July 15, 2013 in Cheese Making
“I don’t like apple pie,” my husband staunchly said to his mother at age 4. Brian went about his life believing that his opinion was fact. For many years, his Mom made a separate dessert when apple pie was being served. Fast forward to Thanksgiving dinner at age 9 when Great Aunt Mabel prompted him that he should at least take a bite. “No” was all he said.
Aunt Mabel went on to explain how sweet and delicious apple pie was and how he had been missing out on the joy of consuming it all these years. Tentatively, Brian leaned over, sighed and opened his mouth just a teeny bit to get some on the cinnamon apples and crust on his lips. “Wow, yum!” is all that came out and then he devoured the whole piece.
Life is a bit like that sometimes. We get so stubborn that certain beliefs turns into truth. Somewhere in the past we heard something or made a judgement on something and that’s it. Case closed.
I am a bit ashamed to admit that I have had this judgement on French people. Having only traveled to Paris before in my early 20′s, I had returned home with a stale taste in my mouth about the people since each time I opened my mouth (or didn’t), they would speak back to me in rude, quick phrases that would swish me out of their view so they then could go on with their day.
This trip to Provence has proved different, thank goodness. Maybe it’s an older, wiser phenomenon. Maybe because of my reading and research I am more in tune with the intricacies of the country. No matter, with time and effort put forth, my view is changing.