in the beautiful Marais district . I find her in the kitchen sitting at the counter on her own , in her night clothes . Pajamas were non-existent in her world . Elegance was an art that she cultivated at any time of day or night . As I get closer , I discover the perfect napperon ( gorgeous placemat made of the finest lace ), and her caviar tasting dishware , actually made of rare silver … the type of stuff you use for very important guests , but my mom used it for herself . Right by the silverware , on the top right corner of her setting , is a bottle of Żubrówka vodka ( her favorite ) — perfectly chilled with the distinctive tiny vodka tasting glass , sitting on a bed of crushed ice — and , of course , a generous portion of caviar , her silver spoon and the right amount of rye bread toasts with Normandy sour cream . There she is having the perfect caviar experience , on her own . I greet her , “ Hey hi , how are you ?” With a light smile on her face she replies , “ Very good , how about you ?” Confused , I ask “ Are you OK ? What are you doing like this on your own ?” She looked at me with a mothers ’ love but as if I had asked the most
irrelevant and stupid question anyone had ever asked and answered , “ I ’ m enjoying life .”
There is literally nothing I could ever add to emphasize the significance and relevance of those words .
Lesson # 2 : Food is pleasure . Unapologetic and undeniable bliss .
The next one is not directly related to food . I am 10 and my brother David is 16 . It is a Friday night and
26 ART CHOWDER MAGAZINE