Today, at the last lock we passed through, we spotted a tree laden with small, yellow fruit. “Are those mirabelles?” J asked, and received an affirmative reply from the lockkeeper. As we were locking down, C had a small amount of time to pick some of the fruit before the boat was too low in the lock to get back onto. She quickly set about the task, using her jumper as a container to hold the fruit in. Fortunately, there was a lot of ripe fruit available within easy reach. This isn't normally the case and we usually need to make use of a boat hook to bring the fruit-laden branches within reach. We left the lock with maybe a kilo of mirabelles – certainly enough to make a tart.
Mirabelles are a small and very sweet plum – a speciality of the Lorraine region. I don't think I've ever seen them in New Zealand but there is a Cafe Mirabelle in the Wairarapa, which we must visit sometime... The presence of these lovely fruit on our boat – and the promise of a tarte aux mirabelles – brought back lovely memories. One morning, two years ago, we were just about to leave our moorings when a man, who we'd never seen before, came running up to us with a bowl of mirabelles in his hands. “Here you are”, he said (except that he said it in French), “You can't leave Lorraine without tasting mirabelles” and he handed over the contents of the bowl. It was our last day in Lorraine and we hadn't tasted mirabelles during our stay, so we were delighted. (Actually we are always delighted to benefit from free food – all the more so when it is so willingly and unexpectedly given!)
You can't spend any time in Lorraine without knowing that the most famous use of the mirabelle is in a tart. So that night, we decided to make one. We didn't have a recipe but did have some ready-made short-crust pastry and decided that the simplest option might be the best. We put the pastry in the tart dish, cut the mirabelles in half to remove the stones and loaded them on top of the pastry, sprinkled a tiny bit of sugar over the top to release the juices and popped it into a hot oven to cook. The result was simply scrumptious but we decided that we probably didn't need to eat the whole thing ourselves. There was one other boat in the port that night with a middle-aged (young in canal-boating terms) Dutch couple on board as well as two huge dogs. In the spirit of sharing in which the mirabelles were offered to us, C went to the boat and offered them (the people not the dogs) the other half of our tart. They accepted with relish.
As is often the case when you are going along the same canal in the same direction, we kept finding ourselves in the same mooring spot as the Dutch couple. They were having problems with their generator and as a result, with getting their boat started. They needed jumper leads and we had some, which we've never used (although we have learned how handy it can be to have certain tools on board that you think you might never use). We were able to lend them the leads to get them started but the problem turned out to be a recurring one. They asked if they could buy the leads from us but we had no idea how much to ask. We had also (not that much earlier) benefitted enormously from the kindness of others in getting a mechanical problem sorted out, so we lent them the leads for as long as they needed them and asked that they send them back to us c/- Blanquart's in St-Jean-de-Losne. Of course, we had no idea whether they would or not but we figured that even if we had to buy new ones, we'd be ahead in the greater scheme of things. We are happy to report that when we returned to SJL at the start of 2010, there was a box waiting for us with the jumper leads and a lovely “thank you” note within.
When we make and eat our tarte aux mirabelles in the next few days, it will be done with the memory of sharing and kindness and honesty that were wrapped up in our last mirabelle experience... We might even find someone to share it with.
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