I knew that food would be delicious in Provence, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how much more incredible it would all be. The cheeses, fruits, milk, butter, wine — it was all like a slightly electrified, more saturated version of itself. Dorade stuffed with wild fennel. Strawberries macerated with fresh mint. French cheeses. French wine. Tomatoes stuffed with parsley and garlic.
Of course, these things taste magnificent here at home, too, but it does feel like some of that local magic gets lost along the way, dissippates just slightly during the long flight over the ocean. That’s a big part of why I love traveling so much — it’s a intimate opportunity to experience food in its proper home, in its unique context and climate, surrounded by the swirling, dry coastal winds and the heady sweeps of rosemary.