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Fall at the Market in Paris

Abruptly, it’s fall. The weather turned brisk this week, and I’m starting to wonder which box my scarves and gloves are in? When I lived in San Francisco, where the weather is notoriously fickle, the joke was that the only way to tell what season it is, is to hit the market. True, not everybody is concerned with seasonality. I was recently asked during a…

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Pickled Radishes

It always curious to me when I see French breakfast radishes in the states. I know that’s the name for them, according to seed packets and so forth. But I’ve never seen anyone in France eat radishes for breakfast. Yes, the French do eat a lot of radishes. (In fact, they were one of the first things I wrote about on the site after I arrived in…

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