Gnocchi with Pesto

I've been to Paris. I've cradled a warm crêpe in my hands walking happily down cobblestone streets, I've wandered through Monet's garden, visited the Louvre, and explored the French flea markets. It's been six years since, and now it seems more like a wonderful dream than an experience.

In Paris, we stayed in a small, quaint hotel in the heart of the city. It had just a few rooms and an antique elevator that lead up to the second floor. The hotel was right above a café, and in the morning as the sun seeped through the window, we woke to the sweet smell of warm croissants and baking breads. If we got up first, my dad and I would ride down the creaky elevator following the entrancing smell of pastries. I would get a pain au chocolat and a bowl of hot chocolate while my dad got his morning coffee and a newspaper. We sat sipping our coffee and hot chocolate, soaking up the scene, and listening to conversation as we waited for my mom and sister to join us.

We spent the days walking along the cobblestone streets, and along the Seine, exploring the city, and visiting the beautiful sites of France. For lunch we stopped at bistros or restaurants where I would always get "une limonade, merci", and we dined over delicious french dishes.

We visited so many wonderful places in France; the Eiffel Tower, the châteaux, Notre Dame, the house of Leonardo da Vinci, and Monet's beautiful garden.

Equally incredible, was the food. There are so many restaurants, cafés, bakeries, cheese stores, wine shops, and so much fantastic food. Soup, fish, and pastas were always delicious at the restaurants, but a fresh baguette and cheese from the grocery store made just as perfect a dinner. 

I had my first creamy bite of éclair in France, at a pâtisserie down the block from our hotel. And I tried gelato for the first time walking back from dinner one night, when we passed a small gelateria with rows of rich gelato gleaming through the glass. Their chocolate flavor was to die for...

Soft Pretzels

Spring has just come around the bend; the afternoons are getting warm and the sun stays up well past six. In our backyard small green seedlings, that will soon sprout into fiddle heads, are peeping out between grass and dead leaves, and beds of little blue flowers have bloomed by the back fence. On our front lawn the grass is just beginning to return to its beautiful shade of green; it's hard to believe only a few weeks ago it was buried under a foot of snow. 

When this time of year comes, I feel like I'm walking on air; I pull my favorite sandals out from their hiding spot under sneakers and winter boots, and wear the cute pair of shorts that have rested in my drawer through the winter. As it becomes sunny and warm, I enjoy the walk down to my bus stop, noticing the blooming flowers in neighbors' yards and smiling to early morning commuters. Playing ball with my dogs, I can toss the tennis ball until they get tired without cold fingers forcing me inside. When the nights become warm, I lay out in the yard with the dogs, looking up at the the moon, and the stars, and the depth of the night sky.

After the long, cold months of winter, there is no better fix than a warm spring day.

But, with all the beautiful things that spring brings, it has it's lows too.  The sunny days can turn into a cold wet afternoon, warm fronts bring morning thunderstorms, and waiting at the bus stop becomes uncomfortable with a sudden downpour of rain. 

Going out for a dog walk with my cousin, D-, the other day, I slipped on my sandals and a fleece, without a thought, before heading out. The sun was up and there was a cool lake breeze, but not so much that we were cold. Then a few rain drops fell as we headed back home, which soon gave way to a heavy downpour. 

The sky had turned gray and our hands pink, from cold. The winter boots I didn't even consider slipping on, with their covered toe and warm sheepskin lining, were suddenly all I could think of. To keep my toes warm D- gave me her socks - going barefoot in her sneakers - and, pulling them on, I stuffed my feet back into the sandals. We made our way back home half-running, numb from the cold and the rain... such are the wonders of spring!

It's on spring days like these that I long for summer. 

Oh, summer... just the word reminds me of biting into ripe, colorful fruits, laughing as the juices drip down my chin; of sitting around a crackling campfire and frantically blowing out a flaming marshmallow that had dipped into the flames, and of running freely through grassy fields (thought it's not something I do regularly). I think fondly to eating dinner on the beach, going to the ballpark and to the fair, taking late night walks, and spending time doing nothing at all.

To me, a soft pretzel tastes like summer. It smells like a baseball game, and reminds me of the last days in August, walking around the grounds at the county fair.

Living in a small city with vendors who only set up during the warm months, I don't eat à la cart often. But, striding through the fair ground in late August a pretzel stand will sometimes catch my eye, so I'll buy one before heading to the next ride; when we have visited New York City, a vendor with warm pretzels was hard to pass up; and at baseball games a soft pretzel has always seems to be the perfect snack. I don't come across soft pretzels often, so in the summer when I do, they are hard to resist!