Meat Delivered Succesfully


Meat day today.  Brent usually does the run to Narbonne and Toulouse.  A bit tough to juggle the cow move and meat box packing and cows, so I popped out this time.  As I drove out of rainbows towards The Med, the weather improved steadily.  I kept adjusting the cabin temperature from keep-me-warm to cool-me-down.

I was to meet a lady by a gate I’ve not met.  She suggested an alternate place as the meat was to be transported elsewhere.  I met her by a white tent and a solar tribute to The Day of The Triffods.IMG_5282

Beef was off quickly after we met, so I headed back to meet another customer in Toulouse.  As I was leaving, music blaring, I didn’t hear “Aussie Ken,” our GPS system, to take the exit.  I read the signs and had to quickly figure out … do I want to follow the yellow tarmac to The Med or back to rainy country Gers.  What would Keanu do? IMG_5296

So hungry, I pulled off at Corbières for a Gourmet Angus burger.  It had Angus, it had bacon, it had sauce, it had NO flavor.  The sauce carried the meal along.  I was so hungry, a cracker would have done.IMG_5292

Paying for the not so free way, this helicopter hovered like this carrying or supporting or I don’t know what to these power lines.IMG_5297

Home at last.  As the veal burger and chop for our taste test were cooking, Champagne man shows up.  A present from Brent to me.  Speechless.  Champagne is very dear to my heart.  With all these babies and giving my body up for other’s lives.  The only thing I missed was Champagne.  I loves me some Champagne.  And Champagne man makes the best bubbly I’ve ever had.  Amazing.  Even better if it’s pink.  And it was.  I can’t wait to try it on Champagne Saturday.   You can’t drink Champagne in farm wear.  You must wear something nice ( read clean ) and put a little effort in.

… underneath Mr. Pink, we have some spare veal burgers.  Held back on purpose.  Very happy with these burgers.  Pink Champagne may go well with veal burgers.  I’ll let you know.IMG_5295

Reconstituting with Champagne

I love Champagne.  During the many years of devoting my body as a host for our wee little brats, I spent a lot of sober nights watching others tipsy the night away over great meals or World Cup shenanigans or weddings or fireworks.  ( I believe the current Politically Correct word for “brat” is “spirited,” but I like to keep things old school )  I didn’t miss a thing.  Except, that is, for Champagne.  Not sparkling wine.  Not mass market fizz catering to rapper’s delight.  I mean true Champagne that was grown by a grower and bottled and labeled.  I took Zélie in for a check-up the other day and to my surprise, I saw a fabulous campaign on the health benefits of Champagne.  According to this sign and as far as my French goes, Champagne evidently fixes everything.



Old Age



Infectious Diseases

AND, available at all Pharmacies!  I should have known.  I have quite literally a “gut feel” for crap food.  I’ve never, EVER believed in or liked sugar substitutes.  The same bad tingles are present with fake butter, fake oil and fake salt.  All wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  I eat real food.  Except Nutella.  That stuff is bad.  But a little goes a long way on a crêpe.  So, when I saw this clearly well researched, authoritative sign on Champagne, I felt justified.  Now I need to work some magic to get Champagne as a stronghold in our budget right next to healthy, great tasting beef and that cheese at the market I buy from super-nice-cheese-man.

Truth be told, “Kola Champagne” is really a Puerto Rican Moxie.  A cola drink that cures.  Who knows, maybe Angel and Dr. Thompson swapped ideas during a lull in the Spanish-American War.  Cure-all Cola drinks aside, I love Champagne and I would much rather have a glass of Champagne than Tylenol for pain relief.