This coming week is an important one for me. February 7th. The day when my cookbook is officially released.

Finally!

I couldn’t be happier.

My cookbook, entitled La Tartine Gourmande: Recipes for an Inspired Life, will be sold in numerous bookstores all across the country, like Barnes and Noble or Indigo bookstores in Canada, on Amazon of course, and in a lot of other gift and pretty boutique stores (hello Anthropologie, I am so pleased you are welcoming my book!)

And for a preview, visit this link.

In any case, for all of you who already have a copy, or will receive one soon, many many thanks for your support. You make a difference.

I know well that my book took its time to come out. After all, I announced it already in January 2009! But it was worth the wait as I am really happy with the way it came out.

It is ready. Cuit à point.

One of my challenges was to accept the fact that not every single one of my recipes would go inside the book (I know, Sara, this book would be so long…); It was also to refrain from wanting to redo every picture; and accept the fact that I would not have all the pictures that I wanted inside either.

We made choices.

I think they are good ones.

On Wednesday February 8th, I will have a book signing at a lovely boutique called Pod, in Brookline village, from 5 to 7 PM. There will be treats. If you live close to where I am, I hope to see you there.

This weekend, I wanted to prepare something fun for Lulu. She’s been sick with a cold. She’s rarely sick. But she’s been a real trooper. And so despite her fever and runny nose, she wanted to spend time in the kitchen with me.

“Je veux cuisiner avec toi maman,” (I want to cook with you mummy) she said when she watched me peel the small beets I had kept from one of our late farmer’s markets. I had meant to keep them as long as I could. I had fallen in love with the colors.

Amongst others, Lulu likes crunchy foods. I am not blaming her. I do too. I knew that a bowl of finely sliced beet chips would make her happy.

All of us, as a matter of fact.

So we cooked together. And we prepared beet chips. I can still see her eyes lighting with excitement when she noticed tiny bubbles form around the slices of beets inside the boiling oil.

“Regarde toutes ces couleurs maman !” (Look at all of these colors mummy) she added. She was right to notice. They looked really pretty!

“Tu veux ajouter le sel,” (Do you want to add the salt?) I asked.

I knew she would.

Simple things to cheer my Lulu up.

And help her feel better.

I forgot to tell you on thing.

Back in early December, I wrote a cauliflower recipe for the Boston Globe. I had found beautifully colored varieties of cauliflower at the market and I fell in love. I bought more than I needed, but I yet knew I would find home to these jewels. They are irresistible, even when you don’t care much for cauliflower.

Because I am French, the idea of a gratin came naturally to me. So I prepared a cauliflower gratin. A light one. One where the vegetables are topped with a mixture of fresh herbs, ground nuts, crème fraiche (of course!), grated cheese and garlic. One that lets the vegetable breathe and lead the dance.

I simply love this recipe. I hope you do too. The recipe was published on December 28, and I simply missed to let you know….

“I am completely mesmerized by the color of the grass,” I tell Dan who is sitting next to me in his red Chevrolet pickup. The road is fairly bumpy and dusty but I don’t pay any attention to it. My eyes are glued to the scenery that slowly unveils as we approach the ranch where he and his wife Jill live.

The closest connection to any country store is an hour away. “And this is the last place to get gas,” Dan adds while pointing at a small shabby-looking gas station along the endless interstate highway that connects us to Rapid City. I cannot help but smile. Even if I still have no idea of what is waiting for me ahead, I already know I am going to really like it.

“It’s my first time in South Dakota.”

“Good,” he says with a friendly smile.

I like the way he speaks. The pace of his words sounds peaceful and quiet. They mimic the appeasing feeling that runs through my body when my eyes catch sight of the yellow rolling hills which surround us as we drive along.

“I cannot believe the weather here either,“I add. “Everyone had told me it was going to be so cold!”

All of a sudden, the long gray winter jacket, the woolen hat and gloves I am wearing feel inappropriate and uncomfortable. I am dying to change into lighter mid-season clothes.

“It can change quickly though, so you never know. It’s good to be prepared.”

I realize that Dan is right when, a few days later, we wake up to 20 F, wind and a light veil of snow covering the plain.

But the light. Oh the light! that colors the Great Plains.

Every day.

Over and over again.

I’ve never stayed on a ranch before. I’ve never seen buffalo before either. But deep inside, I know one thing: the week I am going to spend in South Dakota to work with Dan and Jill O’ Brien will be amazing.

Jill and Dan O’ Brien are the force and talent behind Wild Idea Buffalo. I am only arrived on their ranch, getting to know them more, that I quickly understand that their vision is not just about selling buffalo meat. Their goal is about making sure that their animals are kept happy in the Great Plains, that they receive the best foods, and that the environment is preserved.

They believe in a sustainable eco-system.

They believe in a better place.

And it shows.

I’ve come to teach Jill food styling and photography. And so during the entire week, she and I cook, style, and photograph food.

Jill has a beautiful smile and a generous laughter.

I love working with her in the kitchen. I love hearing her story.

When she tells me that she grew up on a South Dakota dairy farm, and that she learned to cook because this was what you did when you came from a large family, I cannot help but think about my father, his upbringing on the farm, and the long communal table in my grand-mother’s kitchen where family and workers would always sit to refill on hearty dishes my grand-mother had prepared.

As I feel curious to know more about her family, I keep on asking: “Did your mother and grand-mother like to cook?”

By looking at her energy and strength in the kitchen, I can guess the answer.

“Oh yes!”

“No wonder you are such a generous cook!” I tell her as I watch her serving us bowls of steaming buffalo stew that reminds me of my mother’s boeuf bourguignon. The food is so delicious that I close my eyes with the attempt to slow the moment down. I want to keep the taste of it in my mouth longer.

Jill educates me to buffalo meat. And to my surprise, I even don’t mind eating more meat than I am accustomed to.

“The flavor is really delicate. The meat has great character,” I tell her when, one night to celebrate Jilian’s birthday, she prepares a cut of buffalo tenderloin for dinner. The words “délicat et léger float in my head.

Each buffalo dish I eat leaves me feeling light.

To refill our energy and creative spirit, between photo shoots, Jill takes me to see the horses and chicken.

“I want to raise Araucana chicken!” I tell her, laughing, as she hands me a couple of warm blue and white eggs we’ve just fetched from the henhouse.

We take walks with the dogs. I particularly enjoy watching Henry-our French hunting dog as Jill enjoys reminding me–run freely through the fields and between the hills.

We observe antelopes and coyotes in the distance. We watch sun sets and moon rises.

Every day, I marvel at the sight of the blond grass. And of cotton trees set against bright blue skies.

“I really want to swim in it,” I tell Dan and Jill each time we walk or drive by a field–to which they laugh.

I cannot get enough of the oranges and yellows of the light that embraces the Great Plains every day at the same time, comes four O’ Clock. It has an intensity I’ve not seen before.

Dan takes me to see the buffalo herds by the majestic Cheyenne river near their ranch. I help him to feed the baby buffalos that he and Jill have rescued.

“These are only three months old,” he tells me as he points at small buffalo that are more red than the others. “You can tell by the color of their hair.”

“They are still frail but we are planning to let them join the older ones in a week.”

With Dan, I enjoy talking about writing too.

“I didn’t know that you were such an accomplished writer!” I tell him with admiration when he humbly acknowledges the numerous novels he’s written over the years.

As we chit-chat more, I soon find out that not only Dan is a talented writer, but that the French have also befriended him warmly. His ranch and admirable work with the wild buffalo have been featured in many French magazines, including Géo, my utter favorite when I was growing up!

I learn a ton over the course of my week.

I discover an American state with delightful landscapes that transport me to old cowboys movies once watched when I was young. Papa, tu adorerais !

I learn that life can be much simpler. Quieter. I learnt that when need be, you can always make do with what you have at hand.

I fall asleep while hearing the howling of coyotes.

I watch the moon rise. And the sun set.

I eat scrumptious country foods. I eat the best buffalo burger with homemade red potato chips. I dine from elegant dishes.

I make new friends.

And I return home with the recipe of a delicious Vietnamese Bison Salad.

Thank you Jill and Dan for welcoming me into your home. I cannot wait to come back to see the grass turn green. And to show P. and Lulu the buffalo, the Great plains, and have them watch a moon rise and fetch fresh eggs.

Lulu will love to meet you and pet the cats.

She will love to run freely on top of the hills.

I am convinced that she will really enjoy the taste of buffalo meat too.

Of course, when I returned, I could not help but recreate my own variant of Jill’s salad in my kitchen. Mine had zucchini and carrots, and I used veal instead of bison. It didn’t take long to become a real favorite.

They were P.’s words. I could not agree more.

I wanted to start the new year with delicious salads. Made with légumes secs (legumes), vegetables, and fruit. Offering zest and crunch. With mixed flavors of the earth and sea.

This verrine recipe has it all. It showcases black chickpeas, which I had never used before. I simply fell in love with its unusual color…

Yesterday, on the 1st of January, we had a picnic at the beach. I cannot begin to tell you how excited Lulu was at the idea! And how both P. and I were looking forward to it too!

“On va faire un pique-nique à la plage,” Lulu kept repeating to my mum on Skype while helping me to pack a picnic basket.

The truth is that we could not have dreamed of a more glorious day.

Oh the weather my dear readers! “What happened to winter?” we’ve been wondering….

It felt mild and calm outside. So sunny. So soft. Similar to a day in late summer or early fall.

After the holidays, Sunday was the first day when P., Lulu, and I were alone again. All family had returned home. The house felt too big. Too empty. I wanted that day at the beach. I knew it’d feel soothing to be outdoors.

To clear our heads…

We packed simple foods: A thermos filled with African Roobois tea; slices of chocolate cake; clementines and sheep yogurt; and our black chickpea, crab and fennel salad. Next time, I might even add finely shaved jicama or red grapes in it.

It might sound like it was the perfect day.

It really was.

Quiet.

Calm.

Reflective and full of lightness.

We were lucky.

Hopefully, it is setting the tone for the year to come?

Happy New Year to you all! May this new one bring happiness and love and fulfillment in whatever area that is dear to you.

May you be inspired to cook! In one of my next posts, I will share more pictures reflective of the past year….

I’m holding this moment close to my heart. On Christmas day, we celebrated Lulu’s birthday.

She turned three. I am amazed we are already there.

It’s an amazing age of innocence and curiosity for every detail of life. The time when her world is filled with teddy bears, butterfly stickers, coloring pencils and markers, hot chocolate sipped with a straw, Charlie and Lola, kitties, puzzles, doudous, T’Choupi books and legos. Lots of openness and love. And what’s this, qu’est-ce que c’est, and what’s that questions about the world in which she is growing.

I’m in love with this age. I’m in love with her exponentially.

For the first time since Lulu’s birth, my parents were with us for this special time.

The perfect occasion to build together a lovely French Christmas celebration–I was really excited.

My mother and I spent a lot of time together in my kitchen. That was where she felt comfortable. It made me happy to watch her make it her creative space.

Most days, we cooked simple meals. Every day foods that I’ve learned to cook by my mother’s side. One day, it was an organic chicken flavored with garlic and a bouquet garni that she prepared with mashed sunchoke and potatoes. Another day, she treated us with braised fennel served with wild Alaskan salmon and short brown rice, and we also begged, Lulu included, that she cooked her petit salé, an old favorite.

Foods we were so glad to eat after taking walks to the farm and at the park.

On the day of Lulu’s birthday party held a week before the day, she even pulled together a large dish of paella to feed a crowd.

Next to her, I prepared custards and chocolate cakes and muffins and puddings.

“C’est toi qui t’occuperas de faire les desserts, (You’ll be in charge of making desserts) she told me on the first night after they’d arrived.

Because between the two of us, I’ve always been the one known to make desserts.

To have them taste some of our daily favorite dishes, I prepared lentil soups and spaghetti with vegetables and langoustines.

We ate lunch and dinner in the French manner with baguette, cheese and salade verte to seal our meals–my dad is so French about it.

I liked to watch my mother create our meals. They came effortless to her. In a beautiful sort of way.

And so quite naturally, we ended up giving our Christmas an obvious French flair.

I don’t know whether you know this, but for the French, le réveillon de Noël–the dinner eaten the day preceding Christmas–is as important as Christmas day. It’s when the festivities start late in the night with family members gathering around a table filled with out-of-the-ordinary delicacies.

I keep lovely memories of our réveillons: smoked salmon and snails and an array of colorful amuse-bouches were treats that we’d enjoy after going to midnight mass. On Christmas day, when my dad was busy opening oysters and a bottle of champagne, my mother would prepare scallops or foie gras with onion jam, chapon (capon), duck, pintade (guineafowl) or game meat which she’d serve with seasonal petits légumes and airelle relish. Invariably, my brother and I kept our eyes and interest largely riveted on the chocolate bûche de Noël that always finished our meal.

I wanted that our Christmas spent together had a little bit of it all.

Together, my mother and I imagined tradition in our menu. But as the words fresh, colorful, and earthy kept popping inside my head, I knew that our foods would have a bit of each. And, since neither my mother nor father had seen my book before, the idea to cook from it made sense as well.

It really felt right to make it happen in that way.

So we did it.

On the night of the réveillon, we ate delicious, plump and sweet oysters from Island Creek Oyster Farm. We enjoyed a mâche and scallop salad dish, from the same recipe I had imagined for the Christmas the year before. I loved that it was so easy to make, but so eye-catching too with its pretty finely sliced potato galettes arranged on top. And then I prepared a veal tajine with preserved lemons, Turkish dried apricots and millet, and a homemade raspberry sorbet for dessert.

“Avec les cookies du père Noël !” Lulu had exclaimed excitedly as she was pulling a plate filled with the cookies that she and I had prepared in the afternoon for Santa Claus.

Then, on Christmas day, we used recipes from my book: Endives leaves with roquefort, grapes, radishes dressed in a pistachio vinaigrette served as an amuse-bouche; dressed-up crab and avocado appetizer (I used a fresh leg of cooked crab to replace fresh salmon in the recipe). Then, my mother cooked cailles aux raisins (quails with grapes) and a potato gratin dauphinois, two French classics. And I made a raspberry charlotte which brought oh and ah to the table when Lulu caught sight of the three small candles lit on top of it.

“Souffle fort !” (Blow !) we encouraged her while singing “Joyeeeuuuux aannniversaaaiiire, joyeux anniiivvveerrsaaiire Lulu” (Happy Birthday) in French.

She was beaming. She looked touchingly shy. But so happy with all of us gathered around her.

She is a Christmas baby.

She had just turned three.

And she looked beautiful.

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas celebration. And will have a wonderful night to enter into the new year. Can you believe that we are so close to 2012 already? My last post of 2011.

Bonne année ! I will talk to you next in 2012!

Back in October, when there were still gorgeous looking homegrown apples around us, we could leave the kitchen windows open and walk outside bare legged, I met Margaret and Max for the first time. Together, we shot the video trailer for my cookbook.

Margaret and Max are the talented photographer duo behind Unusually Fine. Working with them was simply delightful.

I will keep wonderful memories of us all, working in my kitchen.

Of them making me feel so comfortable because of course!, I felt nervous–especially about the speaking part of the shoot.

Of us sitting around the table for an impromptu lunch between two video sessions.

Then, spending an afternoon apple picking close to where we live.

Of the generosity the members of my publishing house –Julie, Megan, Sara–expressed when they came to work with us.

Of Lulu making and enjoying chocolate crêpes with me. And us eating apple verrines and tartlets, beet millefeuilles, and pistachio with poppyseeds financiers–a few recipes from my cookbook.

Of seeing M. & M. drive in their old and cute red Volkswagen pickup. There was a sense of joy and such simplicity about it.

Of the uplifted and sparkling energy we felt throughout the house during the time of the shoot.

I discovered the video only a few days ago. And I truly hope that you’ll enjoy it, imagining the fun time we had when we made it.

Today, a few days after the release, my cookbook was mentioned in the radio show The Callie Crossley Show on WGBH and then, in the New York Times Diner’s Journal, in an article written by Emily Weinstein called Coming to a Bookstore By You!

Wow. I am really honored. And touched.

Needless to say that between these 3 press events, the current visit of my parents, Lulu’s big birthday party last weekend–I am so thankful for the paella my mother cooked for over twenty five guests–it’s been a pretty fulfilling (and full), and happy week in our household.

Filled with scrumptious foods, and generous moments around the table.

Merci à tous ! And happy holidays to all! I will be back with more stories and recipes very soon, when the regular routine of our life resumes.

I should have known that when visiting Jamaica, I would love the island. I knew it when, for the first time, I saw Jamaicans’ faces. When I caught sight of their welcoming smiles. When I heard the way they spoke. I loved the melody of their accent, and the way the intonation marking their words made their voice go up at the end of each sentence. It sounded like a happy melody.

“I like how you pronounce the word “questions”“, I said one day to our local guide at Prospect Plantation in Ocho Rios. Thin and not looking his age, he liked to share deadpan jokes which were irresistibly funny.

Before October, I had never visited Jamaica, but I had always wanted to.

It started when, at the age of seventeen, I traveled to Canada with a teenager group, and we met Nikki.

Nikki’s mother was French, his father Jamaican, but Nikki lived in Toronto, which made him Canadian too. Nikki was tall and skinny, with long dark curly hair and glasses too wide for his face. He was funny too. He was also always hungry and eating, and at night, after we’d slip inside our sleeping bags under the tent, he loved to tell us stories about Jamaica. Which, despite the fact that I was still young, piqued my curiosity and made me promise that, one day, I’d visit the island.

I finally did when, two months ago, I was invited with a small group of food writers to participate to a culinary tour of Jamaica.

It was exotic. Colorful and inspiring.

I took me a fair amount of time to gather my thoughts and decide what stories I’d share with you. So much was packed within five days. There were so many picture opportunities.

Perhaps, I thought, I should start with the story that happened the day we traveled to the Blue Mountains and our bus got stuck in one of the many sharp curves on the road leading to a coffee farm. It was irresistibly funny! And scary too.

Or maybe instead, I should write about the magnificent house and gardens that Robin keeps at Belcour Preserves, and how I adored sitting on the porch of her house to taste delicate foods and drinks she had kindly prepared for us–all of this while watching with delight a heavy downpour surrounding us. No wonder, I thought, that the trees and flowers look so happy here!

I learned that Jamaica has a strong food culture that deserves to be seen and tasted. I learned that, unlike other Caribbean islands I’ve visited before, locals grow various types of fruit and vegetables.

Thankfully, two months later, I am now finally ready to share the highlights from my culinary trip.

It starts with:

–Traveling the winding road which revealed magnificent views of the Yallahs Valley and led to Clifton Mount Estate, located at an elevation of 4300 feet above sea level. From it, we embraced the majestic view of the Grand Ridge and Blue Mountain Peak at 7402 feet which, as is often the case, hid behind a layer of dense mountain mist. I could not help but love the different local scenes we witnessed on the way: school children wearing dark blue school uniforms; colorful tin-roofed grocery shacks; local bars; clouds hanging around the pointy steeple of a white church perched on the flank of the mountains; lush dark green vegetation which witnessed of the heavy downpours the area receives regularly.

Lawrence and Richard Sharp, the friendly owners of the coffee farm who welcomed us to morning coffee with homemade baked sweets–hello banana bread!–taught us that, because of its location, Clifton Mount Estate is a premium coffee growing territory. With its carefully maintained garden, a paradise to playful hummingbirds, the old house–one of the few remaining Jamaican Great Houses–looks beautiful, somehow reminiscent of another era.

I learned that Lawrence’s farm is 75 percent organic, which means that only a few crops are sprayed with pesticides. Because Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee is heavily regulated by the Coffee Industry Board of Jamaica –assuring the trademarked “Jamaica Blue Mountain” designation, much like the French Appellation d’origine contrôlée (AOC)–Blue Mountain coffee is fairly expensive in comparison to other coffees grown elsewhere in the world.

–Sampling a humble and delicious lunch at EITS Café. EITS (short for Europe in the summer) is a charming open-air café located on the hillside town of Newcastle in the Blue Mountains. The eatery is run by the petite and lovely Robyn Fox and her father. Together, they operate the café, run Mount Edge guesthouse, and Food Basket, an enterprise selling to select supermarkets around Kingston (and by special order) herbs and vegetables they proudly grow on the farm.

There, I learned about French thyme (a variety I had never seen before), which Robin’s father was proud to have me taste. We also sampled Scotch bonnet pepper, an extremely spicy pepper that is traditionally used to season jerk chicken, giving the traditional Jamaican dish its unique flavor.

–Walking through the lush green gardens at Belcour Preserves where owners Robin Lumsden and her husband Michael treated us to homemade local foods and refreshments. Dating back to the 1700s, the lodge was originally a coffee farm. Today, Robin and Michael use it to grow tropical fruit and keep bees. The Lumsden’s 75 bee colonies produce Belcour’s Tropical Honey, a delicate, multiflora amber honey. They also make jams, relishes, condiments, and hot pepper sauce–all using the local produce available.

–Sampling street food–like pumpkin and crawfish soup, corn on the cob and freshly cut open exotic fruit–bought at street stalls found everywhere along the way. Hello avocado pear, guavas, guinep, June plum, jackfruit, papaya (Paw Paw), sorrel, sweetsop, soursop, and Jamaican mangoes, I loved you all. I am so thankful that you educated me to many varieties of fruit unknown to me before.

–Eating a lot of soups. Spicy soups. Pumpkin soups. I was surprised to learn that in Jamaica, pumpkin is common and eaten all year round. I was also delighted to find out that for Jamaicans, Saturday means Soup day. What’s not to love about a gathering of friends and family around a large pot of homemade soup?

–Visiting Irish Rover near Ochos Rios, the first authentic Irish Pub on the island. After working as a musician in Ireland for over 40 years, owner Winston Samuels decides to retire to his homeland where he eventually opens this surprising pub. Unique and well worth the visit.

–Watching how, at Scotchies (a rustic thatched-roof outdoors joint located in Coral Gardens near Montego Bay), the best jerk you can find on the island is made. In fact, I had never seen anything like this before: dozens of pimiento-seasoned chickens and slabs of pork grilling on open flames. I learned that it’s the smoke which gives the flavor to the meat. With jerk, we enjoyed sides like sliced, roasted breadfruit and yam; rice and peas (incidentally I learned that this translates as rice and beans) and festival (deep-fried cornmeal dumplings).

–Eating a piece of freshly cut-open coconut sprinkled with brown sugar. So simple. So good.

–Traveling to Ochos Rios to discover exquisite beaches and swim in crystal clear turquoise waters by late afternoon before heading out for dinner.

–Watching a beautiful rainbow from my room at Sandals resort in Ochos Rios.

–Enjoying a traditional Jamaican breakfast. Who knew I would enjoy eating ackee and salted fish (from ackee fruit and salt cod), with rice and Callaloo, and boiled green bananas so early in the morning? I really did!

–Meeting lots of goats along the way.

–Sampling rum. Bananas. Banana bread.

And, with the head filled with delicious memories (and the suitcase with local treats), return home inspired to prepare seasonal pumpkin soup. And bake my own banana bread.

To celebrate the foods I sampled, and prolong the many special moments I was lucky to spent amongst Jamaicans.

Invariably, that’s always what traveling to new places does to me.

To you too?

Hello everyone,

I wish I could be here more often these days but it’s just not happening right now. We have renovation going on upstairs in our house, side projects, my parents arriving next week, and simply the business of every day life–we are all on the same boat, aren’t we? I cannot wait to be back with stories and pictures, though, so much thanks for your patience. For those of you I will meet this coming Saturday for the book signing, I am really super happy. It will be such a special moment for me.

In any case, today, I am still saying hello, with a recipe I wrote a while ago for the Boston Globe. You know how much I love celeriac. The French often do. Do you remember this soup, this salad, and this tart?

I even have another new soup recipe in my cookbook: hello celeriac, sweet potato and apple soup with parsley oil and marjoram!

I hope you will enjoy them all. The recipe for Mashed Celeriac and Potato can be found here.

If you have been a regular reader of this blog, you know that, about one month and a half ago, I launched the presale of my cookbook, La Tartine Gourmande: Recipes for an Inspired Life.

I recently reflected on the making of the book, realizing that I didn’t talk a lot about the process involved to complete the project. In view of this, I thought that it’d be nice to share tidbits with you today.

Such as tell you that, unlike perhaps what you might have thought, there weren’t roses all the way. Like with every life process, there were bumps and uncertainties. Delays. A lot of going back and forth. Redoing. Rewriting. I had a lot of work in my hands since, while writing, styling and photographing the book, I was also learning to become a mother–oh yes, do you remember that I started my book project when I was pregnant with Lulu? On Christmas day, she will turn three, so this gives you an indication of the time involved in the making of my book.

To my surprise, I was told it was completely normal.

I’ve been lucky though. During the months and years, I constantly received support and encouragement from Sara, my editor, and Shambhala Publications Inc., my publishing house. My book was going to be part of Roost Books, a line of books focusing on everyday activities that nourish and enrich our lives–they published Amanda Soule‘s books too (from the popular blog Soule Mama).

What I want to tell you today is that I am very proud of the result. Of the style and feel of my book, the design and quality of the images printed inside. It’s a highly illustrated book. It’s an intimate book. And I really think that it turned out beautifully. It has the feel that this blog has–this is just what I had been dreaming about all along.

On December 10th, I will be having my first book signing in Boston. I am delighted. Excited. Feeling shy and nervous too. All of it.

The lovely Maggie from Eat Boutique kindly invited me to be part of the Holiday Local Market held at Made in Fort Point. There will be yummy food (check the list of food makers) and other cookbook authors present, such as Judy Rosenberg and Erin Buyers Murray. The event is free. I am sure that it will be fun and filled with lots of interesting people. I will be there from 1 to 3 PM, with some food, books and my pen. So I really hope that, if you live in the Boston area, or are willing to travel, I will finally get a chance to meet some of you. That’s what makes the whole experience even more real. And human.

Non?

Also, I would like to thank each of you who kindly emailed me with feedback, or tweeted, about the book. Each one of your messages is special.

Alors, un grand merci !