

Many of us have experienced such a transportive experience: that moment of biting into an ice-cream sandwich and tasting childhood, or the scent of waffles and burnt coffee redolent of home. This past Sunday, Ross and I were invited back to our wedding with cake.
This is admittedly not too much of a logical jump, as the cake was made by the same baker who created the three-tiered version one year ago. The moist, just-dense-enough crumb, the hazelnut praline buttercream sandwiched alongside raspberry conserve and chocolate ganache managed to rewind all the changes of the past year. I ate the cake and felt the excitement of the day, remembered being surrounded by those we loved, celebrating our love.

Imagine: a weekend escape from the gloomy Atlantic to France’s Mediterranean coast. You speed past verdant fields, some erumpent with the brightest red poppies. You wind along the longest motorway, wind down down down until you find yourself at the ocean. But it’s a soft, somnolent ocean tempered by a clustering of bays. The sun embraces your skin, it plays against building walls. Brightly colored sailboats dot the harbor.
Here, you count eight ducklings with their mother under the piers. Here, countless artists have found inspiration in the townscape that seems to melt into the Mediterranean. Here, Catalan pride seeps deeply into the earth, finds its way through labyrinthine streets.

After a day of laying out on the warm pebbles of the beach and an evening whiled away at dinner over the water, you wake to a bustling farmer’s market. The narrow aisles are chock full of temptations: tomato and sardine flatbreads, delicate North African pastries, local wines. But you are drawn to a stand presided by a small man and a gigantic cast iron pan. He lifts the lid, revealing golden brown duck thighs simmering in a sweet broth of Banyuls wine and melted onions. You are poured a cup of Banyuls, straight, as you consider. The man stumbles between French and English. He learns where you’re from and sings you Hotel California.

Yes, you will take some of his duck stew. You will bring it to the beach and eat it, slowly, looking out at the ocean, before starting your drive back to Gascony.
Cuisse du Canard aux Banyuls
(as inspired by our trip to Collioure)
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Jon’s Matar Paneer
In his own words
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A note on spices:
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