Neurons Interruptus

As Kim and I were driving into the market this afternoon we went through an all too frequent ritual whereby I would ask her what she wanted for dinner, she would rhyme off 3 or 4 suggestions, and I would pronounce some entirely unrelated dish. Today, it was Zuchinni Celeriac Spaghetti in a Lemon Cream Sauce with Curried Shrimp.

But between this conversation and parking in the market we made a side tour to the Public Library where I needed to pick up a copy of Peter Mayle's Encore Provence... you see, I was writing a book review of Ruth Reichl's Tender at the Bone (see Reads and Reviews), and I needed the exact words that he used to dismiss her review of Provence. And that's when my neurons decided to go travelling.

A short while later, as I stepped out into the Market, my brain was no longer tasting the peppery curried shrimp against the subtle lemon cream, but instead had transplanted itself to the borders of France and Italy... instead it was tasting a smokey Briocole, stuffed with cambozola, fresh herbs and pin nuts, alongside panfried garlic haricots verts and a linguini with thyme (don't you love what restaurant menu's have done to "green beans"!).

On this occasion I can bame it on Peter Mayle. But I have no idea where I'm going tomorrow. It's scary, but this is how my brain works.