Myfrenchkitchen

Today was a romantic day. A soft rain was misting over the Loire, colouring the light to a translucent gray. It was a monochrome painting, a grisaille, an underpainting preparing the canvas for colour. Much like art. It was a day of tones and values. The shadows were deep, the lights were light, the air was soft, feathered. A day of dimension whithout hues.

And so I took out the colour palette and started painting. A spattering of bright reds and luscious velvety burgundies, a drop of sensual translucent syrup. A dollop of stark white cream…a highlight…a shadow. Making food is preparing the canvas. Serving food is painting the canvas. Eating is appreciating the art.

…grisaille…

I feel very nostalgic lately. Thinking of people I knew long ago, missing friends and family. I long for smells of my past…Christmas time in my mother’s kitchen, the early mornings on the farm of our friends, the African animals, the African bush, pancakes with cinnamon sugar wrapped in greased paper at church fairs, tomato and onion salad with a sugar vinegar sauce.

The salads I grew up with, were simple and straightforward. A salad was a cold dish, eaten with warm meats. Today we have small salads, large salads, cold salads, warm salads, even soupy ones. Fancy or simple, with sauces or with “vinaigrettes” and “croutons” and toppings. They are served in salad bowls and on spoons, towered on plates or layered in glasses. they are served at the beginning of a meal or at the end with cheese… or without cheese. I think my mom would’ve appreciated this little salad. She was an adventurous woman.