I'm going to go outside after I finish this post and have a glass of wine while I think of my friends and family. Iowa, Minnesota, Hawaii, Arizona, Nebraska, Montana, California, Maryland, Oregon, Washington, New York, New Jersey, North Carolina, Illinois, Virginia, Colorado, Michigan...There are a couple of you who've shared Vouvray at this very table.
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Here in Minneapolis I am winding down from the 2nd truffle tasting, and finishing a glass of Columbia Crest Cabernet. This was one of those perfect Indian summer days, not unlike the one you describe in an earlier posting. We haven't actually had a hard frost yet, so my hostas are still regal with their purple scepters. We had a bonfire last night, totally illegal, burning sage and dried up daisies. I read last months Gourmat Magazine featuring everything Paris. When we were in Chicago Ann reminded me of our unplanned visit to Isadora's house and meeting her grand-niece. Their was a piece on some of the dodgier parts of Paris, Belleville for one, and a reference to Pere Lachaise, where Isadora's ashes are kept. Last time I was in Paris, with one of the loves of my life, I spent the whole day wandering around the cemetary. It was cold and rainy, but I didn't want to leave until I'd paid tribute to everyone: Isadora, Colette, Edith Piaf, Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein, I even made it to Jim Morrison eventually. Next time I go I want to stay in Belleville as in the "Tripletes of Belleville" Do you want to go together?
OUi, Chere Jules!
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