We sat on the rocks, in the shadow of the bridge, with the sound of trickling water and mating calls from an army of unseen frogs. Our edible treasures from the day’s adventure spread before us. The afternoon sun poured liquid gold across the landscape. And in that moment I couldn’t think of a more perfect place to picnic in the entire world. Except, this is Provence. And it’s all like this. Anywhere you are, at any given time, can be the most perfect spot in world.
Great piece. I love a nice tapenade and the urge to make some while the snow is hanging in the ear is strong.
Question: if we're not supposed to eat processed foods, why do all serious cooks have a food processor?