December 4, 2012 Leave a comment
One week ago, I found myself tramping through the dim morning half-light to pick up my family from the airport. My body couldn’t figure out if it wanted to sleep or wake-up: my eyes were half shut with fatigue while my legs churned beneath me, powering me down the road to the train station all the way to the airport where I found myself standing and waiting with my 20 pound backpack for my family to come out of customs. Fortunately, I had bought five pain au chocolate the morning before for the incoming stampede of Walkers. My rational: they needed to start off their trip correctly. And so armed with croissants from a Meilleur Ouvrier de France, or the French equivalent of an Oscar for culinaires, I stood there in the Charles de Gaulle airport ready to welcome them to the Good Life of Eating in Paris.