Getting Lost in Arles & Beetroot Granita

One of the most unexpected and best things about writing this blog has been making connections, building friendships, finding meaning and inspiration in the hilarious, brilliant and poignant words of someone living a similar life far from home.

Such is the case with Heather, a writer with a stunningly piercing and sometimes melancholy (my favorite) voice that lets you dream, beckons you to follow along with she, the adorable Ben, and the intriguing, talented Remi, to delve deeper into a life less ordinary.
We connected through a series of posts, she with my feelings of homesickness and I with her haunting tale of a deserted Provencal village.
As soon as we started commenting and emailing, I knew we would be friends. She wrote, 'We have to meet!' and I whole-heartedly agreed. We set about the task of finding time for me to get away with Clementine for the day.
Finally, last week, with the big kids in tennis camp, P-Daddy working from home and the Littlest busy doing summery, Littlest things, Clementine and I hopped in the car and headed off to find Heather in Arles.

{Heather and the doggies, smiling}

It was fantastic. We couldn't stop talking, hands fluttering, laughing, words tumbling over each other, giddy with all the things we wanted to know and share.

And Clementine and Ben! You can't imagine how deep in love my little gurley fell. She tumbled, gnawed, whined and played until she wore him right out. He was so patient with her puppy self until she pushed him just that bit too far. It was hot. He was tired. His ears and neck were soaked from all of her love licks. It was exhausting. And then, he gave her the signal, a tiny, but deep grrrrrrrrr, telling her to back off and give him a rest, for the LOVE! And she did. Tucking her tail, with downcast eyes and a heavy heart, she schlumped off, collapsing in a golden heap on the floor, harrumph!

But she just couldn't stand it and so, after a few minutes of pouting, up she got. She slowly made a turn of the living room, passing by Ben along the way, gauging his mood and letting out a pathetic whimper you've as she neared him.

Heather and I stifled our laughter. Three turns, pained whimper each time, before he threw her a bone and started to play gently again.

That poor Ben! I have never seen a sweeter dog. It's the nature of the golden to be loving, kind and patient. It's  why Clementine lets the Littlest lay all over her, eats kibble from the Middlest's hands and sneaks into Ma Fille's bedroom when no one is looking.

{the adorable Ben, pure sweetness}

After a lunch of pissaladiére, a delicious salad with AOC olive oil and balsamic vinegar and a glass of Cairanne, the perfect crisp whiteness for such a hot day, we headed out for a tinkle (Clementine) and some ice cream.

Heather took me to her local ice cream shop where they make unusual sorbets, like basil, beetroot, cucumber and ginger. She chose cucumber and beetroot and I went for the caramel with salty butter because I'd been craving it lately but hadn't wanted to indulge in buying a pint. One scoop would fix me right up. And it did. It was delicious, but also a bit too sweet for such a hot day, leaving me thinking that Heather had the right idea ordering such clean, refreshing sorbets.

She offered a taste of hers and the cucumber was delicious, like refreshing cucumber water.

The beetroot, however,  was amazing. My one taste left me wanting more. I love beets, always have, even back when I was a little girl I would eat them in canned form. And so this taste of cold, natural sweetness, refreshing and bright, turned into one of my little food obsessions. 

Just like with some of the other things I've fixated on and had to make myself, this beet sorbet thing planted itself firmly in my brain. What was there to do but try my hand at it? I had a vacuum-sealed packet of cooked beets in my fridge and so I set to work. I messed up the water amount but the flavor still sparkled so I decided to scrape it with a fork in snocone fashion and call it a granita.

My boys loved it. Surprisingly, the Littlest couldn't get enough of it and is the one who finished off the lion's share, preferring it to any other snack. I guess it's in his genes.

{Littlest eating beet granita}

If you like beets, give it a try. If you think you don't, try it anyway. P-Daddy even secretly enjoyed it although he would never admit how much. I caught him sneaking bites and letting the rouge brightness melt on his tongue.

{beetroot granita}

Beetroot Granita

2 large, orange-sized cooked beets
1/2 cup granulated sugar, no more than this, they're sweet enough already
1 cup water
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
generous squeeze of fresh lemon, to taste


Mix all the ingredients in a blender until completely smooth.
When you're satisfied with the flavor, pour into a shallow glass dish and place in the freezer to set. I churned mine in the ice cream maker for a bit beforehand but I don't think it mattered. You can add this step or skip it, as you wish.

Check on it every hour or so and scrape with a fork to keep it from hardening into ice.
When completely frozen, scrape again and serve in small cups. It would make an interesting starter alongside salmon or caviar and would also be a great palette cleanser between main and dessert courses.

Or, simply enjoy like we did as a deliciously refreshing dessert or afternoon snack, poolside.

You could be cheeky and booze it up with a splash of vodka too.