It is at this time of year when the days shorten and dusk creeps quietly into our lives. When we put away the warm whispers of summer. When we scuff through fallen leaves removing the silver dust of Paris. This is my favorite season in the city of light.
It is at this time of year I return to my little house in Paris to pack away the summer memories. To take down the linen curtains that dance at my windows and replace them with enveloping rich dark green velvet. To cover the stone pavers of my kitchen floor with a faded and warm carpet.
And it is this time of year, market basket under my arm, I raise very early and head for the markets. I am abroad even before the street cleaners. Searching for the last stoned fruit of the season to make just one last plum tart.
The Paris pastry shops beguile us with dazzling displays of fruit tarts. They are perfectly imperfect with simply arranged seasonal fresh fruits made even more irresistible with sugar-studded , heavily caramelized, crunchy rims. This is pie perfection! Honest pies that promise you everything and deliver. My alter ego happily shares her dreams of Paris and her recipes with you. Bon Appetit, dear friends. MRS BUTTERFINGERS