Roasted peppers and fresh tomatoes joined with chevre on a crusty baguette make for a tasty sandwich.
At the heart of French peasant fare are onions of various stripes and butter. This is as true as it is delicious.
An anxiety attack this morning led me to take the day off. That's right, I'm playing hooky on the third business day after having a vacation. I'm a big kid now.
I recently came into a copy of Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code, and at the halfway juncture, I have to say that I'm not impressed. At best, it feels like a cheap knockoff of Eco's Foucault's Pendulum, except that Brown's story is less compelling and written in inelegant, overdescriptive prose.
This book is incredibly popular, so I have to ask, am I missing something? Is it an expected convention that a mystery novel will lead its reader around by the nose? That dramatic tension should be conveyed through chapters so short and choppy that they feel clumsy and contrived? That every character who handles a pistol will pause to reflect on the weapon's maker and bore before choosing to use it? (Can you say "Gun Fetish" boys and girls?) I thought such gross errors were limited to novels published by bored real estate agents through the vanity press.
BAH!
