Cow shoes and charcuteries

We are in Lausanne, Switzerland, in a hotel with wifi now, so I can catch up on the posts, describing our final day in Paris and our adventures in the area south of St. Etienne, specifically around Le Bessat where Julie's grandmother's chalet is located.

I hadn't downloaded Friday's pictures when I made the last post. We awoke in our hotel in Paris to rain that day; however, it cleared out by about 10:30 am, so we met up with Julie and Alex for a quick visit to the big Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris before our train in the afternoon. The day before, Phillip and I walked to all the sights we visited. This time, Julie guided us on the use of the Paris Metro. For 1.80 euros, you can ride anywhere in the city. The subway cars, we needed to change and use two lines, were moderately crowded, but not sardine-ish crowded. Notre-Dame is a medival cathedral, built in the 11th and 12th centuries. It is the most visited monument in Paris. The round window in the center is one of the cathedral's three Rose Windows, made of stained glass. It was quite crowded, so we did not even try to go inside.

I mentioned Julie's friend Alex. He lives in a suburb of Paris and came in to see Julie and to meet us. He has a master's degree in biology and is applying for a new job now as a clinical researcher. Alex speaks English, not as well as Julie, but well enough to communicate with us. He went with us to the train station later in the day as it was also his station to return home. Every time we came to stairs at the Metro or train station, he smiled and took my suitcase. Nice guy! And it's clear that he and Julie are fond of each other.

Phillip near the B & B

Friday evening, Julie, Phillip and I rode the high speed train to Lyon, then a regional train to St. Etienne. Jacques, Julie's father, met us at the train station and drove us to our bed and breakfast. Julie and Jacques stayed for dinner at the B & B. The owner cooked a delicious dinner of tomato soup to start, then pork chops with eggplant gratin and rice, followed by a cheese plate, then pears poached in spiced red wine for dessert. Phillip isn't a fan of eggplant, but because she called it by its French name, aubergine, he ate it and liked it. He loved the poached pear. Julie and Jacques left after dinner and drove to their chalet. We had a wonderful night's sleep. No cars, no noise, comfortable bed.

Saturday morning, Jacques picked us up and stopped at the nearby village for sausage and groceries for Julie to prepare lunch and dinner at the chalet. This is the picture of the butcher shop we bought sausage from. It shows what a typical French village of this area looks like. Small storefronts, landscaped narrow street, and very clean. I'm calling it a butcher shop, but it is also a charcuterie and the proprietor is a charcutier. Charcutiers make cured sausages. We love the sausages here, especially the ones with the texture of hard salami, but drier, smaller in diameter and better in taste.

Phillip and I have heard stories of Julie's grandmother's chalet for fifteen years, so we were very happy to visit it. Julie's grandmother, Juliette, passed away a few years ago, so the chalet belongs to Jacques. Jacques and Jaja have a home closer to Paris, but they come to the chalet regularly. It looks small, but it actually has four bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a dining room. No TV now, although Juliette had one when she lived here. The inside decorations reminded me of my grandmother's house: decorative plates on the walls, efficient use of space, and the focus on the dining area.

Jaja, Julie's mother, joined us after lunch. She is an artist and had been at an exhibition of her works in Tours. Jacques found a historic farm and reserved a time for us to visit on Saturday afternoon. On our way, he stopped at a viewing location for me to take some pictures. The chalet isn't actually in the French Alps, it's in the moutain range on the north side of the Rhone Valley from the actual Alp range. The mountains in the distance are the Alps, not a cloud bank.

The farmer we visited was famous for keeping the old ways of farming alive. He walked us thru his barns, explaining (in French with Julie and Jacques translating) the implements and equipment we were seeing. Jacques and I were especially excited because his father and my father had used some of this type of equipment: sickle bar mowers, manual corn shellers, and the like. And then we came to the cow shoes..... During World War I, all the farm horses were sent to the front for the soldiers. Most of them did not return, so the farmers turned to their cows to pull their plows and wagons. The land, however, had rocks and the cows' feet needed protection. So, cow shoes.

Each cow hoof needed two of those shoes. The metal bar coming up went between their "toes," and the outside was nailed into the hard part of their foot, the hoof material. It didn't hurt the cows, just like horseshoes don't hurt the horse. So, each cow actually got eight shoes. The farmer, Mr. Morel, had pictures of him shoeing the cows. He also had a supply of cow shoes in different sizes because cow feet may be different sizes.

In addition to his actual farming and the museum, Mr. Morel attends reenactments and renaissance-type festivals with his cows. These two particular cows are movie stars. They were in a French film, pulling a wagon. I didn't catch the name of the film. The harness to pull implements does not go across the cow's chest, but rather around its horns. Two cows walk side-by-side and the tongue of the cart or plow goes between them and attaches to a pole that is attached to the harness around the horns. Mr. Morel didn't rig up the cows to show us, but he did have pictures and showed us the harnesses with the poles. Way different from anything we'd seen!

On Sunday, the five of us, Jaques, Jaja, Julie, Phillip and I, went for lunch at a very traditional restaurant, Auberge de la Jasserie. Jacques parents and even his grandparents had eaten there. The building was also a lodge and in fact, Jacques had learned to ski on the hill next to it. Before lunch, we walked the trail from the parking lot, passing wild blackberry plants. They only grow in this area because of the altitude, soil, and climate. The blueberry jam made from them is absolutely wonderful. Our B & B had it for breakfast. We bought a jar there and another from this restaurant.

The trail, through a farmer's cattle field, took us to another lookout where we could see the Alps. It was quite a hike uphill, much faster going back down the hill (more than a hill, less than a mountain!) Julie runs every morning, Jacques bicycles long distances and teaches skiing in the winter, Jaja is naturally athletic, and Phillip and I, well, we were feeling our age on that climb. But we made it! Because of the clouds on this day, the pictures weren't as clear as my earlier ones, so here's a picture of Jaja and Julie.

And now, I'll just put pictures of our traditional lunch, with captions. We ate at a table outside under the trees, looking out over the valley. Our appertif, a glass of white wine with chestnut essence, is upper right of the first picture.

charcuterie: three types of meat

Phillip and Jacques shared this beef, potatoes, cabbage and quiche plate

Mushrooms (including morels and other "fancy" ones in a cream sauce with quinnelles (French dumplings that taste nothing like Bisquik dumplings! These are made with lots of butter) Jaja, Julie, and I shared this dish.

The cheese plate served after the main course and before dessert

The five of us after lunch. Jacques has pictures of his parents, taken at this very spot, on this very bench, in front of this same wall.