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“So, Slade, the swearing, the poor english and everything else is just a facade. You're really quite a deep and intelligent man, aren't you?”
Dianne Harman Coyote in Provence“She was learning that being with Slade was like riding a roller coaster. Good news one minute and bad news the next. She could only imagine what this restaurant must be like.”
Dianne Harman Coyote in Provence“Don't wanna ever take your shoes off in coconut land. Never know when you're gonna have to run.”
Dianne Harman, Coyote in Provence“Your Majesty may rest assured about my conduct towards the Comtesse de Provence; I will certainly try and gain her friendship and confidence, without going too far.”
Marie Antoinette“And, as for the oil, it is a masterpiece. You’ll see.”Before dinner that night, we tested it, dripping it onto slices of bread that had been rubbed with the flesh of tomatoes. It was like eating sunshine.”
Peter Mayle, A Year in Provence“We might treat a rabbit as a pet or become emotionally attached to a goose, but we had come from cities and supermarkets, where flesh was hygienically distanced from any resemblance to living creatures. A shrink-wrapped pork chop has a sanitized, abstract appearance that has nothing whatever to do with the warm, mucky bulk of a pig. Out here in the country there was no avoiding the direct link between death and dinner.”
Peter Mayle, A Year in Provence“It is at a time like this, when crisis threatens the stomach, that the French display the most sympathetic side of their nature. Tell them stories of physical injury or financial ruin and they will either laugh or commiserate politely. But tell them you are facing gastronomic hardship, and they will move heaven and earth and even restaurant tables to help you.”
Peter Mayle, A Year in Provence“You found us, and then lied to us so you could get a job?”
Dianne Harman Coyote in Provence“We had a crisp, oily salad and slices of pink country sausages, an aioli of snails and cod and hard-boiled eggs with garlic mayonnaise, creamy cheese from Fontvielle, and a homemade tart. It was the kind of meal that the French take for granted and tourists remember for years.”
Peter Mayle, A Year in Provence