For those of you who I have not told, and I know you are few, I should probably say a few words about the posts that you will see everyday for the next month. I have the very, very good fortune of spending a month in France, eating, drink, and helping with the harvest in the Rhone.

Should I be pressed to select a single region from which to drink wine for the remainder of my life, I would with resounding joy choose the Rhone, with the hopes that I would be allowed a few sips of White Burgundy from time to time. The wine from the region, like the weather, the people, and the food is, in a single word, inviting. There is a warmth and comfort even in the breeze that I feel now at the end of this beautiful late summer day that brought me out from the comfort of my flat to the steps of the Palace of the Popes to watch the sunset while writing this post to all of you. It is an invitation to be outside, to enjoy the air, which smells like A combination of warm yeast and lavender and sage. It is an invitation that I can never decline. I liken it to the late day sunlight that I experienced in Norway earlier this summer, which does not allow you to go to sleep...I cannot possibly stay in tonight and practice French, I must go to the local wine bar and enjoy something of the local fare.

So, off I go to find that spot, about which I will write later. I know the posts will be frequent, so I apologize in advance for that, but this is a month of work, too, writing and sharing the experience of this magical place. I welcome your responses, and want to hear about what makes you eat, drink, and think, so please comment often.

salut!

I arrived in Avignon after an hour and a half drive, a nearly seven hour flight, and a three hour train ride. Needless to say, I was a bit tired, so speaking French was a challenge. Truth be told, I was having trouble with English.

I managed to get a salad with "chevre chaud," which is a warmed disc of fresh goat cheese usually served in baguette, but this one was goat cheese alone. At first, I was disappointed, but then my server brought the bread--crusty on the outside, lofty and chewy in the center. My only challenging was with butter. I could not even think of how to string together that question in French ( my french is terrible, but I know how to ask for butter!!) and there was no way I was going to ask in English ( I have my pride). Well, we all know what pride means....a dry roll.

My good luck, dry bread in France is still delicious, and the rose helps, too!