A is for Absence
Makes the heart grow fonder
I took an intentional break from writing my newsletter in June of last year, as I was feeling out of love with this platform and I vowed to find an alternative. This small break turned into a few months and then it was time for my winter hibernation, and so now, on this Twelfth of March, one week before Spring officially graces us with her presence, I have decided to come back, asking for an absolution for my absence. My disenchantment with Substack is multi-layered and ongoing and is linked to my constant desire to spend less time on the internet, specifically social media. I felt and still feel that Substack is becoming less writing-focussed and more of a click-baity paywall prison. (Please don’t block me for writing this dear Substack law-enforcement) But alas, in an effort to practice my writing solely for my personal enjoyment and exercise, I am dipping my toe back into the Stacks.
Since I last wrote, I have left my countryside cocoon and come back to work full time in Paris, as Sous-Chef at Le Cadoret in the 19e arrondissement, a decision that didn’t come lightly but that was definitely the right call. I realised that I probably only have a few years left of city life before the birdcall of the countryside eventually lures me back. With this return to the concrete, I decided that I must “make the most” of being in Paris whilst I still reside, a cliché of the highest degree but one that I am trying to adhere to. This comes in the form of eating out at restaurants (as if I wasn’t already), hosting friends and strangers in my flat in the form of Supper Clubs, and profiting from work opportunities that arise and only could arise in the city.
I started my Supper Club in November in celebration of the end of Autumn and hosted the Winter edition in February. In my next newsletter I’ll talk in detail about my little club and explain how it works, but I LOVE IT as it reminds me how much joy I gain from having people round for tea. Just this morning, I found out that three girls who both attended my first event now regularly have dinner together, having met that night and become pals and that warmed my heart so intensely.
Another small project I’ve started recently is gardening in order to keep my small connection with the mud and flowers that I had whilst spending time in Normandy. There is a garden a stone’s throw away from my flat that I had passed by many times on my way to eat a poulet frites at Bar Fleuri. I had always assumed that it was a private garden for residents of the building in front, but one day I stuck my head in a bit further and saw a notice with an email address on and I decided to contact the presidente du jardin to find out if they would allow me to come and get my hands dirty with them. Fast forward a couple of months and I now have a key to a little paradise and some seedlings growing in the greenhouse.
My job at the restaurant is really fun at the moment and my commute to work is a 35 second walk, so there are no complaints in that aspect, however I am always posing the question of will I work in a kitchen when I am 40 50 60 years old, and if not, then where why who how what else? I want to have my fingers in all of the pies simultaneously, spinning of all the metaphorical and physical plates. Can I do it all or more importantly should I want to? I’ve therefore taken on another (oops) job alongside Le Cado, as a private chef one night a week. The offer came about as a sign of kismet and the stars aligned for me to go and work for this star (can’t say who because NDA oops) and it is such a pleasure. Cooking for a family in their home is such an intimate act and demands a certain empathy but I’ve been welcomed in and am really enjoying opening up my mountain of cookbooks to make something creative and new each week.
I spent a few days in England last weekend with my love, visiting my Mum in the countryside and an unexpected night in London due to a cancelled Eurostar. Winter is hard in the UK, probably more so than it is here, so when the warmth of the sun and the tendrils of Spring start to gently caress the ground, you can feel the exponential gratitude in the air. Seasons also feel more pronounced in the countryside, of course, as you can see the changing colours of trees and hear the bleating of the lambs in March. We visited some newborn lamblings and I even got to help one ewe birth her babe, if that was not a sign for the new life new season new start of Spring, I don’t know what is.
My impatience, my best and worse trait, lays pretty dormant during the winter, and as the world wakes up so does my fervent desire to be doing all things, everything, everywhere, all at once. Perhaps, it is the Year of the Horse, but I feel that there’s a momentum springing me forward at the moment, so I am happy to be back tapping away at the plastic letters sending my virtual penpal postcards to you all. So merci beaucoup for reading and as always please share with hungry friends!
Shopping list for you
Gardening podcast is now my jam
A return of Mumford can only do good
The Pass subscrip to be able to read my work
My always and forever favourite email to receive for daydreaming
A new Substacker who also makes me dream of the country life