Two people in the world make the best brownies. One is my housemate J and just the smell when the baking odors come up wafting up the stairs, makes Pavlov's dog saliva nothing in comparison to mine.
However, in Argelès we have a substitute--Catherine, The Brownie Lady. She is English and also offers a fine selection of savory tarts. Her stand on marché days is a must stop early on before she sells out of her wares.
I've often told her how much I love her crusts. We talked about how sometimes I baked leftover crust just to eat, although sometimes are rare because I seldom bake.
Yesterday, after our brownies were safely wrapped, she said, "I have a present for you."
She brought out a tinfoil packet. Inside were bits and pieces of baked crust. As I munched the crust, the doorbell rang.
The pretty young blond from the florist down the street handed me this incredible flower arrangement. The card read from my recently rediscovered long-lost friends with whom we met up in Nice in April. They are the type of friends that even with decades in between there was no difference than had we met the day before. Well, maybe a few more pounds and a bit of gray in the hair, but the emotion was the same.
I have to admit, my eyes were wet from happiness as I put the flowers in its place of honor.
One of the gifts was very small. One was spectacular and even that is an understatement. Both remind me of how lucky I am to know thoughtful, wonderful people.