170 Burgers Served



Our village hosted a Soiree Western last night.  Featuring horses, burgers, beer and fun.  Our first one.  The kids helped set up.  The burgers served were from our farm.



The kids LOVED riding the horses.  We run a strict no-horse home.  I don’t want to trot down that road.  Lucy will come up with many reasons why this should not be the case.



The kids ran wild and the adults enjoyed the evening.  Lucy was the oldest girl in the kid bunch which allowed her to hold court and coordinate dances to the rocking tunes.  We played both kinds of music at the soiree, country and western.



I felt the evening was friendly as people came dressed up.  There was a lot to talk about.  We had an Argentinian Gaucho, cowgirls, indians, Aussie Jackaroo and the rest.  Me?  I went gingham style.  Some pig-tails and two pink bows.



The weather was great.  We ate outside.  We served many burgers comme ça: un grass-fed burger, sauce secret, salade, fromage, tomate, cornichon, onignon sur un petit paing de sésame.

Plus frites, salad and brownies.  Serving was animated, but great to meet all the people who came to enjoy a burger Américain.

The onions were sautéed which took the American burger up a notch almost into gourmet territory.  We slapped some pickles on and there was a bit of a rumble.  Thankfully, people seemed pickle positive.  The sauce secret also seemed to work.  Next time, bacon might be on the menu.



After the second burgers were distributed to those wanting more and the brownies served, I grabbed a beer from a non-cowboy.  He poured it well and it was the best beer I ever ate.



170 burgers served.  We should hang a sign.

Oh What A Night

DSC_9693It didn’t rain! Happy guests eating, drinking and being merry in the plein aire. A thunderstorm arrived and left quicker than two-hundred bucks at Costco. After a quick rain, we were set for a dry and warm evening.

DSC_9508Serving plates were set and ready. As was the jam for the tart glaze and ketchup for the frites. The Madiran was for the servants.

DSC_9509This is a giant salad spinner. Two girls worked this beauty like they’ve been spinning lettuce for years ( a great resume booster ). Amazing beast. I want one.

DSC_9547Tables constructed.

DSC_9554Chairs set. Hair flipped.

DSC_9559Paper rolled.

DSC_9572Confit started.

DSC_9579Band warms up. Groupies collect.

DSC_9633Guests arrive.

DSC_9640Confit bubbles.

DSC_9629Apéro commence.


DSC_9646Confit ready.

DSC_9649Frites a-go-go.

DSC_9651Frites monsters arrive.

DSC_9657Boys and children run.

DSC_9661Salad ( say “sah-lahd” ) and ( insert awesome cheese photo here ) is served.

DSC_9666Man who maketh tarte aux pommes taketh a swig of a much deserved bière and leans on confit man.

DSC_9685Happy guests chat and enjoy the music.

DSC_9682Tart severed with care by some of my children. Careful now, those plates slip off the tray!

DSC_9701Coffee and Armagnac offered.

DSC_9704Z exhausted.

DSC_9707Bottles recovered.
DSC_9708Clean up.

Oh what a night!

Once Again, Out Partied By the Ladies In Their Eighties

It’s village fête time.  Last year we did our local village with the amazing duck carcass feast.  We totally enjoyed it.  This year, we tried out the smaller village fête that served traditional Gasconnes cuisine. As the courses slowly unfolded we realized it was a feast dedicated to how many ways you can serve chicken.  Each course was lovely and filling.  Lots of food.  Too much food.  I love the food.  In the end, we had Champagne ( but not real Champagne from Champagne.  It was produced in the Gers and nice, but we’ll see what tomorrow brings ) with “croustade,” which is a nice apple flakey yummness.


Our friend Anthony came along for the ride and hopefully had his fill of accordion music, crazy french fun and a multi course meal where one course is a little glass of alcohol.  Before the food fun, he partook in a local classic: blonde beer with a gloob of peach syrup.  I’m not sure what he made of this, but as a beer connoisseur, it was his job to try it out.


Brent dusted off his yuppie wear to look fine for the occasion.  I think he’s beginning to feel more comfortable in his blue farm pants, but he looks very cute in his farmanies.


Michael wore his shirt as per usual.  This is how he rolls.  I think he wears his shirt inside out on purpose to gain attention from those i-dotters and t-crossers.  We can’t stand disorder.


Minty had a Coke.  We don’t drink Coke very often.  She could only drink half.

Then she crashed.

Zélie ran around, ran around, ran around, dodged a dude, ran around, ran around, then ate, then ate, then ate.  Hours later, after bopping to the beat and after putting her hands in the air and waving them like she just didn’t care.  Hours after that. She zombied.  Then she mellowed.  Then Brent took her and sleeping Otto home.
The accordian –  sax ensemble was too much for us to sit still so Lucy and I cut a rug to the giving tunes of waltzes i’ve long forgotten.  We were watched and giggled at in a charming way.  We took a bow, had a food fight with the neighboring table then quickly made our way to the Hilux.  Meanwhile, spritely, young ladies in their eighties were dancing the night away.  I was tired.  I aspire to dance the way they dance to the wee hours of the fête.  And they do this in heels.  Gadblessem.