Welcome to the Sweet Life!

When I am being asked to list my hobbies - in a job application, on a dating website, on my Facebook profile, or - shocking!!!! - by actual people living and moving in front of me - one thing always first come to mind: FOOD.
It's not eating.
Not cooking.
Because, clearly, that's not enough.

Food is a world in itself, a fabulous universe soliciting all senses, luring one after the other in a never-ending celebration combining life, fun, friends, emotions, pleasures and aesthetics. Sure, food IS eating, and cooking (in some cases) but it also means reading, watching, smelling, researching, writing, touching, dreaming, enjoying, sharing.
Food is life.
Food is MY life. Or one of the best parts of it.

I am - and unashamedly so - what French call a gourmande. Not a 'glutton'. Not a gourmet. Nor a gastronome. A gourmande. The English language doesn't have any room for the concept, and I keep lamenting upon this unfortunate state of things. Even though gourmandise is indeed one of the Seven Deadly Sins, the word has evolved and gone way beyond its religious roots. A gourmand is by no means a glutton. Fine - it can be on occasions. Sometimes. But most of the time a gourmand is much closer to the Epicurean than to the ogre. Gourmandise, in the French acceptation of the word, is a refined love of food. A gourmand cannot resist to the last slice of pie on the plate; (s)he has to taste the stew bubbling away on the stove, at the risk of burning him/herself; his/her favorite small pleasure is to study seasonal menus, marvel on the musicality of words, close his/her eyes and anticipate the marriage of flavors; the books on display on his/her living-room belong to the William Sonoma Collections; his/her spice rack takes up half of his/her kitchen cupboards; the other half is dedicated to fragrant boxes of teas and rice, decorated bottles of olive oil and seasoned vinegars, and mason jars of home-made jams, jellies and chutneys.

A gourmand is dedicated. Some, ill-advised, envious, sullen individuals would call them obsessive. And qualify their obsession as 'unhealthy'. They may be right, to some extent.

But this series of pauses that I want to offer couldn't be further from that. Each one of my 'pause gourmande' will be a sweet invitation to fantasy, best enjoyed on a comfortable sofa, a glass of wine in hand, a square of dark chocolate melting on the tongue, shoes kicked off, legs and head resting on a soft pillow.

Shall we begin?