e sold one cheese, Doux de Montagne, and talked as you tasted, explaining the flavors of each bite and why they differed. Each time someone new approached, he offered a taste and continued to explain: “The age of the cheese and what field the cows graze in affects the subtle flavor between this one over here and the one you’re tasting.”
I was enthralled. Someone asked what was different about the fields. With a typical tilt of the head, he smiled and replied in the sing-songy drawl of his Provençal accent, “Le soleil.” Someone repeated quizzically, “Le soleil?” “Ben oui, le soleil” (but of course), and he proceeded to explain: “You see, on that side of the street they have shade from that house, and over here we have the sun. In the fields there are mountains, and some fields have a lot of sun and others not as much. Like I said, c’est le soleil.”
As I moved on I could see a twinkle in his eye and hear the delight in his voice as he continued to explain the wonders of his cheese.
Comments will be approved before showing up.
This week, I’m thinking about the trials and tribulations of entertaining—especially my disasters in the kitchen and, believe me, I’ve had quite a few.
I once made this great rice dish . . .
Getting there is half the fun. Or at least that’s what I tell myself when I’m getting ready to entertain. There are always things that go wrong or . . .