#monforte

[fabien-euskadi]

A town in Upper/Alto Alentejo called Monforte: seven alternative takes.

[pedrocaspn]

Um cigano entrou intencionalmente com o veículo num café, após ter sido negado o consumo devido à recusa de pagamento e ao facto de já se encontrar alcoolizado.

[rumorosos]

[degustameet]

Nebbiolo d'Alba Elio Altare 2016 Italia, Piemonte DOC Langhe Nebbiolo Nebbiolo (100%) Rosso 14 % Questo Nebbiolo è stato prodotto nelle zone La Morra e Monforte da viti di 20-50 anni, esposte a Sud e Sud-Est su terreni calcarei in parte sabbiosi. L’uva viene macerata sulle bucce in rotofermentatori a temperatura controllata per 3-4 giorni, con maturazione in barrique francesi usate per 5 mesi. Non è chiarificato, né filtrato. Ne sono prodotte 15 mila bottiglie annue. Elio Altare è uno dei più famosi produttori di Barolo nella zona di La Morra, il quale fa esperienza di produzione tradizionale grazie al nonno Giuseppe che nel 1948 fondò l’azienda trasferendosi da Dogliani a La Morra, con 5 ettari. In seguito ad un importante viaggio in Borgogna nel 1976, Elio decise di innovare (filone modernista) apportando modifiche come l’uso di barrique anziché botti grandi, riportando i vecchi ceppi a densità inferiori con basse rese per ettaro ed introdusse in cantina i rotofermentatori per accorciare i tempi di macerazione sulle bucce. Famoso l’aneddoto di Elio che con la motosega distrugge le vecchie botti e i ceppi delle vecchie viti. Lo choc fu tale che il padre quando morì lo diseredò, costringendolo a ricomprarsi nel 1985 la cantina e i vigneti; scelta però che ne valse la pena. L’azienda oggi possiede 11 ettari da cui produce 70 mila bottiglie senza fare uso di sostanze chimiche sintetiche, non opera filtrazioni o chiarifiche. I suoi Baroli hanno etichetta bianca con stemma e nome del Crù azzurri: Barolo Classico; Arborina; Cannubi; Brunate; Ceretta (chiamato Vigna Bricco). Langhe Rosso nel comune di La Morra: Larigi (Barbera); Giàrborina (Nebbiolo); La Villa (Barbera e Nebbiolo); Langhe Nebbiolo (proveniente anche da Monforte). Dolcetto e Barbera d’ Alba. Infine il progetto L’Insieme: un’etichetta diversa che nasce come progetto comune di 7 famosi produttori di Langa che ogni anno conferiscono una parte del loro Barolo da cui nasce questa Cuvée. #elioaltare #lamorra #doclanghe #nebbiolo #nebbiolodalba #degustameet #langhewine #monforte #monfortedalba https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm7L0o8LCng/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[grozat]

his excellency the queen

[illustratus]

The Death of Simon de Monfort by Ramon Acedo

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

La pointe courte (Agnès Varda, 1955)

[more-than-ideas]

Jaime Monfort

[odettejoyeux]

Philippe Noiret and Silvia Monfort, La Pointe-Courte (dir. Agnès Varda, 1955).

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

[huariqueje]

Jardí de Monfort , Valencia   -   Santiago Rusiňol i Prats , 1912.

Catalan ,  1861 - 1931

Oil on canvas , 108 x 93 cm.

[fabien-euskadi]

This is a town in Alentejo called Monforte. And these are some of its doors.

[rumorosos]

[bertilakslady]

This is Camille Monfort (1869–1896). A professional singer in Belém, Brazil (where her father was the French Consul), she had an exceptional voice and was said to bewitch her audience. She was accused of being a vampire, preying particularly on young women. She died tragically young in a cholera epidemic in Belém, but her grave is said to be empty…

[whoregaylorenzo]

jorge did not win the championship but he sure won in life

[thorneswife]

ok hear me out. scarlet x emilie or whatever her name was

it’s all the little pieces of you

an Émiliet ficlet

1.2k words

Honestly. Gilles’s restaurant is a pig’s sty. Scarlet huffs in disgust as she flings the wet rag in her hand down at the table. It’s a waste of time cleaning the tables between customers when the tables have grime an inch thick embedded in the wood.

Someone hollers and the glasses rattle. She glances up from the disgusting table top to see Roland and his gang of thugs are present this fine afternoon. She rolls her eyes. It’s way too early in the day to be as drunk as they are right now. Émilie scurries over to Scarlet beaming. She weaves her way through tables effortlessly. The woman is taller than Scarlet and has the most enchanting golden curls. She tugs on Scarlet’s arm in greeting.

“Mon amour Scarling! Gilles sent me to tell you he hasn’t forgotten about you and the univs.”

Scarlet settles her hand over both of Émilie’s. “He’s a rat and you know it.” She growls.

“He is my employer.” Émilie chastises. Her tone is soft though and no harm is meant.

“He asks me to help out while he runs around like a chicken with its head cut off and sends you to appease me. My verdict stands.”

Émilie tuts disapprovingly but there is a sparkle of mirth in her big eyes.

Scarlet finds herself staring suddenly transfixed by Émilie’s pink lips. They are very pink. Very pouty. The pretty waitress flips a golden curl over her shoulder. She pauses, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes, Scarling? Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”

Scarlet shakes her head.

Émilie runs a thumb over her lips thoughtfully.

Scarlet catches herself watching and feels her face heat a degree or two.

She feels longing deep in the pit of her stomach. It's not an unpleasant sensation but it is an unwelcome one. One she refuses to pursue. Émilie is her friend. Only her friend.

That sensation and the thoughts that accompany it aren’t allowed.

Émilie chatters away about this handsome customer or that one. She goes into detail about the compliments she’s received today and the tips. Scarlet isn’t listening but she arches an eyebrow anyway, pretending to pay attention. Émilie doesn’t care either way. She hugs Scarlet close and prattles on.

Scarlet is on her way back to the kitchen when it happens.

“Take a load off Émilie! Rest your feet.”

Scarlet sees it out of the corner of her eye.

Roland grabs hold of Émilie’s arm. “I mean it. Take a seat right here with me. Gilles won’t mind. It’s just for a moment.”

One of his vile friends pats the seat next to him and leers.

Roland is a big blonde man but Scarlet has no doubt that she could take him in a fight.

He reaches up to stroke Émilie’s long golden curls. He flicks her on the nose. Émile jolts away in surprise. He laughs raucously and his friends join in. 

Without warning, he wraps his arm around her waist and tugs her into his side. Émilie makes a sound of protest but Roland doesn’t care. Scarlet sees white. Heat rushes to her face and blood pounds in her skull. In a heartbeat, she grips the arm holding Émilie, her nails biting into his skin.

“She has work to do.” Scarlet growls.

Roland winces and withdraws his arm. He glares up at Scarlet, lips peeling back to bare his teeth. “Get your hands off of me Scarlet Benoit! If that crazy old hag never thought to teach you manners, I will.”

She freezes, fingers extended mid drawing them away.

“Say that again?”

Roland sneers. “She’s crazy Scar. Always has been.”

She slaps him. Hard. “Say that about my Grand-mére again!”

Roland tips back in his chair crashing into the dirty floor. He scrambles to his feet glaring and spitting profanities. “I’ll teach you that lesson!”

His friends are on their feet as well.

He’s a big man—the biggest of his associates—and towers above her. She tenses for a fight.

Her fists curl for a strike. “Try it!”

He yanks her up by the collar of her hoodie. She yelps in protest. Roland swings his fist for her face but she catches the blow.

Émile shoves her way between them. “Mon dieu! Roland!” 

She shoves her delicate hands into his chest pushing him backwards and he edges away looking unsure all of a sudden. He straightens his spine, shakes his blonde hair out. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth Scarlet.”

“I can beat your ass! Don’t want your little friends to see you lose?”

He sneers, “Keep going. See what I do.”

“You’re pathetic—“

Émilie is quick to de-escalate again. She hooks an arm through Scalet’s elbow and drags her backward towards the kitchen.

“Enjoy your meal, Roland!” She’s forcing a cheery smile.

Émilie shoves her through the swinging kitchen door. Scarlet stumbles on the slick linoleum. She catches herself on Émilie’s shoulder.

The blonde ushers her over to a short table by the wall and out of the way of the hustle and bustle. She presses down on Scarlet’s shoulder to make her sit.

Scarlet refuses to be subdued. “You heard what he said! You heard him!”

“Yes I did, but Scarling, Roland is an idiot, a drunk, and a brute. I know your grandmother. I know you. And—“ She takes both of Scarlet’s hands in her own, soothing her thumbs along the redhead’s wrists. “You don’t need to prove anything. People who love her know it too.”

Scarlet swallows with difficulty. Her throat is suddenly sand dry. Her skin burns where Émilie’s hands cover it.

She likes the way those hands feel.

Émilie strokes a palm along Scarlet’s cheek. “I know that idiot upset you.”

Scarlet swallows again, she rises off of the low table, still gripping one of Émilie’s hands. “He tried to touch you.”

“And I wouldn’t have let him.”

Scarlet’s anger doesn’t cool. In fact, it heightens. Her face blazes and color blooms high in her cheeks. She wants to push back through the swinging doors and show Roland a thing or two about manners.

“He deserves to be locked up! To be beaten! To be strung out and lashed!” Émilie tucks a strand of hair behind Scarlet’s ear. She smiles sweetly. “Merci Scarlet. Merci.”

Scarlet grits her teeth against that heat in the pit of her stomach. It stems from anger at Roland but it’s more than that. She’s furious at him—but not even that explains the fire in her belly.

Scarlet wants something.

She can’t admit to herself what.

She refuses to.

“You need to be more careful Émilie. Beautiful women like you make men lose their heads.”

“Oh is that all?” Émilie quirks an eyebrow. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be careful.”

Scarlet scowls unconvinced. She grabs her hand firmly, catching Émilie’s gaze with her own. “I mean it.”

Émilie pauses.

She takes in Scarlet’s fierce expression. Something shifts in her face, something softens. “I will be careful Scarling. Just for you.”

Scarlet feels her neck redden. All the possessive energy and need she feels calms.

She settles for the feel of Émilie’s palms against her flushed skin. She settles for the dip of those sweet dimples in Émilie’s pretty face. She settles for her mere presence.

It’s enough because it has to be.