Our last full day in France was a 'loaf around the house and do very little day' which was quite to my liking...The boyfriend commented that his family vacations usually involve much going to places and learning of things. As much as I think I'd like to learn things, I often prefer to sit and read or play twenty questions in the pool. This will become abundantly clear when I tell you the scope my activities while in Dublin. Anyways. Our last day was a loaf day. It started out with croissants and cheese as usual. In addition to that the neighbor combined left over salmon with the remaining eggs for a very nice scramble.
The boyfriend read a book in the hammock. I read a book in the hammock.
We did, finally, make it to the river that ran right near us...it was near but hard to get to due to the fact that it was in a gorge of sorts...in other words though it was right below where we were, we couldn't simply walk straight down. The boyfriend had been going to the river almost every afternoon/evening for a try at catching fish and I had meant to go with him each time yet somehow he always was going to go just as I opened a beer or put on my swim suit. But we did get there and it was pretty. I rolled up my pants and waded a bit...as did my mother.
All week long we had planned on using the outdoor pizza oven. But first we couldn't find the yeast so we gave up. But then we did find yeast and so we un-gave-up. After making one batch of dough not having mixed the yeast with water first (my bad, I read the French directions a little too literally) we had to, two or so hours later, make another batch. Confident in the new batch's rising ability we were stoked. Unfortunately the oven was not so stoked. Basically we waited far too late to start the fire up and then put the first of two pizzas (the one I had so carefully and thoughtfully loaded up with cheese, Spanish sausage and tomatoes) into the oven way way way before it was a good idea. The result of my aforementioned creation was this:
The ash was a result of trying to get the pizza out of the oven...the top was ready but the bottom was very much not and so the pizza disintegrated and couldn't help but be scuffed and accidentally prodded into the ash before it could get out. So the next pizza, made by my cousin, was baked in the indoor oven. It was good but the whole experience made me sulk a little bit. Then I watched the Ukraine/Italy (was it Italy?) game and decided that Ukraine can't play soccer very well.
Left over my salad and left over pasta.
The boyfriend read a book in the hammock. I read a book in the hammock.
We did, finally, make it to the river that ran right near us...it was near but hard to get to due to the fact that it was in a gorge of sorts...in other words though it was right below where we were, we couldn't simply walk straight down. The boyfriend had been going to the river almost every afternoon/evening for a try at catching fish and I had meant to go with him each time yet somehow he always was going to go just as I opened a beer or put on my swim suit. But we did get there and it was pretty. I rolled up my pants and waded a bit...as did my mother.
All week long we had planned on using the outdoor pizza oven. But first we couldn't find the yeast so we gave up. But then we did find yeast and so we un-gave-up. After making one batch of dough not having mixed the yeast with water first (my bad, I read the French directions a little too literally) we had to, two or so hours later, make another batch. Confident in the new batch's rising ability we were stoked. Unfortunately the oven was not so stoked. Basically we waited far too late to start the fire up and then put the first of two pizzas (the one I had so carefully and thoughtfully loaded up with cheese, Spanish sausage and tomatoes) into the oven way way way before it was a good idea. The result of my aforementioned creation was this:
The ash was a result of trying to get the pizza out of the oven...the top was ready but the bottom was very much not and so the pizza disintegrated and couldn't help but be scuffed and accidentally prodded into the ash before it could get out. So the next pizza, made by my cousin, was baked in the indoor oven. It was good but the whole experience made me sulk a little bit. Then I watched the Ukraine/Italy (was it Italy?) game and decided that Ukraine can't play soccer very well.
Left over my salad and left over pasta.
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