Since I came to live in Auterive, I think I've grown more and more nature-conscious. I was never a member of a bird-watching club nor was I one of those people who take chopsticks to restaurants to save the trees of Southeast Asia.

My latest "natural" tendency, if I may call it such, concerns my new environment.

One step outside our house are spacious green yards encircled by fields of corn and sunflowers, the "signs" of nature are everywhere: lizards, rabbits, all manner of flying and crawling bugs along with other wild animals, and some vicious vegetation. When I first moved here from Tokyo, the sight of such an alive environment was unnerving.

As time passed in my new natural surroundings, however, I came not only to accept these living things but to sense a strange affection toward them. I have to shamefully admit that I've even started to look at them from a different perspective -- more exactly, with an eye to survival.

This year, for the first time, I am working on a vegetable garden. In three weeks, I planted tomato plants, three each of eggplants and peppers, two of zucchini, several aromatic herbs and numerous lettuce and green beans. I even set edamame and okura seeds that had been sent to me from Japan.

Working in my little garden on sunny days, I sense my (near) love for this new lifestyle.

When I see my plants grow little by little thanks to my tender care, my heart leaps with joy like that of a mother with her new-born baby. And I wonder seriously about their future: Shall I grill them? Or should I make some preserves with them?

When it rains I always have to watch out for snails and slugs, the deadliest enemies of my baby vegetables. As big as walnuts under a yellow-brown shell, snails are nasty predators that gobble up the most tender sprouts.

One morning when the clouds finally cleared, I discovered to my deep sorrow that my young corianders had disappeared overnight and all that I was left with was a telltale trail of filthy slime.

In a moment of fury, I decided to embark on a gastropod hunt, determined to slowly grill any I could track down in revenge for my corianders. But before I could set out, my friends told me that French people, in fact, do not eat whatever snails they can find, only the sort called escargots de Bourgogne (I learned that sadly those wild snails are disappearing today and France has to import them from East European countries.)

The most common way to eat escargots is to grill them with herb butter (butter, crushed garlic and parsley). When cooked they are soft and slightly chewy, but the only real taste is from the garlic.

As I had been deprived of my free escargot dish, I was looking around the garden for another "natural" meal and my eyes fell on the cruel nettles. To me, nettles (ortie in French) are the most admirable weeds I've come across, even though they sting me mercilessly every time I touch them. They not only make very good compost and are an efficient pesticide against certain insects, but they make a delicious soup.

You probably can't get la soupe d'ortie (nettle soup) in restaurants yet everybody in France knows of this famous soup for the poor -- so I tried it, and except for some painful moments while washing them, the result was excellent -- it even had a slight mushroom taste. (If anyone wants the recipe, let me know.)

And recently, my sights have been falling on the beautiful pheasants that swagger around the garden. They are incredibly quick and run away every time I chase them. But I am getting fitter!

I'd welcome any comments or opinions, in Japanese or English, about my column. You can write or fax me at The Weekly, or e-mail me at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp

The Japan Times Weekly: June 26, 2004
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