Big butcher's boiler: a blog for Brian

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First of all, I've given up on the idea of writing a different blog for the time being. I started one and simply couldn't get used to it. It messed me around (not my fault or my computer skills, obviously!) and it was a real toil. So although this isn't really a travel blog any longer, I'm currently remaining here. I'll be contacting you soon to see if you want to remain on the alert list. It should be revised.

Ever since we moved here, the kitchen has been dominated by a very large immovable solid iron box-shaped oven,or boiler. This is because we live in what used to be a butcher’s shop, and back in its hey-deys, in the early 20th century, M. et Mme Vergé, the butcher and his wife, produced all their own cooked meats. I unearthed a box of labels a while back, and so know that they sold, probably among other things :

Bœuf en daube, Tripes (sauce tomate), Pâté de foie de volailles, Pâté de foie de porc, Jarret de porc.

There’s a story to be told about this shop in a later blog, but for now, let’s get rid of this ancient boiler which cooked all those pigs’ heads, pots of liver and slabs of beef & pork. It was sad really to get rid of this piece of history, but lacking a local museum of butchery to give it to, it really did have to go. Large, rusting, impractical and imposing, its presence was denying us any chance of a useable and reasonably hygienic kitchen. I think the pictures tell the story of 2 solid days of wrestling with the almost immoveable weight of rusting iron, bricks, ancient mortar, sand, soot, and brick dust, rust dust, plain old dirty dust…….

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Photos

The work begins
The cover's been removed. That was tough enough

Peering down into the depths of the oven
Thick with soot and ash from decades ago

Demolition proceeds
Iron casings, brick walls, sand and ancient cement all begin to disappear

And finally, the hearth is revealed
We were horrified when we saw it. How to move it? But it was hollow, so boiling water could flow through, so only VERY difficult, not impossible

The end of day 1
We didn't cook that evening

But luckily, the ironwork goes outside the door....
...to be collected in the small hours - for free

At the tip...
...the bricks end up here

In the dark early morning...........
....a truck arrives with a grabber, and takes away the last of our boiler