Look at these photographs of fruits confits, and drool your heart out:
You can blame the drool on Laura Florand. She and I are living strangely parallel lives I found out: She is American married to a French man. I am French and married to an American. She’s an expatriate who now lives in Paris. I am an expatriate now living in L.A. She’s afflicted with an uncontrollable chocolate issue. I suffer from an uncontrollable chocolate issue that borders on pathological. Her hair seems the kind that requires massive amounts of antifrizz. My hair’s does the Afro thing on a good day. She’s a blogger, I’m a blogger.
She also wrote a novel I just read, (her story) about an American woman who falls in love in Paris. I too wrote a novel about a (fictional) American woman who falls in love in Paris. One obvious difference between Laura Florand and myself is that one can actually go to a store and buy her book, Blame it on Paris, whereas my book is in a drawer waiting for an agent to find it there.
Florent is funny. She has a wonderfully self-deprecating sense of humor and a genuine talent to make you fall in love with her characters. The way she mightily resists all throughout the book the wonderful things that offer themselves to her on a silver platter—including true love and the kind of in laws that are the stuff of legend —felt very familiar to me. I recommend Blame it on Paris book whole-heartedly. Read it and you’ll laugh, really laugh. It's a promise!
But today her book is not what it’s all about. The photographs she posted on her blog killed me... okay! Laura, how could you be so cruel? Us French expats stuck in L.A actually experience pain when we have to look at this:
To find out where those photographs of pate d'amande et fruits confits were taken, (hint: a market like no other located in the South of France.) go to Laura's Blog. You might want to bring a bucket.. for the overflowing saliva.