You might think it was these gorgeous, glowing yellow limes…
…which I’m not sure what I’m going to do with, but their sweet-tangy juice might make a refreshing summertime sorbet.
Or a batch of frosty Mojito Granita?
It wouldn’t be a stretch to think it was coming home with a just-roasted poulet crapaudine, a chicken rubbed with herbs, spices, and a generous amount for salt, which seasons the crackly skin. I’m always wary about buying a whole one, since I’m certain I’d eat it all by myself—in one sitting.
(Not that I’ve ever done that. But I’ve heard about people that do.)
I was thrilled to find these glowing little Campari tomatoes…
Whenever the producteur has them, during the height of summer, I nab as many as I can. Over the next few days, I’ll be eating them simply dressed, with lots of shallots and fresh chives.
And speaking of fresh herbs…
I’m still on my basil-bender, and when the bunches of basil are so fragrant you can smell them a few meters away, it takes all the restraint one can muster just to bring home one beautiful, leafy bunch.
And you might think it was these finger-length cucumbers…
…which I am fairly sure are destined for another batch of homemade kosher dill pickles…if I don’t eat them all first!
So what was it in my crowded market basket that so excited me?
At 20 centimes a bottle (…er…carafe?), at the risk of completely embarrassing myself, a wave of nostalgia hit me. And as I plucked one from the box at the wine merchant, and handed him a few coins, I wondered what would possess someone to import American rosé into France.
(And one that’s not exactly our best effort, either.)
I can’t decide whether to open it, or if I’ll just keep it for the memories. Sure the little carafe might come in handy, like mine did during college, doing double-duty as a holder for a wilted branch of ivy, one I had hopes of planting in actual soil but never got around to, or for decanting wine from a much (much) larger jug, one from an equally prestigious vineyard.
But if, and when, I do, I’m confident it’ll be exactly as I remember. The cap assures me, “We will sell no wine before its time”, which probably confounded too many Parisians, and may explain the sub-priced surplus.
But I kinda doubt it.