Gone Fishin'

I haven't seen my aunt Gretchen in about three years. She's my grandmother Martha's youngest daughter.

She and her husband have a house in the 'South of France'. Well, excuse me! We've never been to the Cannes Film Festival, walked through the flower fields of Grasse, or sunned on the beaches of St. Tropez, so when Gretchen offered to put the whole lot of us up for a week (she must be insane), we accepted before she had a chance to take the invite back.

It's about 5:30 am, the Mr. is loading up the minivan, I will pack up the cooler full of PB&Js and juice boxes, wake up the kids and stick them in the car in their pajamas and we'll be off. See? It's no different than driving to your aunt's house in Indiana, except that we are going to the 'South of France'--'Well, excuse me!'

I have no idea what to expect-- I like to keep things that way, no assumptions, just soak it all in as it comes. The only aspect of the trip I know that I can count on, is the food. This is because A) It's the South of France; Sandwiched between the Mediterranean and sun-drenched fields...it's all going to taste good. B) Aunt Gretchen is a fabulous cook. She took this trait from Martha and ran with it.

I shall return with memories of quaint village markets, superlative fish dishes and gorgeous crimson wines dancing in my head. Hopefully a couple of new recipes to share, too. Until then Martha's Kitchen will remain static, for about a week.

Au revoir, mes amis!