They say that you need to be deprived of your most basic essentials before you can appreciate what’s important in life so it’s no coincidence that my urge to write was brought upon by tonight’s fiending for tacos after returning from the closest thing to a dive bar in Geneva.

I’m not writing about dives and/or tacos, although my unsatisfied cravings for tacos was so bad that only minutes ago I was desperately googling “carne asada” so I could stare and salivate at the pictures.

Pathetic. But it at least brought my attentions back to this blog.

The last couple months have been a blur but there have been SO many interesting food moments. There’s the one about the cheese factory in the Auvergne, the bazillion different savory tarts I made in the French countryside and the biodynamic farm I worked on that relied on two donkeys instead of a tractor to plant tomatoes. There’s also the time I dumbly discovered that chard can be cooked in miraculous methods other than a boring boil-then-add-soy-sauce way.

Before I can even talk about those, however, I have to go back to when I recently arrived in Geneva in the fall. We were at Fanny’s house for a hot tub/tartiflette night in the Savoie region; hot tubbing only significant because everyone else was too busy enjoying the tub, leaving me to cook the tartiflette with the guidance of our hostess. Hot tubbing could be slightly more interesting to write about, but probably only when people are naked and drunk, but since that wasn’t the case on either front, tartiflette it is! As you can see from this picture though, tartiflette can be pretty titillating stuff:

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