Today in our weekly village market a new face appeared and the queue at his stall was long. An earthy perfume wafted towards me and the memory of more than thirty years ago sprang back as if it were yesterday. Me poking a stick into foliage at the base of oak trees in forests where hunters wouldn't hear or see you unless you shouted out to alert them of your presence. A ritual after the first heavy rains in October and finally, once the sun would reappear, albeit briefly, off I would go in feverish anticipation, basket in hand. Oh, delectable cêpes, which appear miraculously out of the earth. Local foragers never reveal their secret patch which in some families, has yielded the prized delicacy for generations. The cêpes emerge for a few short days only hence their high price. No one in their right mind would experiment with strong spices or fad recipes on this other worldly delight of the Autumnal earth. Tradition dictates that only salt, pepper, a knob of butter and a fat clove of garlic, the barest of ingredients in homage, in reverence, will do. Elegant simplicity. Perfection. Gratitude.
Our supper tonight. Photo copyright SvD.
Words and photos copyright Samantha van Dalen.
Thursday, 24 October 2019
Sunday, 6 October 2019
Sometimes we get squashed by life..
...and it can finish us off. But if we have an ounce of life left, with the strongest will we can bounce back. It ain't over 'til it's over.
For Rikki and Sita. Er....you lost. On my morning dog walk near my home in France. Photo copyright SvD.
For Rikki and Sita. Er....you lost. On my morning dog walk near my home in France. Photo copyright SvD.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)