Exactly four years ago, my husband and I were in the south of France on vacation. While there, I kept track of every meal we ate, scribbling notes on the back of a postcard from a hotel we’d stayed at in Graveson-en-Provence. Why did I do this? At the time, I was so giddy that I wanted to memorialize every delicious morsel. Now, as I sit here in Sacramento, it seems a little silly. Call it Foodie Derangement Syndrome.
Today I rummaged through the drawer where I keep my important papers and found that postcard tucked inside my passport. According to my notes, on our first night in Provence we had a four-course dinner in Graveson, starting with a croustillade of white fish with aioli, followed by duck with sauce (what kind? I didn’t write it down), soufflé des fraises et glaces, and a plate of cheeses. As the week wore on, I ate and ate: cote d’agneau grillé, steak frites, salade des tomates, baked red mullet with eggplant flan, entrecote de boeuf with pommes des terres a la braise, lotte with pasta and cream sauce, spaghetti bolognaise—all washed down with many, many carafes of vin blanc.
Reading that postcard today brought me right back to Provence. I can remember every meal with my husband and the other couple we were traveling with—and the good feelings that went along with them. I’m glad I suffer from Foodie Derangement Syndrome.
What about you? Do you take notes or save menus from your travels? Let us know.