This week we’re looking forward to having Tori Sharp sharing with us. Thanks to Tori for joining us on the Gazette, and we hope readers enjoy the week of degustations! Over to her.
Best,
Kate + Sinae
Hello all, my name is Tori Sharp and I am a writer and cook (chef technically but that often scares me to say) based in Paris. I write an irregular bulletin called Alphabet Soup that works its way through the A-Z touching upon moments of cooking, eating, learning, and writing. This week brings me great joy to be writing for someone else and also being given a deadline by someone other than myself, forcing some form of work to be created. I hope you enjoy following my (hopefully) indulgent week of eating along the Côte d’Azur as I follow the very real stereotype of Parisians fleeing the city in August. Bon appétit et bonne lecture!
This week’s dispatch will all be sent in holiday mode, starting off with this preamble written on the six hour train journey between Paris and Nice. A train picnic kicks off the Gazette and I am hoping that many other picnics will follow as I explore the coast with heartbroken friends, searching for the salty sea cure.
Day 1 Dispatch
Six hours on the train always seems romantic. I really like trains, especially the TGV from Paris to Nice. It is spacious and air-conditioned and efficient. Receiving text updates of arrival time and reminders not to forget your bag is a foreign concept to someone who grew up with East Midlands Railway. But nevertheless six hours is pretty long and knowing I had this entry to write laid way for some very thoughtful and thoughtless notes scrawled. So here goes:
The train crawls out of Paris and its surrounding suburbs and you can feel everyone’s frustration because we are all collectively leaving on holiday it seems. You want to see the countryside and la diagonale du vide rushing past the window as you speed closer to your destination - the Côte d’Azur.
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It takes time for the train to gain speed which allows ample window gazing onto the blue sky and green fields of the French countryside. Double decker trains (U.K. get on board) means I have an upstairs window seat. I see allotments and forgotten hay bales.
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Are crisps too noisy to eat on a train? Particularly audible lentil variety. I saw the man sitting in front of me put his headphones back on in the sunny window reflection.
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La ligne grande vitesse as metaphor for life??
Delayed as it took time to enter the fast lane but once you do there are no stops and it is rapid.
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My train picnic was well manoeuvred but was never hungry enough for it, but I ate it anyway. A multicultural sandwich in a French baguette with Italian ham, Dutch cheese, Belgian cornichons, and Japanese mayo. Slightly dry, could have added another condiment.
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Got an Instagram message asking if I wanted to be someone’s sugar baby. Briefly considered after earlier cringing at the price of tinfoil at Carrefour.
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People eating on trains is an interesting phenomenon so I start to look around at people’s snacks.
The man in front who didn’t like the sound of me eating crisps eating a train station triangle sandwich so I lose some respect for him.
Woman ahead is eating cherries out of an IKEA ziplock with a cloth napkin that she produced from her small straw handbag (!)
The woman next to me visited one of the buffet cars and has returned with a formule made up of a chicken pesto toasted ciabatta, a chocolate muffin and a Coca Cola that she can’t open because she has very long clicky nails. I am envious of people who can travel with a teeny tiny bag. I’m sure she has luggage in the designated racks but seatside she has one small bag, big enough to fit a phone, wallet and maybe a tampon in case of emergencies. Whereas I have a busting weekend bag for a weeklong trip and a very large tote that holds three books, my train food, two bottles of water, camera, phone, purse, headphones, chargers, jumper for aircon train, metro pass and other things that I can’t be bothered to list.
find Tori on Instagram @tori_sharp .