There are two places in the world I miss when I’m not there. One is Philadelphia. I love Philly. Present location excepted, it is my all-time favourite city, and a truly great place to live. Part of the reason I am preoccupied with it it is because I’m writing a book about it. (Well, I’m writing a book about eighteenth-century Philadelphia). But twenty-first century Philly is just as good. It is more than a year since I have been there, but in my mind, I am often walking in Philadelphia, in both its federalist and more recent incarnations.

Charles Wilson Peale, The Accident in Lombard Street. Philadelphia. 1787
The other place I often miss is here in Scotland. Every year, when the gorse starts to turn yellow in early Spring I think: when shall we go? Now? Can we go now? How about right now? We can only make it over there once or twice a year, and this is never quite enough for me. I shall not get too rhapsodic. But soon I will really be there! Magic!
I leave you with a picture of the truly amazing cherry clafoutis we ate last night. Cherries are good right now, and Mr B is currently experimenting with different clafoutis recipes. I am happy to be the taster. I believe this one came from Raymond Blanc. It is damn fine.


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