I want to personally thank all the wonderful people who have recently liked my page up. For those of you who are new to my writing, my first novel, The Coin, is set in the French Riviera, where I lived for five very wonderful years.
I lived in a converted attached barn behind the owner's home. We became very, very good friends, especially myself with the lady of the house, since we shared Italian grandmothers and language. She, together with her husband, had a working farm, where they cultivated all types of vegetables, fruits, and olives. As some of my readers know, the character of Madame Degaut, in my novel, is the only one based on a real person...her. But I digress...
I learned there the taste of fresh. Have kept at it throughout the years, whenever possible. As I went outside during lunch today to check on my "produce," I couldn't help but share with you all these memories and what I will be delighting in soon.
My first cultivation is near, and I will enjoy them with cold-pressed olive oil, fresh chopped basil, a pinch of salt, and nothing but the good taste of the earth.
My soon to be eaten to-mah-toes (as one of my favorite Tolkien characters-Merry--in the movie-pronounces it).
Ooooh, I forgot fresh mozzarella as well.
Does anyone share this taste of fresh? There is a difference, you know, between picked from tree to picked at the grocery.