I’m feeling rather Hemingway-sequence as I write this. We’re perched up in our french countryside castle hotel room with glasses of wine, fresh cheese and sausage from the market, and night settling peacefully onto the little town of Beaune, while Edith Piaf plays in the background. Did Hemingway write about nougat as big as your head? Because that’s the topic of the moment.
Beaune has a big Sunday market and a smaller Wednesday market, which we visited today. The nougat was actually as big as three human heads – monstrously impressive in its unmitigated sweetness power.
We saw many mushrooms – many similar to those from the Pacific Northwest.
There were also these darling mini squashes, which we would love to have cooked up if we had a hotel room. (Our hotel expressly forbids both cooking and mixing drinks. I guess I could see the former if we’d brought a hot plate, but the latter is a tidge baffling.)