“And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves.” Virginia Woolf It’s a bowl full of jumbled globes, the size of large olives or medium escargot, set casually to one side of the cheesemongers slab, that catches my attention. They are dusty-green, veined with … Continue reading Savage Fruit…
“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is really a large matter — it’s the difference between lightning and a lightning bug” Mark Twain A friend of ours, a restauranteur here in Arles, asked us to translate, or rather take a look at his English translation of their French/Lebanese menu. He’s … Continue reading Lost in French-lation: What’s on the Menu?
“Turning and turning in the widening gyreThe falcon cannot hear the falconer;Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhereThe ceremony of innocence is drowned;The best lack all conviction, while the worstAre full of passionate intensity.” William Butler Yeats, ‘The Second Coming’ Quick – where’s … Continue reading Come Together…
“We must have a pie. Stress cannot exist in the presence of a pie.” David Mamet – Boston Marriage The French don’t do pies. They have ‘pie-like’ things: Tartes, mostly – Tarte aux pommes, Tarte Tatin (insert any fruit you want, add a little pastry cream); an argument could be made for clafoutis being vaguely, … Continue reading Sometimes, pie…
“You take delight not in a city’s seven or seventy wonders, but the answer it gives to a question of yours.” Italo Calvino All cities have a sound. All villages and squares, all roads and hilltops, all walks along the quai, and market day rambles. It’s easy to discount it as ‘noise’, or block it … Continue reading The Sound of the City…
“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good … Continue reading Rites of Spring…
“Wine enters through the mouth,Love, the eyes.I raise the glass to my mouth,I look at you,I sigh.” William Butler Yeats I am not a wine writer. I’m a wine drinker. Quite good at it, too. The drinking part, that is. In fact, I’m drinking right now, as I write. But when reading other people’s words … Continue reading Old Vines…
No one has ever become poor by giving. Anne Frank Writing about food means considering where it comes from. Not just eating the bread, but buying the bread. And what it takes to buy bread. And sometimes, like a punch to the gut, it becomes apparent that this simple process is not so simple. A … Continue reading There but for the grace…
There is not a thing that is more positive than bread. Fyodor Dostoevsky I have written about bread before, and talk of bread is unavoidable, but this is about the morning walk, the intention. There is a purity of purpose that is a raw and cleansing way to begin the day. There is no rush, … Continue reading Walking for Bread…
“I alternate between feeling sympathetic toward humanity and being a misanthrope. When I’m sympathetic, it usually means I haven’t been around people in awhile.” John R. Lindensmith There is a farmhouse, a mas, in the countryside some miles outside of Arles. It is not terribly accessible – I only noted it from the elevated aspect … Continue reading Far and Away…
Chasing Snails (And Other Movable Feasts) 