Yes, we are still doing mint.

Because that amazing combination of flavors we had yesterday from Just Call Me Marta sparked something in my ancestral memory. Something from very long ago. Back when I was a snooty Francophile. Watch what you are thinking I said WAS!

There was a time when I sought out only the Frenchiest of taste sensations. Anything that would transport me back to my imaginary childhood in the south of France. Those lazy golden (and entirely made up) days when I sat under the chestnut tree... la boîte in hand with mes amis!

Those imaginary afternoons were always centered on food. These were the glittering days of spring when ma mère would be dancing about her wood burning stove concocting some petit amuse bouche for me to enjoy.  Something light and seasonal.

Inevitably during these pretend days of May we would have an overabundance of cherries freshly picked by Gaston (another character who only existed inside my head).

Ahhh, youth.