So, now I have just awoken from a delicious nap on the plane from Portland to New York, and I shall take the restant de mon voyage to recount to you the titillating tale of my stay in this somehow permanently moist city.
On the morning of my first day, I awoke at the crack of dawn from jet lag and the sultry aroma of oatmeal (is that possible?) My chère amie sat and drank Jasmine tea with me and skipped class, and then we went grocery shopping at the organic co-op. It was fantastic. I drugged myself on carob-coated raisins, and gawked unabashedly at the glistening produce. I am a freak, I know. I also had the loveliest and most innocent interaction with an especially doe-eyed, docile grocery store clerk. I told my friend that I was seduced by the selection of potatoes. Once I had pronounced that sentence, I think he fell in love. But c’etait vrai. They had Russian Blue’s and Russian Banana’s, as well as Fingerlings and Golden Nuggets. I swoon, truly I do. Over les patates, though.
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Tapenade, and Pine Nuts