Wednesday 25th August 2010.
Yesterday I went out to get our breakfast croissants and there was a market in the square. I love markets and they always make me nostalgic for the slower pace of life. Like I imagine it was in my Grandmother’s time? Where each day you went out for your groceries for that day. You went to the butcher for the meat, the greengrocer for the fruit and vegetables and the bakery for the bread.
Well it seems to me that the French still live like that. Or at least the older ones do. So I was very excited to get an experience of it. I bought tomatoes and lettuce and cucumber from the vegetable stall. And half a cooked chicken (with a ladle of chicken fat poured over, oops) from the rotisserie van. And some nougat from the sweet stall! And then I went to the boulangiere for bread and the croissants. And finally I went to the shop where you get pâte and got some! My bags were full, my arms were aching and I was content.
In that one delightful experience breakfast was sorted (croissants),
Could this be why food in France tastes so good? Is it possible I may come to like cooking?