through our favourite French flea markets;
• Visits to our favourite artists ateliers including potters, textile artists, weavers, painters, photographers, printmakers and collectors;
• Access to exclusive antique textile & brocante sales;
• Beautifully styled and thoughtful gatherings including a luxury picnic, a secret (surprise) dinner event, a farm to table dining experience and a chic cocktail dinatoire under the stars.

….and plenty of time in between to become inspired anew & connect—with others, yourself, and the world around you.

If this sounds like something you would like to know more about then you can sign up for news on our website.

So it snowed overnight….30cm of snow. Of course we were totally unprepared, the car was parked behind the house as far away as possible from the main road, the fridge is empty (thankfully we have a larder full of pasta and canned tomatoes!).

I captured this moment when my two little ones woke up to discover the magical scene outside, still bleary eyed and in their pyjamas.

This is a door on one of my favourite streets in Lacoste.

(L) In the distance the Mont Ventoux is covered in snow, creating a wonderful pink ombre skyline.

When everything is in black & white it makes the beautiful symmetry in the cherry orchards and vineyards more apparent, sculptures created by the paysans of Lacoste.

  This street is simply beautiful, in the snow and in the heat of summer

I lose my heart to this little secret garden every time I pass

Across the valley, the white of the snowy rooftops only serves to highlight the village scape

Our village ‘Temple’ looks majestic surrounded by the snow backdrop

This past weekend we were invited to lunch in my friend Joannas house, I double, triple checked – “are you sure you don’t prefer that we leave the kids at home with a babysitter?”, surtout pas – Joanna insisted the more the merrier. I hadn’t seen Joanna since this past summer when she showed me around the old cave / garage adjoining her home, that she was planning on transforming into her studio and showroom.

It was a ruin, albeit a very beautiful 13th Century ruin with great bones but if you had handed this space to me I wouldn’t have known where to begin.

On Saturday, we stepped through the door of her new studio and it took our breath away.

Such beauty, everywhere.

Incredible high vaulted ceilings, Joannas beautiful hand printed textiles offsetting the rugged stone walls – my heart swelled up with admiration. It is one thing to be creative and quite another to have such incredible vision and see it through to make this type of a space.

I am just so excited for Joanna and all the making that will happen here. It’s the kind of place you just need to sit in for 5 minutes and feel energised.

Her art and creative spirit is in everything

Joanna has created all of the textiles used in the space including these wonderful black on linen, hand printed textiles that you see above on the cushions and upholstery.

I just wanted to reach out and wish you all a happy happy new year.

I hope it is filled with …

….happiness, may you be surrounded by loving friends and family

…laughter – the kind where you have tears running down your face and your cheeks ache from smiling!

…adventures – go skinny dipping & get up early and climb that mountain to watch the sunrise

…creativity – let 2015 be the end of procrastination and the year you take out those beads you’ve been hoarding, or that yardage of fabric you bought but never cut into.

Have faith, let go, let’s do it, let’s make it, let’s make it happen – allons y!

….and friendship – thank you to all the new friends who have encouraged me here

To those who have taken time out to talk to me and let me explore their creative worlds

To my cheerleaders around the world – those wonderful people who post comments here and email me loving notes of support

And to my dearest and nearest – thanks for being by my side – let’s make this year a good one!

So on Friday my husband and our family found our very first truffles and learned so much about the world of wild truffle hunts, armed with just a toothbrush, a stick and a smile.

One thing we have become very good at over the years is learning how to prepare and use truffles …read we are exceptionally talented at gorging ourselves on these winter treasures.  Certain friends (with a nose for truffling) bring them as dinner gifts so over the years we have picked up a few tips on caring for and cooking truffles.

So let’s say you follow my advice and you find what you believe to be a truffle, it smells good, it’s covered in dirt and maybe just a little bit mouse/worm eaten.

First thing to do – place your truffles in a paper bag until you get home from your truffling adventure, plastic bags make the truffle sweat which is not what you want.

If you are planning to cook/use your truffles immediately then skip to the next section.

Truffles, depending on their maturity and the presences of larvae remain fresh for a limited amount of time so it is really important to store them carefully. A truffle that comes out of the ground (and is essentially fresh) will usually keep for two weeks unless it is already decaying.

To keep truffles fresh – it is really important to not clean them (however much you are tempted) and to simply wrap them in a clean paper towel and place them in an air-tight container in the fridge. Find a place for them on the lower shelves on your fridge where it is less cold – you don’t want them freezing if you want to use them fresh.

So let’s say you just can’t help yourself and you are dreaming of cooking up a truffle feast – here are some tips on how to clean these little beauties.

Take an old soft toothbrush and carefully wash away the dirt around the truffle making sure not to wash to strongly.

I love how the truffle unveils its beautiful coarse black skin

Once washed we decided to cut open the truffle to see exactly what state our finds were in. From the outside one  had significant worm holes, it didn’t look great and my heart sank a little. Raphael sliced into the second truffle which from the outside looked to be in better shape.

Once sliced open it was apparent that we would only be able to use one of our two truffles. Black truffles should be a uniform black colour on the inside as you can see from the photograph above some of our truffle, especially the edges, were already too mature, and had to be trimmed.

So our final step was to clean off and trim the ‘softer’ edges off and then we filled a jar with fresh eggs and topped them with our truffles. It’s best to place the truffles so that air can circulate around them.

In just a few days our eggs will absorb the aromas from the truffles and will taste incredible used in an omelette or Oeufs en Cocotte. The less cooking to the truffle the better as they do tend to lose their wonderful flavour the more they are cooked.

Raphael (French Husband) caught the truffling bug four years back, when over an incredible truffle laden winter feast, a friend of ours Gabriel Sobin, hinted at the hidden art of truffling ‘a la Mouche’.  This most gifted truffler has no need for dogs or pigs, they have an exceptional nose, infinite patience, venture out only when the sun is shining and most importantly they have over the years identified the secret oak tree truffle groves scattered across the valley between Lacoste and Bonnieux.

To get one of these talented trufflers to show you where they find their jewels requires trust, garnered over many years and even then they will never show you their favourite patches.

Despite several attempts over the years, Raphael never managed to find the elusive truffle that he yearned to find and he grew more and more exasperated. It doesn’t help that around this time of year he always seems to meet a certain truffle hunter, a centimetre of dirt under each finger nail, pockets overflowing with these treasures, enveloped in a primal, intoxicating cloud of truffle perfume.

So it was a happy day when we got a call from a friend who offered to take us all (kids included) to learn the art of truffling.

“Come on” he murmured to the ground itself, “let’s see your wings, your little wings.” His murmur, barely perceptible, was hardly more than the abrasion of one dry lip against another. “Come on,” he insisted, using what he called the old language—that now nearly extinct idiom—in addressing lei mousco, the flies. For he was begging the flies for a sign: some tiny, covert, telltale indication.”

The Fly Truffler – Gustaf Sobin

Step 1.   Check weather conditions. One needs a clear fine day, Sunshine, No Wind.

Step 2. Pack an old toothbrush, a screwdriver, and a paper bag.

Step 3. Find yourself a slim long stick (baton) for combing/ swiping over the area. (For operating instructions see gif at end of post).

Step 4. In Provence, truffles are usually found under oak trees. When we go hunting we look for oak trees which have an unusual markage around the base.

Top secret tip: Truffles are always to be found under oak trees that are ‘marked’, in french you will hear the words ‘oh ça marque’  which means this is a good place to start looking.  By marked it means the ground around the tree is very bare, the grass grows tightly if at all.

Serge, our expert nose and gifted truffler taught Louis and his son how to identify a potential spot, how to go about carefully digging in the earth around and importantly how to distinguish the smell of regular dirt from the sensual aroma of  truffled earth.
Serge uses the “a la mouche” technique, delicately swiping above the earth to see if there are any truffle flies laying eggs. If the small brown fly is present, it is essential to keep your eyes peeled to see where it lands, as this is where it will lay its eggs and critically this particular fly lays its eggs just above a hidden truffle.

This day, it was too cold for truffle flies, yes the sun was shining, but the temperature outside was very very cold, too cold for flies to come out and play. This was when Serges 50+ years of experience came into play. He looked out for other giveaway signs, animals burrowing for example and sure enough there was a tiny little mouse hole in the soil under the roots of an old oak tree.

Serge knelt down close to the soil and peeked into the hole, inhaling deeply he released a deep hearty laugh, for at the bottom of the hole was a tiny mouse nibbling on a truffle. Treasure behold!

We carefully dug around the hole, unearthing the truffle which was more than heartily ravaged, but Serge assured us that there must be others hidden nearby so we carefully scavenged with our fingers. Raphaels fingers touched on something hard, he smiled, could it be? He took out the toothbrush and lovingly brushed away the fine soil unveiling his first ever truffle find.

Even after a little brush, it doesn’t look like much, but wow does it smell amazing!

We find four truffles in total in this one particular mouse hole… each time we take a handful of soil to smell for truffle.

Detail from the oak tree orchard.

Charlotte & Louis get into the action.

The trees around us are shrouded in a thin layer of frost.

Here is a better detail of how to comb the ground for Truffle flies

 “Cabassac knew that the truffle wasn’t some kind of hallucinogenic. It didn’t belong, he realized, to the pharmacopoeia of dreams: to those potions, elixirs, that operated so faultlessly on the neurons of the dreaming mind. The power of the truffle resided in something far more subtle, refined. Indeed, it had no direct effect on one’s dream life whatsoever. To the contrary, the truffle affected one’s awakened body, one’s conscious thoughts. It reassured the senses with its warm, earthly aroma, placed one’s entire being in a raised state of receptivity. It didn’t provoke the dream so much as create the conditions—the ‘dispousicioun’ as Cabassac put it—in which the dream might occur. Consumed, assimilated, the truffle would leave him feeling perfectly disposed to receive whatever rich, flickering images those dreams had to offer.”

The Fly Truffler, Gustaf Sobin.

This morning we embarked on a truffle hunting adventure. The conditions were a tiny bit imperfect, in our favour there was no wind or rain and the sun was shining, not in our favour was the frozen ground which was covered in a thin layer of frost…. not too enticing for truffle flies to lay their eggs.

Here is a teaser image – I’ll post the full story tomorrow

Ruth

x

I’ve been light on posting over the holidays, too much feasting and too little internet access, and thrown into the mix was helping pull together the wedding day of my mum on New Years Eve.

After a few days of strong biting cold Mistral wind and rain – the sun came out and made for an incredible clear Winters day in Lacoste. The girls got ready together, my granny (who came from Ireland), my sister (from London), my mums best friend (Deveren), her canine best friend (Emma) and I.

The beautiful bride wore a young Irish designer, Simone Rocha, we had seen it online and she managed to pick up the last dress (and fortuitously in her size) in Bon Marché in Paris. She accessorised this beautiful dress with a pair of burnt orange Prada heels, a lovely Jenny Packham jewelled hair clip. The something borrowed  – a pair of pearl earrings from her friend in Miami and the something old – a vintage Pucci fur (it was -2 degrees out) and a pair of antique Irish lace gloves.

I love the Simone Rocha dress, regal and delicate with a beautiful gold Irish crochet lace trims.

I love this pic of my granny and I getting ready in my mums bedroom for the ceremony

My sister Janey looking glam in my mums vintage coat and my new step sister Leora

My two rascals, Charlotte (the flower girl) and Louis (the brides best man)

Outside the home getting ready to leave for the Mairies office

The two bridesmaids, my granny (85) and my stepfathers mother Jacqueline (90) pose for photographs with Marc & Leora before the ceremony.

Just married – the happy couple pose for a photo under the obligatory state photograph of Frances president, Francois Hollande  he he he….

Two very happy newlyweds leaving the Mairies office in Lacoste

The party was held back in the house, great simple food; smoked salmon on Irish brown bread, sliced roast beef, truffle laden green salads …oh and lashings upon lashings of good cheese.

My granny, who is 85, was my mothers witness and she made the trip especially for the wedding, smuggling this amazing traditional Irish christmas cake in her suitcase – made lovingly by my Aunt Teresa back in Enniskillen.  It was decorated with willow branches from my grannys own garden (my mothers childhood home).

Here is part deux of Christmas in my small corner of Provence. We live in a tiny hilltop village in the Luberon, not so far from the cosmopolitan big towns of Aix en Provence and Avignon but tucked far enough away amidst fields of cherry trees and olive groves that we feel quite removed from most Christmas festivities. Our village really goes into hibernation mode in late November, our cafés close for the winter with their owners taking their annual holidays. The weather gets colder and if it wasn’t for the daily school run I doubt we would cross other human beings.  Like bears, the Lacostois hibernate until Spring.

I haven’t seen a Christmas tree outside of our own (which has been up since Nov 22 – I blame a rainy weekend and sick kids) and the manic last minute shopping crowds don’t exist in our part of the world. There are some beautiful local traditions which I do love which are so much more subtle than big city sparkling light displays.

Once tradition I love is the Provencal creche with handmade santons. We inherited our santons from a Londoner moving back to the big city after raising her family in Lacoste. I love that they are not new and that they are the guardians of many beautiful Christmas memories and now they will witness ours.

I loved this beautiful arrangement of antique pots in the Domaine de La Citadelle which is also home to the  Musée du Tire-Bouchon

Vaulted ancient ceilings make my heart swoon, I understand that these rooms were traditionally used for keeping animals at ground level, usually without any door so that the animals could wander in and graze as they like. What majestic architecture for cows, donkeys and sheep.

A corner decorated with a handmade wreath and tied up with a beautiful antique silk moire ribbon

Antlers form a beautiful centrepiece for a truffle feast

I am taking a few days off to travel up to visit our family in Lyon and St. Etienne but I am sending you all the most loving wishes for a wonderful, peaceful Christmas!

So Christmas holidays are here,  school (and childcare) is out till 5th January. No more work for Maman and two energetic kids to entertain (plus the odd friend thrown in for good measure).  I have no option but to put ‘business’ on pause and get the walking boots on and get out and explore the beautiful Provencal countryside.

For anyone wanting to know what Lacoste is like at Christmas well here are some images to give you a visual as such. There is not a soul about, the sky is the clearest blue, the weather is sunny but crisp and the Lacoste Christmas decorations are so discreet you would barely know that the crazy season is upon us.

My Charlotte, getting so grown up!

The three musketeers, Louis, Charlotte and their best friend Roman

A beautiful ray of late afternoon sunshine illuminates the Rue du Four and one of our local cats.

Mugging around en route to the upper village.

Take a stroll..

How can one ever get tired of these sights?

And for those wanting an update on the Papa-Charlotte love affair, the flame is very much still burning bright. She has taken to helping choose his clothes in the morning. She goes to his side of our big chest of drawers and carefully chooses what she feels her papa should wear that day. It has become a little ritual between them and who am I to intervene.

Here she is feeding her Papa some of her vanilla icecream (apologies for the grainy badly lit iphone snaps)