don’t want to mess about with words. Photos above describe his morning.
Below is a photo I took of Otto delicately enjoying one of our roast chickens.
Beef to Bordeaux today. I snapped a few shots. When I loaded them on my computer at home, I noticed that these puffy clouds kept photobombing my shot.
We have these puffy clouds over our pasture and the herd. It’s good see see how they look over the big city.
I wonder if anyone noticed.
Traffic was light today. There were a lot of people out enjoying the sunshine. I think they were also enjoying the puffy clouds.
Those clouds even made it into this shot of construction, temporary construction offices and an old tree trying to bloom.
After all the meat was delivered, I ate l’Américain. So many sandwiches to choose from, I chose that one because, I am American. The sandwich man laughed.
oh, what’s on l’Américain?
Ham, lettuce, tomato, hard boiled egg, pickles and mayo. Yep, me too, I pondered my way back to the farm, “why these ingredients?” What made this the American sandwich?
I love driving to Bordeaux. Country road followed by 130 kilos per hour down the speedway. Then, traffic and red lights. But beauty is all around you. I pass beauty to stop in my carpark waiting for customers.
The usual suspects drove by, but then there was this yellow Corvette. Then a Bentley. Then a small, British curvy thing without a name. And an American ganster car. Not a Renault or Poo-joe I’m familiar with.
I think there was an old car thing on. They traveled in groups. I captured two.
Gorgeous day and meat delivered. I took a gorgeous photo of the wheat backlit by the setting sun.
which turned out to be how many bugs can you count on my windscreen.
Meat delivered to Bordeaux today. It’s a pleasant drive and not too far away. Plus, it feels great to get grass-fed beef into customer hands.
There was a bit of traffic today. Mostly merging issues. Nothing compared to Seattle merging issues. They have issues, that Seattle. They refuse to zipper. A zipper merge is when you merge when the signs tell you to, don’t merge too early. Too early and you have a whole lot of piteous zippers not advancing. Bordeaux did okay, but too many giant trucks slowed us down. What I lost in time to my delivery point, I gained in new and exciting places in Bordeaux.
While waiting on the bridge to delivery drop number two, there it was. With an American flag, a French flag and another flag, Bastards Choppers.
Beautiful. I have thoughts about Bastards Choppers, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. I’ll let it sink in for you as it did for me. Pretend you are waiting at a red light in a left turn only lane with people in the right lane pretending they didn’t know about the left they need to make, then cutting in. Bastards! That is a broken zipper. If only I had a chopper. In France, you can split lanes with a chopper.
I think I’m becoming a little bit country. I go to big cities now and bumpkin my way around. I’ve only ever lived in cities. When I was in “go-mode,” I didn’t notice things like odd offices spaces. I would just walk under things like this getting to the next meeting or appointment. I noticed a lot of grass that was perfect for grazing. Also a lot of people on bicycles. There might be more bicycles than cars in Bordeaux.
I’ve been to Bordeaux, but I’ve never been to …. Bordeaux. I have to rush back to the farm and carry on with carry on stuff. I’m in “carry-on” mode now.
So many bridges in Bordeaux. It reminds me of Portland, Oregon ( only older ). If you drive over this bridge with the towers, Bastards Choppers is on your right.
We delivered ground beef and veal to Bordeaux today. Brent held the farm and I did the delivery. It was a great day for a delivery. Sunshine, hot, just gorgeous. The kids are off for two weeks now. Les vacances was in the air.
Bordeaux is beautiful. Though I’ve never been in the town, it has a good vibe. This opinion derived from traffic behaviour and general beauty-ness.
They can squat and take photos on water in Bordeaux.
My first stop is moving beef in a parking lot near the city’s science building. The science building is gorgeous and hard to photograph driving a frigo van. This is across the way. Though, the Jet Heart pillars would make a fine science center annex.
After, off to the next drop near the observatory.
Have to go over this cute looking bridge to get there.
That is a very wide river.
It looks like you can buy a piece of Central Park in France. … or the spirit of Central Park.
Then to the observatory. These instruments are no longer used, but they leave a great impression on the landscape.
We managed to sneak in a veal taste test before I left, but come 5pm, I was very hungry. I hate buying pre-packaged crap, so I got all brie and baguette. It was THE best brie and baguette sandwich I ever ate. I don’t remember much between the first bite and brushing the crumbs off my lap. I also bought a pack of “smarties” … that’s M&Ms to you and me. If I return from a Bordeaux trip without a yellow pack of snarf, I get told off.
All photos are from within our new/used refrigerated van. It’s very exciting because we can be flexible and spontaneous.
The frigo is a Ford mark and as such sports the obligatory cup holder. Perfect for buck-thirdy auto expresso.
We did a delivery to Bordeaux today. Yummy mixed box of beef with a packet of bourguignon from the best cuts of the steer from the rear. We also delivered ground beef. With regulations the way they are, having aged beef and ground beef on the same day took some planning. Ground beef ( see also mince and steak haché ) must be ground within five days. Aged beef rests happily in the cool room for a few weeks. We sent one off to age ( and some early mince ) and another off just in time to catch the aged beef. Et voilà! Today it all came together. Booty Box ( that’s the treasured rear and a fun thing to say ) and some ground beef. And off to Bordeaux we went. Thankfully this booty totally looked big in that we had enough for our local beef eaters as well. Oh look, a Gare in my name ( saint is a bit much ), ah Bordeaux, you are a beautiful place.
There were a few opportunities getting there to fuel funny stories when we collect around the bonfire and think about the ” early days ” of meat delivery and our grass-fed beef farm. It was great to meet/meat more customers who enjoy the beef.
With a safe return, I cooked up a rump steak and didn’t think to snap a picture until it was well on its way to my digestive system. The steak was lovely after a long drive sustained with coffee, two pastured eggs and a quick burger. I was very excited to taste our latest creation.
Our little rental camionette wasn’t available for the Bordeaux run. Brent and Kevin dropped Lucy off for school and headed off to pick up our fridge car. I cleaned up and drank more coffee. They returned with a giant van.
Just before take-off, we hooked up “Aussie Ken,” the man who tells me where to go via Tomtom. When I get there, he says in his most suggestive husky Aussie voice, “you have REACHED your DESTination.” Which I follow up with my inside voice “in bed.” But Tomtom no worky. The little lighter of charge was busted. What ever shall we do? I think all the maps have been burned since Tomtom came around. How shall we get anywhere if it can’t be plugged in? Enter Kevin’s magic phone of navigation. A phone so smart it will step in to show me the way. “At the end of the road, turn right,” she says firmly. I turned left. I turned left because I’ve been to Bordeaux before and the best route is through Condom. I don’t know where the silly bitch was headed, but a left turn was surely the right start. A few moments after my left turn, I heard nothing. Another left turn and nothing again. She was sulking. She beeped once or twice to tell me about nearby camping sites, but other than that I was dead to her. She left only this message.
I was left with my memory of how to get there, which worked without batteries and a bit too much coffee.
Off I went, meat fridging nicely in the back chugging along in the big rig. I slowly accommodated my inflated sense of self as the roads widened and started to have painted lines. The “pay way” ticket station was my next challenge. I knew I was tall, but managed to shuffle in next to the little Euro cars without issue and a gentle brush of the plastic hanging tubes. That was, until the ticket was dispensed. I sat there for many minutes waiting for my ticket, yet there was no ticket on offer. I tried a button and a double clap, nothing. Then I looked up. I had not noticed the tall ticket spit-out from my usual Skoda point of view. Us tall vehicles, we take our tickets on top.
Of course on the way back I tried to do a top ticket snap and was bottomed out. I thought of reversing the rig in protest to demand top ticket status, but carried on to get home to my family.
The beast cruises nicely on the fast payway road. It beeps at you if you go over 130 kilos per hour. I never heard the tone, I only know because I read the manual. It beeps most often when you’re passing bigger rigs than you. Or so I’m told. It tells you that you are “dépassé” which means that you are horribly out of fashion and shouldn’t be going so fast.
Meat delivered and let me tell you, that was a tasty burger!
Z and I drove off to Bordeaux today to drop off some boxes of beef. I gave her a freshly baked chocy chip cookie and a yogurt pouch in hopes for a fine mid-day sugar crash ( did I mention she’s over the whole nap thing? ).
This place was gorgeous and had a very calm feel to it not unlike our farm ( except for the gorgeous part … still working on project tidy!). Though our farm is far away from the hub-bub of big city Bordeaux action.
Our Bordeaux beefeater said that this place is on the fast track for abandonment. Once a state-of-the art science research center with fancy pants telescopic zoomage, now an old place that is better left dead. It’s a darn shame. I don’t live in the big city anymore, but one step on this astrophysical playground and you feel quiet and out of all that unnecessary noise.
On the way back I noticed two things. One, there is a very large river in Bordeaux. It’s quite arresting.
Two, when you drive on the big, fast roads in France, there’s a certain absence of roadside eye-sores. You go and you go and you drive yet never once, not even a tiny hint will you see an atheromatous plaque of fast-food restaurants. You see, I’ve driven to paradise and back on the I-X of America. You can’t scan the local radio quicker than seeing a Taco Bell or Burger King flapping eyelid ready to take your money and give you blech.
The “area” stops are your only chance for a break. I’ve been to these before. Showers. Clean. Places for a quick sandwich ( say it with me now, “sahn-dweech” ). Or a prix fixe menu of some description. And I’ve heard, there is an Aire in the Haute-Garonne on the way to Spain that is worth eating at as a destination. America can do these rest-stops, they just need to try.