August? Already? This summer has been too busy for my liking, and so this month we’re looking to slow things way down. Current plans include: swimming, lazing in the sun, eating outdoors, catching fireflies, and showing the girls the Blue Ridge Mountains.
In the city, fall comes on slowly –– the urban heat effect pushes off the turning of the leaves until late November. But here in the country, the change is sudden. This is my call to action; there are peaches to slurp and watermelon seeds to spit. I haven’t made it in yet, but I’m planning a dip in a swimming hole or two. And maybe just a little more sangria, for good measure. read more »
I once waited tables at a French restaurant in my hometown. It was the best restaurant in town even if it wasn’t fully appreciated by the public at large. The owner was a surly chef from Perpignan. He was a stickler for impeccable service, so that I can’t dine out anymore without silently criticizing my waiter in his voice for a thumb on a plate, serving from the right, or being too present or too absent. He was prickly and given to things like throwing out a customer for sending back a drink (“The bartender made this drink perfectly, please leave.”), raging endlessly about a more popular rival (“Who can go out to dinner, see artificial flowers on the table, and not leave immediately?” and “They smother all their meat in Béarnaise to hide that they have miscooked it.”), arguing with his son for drinking a cola while eating onion soup (“Would you like me to go get some cheesecake so you can crumble that up in it, too?”). But the thing that set him off more than anything else was when a customer suggested adding croque monsieur to the lunch menu. After all, “This is not a beer bar!” read more »
As I stumbled through the produce section of our neighborhood grocery store on a recent frigid morning, I was hunting, however groggily, for something special. And then, there they were, sweet limes.
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