Consider Bardwell. Ireland. England

October 31, 2012

It’s been over a year since I sat down and seriously put my thoughts to paper. Last time I was in Dublin scribbling about my present memories of cookery school and my fears of what would come. It’s amazing to think that I left Ireland with such a feeling of uncertainty and to reflect now on what has conjured in the past 13 months. Since then, I managed to work in the Blue Hill at Stone Barns kitchen and then found my way in to a little pocket of heaven referred to as Consider Bardwell Farm.  I never expected to spend half a year learning how to make cheese in small town Vermont. Even more, I never expected to gain such a respect and love for the people and place that make it one of the best creameries on the east coast. The dynamic that made up that slice of paradise made me smile from the moment I slid those doors open at 6am to the minute I left. When I did finally say goodbye it was only possible to walk away knowing that a trip to Europe was around the corner. Anything less would not have been enough to pull me from there. That’s how much I loved it. That’s how much I enjoyed learning, working, and laughing at Consider Bardwell. It took Europe and the everlasting friends of Ballymaloe to pull me away.  

A few weeks after I finished making Mettowee I arrived in Dublin where it all ended (or started?) just over a year ago.  I met up with Caroline and spent the day walking the city and visiting two wonderful cheese shops. Both places were expecting my arrival and upon introductions I was immediately treated to warm welcomes and an abundance of samples. Both cheesemongers spoke with excitement and knowledge as they made their way from one wheel to the next. It was pure joy to just asked questions and happily accept piece after piece of milky deliciousness. That evening we all went out for drinks and enjoyed the company of new friends brought together from worlds apart. 

The next day Caroline and I caught an early train to Cork and munched on the cheese and bread I picked up from Sheridan’s Cheese Shop and Fallon & Byrne. Unpasteurized fresh goat cheese, Le Napoleon, and a smoked cow cheese that literally tasted like bacon made the journey even more beautiful. From Cork we would catch a bus to Ballymaloe Cookery School. We were returning to the place where Caroline and I met; to one of the most beautiful places I have ever lived and a place where we made life long friends and gained life long skills. Ballymaloe will forever be a monumental part of my life and to see it all again, after a years time, was more special than words can explain. We strolled the gardens, picked apples, and to top it off Tim Allen spent the day giving us endless goodies that epitomize the Ballymaloe experience. We left with hands full of lemon curd, cheese, eggs, and yoghurt all made right there by students just like us. 

 Just as I was readjusting to the slanted Irish accents I found myself off to England and in to the arms of Sophie, Nicola, Rohan, Ben, and Saffron. My ten-day trip became 3 weeks as I was taken in to their homes and treated with the love of friends and their family. Also, thanks to the recently developed friendships of Kate Arding and Maggie Armstrong I was connected to some of London’s best cheese makers, mongers, and shops. I spent a full day at the famous Neal’s Yard Dairy and was treated to an everlasting feast of Europe's finest cheese, cheese, and more cheese. Oh, I ate an apple too. My cheese-venture continued with a tour of the Neal's Yard caves as well as mornings spent making cheese with Dominic from Borough Cheese Company and Bill from Kappacasein. Before I knew it my cooking school reunion was happily turning in to a full out dairy extravaganza. These exceptional strangers took me under their wing as if long lost friends reuniting over the curds and whey of time. It all was so beautiful. From friends to cheese to afternoon tea at the Wosley and strolls around Convent Gardens; I was developing quite a little crush on London.  It didn’t help that by week 2 I was comfortably settled in to the routine of family dinner at Rohan’s and each night becoming more obsessed with the new British series of Sherlock Holmes. It was getting harder and harder to think of leaving.

Sadly, like all good things, it was bound to come to an end. On my final day we took in a few more sites and finished my time in London with a beautiful meal at Ottolenghi. Each bite of our five dishes solidified why I have, and continue, to look so highly up to the standards and culinary choices of Yotam Ottolenghi. It was the perfect ending to a truly remarkable, spontaneous, and delicious adventure in London.

Netherlands, here I come!

* A special note: To all of you that made this trip what it was. To those who may never read this or whom I may never see again. To the friends, strangers, and acquaintances that didn’t hesitate for a second to welcome this crazy American girl in to their lives.  To you all, I thank you- endlessly and wholeheartedly. *

Ballymaloe Cookery School

After 3 months at cooking school I’ll return home finding it hard to be anything besides sad. Today I am in Dublin and it is officially the last day of my 6-month European journey. I’m sitting in a funky cafe with only a sandwich, coffee, and my thoughts to keep me company. Immediately what I notice missing is Anna. With the calm music and peaceful ambiance I feel like I should turn my head to find her next to me. Knowing us, we’d talk about cheese and then move on to topics that could vary from what we want out of life to the ultimate hamburger topping. Afterwards we’d return to our cottage of 11 beautiful girls and find Nicola and Sophie dancing to One Direction (a pop boy band that according to Sophie “is as big as the Beatles.”). The music definitely wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea but seeing how happy it made Sophie was always a reason to put it on. Later I would run up to Anna and Caroline’s room for my daily cuddle session. Caroline would awkwardly stare at us and so the next obvious thing to do was attack her with endless hugs. She may not have enjoyed my forms of affection but always managed to laugh her way through the discomfort. Usually then the three of us would just talk, dance, and laugh with whomever else trickled in to the room. Eventually Fionn would come in and we’d chat over coffee about whatever weird topic suited us. Then he would disappear in his mysterious way and leave all of us confused with what exactly he was about to do.

Sadly back in the cafe I realized none of that was going to happen.  Anna would never come and Nicola, Sophie, and Caroline would not be gracing me with their smiles when I returned. Reality was hitting hard and it was taking every fiber of my being to resist the tears.  I couldn’t say when I would see them again; I couldn’t say when I’d see anyone again. Our course of 62 students consisted of some of the most wonderful individuals I have ever met. The dynamic was unique and all of us were in completely different parts of our lives. We were of completely different ages (ranging from 17 to mid 50’s) and of completely different backgrounds. What I didn’t know was that in reality, no matter how different we were, we really were all just the same. Most apparent was that we all loved food. We also all chose Ballymaloe not just to learn how to cook, but more importantly to learn the system of cooking. What was less obvious was that we were all trying to improve ourselves, find balance, and work towards happiness in this crazy game of life. I truly feel like I left Ballymaloe with 62 new friends and I hope they all know the impact they had on my time there.

To my great surprise I began to realize that it really was the people that highlighted my time at cooking school. The food though, my sole reason for going, was why I woke up every morning anxious for the day to begin. Dressed in chef whites I would enter the kitchen at 8:30 ready to cook. If I was lucky I was on bread duty, which meant I was okay with the fact that I had to cram an extra recipe in to my already busy day. With cooking, time management and efficiency have always been my downfall. I’m indecisive and like to take my time… as you can imagine that does not fly in a kitchen. I struggled with this but I’m happy to say I have improved. The teachers are to thank for that. They were a hardworking eclectic group and each one provided a unique style of learning. From super supportive to tough love to the extremely informative I knew every day I would be gaining a new perspective on how to smell, taste, and look at my food.  Their passion was always strong and seemed to amplify the energy that flowed through the kitchen. They taught me how to listen for when bread is baked, correctly fold puff pastry, feel for the texture of pasta, taste for seasoning, and present it all in an appropriate manner. They were my heroes and I cannot thank them enough for their support and wisdom.       

                                           

So now my time there is done and I return home a little unsure of what exactly is to come. If I can be honest, I’m scared. I thought I would backpack to the best countries for food and then attend the best cooking school for my interests. After all that I definitely would be able to narrow down what I want to do with my life. Unfortunately now, more than ever, I feel confused from the endless avenues that have exposed themselves during my time abroad….I guess my plan kind of backfired. The truth is I feel slightly lost between two worlds and returning to the States means I have to find my way. All I can hope for is that I wont loose what I have gained these past 6 months- the food, the lessons, the places, the knowledge, and most importantly the people. I may not know what I want to do for the rest of my life, or even next, but being gone I realized there are a few things I do know:

I, Marla Victoria Gilman, love food. I love how it is your senses that experience everything when it comes to food. You touch, smell, taste, feel, and listen. I love how food brings everyone together; nothing else in this world unites people in the same way. I love how food links us to our past, present, and future.  It brings back memories and always creates new ones. I love how food starts in the ground. I love the feel of dirt under my fingernails and knowing that from a small seed I can grow something edible. I even just love the fact that first you grow food, then you make it. You can make it hot, cold, spicy, sophisticated, homey. You can make it foam or ooze, sweet or savory. Best of all I love how food makes me feel. I can’t even explain it but I guess that’s what passion is all about. It’s just there inside you, captivating your mind and glowing your soul. It pushes me to be my best, to question life, and to make a difference. Food reminds me what happiness is all about. It’s like whenever I think about it, whenever the tiniest thought of anything related to food comes to mind, I can’t even contain myself from smiling. 

So as I said, I may not know what job I want to do next…but I do know what makes me happy. To be blunt I don’t think many people can truly say that. So even though its been 6 months, when you see me please don’t ask if I will own a restaurant one day. Don’t ask if I will permanently stay in NY or move to Europe. Don’t ask if I want to bake or cook or teach or farm. Don’t ask because I’m still trying to figure it out. What I have figured out is that food, people, and travel make me happy…and if I become anything in life, if I strive towards one thing - its happiness. 

Paris: the final days

After two months of travel we were nearing the end of our trip. Paris would be our last 10 days and I knew it would be a bittersweet return. Lauren, one of the girls that came to Italy with us, was flying back to Europe to join us in our Parisian days. Instead of a hostel we decided to rent an apartment in a residential area of Montmartre. It may have only consisted of a kitchen/bedroom with a small bathroom but it was perfect for what we wanted. Our location was over an hours walk from the center but I enjoyed being removed from the congested scene of the first district. We were also moments from the beautiful Sacre Coeur, which made us easily accessible by metro but still provided a sense of detachment.

                 

         Each morning was a new adventure of senses. Depending on the day we could have been bouncing from chocolatier to patisserie trying flavors like chocolate with lemon and basil or pastry’s flavored with custard. Other days we enjoyed the mornings sipping coffee and sharing thoughts with one another. Time was as fast or slow as we wanted. We did what we wanted, when we wanted and it allowed each moment to surround us in its entirety. Often we would go to different markets and pick up food for that evenings dinner. It was so nice to be able to cook again and we were taking full advantage of the abundant produce of Paris. Our faces and awkward accents became familiar to our local cheese, wine, and bread stores that we stopped in almost daily. We were even able to return to the amazing falafel stand and ice cream shop in the Jewish Quarter and fell in love with a few new places. Sugarplum Cake Shop and Rose Bakery quickly became favorites as I moaned over carrot cake at Sugarplum and the most delicious quiche of tomatoes, goat cheese, and zucchini at Rose’s. The local pastry shop (which we later learned had a starring role in the movie Julie & Julia) introduced me to a world of flaky pastry dough at its finest. Croissants, pain du chocolate, and raisin brioche recalled how magical butter could be when mixed with a skilled hand. As I sit here writing this post I am literally salivating at the memory of it. Then there was the chocolate éclair at Stohrer, which not only showed me how good an éclair could be (I never really liked éclairs before) but basically turned me off from trying any other. I know nothing will ever beat what I had that day.

   If we weren’t cooking in the evenings we were usually found munching on market food somewhere. One night we took a picnic to the Eiffel Tower and watched the lights come on as the sky went dark. It was a time I will always remember. Surrounded by great friends, wonderful food, and a view that epitomizes Paris I knew life was at its finest. It was starting to really hit me that this journey, this part of my growth, was soon to be over. I would be starting a new phase soon and although I looked forward to it I felt unready. When I left over two months ago I knew I was embarking on an amazing adventure. What I didn’t realize was how much it would shape who I am.

When I think about it, I feel one of the attractions for traveling is that it allows you to leave life behind. You escape the stresses of work, the family disagreements, the drama of friends, etc. You leave it all behind and for a short while and you are allowed to just be. Be yourself, someone else, the person you hope to be, whoever. The ability to just be, to truly live in the moment, was becoming my whole life after these months of travel. I have forgotten what it was like to be stressed, unhappy, to have deadlines and commitments. Although we did have hiccups the majority of time was filled with moments that made me the happiest. It was the places we saw, the people we met, the food we ate, the stories we shared, and the memories we created that brought a true sense of life. The ability to live for me and to discover myself through travel is what made this time so significant. I began to realize that this trip didn’t help me to escape my life; this trip helped me find it.  

When the day came to say goodbye I was the last of the three of us to leave. I sat in the apartment and immediately felt a sense of emptiness. I was not used to being alone. For the past two and a half months I had at least one constant friend. She helped create every moment of my time abroad and experienced the good, bad, beautiful, questionable, and the incredible just as I had. In countries I barely knew she was my sense of direction and source of trust. Kate became more like a sister over these past months and as she left I sat staring out the window catching the tears that fell from my face. The journey was officially over. As I cried I flipped through my camera reliving the moments of Italy, France, and Germany. Of our first meal in Rome and our last with Stephanie, Kristen, and Lauren in Bologna. Of markets in Lyon, wine in Pheddersheim, and sweetbreads in Paris. The pictures slowly transformed from macchiatos, pizza, and pasta to baguettes, sausages, and cheese. The tears literally could not stop. But by the end I wasn’t crying because it was over, I was crying because it happened. 

Germany

After 8 hours, 3 trains, and 1 gelato we arrived in Germany ready to connect with the great taste of wine. A few years ago I had the pleasure of going to Germany with a friend from home and he introduced me to Vio, a family friend of his. Her brother Oliver owns a vineyard and even though he barely knew me he welcomed Kate and I into his home to learn the tricks of the trade. Unknown to us we were arriving smack in the middle of festival season. Instead of fieldwork we were asked to help at the winery’s booths serving wine to hundreds of thirsty people. Each night was a new event and within hours of being there Kate and I were on the sidelines of a Jazz Festival. The music was amazing and even included Ronan Keaton who sings the song from Notting Hill that goes “…you say it best when you say nothing at all”. We eased in to work by cleaning glasses and adjusting to the new atmosphere. Luckily the work crew at Weingut  Hinter de Kirche (The Vineyard Behind the Church) consisted of some of the nicest people I have ever met. They welcome us in to their conversations and by the end of our time in Germany I truly felt like I made a new group of friends.

            After the two day Jazz Festival there was a week long Wine Festival. Our usual day-to-day routine of waking up early, exploring during the day, and in bed by a decent hour was now out the window. At Oliver’s our days were free and at night the work began. Most nights we didn’t get to bed until 2:00am. It took some adjusting but I enjoyed the social aspect of being among people and helping out at the events. Best of all was that everyone was just enjoying life together. They drank, talked, and danced until night became day…then they did it all over again the following evening. Even though I never knew what people where saying I loved watching the interactions. Everyone was truly happy and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

There seemed to be a buzz around that Americans were working and a number of people would come up and anxiously start talking to me in English. Their effort to interact was astonishing and it made me adjust to the setting quicker than expected. In the beginning I was nervous to do anything but clean glasses because of the language barrier. By the end, thanks to the incredibly friendly demeanor of literally every single person we met, I felt completely comfortable. I worked hard to pay attention to different key words and by the end I was even able to take orders in German - well as long as they didn’t order more than 6 drinks I could do it! Even if I was confused on what was being said no one judged me for it; which was not the case in every place we visited. This was now my third time in Germany and every time I fall more in love with the place and its people. I seriously l-o-v-e the country and our two weeks their was one of the best parts of the trip. I know I tend to say that about a lot of places but this time, I really do mean it. Oliver and his wife Gabi treated us like family and the same for the few days we spent with Vio and her husband Erik. We even got to hand grind wheat at Vio’s and turn it in to pancakes! Oh, and don’t even get me started about the food! (you all knew the food part was bound to come). Funny enough I think we ate as much cheese in Germany as we did in France. Clearly we were foolish to think cheese would escape us. With Vio we had raclettes, which is like fondue except there is a small box that has 2 tiny pans that you stack meats, veggies, and cheese on. Then you stick it in the box where it heats up the pan and melts the cheese. We also had warm feta which happily takes me by surprise every time I eat it. Spaetzel, a German noodle dish, is a favorite of mine and Vio not only cooked it for us but also taught me how to make it. Layers of homemade noodles, caramelized onions, and endless amounts of cheese and butter hits you so fast that if you don’t pass out from pure satisfaction you sure will from a heart attack. It’s so good though, totally worth the heart attack. Then there was fried Camembert which may be my favorite thing on the planet. Seriously, what these people do with cheese should just be illegal. We also ate currywurst, a sausage that you dip in a curry-based ketchup.  It reminded me of an amplified hotdog and I absolutely loved it. We also tried liver dumplings, cabbage stuffed with meat, sauerkraut, and a number of other German dishes that left us feeling like we just ate a Thanksgiving meal. It’s all so good and so warming, but gosh all you want to do afterwards is sleep.

After the two weeks I genuinely was so upset to leave, I almost cried. We made really good friends and even though I was there for such a short time I felt like I became part of the community. Oliver, Gabi, Vio, and Erik were beyond hospitable and I only hope one day I can provide such comfort back to them. Everyone we met, whether it was for 10 minutes or 10 days, reminded me of the importance to reach out to strangers and show them kindness. Even though our expectations of working on the vineyard did not happen I still loved every second of our time there. We were able to learn a lot about winemaking through Oliver’s vast knowledge and just pouring drinks and talking to the community exposed a wine culture I never knew about. The whole experience was more than I could have asked and I hope everyone who took part in it knows the deep impact they had on me. I swear, if we weren’t going back to Paris after this I think I would have canceled my trip and asked to just stay with them. As we left Oliver and Gabi gave us a beautiful bottle of wine made in 2000 from pressed raisins. It was such a kind gesture after all they provided to us. We would be sure to open it during our time in Paris and give a big loving toast to the Weingut Hinter de Kirche… and all of Deutschland for that matter! 

Normandy

We were back with a car and this time our road trip was to Normandy. Although infamous for D-Day this region was more than just a battle memorable. It was the birthplace of numerous cheeses and home to endless quant villages and coastal towns. After a night in Caen we picked up fruits and a raw Camembert from the market and drove to Cabourg. The buildings made this town one of my favorites as they reminded me more of luxury gingerbread houses than actual homes. We enjoyed our market food in a sunny grass patch and stopped for sweets before heading to Honfleur. Our choice this time was a giant butter caramel that oozed butter from every pore and a dense white chocolate square filled with hazelnut chocolate and a toffee crunch. High on sugar we stopped in Ils de Mer and walk barefoot on the oceans low tide. We searched for the prettiest shell, wrote with sticks in the sand, and enjoyed the childhood essence that often exposes itself at the beach. In the evening we arrived in Honfleur and watched the setting sun on the villages’ port. I ate a pot of muscles fresh from the waters and after a long day I retired early to our hotel. This was the first time all trip that Kate and I separated and it felt unusual to walk the 20 minutes back by myself. In the morning we went to the farmers market and purchased Tomme cheese and the best apple juice I ever had. Usually I’m not even an apple juice fan, but now I find myself craving the clean crisp taste of the juice I had that day. Afterwards we grabbed a choquette, a munchkin size egg pastry with large sugar crystals on top. If I may note, my simple description does not give justice to its exceptional flavor. This airy little pocket of joy could easily be overlooked; it was its simplicity that really made it stand out as one of my favorite pastries of France.

As we made our way from village to village we stopped for lunch in Pont l’eveque and had our first galettes (buckwheat crepes). We shared two: one with Andouille sausage, an over-easy egg, and mixed vegetables. Another with ham and three local cheeses – pont l’eveque, camembert, and lavarot. As if the three cheeses weren’t enough it also had a cream sauce blanketing the top. The three cheeses melded in a way that allowed the rich intensity you may expect to be masked by an almost symbiotic relationship. It’s amazing how good the French are at using rich ingredients. You never just taste the cheese or the butter, you taste the dish. 

The days continued with more stops in a number of little towns. Camembert was one of the most enjoyable and it wasn’t just because we were able to sample three different Camembert’s (a raw milk, a pasteurized, and a thermalized).  They also had a great museum about the history and production of Camembert cheese that I found extremely interesting. Another favorite was the coastal town of Cancale. Of course their was a market but instead of vibrant fruits, breads, and cheeses they sold only oysters. Usually an expensive product in the United States we were able to buy a dozen for 6 euros and enjoy them on a raised wall with a number of other eaters. This was the street food of Concale. It was amazing to see little kids giving them a try and even more was that as everyone finished they would toss the shells over the walls ledge. Hundreds upon hundreds of shells sat there speckled with lemon wedges and crumbled napkins. It was such a casual setting that if I didn’t know any better I could have been in New York City against a high rise munching down a Nathans hotdog.  Rather I was in France acting the same way about oysters. You would never find a scene like that in the States and it was so special to take part in it.

       

          After the long filling days it was nice to return to our B&B in the countryside. The yard (equipped with a number of outdoor activities) overlooked fields of hay bales, cows, and a vast horizon. After a brief game of one-on-one soccer we walked along the road and watched the sun go down. We picked wild blackberries, snapped numerous pictures, and did whatever we could to take in as much of the beauty as possible. The next evening we met the other family staying at the B&B and played bocce ball with the kids before seeing Mt. Saint Michel lit up at night. To soon to be true the 6:00am alarm rang and we were piling our bags in to the car. We would be making a day journey to Germany in order to spend the next two weeks working on a vineyard. The cheeses of France would momentarily be put on hold as we embraced our next food culture. Timing could not have been better; I was having a little bit of cheese overload anyways!

Paris

     With lists of what to eat, where to eat, and even how to eat we arrived in Paris ready to, well, eat. The research was intensive and to be honest we were intimidated, there was almost too much to try. We concluded the only way to be successful was to eat pastries and chocolates for breakfast... it really was more out of necessity than desire. It would be tough but it was a job we were willing to take!
    The first morning started in the Tuileres Garden with a violet macaroon from the famous Pierre Hermes. It was my first bite of Paris and instantly welcomed my taste buds into a world of unique perfection. Its flavor is hard to pinpoint. I won't even attempt to describe it with the limited vocabulary I possess. Shocking as this may be (all of you know how much I like to talk) there are no words, only sighs of joy and angelic choirs of delight. When there sadly was no more we walked the main drag in order to visit the surrounding sites. The louvre, champs élysées, notre dame - check.   From there we stumbled upon the Jewish quarter where we discovered the city's best falafel and a gelato shop that gives Italy a run for its money.  After a long day of walking we returned to our hotel in the 13th district and ate a huge burrito-like crepe stuffed with cured ham, cheese, and all the works. Street food in Paris was quickly becoming one of my favorites!

  
The next morning we met up with my aunt and uncle who strangely enough happened to be in Paris as well. After a day of exploring Montmartre they were kind enough to take us to one of the most memorable dinners of my life. The pleasure of being with aunt Susan and uncle Darrell was enough to make the night great but to top it off was the mouthwatering food (and wine) that accompanied our conversations. Calamari with an over easy egg and parmesan started the meal with a bang as the yolk flowed over each strand of shining squid. Next came a wonderful moment, sweet breads. Perhaps a better definition would be cow glands which to my surprise were so tender and down right delicious that I seriously fell in love with food all over again. The meal ended with a smorgasbord of fruit and the freshest whipped cream I have ever had on a handmade sweet cracker. It was divine, each bite and every detail. I truly felt honored to taste such an expression of food.
     With each day more delicious than the next we opted for a change and did a 4 hour free walking tour that acquainted us with the city's history. For the first time since arriving I was finally starting to feel a real connection. I have been to Paris once before and felt slightly disconnected. I hoped now, older and possibly wiser, I would be able to instantly see what makes this city so special. Don't get me wrong, I was thoroughly enjoying myself and utterly googly-eyed over the amazing selection of food offered at every turn. Although I enjoyed the gorgeous architecture, great markets, and heavenly pastries I knew I was missing something.  Now, three days in, the magic of Paris was quickly unfolding. Now I was caught in a whirlwind of sugarplum fairies, golden rainbows, and chocolate rivers that all lead me to here, to beautiful Paris! The next two days were sensational but sadly our clarity came too close to leaving. Over a wonderful final meal of steak tartar and escargot it was determined that we MUST come back! We would return after Germany and spend our last ten days in a city that echoes so much of what we both believe about life and food. I still dont know why I missed it before. Maybe it was so blatantly in front of my face that I somehow looked past it. Maybe like friendship it took time to truly understand....whatever the reason, it was clear now and I was falling head over heals for the city of love.

Lyon and the French Alps

      After a lovely time in Aquitane we left with plenty of time to reach Lyon by noon. Driving was easy sailing due to Kates quick adjustment to a standard in Montepulciano. With less than an hour to go and open roads we never expected the  hours more of driving to come. With a faulty address, a big city, traffic, and language barriers our four hour journey horribly turned into eight.  It was an exhausting five hours on top of the three we drove just to get outside the city.  Kate was a true superhero, I for sure would have crashed with all the stress and tension flying about. I will spare you the details, the nerves, and the costs of the whole experience and just say that it was the lowest point in our trip.... Luckily that meant things could only get better!
     After a good nights sleep we felt ready to explore Lyon. Obviously first on the agenda was the market. The selection was indescribable. All the sellers allowed us to taste juicy pieces of fruit and slices of cheese as they did their best to describe their selection in broken English.  It was so great and after a number of cheese samplings we dug in to wheels of St. Marcelin and Brilliant Savarin. Let me just say, W-O-W. Talk about luscious milky goodness! With it's creamy flavor and almost whipped consistency Brilliant Savarin is undoubtably the chocolate mousse of cheese. And then there is St.  Marcelin which melts on the tongue like the first lick of ice cream on a hot day. Ah, just pure satisfaction. Along with a number of other scrumptious meals and snacks we explored the beautiful city and fell in love with it's views, parks, and the old quarter where we spent most of our time. Small apartments, unique shops, crepe stands, and a tandoori kebab shop worth bowing to where just some of what made the preserved quarter so special.

    After sadly saying goodbye we hopped the train for Grenoble and then  Aix les Bains, a town that reminded me more of a Floridian retirement community than a French town in the Alps. Although different than expected it quickly became a place to call home as we decided to extend to our two night stay in to four. The lively older community were a blast to watch and lunch in the park,  2:00 coffee,  and bread and pastries from a bustling bakeshop became part of our daily routine. In addition to hiking a beautiful trail that provided one of the best views of my entire life we also  relaxed, planned for Paris, and per usual attended the weekly market. ( I swear if i didn't know any better I would say Kate planned our entire  trip around farmers markets!) Like always it was wonderful and provided new taste and flavors like rotisserie sausage and  Tome de Bauge cheese.

    The morning of our departure we were fortunate enough to find a laundry mat and spent the day getting our clothes spick and span...obviously we needed to make a good impression on our next stop, Paris!