Blackberrying, French style

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Blackberrying. One of my favourite late summer activities in England. I relish the cut and thrust of getting to those favourite spots before all the other old biddies (young biddies don’t do it, apparently), the smell of damp earth and decaying vegetation and the gently warming heat that always seems to greet the start of the Autumn term.

Up until now, I haven’t done it in France in a sustained way. But today, I went off with two French friends and a new acquaintance, each of us armed with buckets and sticks. We were serious. So was the heat. It was hard going at times, and I continued to be disappointed with our haul. The hot and dry conditions do nothing for the flavour of a self-respecting blackberry, which becomes too sweet, and far too seedy.

But there are always compensations. First of all, a wild Mirabelle tree. We had to strip that clean. Then there was the old Citroen van, which I know of old, sprouting blackberries from its bodywork. And of course the views of the lake down at Montbel. It’s low on water, in these dry times, but it still looks pretty good.

Later we went back to fields near Brigitte’s house. Ancient gnarled plum trees offered shade to juicy tasty berries à l’anglaise. And now all we have to decide is what to do with a couple of kilos of plums apiece, a bag of mirabelles, a kilo or so of blackberries….and a handful of hazelnuts

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Photos

Mirabelles....
...tantalisingly, ALMOST out of reach

My favourite clapped out old banger
It yielded quite a few decent berries too.

Picking plums....
.... no idle bourgeoise, she