A dose of reality, French style

I have come to the honest realization that there are some things which will remain completely out of my control, at least while in France. This would be, eating a meal which didn't include a certain amount of butter, sugar, alcohol or bread.

It's not really because of my lack of willpower or a delicious array of toothsome desserts fighting for my attention in the market. It's because I'm not about to turn down the pan fried homegrown new potatoes from our friend's organic vegetable garden or the homemade rhubarb tart with apple sorbet and fresh cherries. Of course a glass of wine from another friend's organic vineyard is le veritable eau de vie, while breakfast wouldn't be breakfast without a crusty "French stick" fresh from the corner boulangerie.

Maybe I'm making excuses or maybe I'm just enjoying a great meal with good friends, while making enough memories to outlast any extra calories I might consume. Moderation is the key but common sense is the lock which holds together the links of a lifetime. If we all forge our own chains in this life, I want mine to be held together by the laughter from a baudy Breton joke, the loving care put into the making of a fine five hour meal and the heady feel from one too many glasses of homegrown red wine.

"Carpe diem" was the trendy phrase from years past which is just as applicable today as it was back then. I'm not only going to seize the day, I'm going to wring out as much life as I can, then swing it around my head and let it fly.

I've been asked by friends several times, if I will be stomping grapes when I work the harvest in France this Fall. In my mind's eye, I can see myself kneedeep in a barrel, arm in arm with Lucy and Èthel, as we create the stuff from which dreams are made.

Back for another helping

Maybe I should be put out to pasture so I could nibble on one of these bales of hay dotting the Arkansas countryside. Instead, I'm headed back to France, throwing in a little bit of Germany and Wales for good measure.

I'll admit to procrastinating in both my blog and my attention to vendange preparation for these past two months. Without making too many excuses and with promises to update in a more timely manner, I continue my quest.

Mark and I embarked upon our latest journey yesterday morning, starting with an hour and a half drive to Fayetteville, Arkansas. We left home in plenty of time to allow for a hearty breakfast at a small diner outside of Siloam Springs, Arkansas. In addition to their "heapin helping of hospitality", we received plates so full of food that the table nearly groaned under their pressure.

I looked for something on the menu that excluded things like sausage, bacon, sugar, white processed flour, excess fats, etc..... a task about as easy as avoiding an Elvis impersonator while in Vegas. I settled on a "skillet" breakfast which consisted of hashbrowns scrambled with mushrooms, green pepper and onions, then topped with a couple of eggs (over easy). What I didn't count on was the shredded cheese covering the top and the four slices of white toast that lined the plate's edge.

Most of it was a easy fix, I tried to eat "around" the excess cheese, ate only half of the hashbrowns, just one egg and avoided the white bread completely. Even so, I still felt like one of the overstuffed chickens which decorated every nook and cranny of this country diner. It was tasty, but then again, it's fat which give the food its flavor.

I've discovered that it's nearly impossible to eat out successfully without completely dismantling one's meal in a most inconvenient manner. Consequently, we don't eat out very often.

We made good time to Charlotte and had only a short layover before our A330 took off for France, the land of crepes, cheese and wine.....all of which are destined, once more, to derail my good intentions.