My mother’s favorite game when I was growing up–to me, it seemed more a game than anything else–was flipping apartments. My childhood is marked, not by memories in one room, but by…
Author: emiglia
A Rose is a Rose is a Rose
Last night, I went to mass with the Country Boy’s grandmother. As much as my father likes to believe that France is a Catholic country, it’s not. It hasn’t been, really, since…
Asparagus, Radish, Spinach, Buffalo Mozzarella
It may seem strange to post this right after posting that spring is officially here, but I was a little bit late on my last post, I guess, and on top of…
Late Winter Salad
Getting to work in the morning has become different in the past few weeks. For one, I go to the gym before work, which means that I get to the neighborhood quite…
Chèvre, Asparagus, Peas, Arugula
Before I moved to France, I didn’t know that cheese had a season. Luckily, I have a Country Boy, who has taught me many things: – Usually in French apartments, all of…
Another Salade Niçoise
I don’t feel like a foreigner anymore. I suppose it’s been a long time coming, but I had an “aha!” moment yesterday. We came out to Coullons to visit The Country Boy’s…
Spinach Risotto and Roasted Cherry Tomatoes
“Inferior people talk about others, average people talk about things, superior people talk about ideas.” -Dr. Robert Monaco
I don’t think that I’m alone in that I never met my paternal grandfather. I have a lot of friends who, growing up had just a few or even one grandparent, and I had three, plus my maternal great-grandfather, so I was doing pretty OK as far as grandparents are concerned. That being said, when I was very young — maybe four or five — I was obsessed with knowing everything there was to know about my grandfather.
Crawfish Mac and Cheese
I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who was obsessed with those “who are you most like” tests in high school. I distinctly remember filling one out while at Andover that would…
Mediterranean Pasta with Feta Sauce and Used Books
When I was growing up, my father called me Emily Reader. The capitalization is my own, an interpretation of the way he said it. As though that were my name. My mother…
Thanksgiving(s) 2013
This post is a bit (um… 2 months) late, but I have my reasons. Not the least of which is the fact that December seems to breeze by, especially when Christmas is…