This week at The Back Burner we are getting ready to celebrate spring with an adulation of cherries. Which sparked something in my ancestral memory. Something from very long ago. Back when I was a snooty Francophile. Watch what you are thinking I said WAS! I warn you though, this is not a cocktail per se. In fact it’s a soup. A cold cherry soup. Though it does require a whole bottle of red wine
There was a time when I sought out only the Frenchiest of taste sensations. Anything that would transport me back to my imaginary childhood in the south of France. Those lazy golden (and entirely made up) days when I sat under the chestnut tree… la boîte in hand with mes amis! Those imaginary afternoons were always centered on food. These were the glittering days of spring when ma mère would be dancing about her wood burning stove concocting some petit amuse bouche for me to enjoy. Something light and seasonal.
Inevitably during these pretend days of spring we would have an overabundance of cherries freshly picked by Gaston (another character who only existed inside my head). Ahhh, youth. GREG