i am almost halfway through julia child's book, my life in france, and if you've been around these parts for any time at all, you must know that contant reading about paris is basically making me homesick for my favorite city.

what it isn't doing is making me particularly hungry. i don't understand, given my intense love and devotion to all things france et francais, why i cannot get excited about the cooking. duck, goose, lark, aspic, rabbit...while enjoyable to read about the preparation of these things, the prospect of actually eating them is far from enjoyable to me.

oh well, it's not like i have any problem finding something to eat when i'm actually there, even if larks are not an option!


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