All posts filed under: French

French Gibbons, The Number 5, and some peas

  April marks the start of our fifth year at the reins of the madly careening ride that is Plate Fodder. I feel like my somewhat inebriated Uncle Posey heading to town hitched to his blind mule… “I may have connected the wagon correctly”, “He may or may not know the way to town even if I pass out”, “I might not even care if we get lost”. Like my colorful uncle – it’s never about the destination – it’s the journey that’s the gas. and… it has been. You know, I have fellow writer friends that say “I’m taking a break…I can’t seem to find my voice…or my angle… or point of view for my site”. And, I get that. It’s tough to stay within the lines of a prescribed notion of what we want our online persona to be. Maybe that’s why I have three unfinished novels still sitting in boxes and scribbled on moldy index cards (yes, it’s been that long) – I can’t stay focused on a story line. But some time ago I knew …

Rat Tat Tooie!

Normally, if someone says “Vegetable Stew”, my color palls, I get the shakes..and immediately lose my appetite. It’s not that I have some odd aversion to vegetables, far from it, it’s just the particular dish that is resident deep in my psyche that causes me ill. And I have Mama Fodder to thank for that. Four hungry kids, a tight food budget and a serious deficit in the meat purchasing department that week, prompted mom to chop up a HEAP of non complimentary vegetables, toss them in a pot, add some stock, cook it up and call it dinner. She meant well… And we all know about a particular road to hell… This one was paved with inedible vegetable stew. Bless her heart, we never let her live it down. It became the benchmark by which all her meals were judged. “Is it good? well… at least it’s better than the vegetable stew…” But I digress…. Back to the stew… I probably should admit at this point that I AM the target audience for subliminal …

Going Continental

Back when I was in high school – the cool kids took Spanish and the nerdy, aloof, artsy types took French. I took French. Not because I was the nerdy type (although I was), but it was due to in part of the annual foreign language dinner. You see, the Spanish kids got to eat at El Chico’s. And as I had eaten there a thousand times, it was no great event. However,the French class got to go to Emile’s on Lucky Street in Atlanta, and have Coq au Vin. Let’s look at that statement… Emile’s – Widely acclaimed French restaurant that gained a huge following in the late 50’s and 60’s for their classic traditional Parisian fare. Lucky Street – Once the hub of downtown activity and the home of many fine mainstays of Atlanta dining – Emile’s, Herrin’s Steakhouse, The Diplomat, and the Ambassador. Unfortunately, by the time I had made my way there, the once proud dining district had been reduced to dimly lit streets, strip clubs and the failing Playboy Club …