The Husband to help is a testament to how they both would do pretty much anything, to avoid a trip to the markets.
The warm Spring weather has been hiding from us in our little corner of Provence, but the forecast called for sunny blue skies so we had planned a hike and a picnic after the market, where Papa and The Husband would meet us with Fifty and Leo in tow.
(Notice how they can abandon the forest immediately after we leave the market).
Papa’s Wife and I toured the stalls, oohing and aahing over the cheeses and produce, dodging shadows to stay in the warm sun.
Naturally, I brought my camera…
One of the fruit & veg stand where I scored some jalapenos
The seafood stand where we picked up fresh sardines
I picked up some sausage for The Husband and Fifty to share.
And I didn’t buy any of this cheese. I just liked how it looked.
It quickly became apparent that the mistral was out to play and even in the sun, it wasn’t warm enough for a picnic. With our straw baskets full, we headed home to prepare lunch there instead.
I phoned The Husband with the change of plans and surprise… he and Papa had found their way out of the forest but couldn’t quite find their way home. They were at the Cafe Tabac in the village for a little morning Pastis. I briefly considered laying out a path of breadcrumbs for them to follow, but instead realized, more Rosé for me.
We had some of Papa’s Wife home made sanglier (wild boar) pâté, tapenade and grilled the sardines from the market.
I’ve never had grilled sardines before. It’s just like the cartoons when a cat would eat a fish and after, would hold up a little fish skeleton. Eating sardines is exactly like that. Stinky fingers and all.
It had been such a nice day; the beautiful morning at the market, bonding time with Papa’s Wife, and those delicious, stinky, grilled sardines.
There was only one way to finish it all off; with a digestif and Mesrine
Because every family meal should finish with watching a movie about a sociopath killer.
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