9 AugustAndrew urged me to stay in my little caravan another night or two if I want. He laughed at me for feeling guilty over 28 Euros a night (as opposed to 11 for a tent site).
I wouldn’t be happy at home right now, he said, because the kitchen is a perpetual mess from the preparation he does each morning for his daily cooking gigs. He’s been assigned by an upscale agency to cook for groups of English and American vacationers staying at some of the splendid private estates around the Luberon.
I would be cleaning up after him and complaining, he said.
Let him have his mess and the accolades I know he’s receiving with his luscious meats and sauces, and his perfectly grilled whole fish stuffed with fennel. He’s bringing home the bacon.
2 comments:
Hi Marcia,
I missed your journals. Now 3 at once. I feel as though I'm having 3 desserts. It's nice to gorge myself without the worry of calories.
Writing about chef Andrew was making my mouth water--especially the fish.
Loved the picture of Beau sleeping in bed. They do have a way of wanting to be in the middle of everything and making no apologizes for their sense of entitlement. I'm taking notes.
Thanks for the shots of the caravan--looks comfy and peaceful--my kind of camping--something with a bed.
Safe travels. Looking forward to your next entry. Deb
Marcia,
I am honored that my painting of Blue Kangoo has such a noble setting in your blog! I only wish I could find Blue's cousin in the USA. I would buy him/her in a flash. What a great companion car. Hugs to Beau. How nice that you two are enjoying some quality time as Andrew plays the mad chef . . . chop, chop, chop. Best to be away during this process. I do hope someone is capturing Andrew's prep process on video!
Hugs, Albie Davis (Maine, USA)
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