Excuse the tardiness of this (/last) week’s newsletter, I’ve been suffering from the most general of malaises and have found the idea of confronting the empty page in an effort to fill it with the free-flowing joy that you lovers of the good stuff have become accustomed to, simply overwhelming.
Curiosity and gentle remembrance lie at the heart of your love of food (and life) but this time the title, the inciting incident, the recollections of the younger man in Milan, make this your most Proustian piece – oil and garlic replacing a madeleine dipped in lime-flower tea. Proust however wrote in bed in a cork lined room, enriching world literature but deepening his malaise; you are out with your son, cooking and creating, helping not only your malaise but ours too.
Curiosity and gentle remembrance lie at the heart of your love of food (and life) but this time the title, the inciting incident, the recollections of the younger man in Milan, make this your most Proustian piece – oil and garlic replacing a madeleine dipped in lime-flower tea. Proust however wrote in bed in a cork lined room, enriching world literature but deepening his malaise; you are out with your son, cooking and creating, helping not only your malaise but ours too.