Very much inspired by what we had in Paris every morning, minus the sausages. French people don't eat a lot of meat for breakfast, do they? Allegedly, their traditional breakfast consists only of yogurt and bread with freshly squeezed orange juice. But at the hotel the selection was of continental, and they served egg and several forms of meat every day, thanks to the invasion of internationalism.
Notice the apple sauce?
I made it with apples that an artist that we bought two paintings from at Place du Tertre in Montmartre.
Here's the story. From the get-go, we wanted to buy a painting in Montmartre for our honeymoon, and there were just so many local artists that were great to choose from.
But there was this guy with really tranquil-looking, heart-warming, beautiful paintings of seasonal woods and trees and brooks and sunset. We talked to him for good half an hour, and found him really genuine and nice. He explained that all his paintings were of trees in his home town in Normandy. I fell in love with the one with white birches I'm holding (a lot of his paintings were of white birches, and I loved them all), and T liked the other one with apple trees blooming. The man even showed us three apples from which he picked off one of his trees painted in it.
We wanted both, but they are not exactly Monet paintings, but they weren't cheap together. So I made a negotiation AND asked him to throw the apples on top. He got my humor, and made an accord.
I didn't declare the apples in the trunk at the airport, so the Normandy apples from the artist's trees safely abided here in my apartment.
We are also having coffee that I bought at Galeries Lafayette. Dark and dense, full of aroma, and very French.
We miss Paris already.
Until next time,
Sak
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