Published 2014
I remember deciding once, long ago and I believe after reading
Ellwanger ’sPleasures of the Table for the first time, that the most exquisite dish I had ever heard of was a satiny white endive with large heavily scented Parma violets scattered through it. It meant everything subtle and intense and aesthetically significant in my private gastronomy, just as, a few years earlier, a brown-skinned lover with a turquoise set in one ear lobe epitomised my adolescent dream of passion.
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