Thirteen to the dozen
As summer ends, the market is quieter and we can get a table on the terrace of the Marine Bar. I buy some eggs and sweet black figs and make fig crème brûlée to usher in the gentle days of Autumn.
Yesterday, the market was filled with the high-summer tumble of melons, peaches and tomatoes, plaits of violet garlic and sweet onions from Lézignan. But on the terrace of the Marine Bar, we easily found a table without the tension of hovering over those who looked as though they’d just drained their espressos or glasses of beer. The season is ending. T…
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