And And And!...

Poulet frite on a sidewalk was the best medicine I could have asked for (why did I need medicine? I just did). S. had something (whose french name I cannot recall) composed of fillo dough, spinach and an assortment of mushrooms. Both of our meals included lots of low moans of pleasure and her fingers plucked crispy fries from my plate while my fork speared chunks of mushroom from hers. The cream sauce in both of our dishes was light yet buttery. Photographs will appear on this site soon.

How could I have forgotten? This week I watched Mostly Martha, an Austrian film about a neurotic, overly-precise and lovely chef with attitude. The scenes of the kitchen: stock bubbling, dicing of vegetables, the gentle, almost loving cleaning of counters, the attention to design and presentation of a meal, and the various ways one can eat: out of the hands, out of pots and pans. S. watched it last night too and as I imagined, she was thoroughly, crazily inspired to cook her heart out. Highly recommended!