Thursday, February 19, 2009

Bonjour.

No, it's not a dream. It's not a hallucination. Or a virtual mirage happened upon while searching, parched, through the vast desert of lesser blogs. It's for reals.

My blog!

After months of promises, I have decided to end my long standing tradition of excuses and negligence and finally use the wonderful world wide web for what it was always intended for -- pictures and descriptions of food. 

When I crossed the pond more than four months ago, I had every intention of blogging my way through daily French life. Alas, due to chronic laziness and a mean streak of procrastination, that intention was never realized. And it wasn't that I didn't have lots to write about. Too much, maybe. But being completely overwhelmed by everything French and unfamiliar (which was, well, everything) did little to motivate me to record it, on camera, in blog form, or otherwise.  

The Paris of Haussman architecture and grand boulevards and impressionist paintings is lovely, really, and doesn't deserve to be completely ignored. But just google-image "Paris" and get a complete photographic summary, or rent Funny Face and stroll down the Champs Élysées with Fred and Audrey. That side of the city hasn't really been part of my own experience, and when I think back over the past four months, my memories of avenues lined with gold statues and museums filled with Mona Lisas and Monets have become somewhat faded. I know I've been there, I've seen those things, really, I have, but in the end that's not what I'd write home about. Instead, those visions of art and architecture have been overthrown by those of pastries and pâté, croissants and coq au vin. 

Finally, a worthy subject. 

And so, as happens quite frequently, food has been my primary motivation, and the catalyst for the creation of this blog. I may not be able to remember where I put my keys, or who the ninth Prime Minsiter of Canada was, or the year of the War of 1812 (just kidding, that one's a give-away), but I can describe to you, in detail, a meal I had three years ago. I like to think that recounting culinary experiences allows every meal to be extended and relished long after the last bite has been swallowed, and for someone who loves to eat as much as I do, this is a very good thing. 

For those of you who consider eating simply a means of gaining nutrition and caloric energy, this blog is not for you. Although cliché, I do give merit to the phrase you are what you eat. Although sometimes, after consuming a pack of Beuno bars and lying in bed, nearly comatose, I'd like to believe that the saying has slightly less validity. But if experience builds and defines our character, than eating -- something we do often, because we need to, because we want to -- is our most telling experience. 

I have often compared the act of eating to a battle, and food to an adversary (albeit a delicious one) that must be conquered. If continuing this metaphor, then Paris is one of the most grueling yet inspiring battlefields I have ever faced, but one that I feel confident that I can emerge from successful (although maybe a few pounds heavier). It will not be an easy feat -- I am certain that I have many arduous tasks in my future -- but there is no greater moment then when the steam has cleared and there are only empty plates left on the table, when you can lean back in your seat, sated and triumphant. A sweet victory indeed. 






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