“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…
I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else. Nikos Kazantzakis There’s a moment every year when I know it’s winter. It may not occur on the Solstice, and in fact often (usually) doesn’t. … Continue reading Winter is Coming…
At the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books. Norman Maclean The Rhône at Arles is a tidal river, which is a thing that takes some getting used to. There are hours of the day where it torrents northward with a single-minded purpose towards Avignon, like … Continue reading A River Runs Through It…
“It is well to remember that there are five reasons for drinking: the arrival of a friend, one’s present or future thirst, the excellence of the wine, or any other reason.” Latin proverb Rumbling, shuddering, banshee-wailing down the Rhône, stripping leaves from the chestnuts, scouring dust from the hills, the Mistral brings clear skies and … Continue reading Vin Chaud…Not Really a Recipe.
If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there’d be a shortage of fishing poles. Doug Larson One of the advantages of living in a Provençal town a few dusty turns from the sea – our own personal fishmonger. A neighbor just down the block who has a fishing boat in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer sends … Continue reading La Pêche du Jour…
Walking home with Jess and Max after dropping Alexander at school, out the old cloister gates and through the winding cobbled streets redolent of woodsmoke and the scent of baking bread. The rhythmic clang of metal on metal, not mechanical, hand labor, off some distance, but so distinctive you can almost taste it on the … Continue reading An Alchemy of Place…
“An egg is always an adventure; the next one may be different.” Oscar Wilde Maximilien’s latest favorite gouter (snack)? The hard-boiled ovum of Coturnix Coturnix. And whereas he has many of the same food limitations of other four-year-olds, he continues to walk his own path in many respects: He pleads for a couple cloves of … Continue reading Ouefs de Caille
…there’s this cookie in France. More of a cake-like thing, really. About the size of a Madeleine scallop, and made from a similar but less glorious yellow sponge cake, shaped like a bear. Where the paws are, there are dollops of chocolate. It’s called “Lulu l’ourson” – Lulu the bear. It’s nothing extraordinary – it’s … Continue reading Lost in French-lation, Misadventures in French Advertising…
“The Café des Amateurs was the cesspool of the Mouffetard, that wonderful narrow crowded market street which led to the Place Contrescarpe.” – Ernest Hemingway, A Movable Feast Place Contrescarpe Hard to say exactly which of the cafés flanking the PlaceContrescarpe is the one Hemingway referred to as the “Café des Amateurs” or “Café aux … Continue reading Historically Drinking (part deux)
Nature alone is antique, and the oldest art a mushroom… Thomas Carlyle Of all the smells of fecundity, of earth, of whispered dawn, of darkness at a somewhere depth pushing through to light, one of the most binge-worthy of harbingers (in my opinion) is that of mushrooms sautéing in butter, grind of pepper, sprig of … Continue reading Of the dark…
Chasing Snails (And Other Movable Feasts) 