RecipeMuncher

This tale begins with a storyteller. The other day Belle asked me if we could have dinner in a tent. The nights are getting cool, and the rains have been coming in fits and surprises. The shear sweetness of her request alit within me the desire to tell a story in words, food and space. A domestic MacGyver armed with scissors, twine, paper and an amenable husband, I turned a bay window into a Silk Route oasis grape arbor. Over the smell of grapes, browned lamb and yeasty nan, the story began: I (...)