A taste for sand

From Life on a small island

Here we are again. Only last time we were here, Gabriel (alias "the Gongo") was still comfrtably floating in mommy's belly. But he's not sitting still any more, no siree!

From Life on a small island

France is a country of magnificent cuisine and products of the land. As I've said before, fois gras and stinky cheeses are among my prefered gifts that this terroir has to offer. The Gongo has found his own tastes from the French soil, as you can see here.


In France there are the "Juillards" and then there are the "Aoûtards". The former leave for vacation in July and the latter in August. Everyone is one or the other, even if the vacation bridges both months.
Every self-respecting French citizen takes at least three weeks over that period to go to some beautiful place, and when you live in France, you're already there! The cities empty, stores close for a month and everyone heads off to their favorite vacation spot. Of course, that means that the rest of France is unbelievably crowded. For the last two years our favorite crowded spot has been the île de Ré.

From Life on a small island

From Life on a small island

There are so many things that you can do on vacation that you can't do other times of the year. For instance, you can read Paris Match in public. You can wear short-sleeved shirts (but not white socks), you can talk to people you don't know and not worry about seeing them again, you can even eat ice cream before meals - at least I can.

From Life on a small island

From Life on a small island

After one week of sun here, papa is as red as a Brit on the Costa del Sol, Mommy looks like a model on the Croisette, and the Gongo and I have all the sand that we could ever dream of. Sure beats those small sand boxes back in Paris!

We have one week left to shift sand around and ride papa's bike-bus. Then we go see abuelita for a whole week. I don't know how summer could be any better than this!

From Life on a small island

Update: a couple of weeks ago - after the red cherry jam -we made black cherry jam and jelly! I don't think I've ever found anything messier. Pure heaven.

Suddenly Summer (Jam today!)

From Francisco comes to France!

In Paris, sunny summer days are nothing like sunny spring days. Both have their own special way of sweeping little boys and girls off their bare toddling feet, and I'm no exception.

From Francisco comes to France!

From Francisco comes to France!

In spring, the cool dry air wakes me up after a long sleepy winter. Mama and Papa's mood perks up, days get progressively longer, and people write erroneous songs about April in Paris, which is actually often cold and rainy. But in summer, the hot sun warms the humid air and the wind blows in a whole new mood. People move slowly or hang out on terrace cafés sipping citron pressés. Paris starts to empty and the Gongo starts to sweat. Yippee, it's summer - and it's been a hot one, the warmest I've seen in my whole life!

From Sunday fun chez les Cornieti

It's only early July and the summer of 2009 has already brought so much. My cousins made the southwestern trek from sunny Luxembourg to Maisons Laffitte, where a whole lot of family put up with my escapades. I even dipped my feet in the pool.

From Francisco comes to France!

Then the Gongo's godfather flew in from Venezuela to play with me (and to see the Gongo to I guess). We all took off to Ata's house and went through the ritual barbecue. We picked the rest of the Groseilles and then moved on to the cherry tree. They said it couldn't be done; but daddy made the best Cherry marmalade this side of the Volga! Of course, there was also the Feu de St. Jean in Morogues. I wanted to hit the dance floor and show off my Gallic roots but mommy made me go to bed. They burned the biggest bonfire in the whole Cher (I'm not sure whether that means a whole lot) and danced the night away to Celtic tunes of yore.

From Francisco comes to France!

But it's not summer without a little sand and moules frites! So Mama and Papa took us to Cabourg, the town where Proust once hung out. I wasn't much in the mood for writing. Who has time for writing when you have a whole ocean to pour into a hole in the sand one watering can at a time? It's a good thing daddy was carrying the can!

From Le temps retouvé à Cabourg

Cheering up papa

From Gongo retrospective

It was hard not to notice. First David Pujadas couldn't find any news interesting enough to lift papa's head. Then I saw papa eating cold rice and tomatoes for dinner. Finally there was the clincher, Envoyé Spéciale with the sound turned off. Papa was glum - and I knew why and what to do.

Mama is in Barcelona, papa is in Paris. Anyone who knows mama and papa knows that they can't stand to be in different rooms much less in different cities, or countries! Papa was down and I had to act.

From Gongo retrospective

What better way to get that dopamine flowing than with a few pictures of me? I decided to put together my first retrospective and let papa spend a few happy hours in front of the iMac thinking how much I'd changed and how lucky he is to have me here, and not in Barcelona! Check out my artwork here: wish you were here

Le temps des groseilles

From Le temps des groseilles

Spring has been a little less shy this year. The sun and I have become slightly better acquainted and the terrible hail storms that destroyed our roof, cut the 2009 wine production by more than half, and scared me to death, didn't tear all the fruit off the trees. And that's just as well because at the Chetif Moulin, everyone knows that June marks the beginning of groseille (redcurrant) season!

From Le temps des groseilles

From Le temps des groseilles

Daddy was dragging his feet but mommy and abuelita talked him into stepping outside and initiating this year's harvest. The pickings were good and despite the thousands of berries that were cut down in the prime of their youth by ping pong ball sized hail, we drove back to Paris with 2 (count them two!) kilos of groseilles! That's nearly five pounds for those of you still in the middle ages.

From Le temps des groseilles

From Le temps des groseilles

No question of just letting them look good in the refigerator. Daddy got to work right away. A little neighborhood shopping for sucre de confiture, a quick recipe, a bit of a mess, and voilà, gelée de groseilles! Yummmmm!

From Le temps des groseilles

Everyone knows that eating the harvest is almost as much fun as picking it in the first place - but not quite. This morning my daddy opened one of the jars he made only last night. When it comes to groseille jelly I don't waste time or hunger on bread, I go straight for the red stuff and ask for more as soon as I can open my mouth without losing any.

From Le temps des groseilles

From Le temps des groseilles

My poor little brother can't eat gelée de groseilles yet, but one day he will and he'll see that June is a good month to tint your hands, and the whole kitchen, bright groseille red!

Branching out

From Gabriel's new culinary horizons

Six months had passed. I had spent my entire life watching everyone around me delight in the delectable delicacies that this fine country has to offer. Mama and Papa never seem to stop eating. Entrecôte, magret de canard, pasta al aglio e olio. My abuelita has the best of many worlds as she is also responsible for the best Cuban cuisine on the planet. Finally, my big sister has them all beat. She can eat an entire Crottin de Chevignol without coming up for breath. But that’s not all. She’ll feed on the finest cheeses from the Jura, loves saucisson sec, taramasalata au piment d’ espelette (from the genius poissionnière across the street) and approaches things that most Americans see only in nightmares or on PBS documentaries.

But six months had passed and all I had tasted was milk. Lots and lots of milk. What’s the point of being born in France if all you get passed your tastebuds is milk, milk and a little more milk?

I knew my folks would give in sooner or later. Papa stepped into Naturalia on the rue Cambronne to buy some organic carrots. We took them off to Abuelita’s country residence and mom prepared them with all the care in the world.

From Gabriel's new culinary horizons

I was a little suspicious at first. I was expecting something like pancakes, confit de canard or fois gras (another of my sister's favorites); but all I got was a blob of carrot purée.

I shouldn’t complain. It broke the monotony. I suppose I’ll have to wait until summer to get my steak tartare.

Faster than the speed of life

From 4in15

I think that the younger generations simply don't understand. You need to have spent a couple of years on this earth to realize that life is a gift, and one that slips by quickly at that. Yeap, time flies.

This is what I try to make my little brother understand. But he's only four months old. Yeah, at that age he's immortal. He has his whole life ahead of him and can't imagine that not long ago, I was his age. That may seem unbelievable, but we were all his age once. Even me.



My daddy is a wise kind of guy. He thinks ahead. He took these little videos so that one day Gabriel would see that I was also a newcomer to this planet. Tonight, I was watching these and getting a little nostalgic for times gone by.



Here are a few of my lifetime adventures. And Gabriel's first. Daddy promises that there were lot's more to come. I hope he's a man of his word. And I hope he films them. I get the feeling he will because sometimes I catch him watching these videos, looking a little nostalgic himself.

Hello 2009

<><>Yet another year! When is this thing going to stop? It seems that the older I get the faster time goes by. At this pace, I'll be three before I know it - and I just turned two!

From Starting another year

From Año nuevo 2009

The New Year kicked off to a chilly start. Gabriel and I slept as the clock struck the midnight hour. The Luxembourg air and my aunt Magali's delicious cooking made me feel cozy and in need of a little extra sleep. Besides, I need lots of energy to keep up with my cousins.

From Starting another year

Three weeks in, 2009 promises to be quite a year. In September I will start school. I've decided that it's best to stay in school until this crisis thing blows over. I want to study and be like Yann Arthus-Bertrand. Last week, I took mommy, daddy and Mario (my speechwriter) to the Grand Palais to see his exhibition 6 milliards d'Autres. I mean, no one told Gabriel and I that there were that many people here! I suddenly feel a little less the center of attention. Mommy and daddy better hurry up or we'll never outnumber them...

From Starting another year

Gabriel and I also went to Anna's first birthday party. I ate tons of gallette des rois, played with baloons, and drew all over my dress. A great party! I tended to hang out with the older folks since Anna was turning one and I'm twice her age.

Yes, 2009 is off to a great start. The Bordeaux 2000s are starting to drink well, the price of gas has come down, I've seen lots of snow and daddy's a bureaucrat! Looks like another great Paris year.

From Starting another year

Gabriel is growing faster than I can keep up. I shower him with kisses every chance I get - I mean, pretty soon he'll be bigger than I am and I'm not dumb. Better keep the little bear on my good side.

From Starting another year

That time of year, again!

From Christmas 2008

The weeks that lead up to Christmas are always a bit of a rush. But this year has been crazier than usual (this is my third festive season!). Daddy comes home from work late, mommy busy with the Gabster, friends visiting and, of course, all that shopping!

But the crazy rush of our career-obsessed, consumer society shouldn't get in the way of the really important things - even if it means taking just a few minutes to breathe deeply and remember what Christmas is all about. So I downloaded a few Dean Martin holiday tunes, poured myself some milk, and started decorating our little pine tree. Okay, I'm still only 83 centimeters tall so most decorations ended up kind in pretty close vicinity - but it's the Christmas spirit that counts.

From Sam and Rob's Christmas extravaganza

From Sam and Rob's Christmas extravaganza

From Sam and Rob's Christmas extravaganza

The Paris pre-Christmas season culminated with Sam and Robby's salmon, champagne and egg nogg extravaganza. Everyone who counts in the Paris festive social calendar was there, especially my dear friend Tess. After that blow-out I was ready to close the shutters on Paris for a few days and head out to the country where my abuelita and tío were waiting for me with smiles, presents and an inordinate number of calories.

I may have turned two a couple of weeks ago, but I'm not too old to enjoy my culinary favorites. A real Franco-Cuban aliance of puerco, yucca, and frijoles negros, fois gras, smoked salmon, and aged mimolette and comté (24 and 30 months respectively) - yes, I actually eat (and love) all that stuff. I'm a sophisticated little Parisienne

From Christmas 2008

From Christmas 2008

Of course, Santa was generous with someone who had been so good all year - and so were many others! My cousins Ricky and Anna sent us some beautiful presents - just check out Gab's new hat! Then there was that moment that can hardly be described - the culmination of the entire Christmas season, the wrapping paper, the box, the tape... The Winnie the Pooh! I couln't believe it! The very one that I see on YouTube while sitting on abuelita's lap. He was there, with me. And he hasn't left since. This was Gabriel's first Christmas, and my third. I''m told this thing comes around every year but, can it get any better?

From Christmas season is approaching!

Fall is back

From Fall at the Chetif Moulin

The clocks have been turned back, pushing the short fall a step closer to winter. Paul and Roselyne, the friendly gardeners, have cut all the flowers right back and soon they will begin to prune the trees. Then, in late November, it will be time to plant Gabriel's tree. Things are starting to shut down for the winter here at the Chetif Moulin.

From Fall at the Chetif Moulin

Every season brings something special to the Sancerrois, and fall is certainly no exception. The vineyards fill with vendangeurs picking grapes for the new vintage, leaves turn brown, and the air starts to smell of burning leaves and branches.

From Fall at the Chetif Moulin

This has been a nice fall season. It started with Gabriel's first visit to the country pad; Mimi was still here and she played with me on the slide. Later, daddy took me out to pick apples and Clarita took them to make us a nice compote which mommy and daddy ate with Boudin Noir (yes, people eat that here).

From Fall at the Chetif Moulin

The sun has paid us a lengthy visit, as have a number of friends from around the world. We've really amortized the grill this month. Most recently, Poppy and James came by to share what might be our last barbecue of 2008. Now it's cleaned and stored awaiting the enthusiasm of spring.

But for now it's falling leaves and chestnuts. It's time for staying indoors on short days and cooking fattening treats (like the chocolate macarons that daddy made the other week). Time for blue and purple flowers. The cows will soon stop grazing and switch to a strict winter diet of hay. Gabriel is in for his first cozy winter in the Chetif Moulin.

From Fall at the Chetif Moulin

Right now, I'm running a terrible fever and am far from feeling myself. But I pick up knowing that soon the Christmas lights on the rue Lecourbe will be turned on, ushering in my third holiday season.

From Fall at the Chetif Moulin

Check out some autumnal splendor here: Time for tweed