|The French Alps|
Some times I go into the forest and pick some wild mushrooms. I ask the local pharmacist if I can eat them. She tells me which ones are poisonous and which ones are edible.
I was in Paris 18 years ago and didn't enjoy myself at all. People were mean and nasty, and it was raining almost all the time. This time, I have to admit, I'm in love with France.
Incidentally, I took that quail and removed the bones. I stewed the bones into a red wine gravy. I turned the flesh into a quail steak. I cooked some fresh pasta, which I tossed with salt and butter. I stir fried freshly diced squash, carrots, and red shallots. When they fried in butter - it smelled so heavenly. I seared that quail steak and added it to the fresh noodles and vegetables with my gravy. And my goodness! One of the best meals I've ever had! I love France!
I drank the ruby wine the lady at the market recommended. I saved some of that raspberry tart for dinner. And I drank some coffee to finish it.
I think I've died and gone to Heaven. Oh, do I really have to come back home? (That time is coming, realistically. And summer won't be here all year around, anyways.)