Spending a lot of time moving around also means spending a lot of time being homesick. My Baudelaire quote–the one I was obsessed with for years–says “I think I could always be…
Author: emiglia
Salade Composée
I’ve developed traditions slowly, quietly, without even thinking about them. It takes an external person, someone who wasn’t there along the way with me, to comment on something that, to me, is…
Seafood Saganaki
When my mother says, “She’s cute,” it’s a compliment, but it doesn’t necessarily mean what you think it means. Generally, “She’s cute,” when uttered by my mother, doesn’t mean that the person…
Mustard Pork Roast with Apples
It’s difficult to explain to people who don’t live in Paris how easy it is to forget that I’m here. I’m not saying this to rub it in your faces, honestly. Sometimes…
A Time for Pagnol
There’s a time of year–that first little itch of spring, the first morning that you can walk out your front door without shivering, the first afternoon where you can shrug your jacket…
Blood Orange Olive Oil Cake
It’s been awhile since I wrote anything literary on here, though it’s not for lack of reading. To say I’ve been reading a lot would be a gross understatement, though it’s not…
Blueberry Pancakes
In France, they serve crêpes on Mardi Gras, but the Country Boy is more than willing to accept new traditions, especially when they come in the form of blueberry pancakes. I went…
Potato-Leek Soup
Living amongst the French for so long has changed my opinions… and not necessarily in the ways that one might think. France, for example, is famous–especially in my capitalist country of origin–as…
My Grown-Up House
Several weeks ago, I promised you pictures of my new house, and then I promptly disappeared. I’m sorry. I could blame school starting up again and days that start at 7am and…
Tuna with Spring Onion
Spring has this way of creeping up on you in Paris… and, for that matter, in New York. Spring of my youth in Manhattan was less of a season and more of…