Friday, October 5, 2012

au marché



My mom doesn't understand the enthusiasm i (or anybody else for that matter) have for taking food photos. In fact, the only reason I have just under 400 pictures from my France trip and not more is because of her frustration.  400 seems like a lot, but anyone who takes food photos knows there are several shots of the same thing, perhaps a different angle. Since not every picture actually comes out great, you usually don't take just one picture, even in this day and age of digital photography where we have immediate satisfaction of seeing the results of our good or bad shot.  "You. Always with that camera!", she'd say. So towards the end of my stay, I put away my iPhone to help keep the peace.

Like everyone else, I also want to remember things as they were, and I find myself forgetting details i'd rather not forget. Photos can't capture smells and feelings, but while looking back through the pictures I took while in France, i'd like to think I can still smell the salt air while standing on the rocks, and still hear the shouts of the vendors at the marketplace while they jokingly taunt shoppers and one another.

Some of my favorite market moments include my mom asking the cheesemonger if his chèvre was any good. 

mom: "Monsieur, votre chèvre, est-il bon?"
cheese guy: (incredulous look on his face, hands thrust forward in protest): "Mais, MADAME!"
mom: "B'en, il fallait que je demande". (well, i had to ask).

We also had an interesting conversation at the fishmonger's with a young, tan, and good-looking guy in his chef whites (i'm guessing was Northern European judging by his accent when he spoke English), who worked aboard one of the many enormous yachts moored in the harbor.  He was buying a shit load of langoustines. As we all remarked on how the owner of the yacht and his guests must eat well, he laughed and said, "No, that's for us, the crew. The owner, he won't touch that". And as we watched him walk away making more food purchases for the crew, I couldn't help but think, Where the hell can I get that job?

Seriously, can you imagine? cheffing aboard a fancy yacht tooling around the Mediterranean.  I'm all about that.

I love all the colors of the different salts, sugars, and spices at the spice vendor. And the artichokes could double as floral arrangements. Moseying around through the stalls and buying just what is needed for the day, what a great way of life.

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