Glug, glug …

Well, this recent WordPress Daily Post certainly got me thinking:  “Captain Picard was into Earl Grey Tea: mention the Dude and we think:  White Russians.  drinksWhat’s your signature beverage — and how did it achieve that status?”

Fact is, I don’t have a signature beverage.  Never did.  I’m an equal opportunity drinker.

Although having said that, if I was going to have a signature drink it would be Lillet.

It’s a French aperitif and it’s delicious — at least I think so.  It’s wonderful on the rocks, with a twist of lemon.  I was introduced to it back in Montreal, at a French restaurant (Chez Georges) I used to frequent.  It’s Continue reading

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Day 2. Peachy Keen


Mmmmm … peaches.  I love them.

I love how they look, how they feel, how they taste; and, I love their scent.  Peaches are voluptuous.  They’re sensuous.  They’re succulent.  They’re  fragrant. They remind me of the film, Tom Jones, which probably had one of the sexiest scenes of two people eating in movie history.  And for me, they are also the essence of Summer.

Enjoying a peach involves so many senses — olfactory, visual, tactile and taste.   Right off the top they are lovely to look at — round, with gentle curves, in shades ranging from cream to coral to red, from yellow to almost orange.  Their perfume is irresistible — at least to me; and I often wonder what the response might be if we (women) dabbed some peach nectar behind our ears before going out, instead of our regular eau de toilette.  And then there’s the feel of them, experiencing the different textures — biting through the delicate, protective layer of fuzzy outer skin before you can get to the soft, silky, moist and toothsome flesh inside.

When it comes to peaches I’m a purist:

No cobblers, pies or ice cream for me.  Oh no, I prefer my peaches in their natural state, so I can enjoy them at their very best.  Halved, very lightly grilled and topped with a dollop of plain, Greek yoghurt.  Sliced and placed on top of my cereal.  Or, like I often do — hunched over the sink, whole fruit in hand, ready to savour every bite.  Juices running down my chin and over my fingers, leaving me somewhat sticky, but so satisfied. Licking my fingers when no one’s watching.

I do have one exception, though.  I am fond of Bellini’s (peach nectar and Asti Spumonte).  But   Continue reading