My housemate Bill brought Michel home for dinner after we just moved into a handyman's nightmare. Michel was on a six-week trip of the States which included an appointment with Bill. S my other housemate at the time and I looked at each other. We couldn't reach the stove for the packing crates and even if we could have found it, it was so encrusted with grime of ages we wouldn't have served anyone anything cooked in or on it, must less a Frenchman with their reputation for good food.
It started a friendship with exchange visits that went on for decades. Michel's daughter F I have renamed "my French daughter" because of all the time she has spent with me. She now has a son of her own and she was visiting her mother who lives in Toulouse from NY where she now lives. Her son, not quite two takes after his mother and was scoffing down olives.
O, Fanny's mom was always a wonderful cook. Our first meal cooked by her in the 70s was bunny, the first time I ever ate rabbit and loved it. Another time I arrived in Toulouse late at night after she had just moved there and she was able to rustle up eggs, spinach in sauce that I can still remember loving. The woman has magic hands.
Thus today lunch in Toulouse (see above) was a treat, but not as big a treat as spending time with good friends. It was worth the three hour train trip each way. The fields and fields of sunflowers was just a happy reminder of the good things that one should loose in life.
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