Soul Food: Is something so subtle you do not know you have tasted it until far after the first bite.
My friend Ruth invited eighteen people over for lunch in Lacoste: Three of them babies, one sculptor, one chef from the neighboring town of Bonnieux, three women who gave up their careers to stay at home with their babies, one illustrator, one gallery owner, a couple from the USA who came to visit their five week old grandson, one ex deep-sea fisher man, a woman who is going to go work and live in Singapore, one photographer, an international trader, French Husband and myself.
The conversation flowed, the babies passed around and cuddled, the Irish food devoured with praises, a truffle from the next door neighbor's garden served with black olive tapenade, interesting lives shared in a down to earth style. If it wasn't heaven it should have been. I sat by the sculptor (Gabriel) and the illustrator (Daniel) and had I known of their work before-hand, I would have been star struck.
Luckily, I was unaware of their accomplishments. Their modest replies did not cause me to jump out of my skin, and hid under the table. I am amazed how humble great artists and minds can be. It is a sign of up-most brilliance isn't it?
Genuine artists, not an ounce of superficiality, a most welcoming afternoon.
Louis along with two other little ones entertained us. If anything French Husband is a child magnate, he is! I have never met a child who did not like him. Children adore him. I have watched him closely to see if I can detect his secret, or how it casts his magical spell on them. Though without luck the only spell I see is his general interest and attention given.
Ruth's French friend, Veronique, brought a homemade chocolate mousse. How she found the time to make a chocolate mousse will nursing a newborn is beyond me. I kept looking at her slim figure, her energetic spirit and smile and thought some women got a hold on motherhood better than others. She is one of them.
I asked her for her chocolate mousse recipe and she said, she uses egg whites, the yolks (separately), 95 percent dark chocolate and no sugar.
The purest form both in motherhood and mousse making.
Again I was awestruck.
After lunch we drove home. Evening had fallen over Lacoste, I wasn't disappointed not to have taken a single photo of the village. Instead I felt inspired, renewed and blessed with new accquaintances. Photos flashed in my mind.