The act of reading ... begins on a flat surface, counter or page, and then gets stirred and chopped and blended until what we make, in the end, is a dish, or story, all our own.
— Adam Gopnik

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November 24, 2015

Food from books

There were at least three other pastry shops as good as hers, in a town perhaps more noted for them than any other in a country dedicated to the gastric hazards of almond paste, chestnuts soaked in sweet liqueurs, and chocolate in all its richest and most redolent forms...
      The shop always smelled right, not confused and stuffy but delicate layered:  fresh eggs, fresh sweet butter, grated nutmeg, vanilla beans, old kirsch, newly ground almonds....
from M.F.K. Fisher's Provence, with photographs by Aileen Ah-Tye

Found this lovely new book in the library at lunchtime, read it in one bite, now longing to read more of her.

      Often, after I left Aix the first time, I thought about the brilliant sights and smells of that rhythmic parade through the pastry shop windows. It was exciting. It was based on the main supplies of the rich dry land, the almonds, the colors of all the fruits and fishes, the spring floods of eggs and cream and syrups. Religion took it over, with pagan rituals behind the altars:  spring, marriage, birth and rebirth, the miracles of Christmas and Easter.


JoAnn said...

I'm pretty sure the only M.F.K. Fisher has been in Secret Ingredients: The New Yorker Book of Food and Drink. How nice to be able to wander in a library at lunchtime!

Cosy Books said...

All that's missing are the steaming cups of tea!

Claire (The Captive Reader) said...

I keep swearing to myself that I will read Fisher and then never do. One day!

Thank you for visiting!

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