One Bite At A Time

There's a lot of truth in saying we are what we eat. Food has always been essential to living, and the hunting, gathering, and preparing of the meal has brought peoples to tables since time immemorial. Customs and traditions may vary from border to border, but at the end of it we all have to eat. The celebration of food then becomes one of human experiences we all truly share.

Which brings me here: one rainy, sleepy weekend in the Beaujolais region, north of Lyon. The bunks were rickety, but the music was loud and no one wanted to hike aimlessly in the mud. But the map and my rudimentary French told me there was a single boulangerie in town, and no torrential downpour or lackluster language skills was going to keep me from the best baking in the world.

Armed with nothing but a dictionary and the will to eat, I trudged slowly up hills and vineyards, narrowly avoiding a farm dog and misreading signs every which way. A few polite "Bonjour!" and "Ca va?" here and there, and I found it: la seule boulangerie dans la ville.

One slow push of its rickety doors, and the smell of eggs, and butter, and flour hit me. It was a modest bakery by every measure, but that didn't matter. I bought as much as my arms could carry, and floated back to the chateau.

I'll never forget that first bite into that carelessly chosen quiche. Cool, creamy, with just a little bit of ham in the flakiest crust my teeth have ever sunk into. One bite told me that no matter how anyone else tries to mix together eggs and butter and flour, there really is some je ne sais quoi that would make this quiche the best I'll ever have. There are a lot of cliches about travelling Europe, but one has proven true: the food is utter heaven.