french

Dining Outside the Home: Le Yaca French Restaurant in Williamsburg, Virginia 

Dining Outside the Home: Le Yaca French Restaurant in Williamsburg, Virginia. White linens, soft candlelight, a warm fireplace, and fresh flowers. Mais, oui! Every table is placed to make one feel as though it’s a private dining experience. The wine list alone is a sweeping journey across the French countryside. Roasted Leg of Lamb is a weekly ritual bathed in natural herbs over an open fire. And yet, the light and elegant Soufflé au Grand Marnier dessert, with its tantalizing crown of fluffy sweetness, punctuates the evening as a Troisième Course. Pamper your stomach; indulge your appetite in greatness. 

Dining Outside the Home: Blue Talon Bistro in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia 

Dining Outside the Home: Blue Talon Bistro in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia. If you’re looking for the charm of a neighborhood bistro with a French twist, this corner bistro in the heart of Colonial Williamsburg fits the bill. The French Onion Gratinee has the power to transport you to the French countryside with its rich cheesy onion broth. But save room for more. Make the meal a dining experience by enjoying every course over a nice glass of Bordeaux. Linger awhile. Absorb the atmosphere. Inhale the aromas. And most certainly try the dessert. Bon Appétit!

Dining Outside the Home: Cecile’s French Corner in Mt. Dora, Florida

This Parisian café is a fragrant oasis hidden away from the main flow of traffic. Its open courtyard features a multi-tiered fountain surrounded by a garden of colorful blooms. As we dined outdoors, under the shade of a red umbrella, our appetites were sated with a buttery quiche fromage and smoky salmon baguette. Sometimes the best kept secrets are right around the corner. Bon Appetît!

Press On With Linen and Lavender 

I like to iron. I find comfort in it.  Maybe it’s because I’m a Baby-Boomer who grew up in an age where common sense meant making choices that gave one an advantage, a leg up, so to speak.  My family lived on a very limited income, so making the most of what we had was often all there was to make ends meet.  My closet contained a few skirts or dresses for school and special outfits for church.  Thank goodness I had older cousins who gifted me with hand-me-downs.  Yet, I didn’t mind.  My mother had a rigid schedule:  Wash clothes on Monday, Iron clothes on Tuesday, Clean the House on Wednesday, Mop the floors on Thursday, and so on.   

I began ironing my blue jeans when I was a teenager.  It came about more out of necessity simply because, at a time when most girls averaged between 5′ and 5’5″, my legs were very long.  And I was tall and skinny, which had me towering over my brothers and  most boys.  I discovered if I used a steam iron, I could stretch the denim to make the jeans longer.   Well, one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was ironing everything from tea towels to tee shirts.  
Nowadays, I revel in ironing my Turkish tea towels and French linens by spritzing them with Mary Ellen’s Best Press lavender-tinted starch alternative.  It smells like I’m ironing in the south of France.  The end result?  Everything is left with a crisp, new finish.  Yes, I still iron my blue jeans and tee shirts. Old habits die hard.  Every once in awhile I sneak one of my husband’s Oxford shirts into the laundry basket and mist it with the heavenly scent of French lavender while pressing it wrinkle free. Perhaps its lingering fragrance takes him somewhere in time.  Back to the days when we strolled down ancient cobblestone streets, sipping strong coffee in open cafés, basked in the warm sunshine holding hands, stealing kisses, eating baguettes, and drinking French wine.