The current issue of Saveurmagazine is entirely devoted to markets. When I set foot in a new city, I usually head for the local food market first (don't tell my art historian buddies that cathedrals and museums are sometimes second or, gasp, even third on my list of sites to visit).
Markets offer the unique opportunity to mix with the natives, to sample the food they actually eat (not some watered down tourist muck), to see glorious displays of produce and meats, to be inspired and to enjoy the purest of culinary pleasures.
I not so secretly wish I had a little more Tony Bourdain in me. In a world of fake folks, Tony is among a rare few television personalities who says what he thinks (with or without the assistance of the local beverage of choice).
I am catching up on the chick movies in my dvd queue and finally got to my disc of It's Complicated. Most anything that Nancy Meyer's touches turns to cinematic gold (Something's Gotta Give, The Holiday, The Parent Trap--- a.k.a. before Lohan went cracko, Father of the Bride); and, I knew from the initial credits that I would find equal satisfaction in her latest flick with Meryl, Alec, and Steve (I like to think of them as my friends, so I refer to them in the first person).
Like Amélie Poulain, my life is all about the littlest pleasures: the freshest, pinkest raspberries; the deep blue of a Vermeer painting; the perfect crispness of a glass of Prosecco; the divine simplicity of an afternoon at the beach; the heavenly scent of a vanilla bean. Here I blog to celebrate the good life, la dolce vita, la belle vie. Cherish life's petits plaisirs and enrich your daily existence.
You should know that I take liberties with grammar, punctuation, & diction. Do not fear! I assure you I've been educated about the woes of abundant comma usage or the impropriety of ending a sentence with a preposition. Here, as this is not my dissertation, I write as I talk. I also make up words on occasion.
"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." -Ernest Hemingway