I’ve admired these skillets (there are three of them where I am staying) since I arrived in France. And after I cooked with one, I had a serious case of pan-envy. So much so that despite having only a small roller-board suitcase (technically it’s carry-on size) I bought myself one to bring home. Continue reading “a frog-green skillet and a perfect wild leek omelette”
When I arrived in the South of France just over a week ago, it was surprisingly cold and damp. Winter had not quite relinquished its grip. Since then, all that has changed. The flowers are blooming and the vineyards are waking up. The sky is looking bluer and the fields greener. Suddenly it’s springtime in France.
Each time I’ve visited this country – I’ve fallen a little more deeply for the place.
Voilà – la tarte au citron
Here in the South of France, recalling my school girl French, I’ve been remembering my high school French teacher, Mlle. P. We loved her. She was blond, beautiful, fun, and a fabulous teacher. She was also really old. Easily twenty-five. Possibly thirty!! Continue reading “french lessons: we think your horses are covered in merde”
I’m off to the south of France where I’m going to spend a couple of weeks locked up in an old barn. Writing.
On the eve of my departure – with approximately eleven-hundred-and-seventy-nine thousand things to do before I go – including such details as beginning and finishing packing, finding my travel documents, printing out my boarding passes, finding my train tickets to Montreal, charging all my electronics, paying bills, making food for the ones I am leaving behind, calling my mum, and making all of the last-minute arrangements – it seems like a perfect time to write a blog post. Continue reading “a kale, sausage, and feta frittata”
♥ Jam Tart ♥ 