I just made French dressing from scratch.

It has that certain indefinable je ne sais quoi quality which you don’t get from a bottle at the grocery store. Hell, it may even have joie de vivre, I don’t know.

I am quite the Francophile, actually. There’s something you probably didn’t know about me. Mike the Francophile. Also, in the last 5 or 8 years I have actually almost sorta taught myself how to read French. If I have my dictionnaire handy, I can get through a paragraph in, like, 15 minutes. Sure, it took me a whole year to read a Moliere play, but I fucking did it.

Here is a quote by Moliere that I’ve always enjoyed (translated into English, in case you didn’t notice): “Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, then for a few close friends, then finally for money.”

I’m a writer and I’m still waiting on the money part.

But why am I talking about this? This is a post about food.

I also made bread soup, which is very efficient. Instead of dipping your bread into the soup, you cook it right in the soup. Elimate the middleman, I say. It also helps if you cover the bread in cheese before you add it. Covering anything in cheese always helps. One time a girl I loved dumped me and I was heart-broken, but as soon as I covered the whole thing in cheese, I was fine.

Anyway, I’m going to drink these two bottles of Beaujolais-Villages.

A votre sante!