Not literally. I’m speaking figuratively here folks! The only way I’ll ever find myself physically in Provence is if I suddenly win the lottery. My husband buys a ticket every now and again, but I’m not holding my breath. It all began when I watched this episode on TV:
It was enough to make me back track on the “I’m never flying anywhere again” decree I made four years ago – at least ever so briefly. Then I remembered the three children, the bills, and my dear husband who works more hours than most people. The chances of me heading to France, Provence, or anywhere else not accessible by my used 2004 Ford Freestar with three children in tow is highly unlikely. I did the next best thing. I headed to the library. Ok, not quite, I headed to my computer to search our library system’s online database which brought up “flavors of Provence: recipes from the south of France” by Clare Ferguson. I hit the “request” button and waited ever so patiently for the email to arrive in my inbox to let me know it was on the hold shelf waiting for me. Not more than a couple days later I sheepishly sent my slightly bleary eyed husband to the library to pick it up for me. Why not myself? One word. School. Well, that and babysitting. If I didn’t have my occasional fourth visitor with me I would have packed them all up in the van and headed over there myself (See that’s the other wrinkle in my jet-setting dream – I highly doubt that her parents would appreciate me taking her over international waters).
The recipes…the pictures…it all brought back that same glazed over look in my eye with the slightest bit of drool appearing in the corner of my mouth. Aside from the slice of white bread in the aïoli it all looked quite tasty. Fresh. Fairly simple. Drool-worthy. It’s not the book I really wanted to get my hands on, but I had to go with what the public library had available. Really. I’d be nowhere without my local library. You’d find me curled up on the floor in tears if they ever had to close their doors.
This weekend…that’s where you’ll find me. In my dreams I’m in Provence. Instead we’ll be finishing up our last day of school for the week…and grocery shopping. I’m sure you won’t be surprised if a few capers, some brined olives, and a decent bottle of light olive oil makes it into my cart. And maybe a decent bottle of wine.