Every once in a while, I yearn for a little bit of Paris: walking down the cobblestone streets, wisps of l’amour and spring in the air, watching Parisians read Le Monde and write in notebooks as they sip coffee or espresso on the sidewalks of cafes. And while Kansas has its moments of romance, there’s no Eiffel Tower.
Nothing triggers those European memories like spreading some goat cheese on a fluffy piece of French bread (if I had a baguette on hand, it would have been beyond delightful). The crispy, crumbly crust juxtaposed with the soft, tangy spread makes me feel like I could close my eyes, for just a moment, and magically arrive on the Love Lock bridge on a warm, sunny day as the breeze flows as gently as the Seine.
Chevre, je t’aime,