...at the Copacabana Fort, where the wind was just strong enough to make me happy I was wearing my favorite sweater. And there, among other things, we ate cassoulet and watched cancan dancers, who are unfortunately, not all that scandalous anymore.
I think I am entering a French phase. The last time I was "into" French food was about 14 years ago, when I used to drag dusty culinary tomes home from the library, pondering the possibility of convincing my family to allow me access to the kitchen, where I dreamed of dismembering ducks into hearty patês, rolling out floury, delicate pastries, and beating chocolate and dozens of eggs into rich petit gateaus the size of a child's hand. (Or Texas. I like chocolate.) It didn't go over too well in my Midwestern family, and I pursued other culinary interests.
But today, I'm feeling the need for a good French meal. Or a month of them. Herbes de Provence, some good cooking wines, and a selection of root vegetables and dried beans may just make up the rest of my winter pantry. Where to find the herbs is another matter...in South America, I can't see too many people wanting to cook with lavender. Care package, perhaps???