Maddy Goes Large

Back in the Cold North - but on with the Truffles

A long time since my last entry and inevitably the curse of the busy man in real life or the amateur blogger who fell of the posting shelf. We returned after much angst and hand wringing from the warm and beautiful south of France - we have actually been mad enough to leave a town called "The Sun" and move to Edinburgh...not called Le Soler.

Why the cold frozen North represented in Edinburgh I hear you say...and have heard from many I've met here in my home city since we returned in December. In the end, the large investment we made in truffles stretched us a little further than we had expected. Add to this, the loss of regular work and missing a teenager who was awfully unhappy at Lycee, who we sent home to stay with my sister and go to school in Edinburgh last August all combined to pull us back here.

I would be lying if we didn't say we missed our first born, once she left the coup and also lying if the thought of 4 children and the resulting minimum university fees of £104k and or the vast additional debts for them or us had we returned to Farnham did not come into our thinking.

But excluding the weather, Edinburgh has just about everything you could want for quality family and adult life. So we're all really happy to be here and the interest in buying truffle trees with us has never been better.

Empty Loft

It was a public holiday today in France - the Tuesday as opposed to the Monday. We opted to get rid of as much as possible via the car boot sale in Millas (pronounced (Meeyass)..less said about the range of puns I could extract from that, the better. Why empty loft you ask? That's becaause car boot sales which, are hugely popular in France are called "vide grenier", which literally translates as "empty loft".

The French take these very seriously and I mean very seriously, with the government through local council's controlling how many each commune can have a year 4 - 6 and strict regulation as to how many each person selling can attend each year - 4. There is also supposed to be no "professional" selling, but the slow drip of entrepreneurial desire is very apparent around the vide's these days, with clearly a range of stall holders selling goods as new and as a businesses.

Of course, there's still plenty of keen amateurs selling and buying each others rubbish...and boy there is tat at these you could not imagine would be put out at even the most insalubrious car boots in the UK. Many of the vide's are frequented by in great degree the Gitane or gypsy population down here and as you're setting up at 5.30am (yes 5.30 am) they are coming round in the dark with their torches shining on your unpacked goods and rifling through your pre-display boxes looking for old mobile phones and anyhting electronic, offering desultory amounts and grunting complainingly when you refuse to accept 50 centimes for an impeccable dress worn twice by your five year old, that set you back 45 Euros - 6 months ago in Perpignan's best boutiques.

Still needs must and I did let go two pairs of the Brute's (Milo our 13 year old son) old trainers and a pair of discount shoes I bought at Auchan 4 years ago and loathed by CB which, I have never worn. All for 5 euros. Better 5 euros in the pocket now than a box of junk, half full stuck in the cellar I say. The chap seemed happy, despite having agreed the price and then trying 3 euros at the point of coin proferring. I stood firm on the demand for paper and no doubt he punted them on by 11am for twice the price.

I headed off around 6.45am and left CB and Milo to do the main shift. Returning to the office and our three girls for the rest of the day until going back and taking over the afternoon shift at 2.30pm. CB's superior French comes through on these ocassions and she displays a remarkable talent for shifting goods. She'd made up two excellent batches of cup and fairy cakes (hugely popular with the French) and these along with other assorted goods had flown off the shelves (or rather shelf...well actually the door that's off the 1st landing stairway, with the handle and lock removed) on my return.

Christine explained that there was a particular Warden (all beard and glasses and glowing with self importance and officiousness) who was patrolling and told her she was not allowed to sell food (there's always a bloody jobsworth) yet more evidence of French petty bureaucracy (a hard word to spell right), woebetide those who would think to set up a cake stand at such events in France.

Anyway, I wrapped up by 5.15 and was home with our unsold goods and kit along with our friend and next door neighbour Marie's, who shared the stand with us by 5.30. A tidy profit towards school lunches and a trip to Decathlon for this season's swimming gear, jingling in a jar and folded in jean's pockets.

It is likely a bottle of the delicious Saint Roche Cote d'Roussillon Villages Red will find it's way onto the table between CB and I over the weekend as a thank you to each other for the effort involved...5 O'clock...she had me up at 5 O'clock...!

What's enjoyable about these market trading capers, is not the banter (generally I get the impression it's not something the French go in for at markets) but bumping into lot's of friends and chewing the fat. Great for improving my appalling French. We did one in Perpignan a few months ago and it really put us off them, no one we knew and lots of extremely rude people taking offence at you not wanting to sell them your genuine diamond encrusted Rolex Oyster for 75 centimes. So much nicer to do near one's own home turf. A sense of belonging and even bumping into other stall holders you've vaguely seen before...all, who of course acknowledge you from other Vide's, but of course officially denying that they were there...wink wink...Well you can only do four a year remember!

What's in a Name?

Well everything really, when your dealing with search engines. Being in France and planting French truffles, I opted for the elegant (if marginally pretentious...moi) La Truffiere. I thought it had a certain ring and to the English ear a sense of Gallic cavalier...all sans cullotte and Marsellaise.

However, to googlebot and his all powerful chums, it had little value, since in English of course, my key words are truffle and trees. So having got my head round this thanks to a conversation with a friend who has acquired 400 Twitter (yee not) as Frankie would say, followers in about 8 months using her obvious key words in the title of her blog (notwithstanding the fine and interesting writing quality) the light went on.

And so La Truffiere is dead...long live the Truffle Grower and may his omnipresent Emperor of the Cloud - Googlebot please shine his light on my tiny corner and send me lots of interested persons to join me in my quest to grow LaT......NO..TRUFFLES!

Two Days of Progress and Pleasure

I had a great day with Marcos Morcillo and Xavi Vilanova (two of the partners in Micologial Forestal Aplicada) probably the world’s leading scientific truffle authority and inoculated tree and technology supplier. http://www.micofora.com/index.asp?Idioma=EN&opc=1 and http://www.oregontrufflefestival.com/truffle_growers_forum.html

The intention was to have a half day together, but we ended up enjoying the whole day, covering all aspects of truffles and other mycorrhizal  science, business and technology development etc, etc. Suffice to say it was an excellent meeting of minds and I am hopeful we will be working together on a number of activities, including my coming plantations, so watch this space. Interestingly, as well as being a biological scientist Xavi is a painter and his father is the renowned Catalan Painter Ramon Vilanova. Some people get all the talent. We had an excellent four, yes four course lunch including choice of starter. I went for the salad to start, a superb traditional catalan paella, followed by lamb off the bone in a deep rich brown sauce with whole peppers and a catalan version of profiteroles...all for....wait for it 9.00 euros. We arrived at 1.00 and didn't leave until nearly 4.00.

It was fascinating to hear the Catalan language spoken between Marcos and Xavi, although their English is excellent. I've been to Barcelona and heard it around me before and our town Le Soler has catalan schools from maternelle through primary and College (secondary school) and the Marie has applied for a 40 place Lycee (6th form). We are interestingly the only town in the Rousssillon (Northern or French Catalonia with this provision) though I understand there are a few Bressola - first schools in other towns.

I spent this morning with Lauren Besomes a remarkable young wine maker whose wine was one of the first great wines I discovered when we moved here. Although I have never met Lauren before, I am a friend and ex neighbour of Richard Navarro who managed one part of his estate, near Thuir as they were our nearest neighbour across the field from the Mas we rented when we first came here. I discussed helping Lauren market Domaine Singla www.domainesingla.com wines into the UK quality restaurant direct market as well as buying some of his land for truffles. The latter is not possible. I have had the great pleasure of drinking a lot of very good wine but, his Ambre (a half bottle gift from Richard 5 years ago and the last one of 1998) is undoubtedly the closest thing I have ever put in my mouth that can be described as nectar. This along with his other superb range of modern Roussillon wines, all improved in comlexity and smoothness by his craft since I first enjoyed them 5 years ago (but they were good then). Of course, being the Roussillon even though we are meeting at 09.30, there will be a full estate range degustation. A spittoon was provided but there was no expectation it should be used...It has been a long leisurely but surprisingly productive Friday. I will be selling his wines through the truffle trees website soon, so look out for them.

I mentioned that the part of the estate next to where we lived was managed, as Lauren explained, he no longer has that. Like me, Lauren trained to be a lawyer (he got out and followed his blood back to winemaking), but French succession laws are a curse since it's not possible to disinherit children and since Laurens uncle, who had shared their Domaine's various properties with Lauren's father wanted to pass on to his sons (neither has been interested in wine making), Lauren had to make the choice of which of the three to give up for his two cousins. This meant the loss of employment for Richard as sadly the brothers have put the Mas and it's 10 hectares up for sale and the vines, which had been contributing to the reputation of Domaine Singla, now lie untended, with no buyer in sight. Could be a rare opportunity for someone to buy and join yourself back under the Singla estate, with Lauren's tutelage or buy and work out an agreement for laurne to run it for you under his brand. Anyone interested call me and I'll put you in touch.

I asked Lauren if he could not have leased it from his cousins, but as he said, what is the point even if they agreed, he would have to give it up within 10 years, so better to concentrate on refining the wines on the 52 hectares that comprise the other properties. One of which is in the fascinating historical landscape of Opoul.

The land here, although only 15 minutes out of Perpignan is dominated by a rocky escarpment that rises over the AP9 meditarrenean motorway at the end of the Corbieres range of mountains. It comprises two ancient villages, one in ruins and abandoned many years ago , but being restored as an historic visitor centre. They are Opoul and Perillous and were ruled over by a lord who was tied to Raymond Count of Toulouse.

This was the line of the border between Spain and France pre the treaty of the Pyrenees in 1659. Raymond was the warrior leader of the Cathars and overlord of the ancient Roussillon lands, who fought against the popes vast horde of northern French knights, sent down to purge the land of the Cathar heretics and led by the ubiquitous and brutal Simon de Montford. It's an incredible history and really worth a look up. This land has an incredible feel to it and you can almost feel the neanderthals prowling the escarpment. There is an international society of Opoul-Perillous, who carry out research as it is believed to be one of the sites of the holy grail, which is claimed to rest in this part of France. All wonderful Dan Brownesque stuff.

On a darker note, you have to pass Perpignan's shame on the road up to Opoul-Perillous, this is a cemetery and war memorial built on the site of the WW2 Nazi internment camp, from where many Gypsies and Jews were sent on to "the camps." The camp part of it has been used for other interment purposes, usually related to immigration up until 2007 when it was closed. 

Thanks for following Mr Algar and good to hear from you..in the rudest tones as ever!!

OK I know I'm a hypocrite

What is a black Scotsman and father of four children living in the South of France doing that might be the least interesting to other people? This is a question I've been asking myself for some time now. Like many people I have the feeling there is a novel in me and in fact I have started 5 over the years. Start being the operative word.

However the thing that's held me back, in respect of telling people about me, as opposed to completing novels (that's just lack of focus, ability..and maybe some other creative deficiencies) is that at the age of recently turned (6 days ago) 49 I have long lost the ego of youth that presumes everyone is interested in what I have to say. Secondly, that the unremarkable daily routine I pursue, would lack sufficient excitement or passing interest to attract anyone to read the inevitable inane babblings that amateurs like me feel justified in inflicting on the cloudesphere readership. Lastly, that since the internet has torn down the ruthless editorial barriers and let the jabbering barbarian masses run amok, I do agree to a large degree with those traditional journalists, that the vast majority of what the masses have to say is just not worth hearing. Ergo it's a bit hypocritical to storm the gates this late...long after the masses have laid waste. A bit like the cowardly kid from the baggage train standing over a fallen guard triumphantly, while the vanguard have had their three days of slaughter and debauchery and have moved on to the next siege.

But I am older now if no wiser, certainly slower. Having given in to the last vestiges of ego and perhaps thinking I might have something worth more than the millisecond glance of most surfers, I thought I would tell you a little about my new "out of the ordinary" occupation as I develop things.

Also, I may have a few insights into family life for ex-pats, who might be interested in finding out warts and all about life down here and can certainly talk about some very interesting wine discoveries. As for that new occupation - I've become a truffle farmer and since I'm quite keen for people to become involved, a blog would seem a good way to spread the word.

Welcome to the Languedoc, Truffles, Wine and rambling (there may be a few rants as well!)

Martin