CHIPS AND AIR

I love cooking out. I love eating out. Outside, I mean. When I see pictures like the little one in this entry, it makes me smile a little from past experiences. A little outside cafe in Edz, France comes to mind.


There was something about the little cafe on the hillside in southern France. We were with good friends on a day trip kind of sojourn before heading to the French Riviera. Michael drinking that strong, strong really nothing outstanding little cup of European coffee, me trying to sip some, water some down to a palatable level. The curvy winding cobblestone streets so narrow that when two cars met, I thought one or both would scrape the old buildings. But that memory is etched there for some reason.

Great outdoor restaurants line streets in California, Arizona, and other places we've been to. One of my favorite pizza places in Scottsdale has a great little garden to sit and eat and observe others equally happy to dine outside. (Although some would argue that dine outside is oxymoronic.) It seems though that people are happier eating in the openness that being outside gives.

I think I convinced our oldest grandchild, soon to be grandteen, that potato chips taste better outside. When I first shared that bit of grandfatherly advice, she was dubious. Just as when I told her about the abundance of four leaf clovers in her yard. But when put to the taste test, she succumbed.

There are naturally certain disadvantages of eating outside. But I know my readers know the quirks of weather that on more than one occasion has sent us inside after we have been seated and before the food has arrived. Another hindrance is insects. We've all heard of or experienced ants at reunions. Ants on the ground (beef). Flies on buffet spreads. Bees on desserts. And of course the old saying "don't worry, they won't eat much," or "just some added protein".

For those times, I'd prefer the cleanliness of white napkins, mood music, forced laughter of dinner parties who couldn't enjoy the great outdoors.