Many years before moving to France I was lucky enough to be offered the birthday gift of a weekend in Paris. The friends who took me were staying with some terribly chic Parisiens in a beautiful suburb ( the name, ah age, escapes me now,) somewhere on the way to Fontainebleau. We arrived in the early evening, were shown to our rooms and invited to wash up before meeting in the garden for dinner. The gorgeous house, ( I seem to remember our host was an architect,) and then the amazing walled enchantment of a garden had me feeling just a mite overwhelmed and more than a little out of my depth. Continue reading Vegetable matters…
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