imagined-community

Sorry, no real blog post tonight. But I took this pizza quiz earlier and thought I’d share it. It’s SO true! ; )

What Your Pizza Reveals

People may tell you that you have a small appetite… but you aren’t under eating. You just aren’t a pig. You consider pizza to be bread… very good bread. You fit in best in the Midwest part of the US. You like food that’s traditional and well crafted. You aren’t impressed with “gourmet” foods. You are generous, outgoing, and considerate with your choices. You are deep and thoughtful. You should consider traveling to Paris. The stereotype that best fits you is upper class preppy. You don’t do anything too ordinary or vulgar.

Comments(2)

When I came home from work on Thursday, I found an unexpected package sitting in my apartment hallway. A quick glance at the shipper address, Gail Ambrosius Chocolatier, Madison, Wisconsin, led me to guess that my enormously thoughtful friend Nancy had sent me something. And if the mystery box was from Nancy, I knew the contents would be wonderful. Nancy has an extraordinary talent for noticing my needs and desires and then finding me gifts that are simple, unique, esthetically appealing and which instantly satisfy the novelty seeker AND the security seeker in me. Yep, the total package. I don’t know how she does it. Many of my most treasured objects are gifts that Nancy has given me through the years: a beautiful handmade latte bowl from France (in my bathroom right now, though it did an extended stint as a latte bowl when I was an undergraduate); a whimsical plastic bookmark of a très chic French femme that clips over the pages of a book (hanging from one the books I am reading); a roadside car repair kit in a sleek green tote and given to me when I bought my first car (in the trunk of my current car…I still like to stroke the sturdy green material : ); a bright purple cold storage tote (left on my doorstep filled with frozen homemade meals at a time when I was going through a particularly grueling semester, and hence not eating well), which I use all the time.

Since I knew there was chocolate in the box, I was a little worried that it would be melted; it was in the 80s on Thursday. But Gail Ambrosius seals the chocolate in a cold wrap and puts a cold pack inside the box. I wish that I could have taken a picture of the truffle box and the lovely t-shirt, but my camera died. I’ve posted googled pictures of Gail Ambrosisus chocolate; I’ll post my own pictures on Tuesday.

So…the chocolate is mind-blowing! If you are even thinking about buying someone chocolate for a gift, or you want to buy yourself some amazing chocolate, you should go to Gail Ambrosius’s website and order this chocolate now! Seriously. This is the best chocolate ever. True, I am still a novice gourmet chocolate eater, but I know when something is seriously good. I’ve eaten two truffles, one each night, and they have both been unbelievable. The first one was caramel sprinkled with grey salt. Here is the description: “Sweet and salty, like flirty conversation.” : ) That is exactly how it tasted!!! I’m not kidding you! Since I’d never had a slight bit of salt on chocolate before I was totally floored. Salt and chocolate. I had no idea the two tasted so good together. I could go on and on. Last night I ate the cinnamon/cayenne dusted with cocoa powder truffle. Again, very unusual texture and flavor. Sweet, mellow, and soft, but then there is this bit of cayenne popping in the background and the viscerally surprising feeling and flavor of shredded chilies and cinnamon sticks. Unf&%## believable! Buy this chocolate!! Now!

And Nancy…you rock!

Comments(2)

Cafe Rustica, Somerville

Six weeks till I board a plane for a 3-week trip to France. It’s been four years since I last visited Europe and I am definitely starting to feel joy. Earlier this evening I was reading “Almost French.” As I read the author’s description of her daily morning ritual at a Paris café, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own love of French cafes. There are plenty of good cafes in the Boston, Cambridge, Somerville area (my favorite is probable 1369 in Inman Square ), yet nothing in the States is quite the same as a café in France. They are just plain different. The last time I was in France I was living in Aix-en-Provence, where I immediately developed my own morning café ritual. Each morning I would walk three blocks to the city center, buy a copy of Libération from a kiosque, and then meander across the street to “my” café by the fountain, usually sitting outdoors at a small metal table. Then I would slowly drink two espressos (well, I AM an American coffee addict) close to peoples of various sizes, sexes, and ages, who were also leisurely greeting the whole being awake / doing the day thing. There is something about a French café, je ne sais quoi, that is at once intimate, social, inclusive, and respectful of the existential solitude (how French of me) of the individual. I can’t wait to go to France!

Comments(1)