My Sunday mornings are settling into a routine. Some time with the U.K. Sunday papers, and then off to a vide grenier.
We drove to Manses, a village just north of Mirepoix, beneath a flawless sky, passing fields of sunflowers, now into their "hangdog" phase as they droop their heads and dry.
Even though we were there fairly early (by our standards) action was already brisk. Browsing these stalls of others' discards, you can't help but imagine the stories behind them. One old man was selling a large army of preserving jars, with the old-fashion wire closure. I bought two tall ones: different brands. One is Le Parfait, the other Triomphe. Swaggering, three-musketeers-ish names although some types are more modest. A smaller jar I bought has the down-to-earth name of Pratique--"practical."
Although I plan to eventually do lots of preserving, these jars are intended for storage of lentils, chickpeas, pasta and other dried goods.
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