And the adventure takes another turn
on the winding road. Come 28 May I will become a Santa Fe resident in the Land
of Enchantment directing Continuity of Operations for the State of New Mexico.
For those unfamiliar, COOP is designed to insure continuation of a
jurisdiction’s most essential functions in times of disruption. Santa Fe
altitude is >7,000 ft. and a local ski resort has a $50 season pass for really old codgers. I qualify.
##########
In a recent post I proclaimed that
Brie de Meaux was “the best,” and I expected someone to ask why. Well, you
didn’t but I’ll tell you anyway.
Many, many years ago (before I learned
there is a price to pay for consuming adult beverages all the way across the
Atlantic), I stumbled off a TWA plane (remember them?) and into the waiting
chariot of a dear friend and atrocious driver who (perhaps only because it was
Sunday) delivered us to the Seine-et-Marne
suburb of Paris, mercifully without incident.
This was the Marche de Coulommiers. My
chauffer, a well-known local gourmand ushered me to a reserved table in the
outdoor square and presented me with an oversized and quite unnecessary cognac
(it was now all of 10-am local, or 4-am from whence I came). We were approached
by a smiling, rotund, rosy-cheeked matron porting a full, uncut, easily 16”
diameter wheel of what turned out to be Brie de Coulommiers. As I tried to
focus on the meaning of all this the table was graced by a second (it could
have been her twin) with an identical offering, except that she announced this
was Brie de Melun. As my heart fluttered and my liver shrieked, a third
approached with yet another uncut wheel of Brie de Meaux.
It was explained to my rapidly
deteriorating psyche that these were the three best bries in the region (thus
certainly the planet) and I was to taste all and render judgment. Each doyenne
proceeded to cut a swath which appeared to be to be about 1/3 of the wheel
while my host goaded me into polishing off my cognac as there was the remainder
of the bottle to finish before the gourmet lunch he had planned several hours
hence.
I would relate the rest of the story,
but I have no recollection, other than at dinner at his nearby farmhouse he
expressed great concern that I had slept through lunch (he finally found a
pulse and called off the town medicine
he had summoned through a message to the local church), and announced proudly
that I had declared in strident terms the superiority of Brie de Meaux, his
personal favorite.
I spent several wonderful days at the
farm with him and his delightful wife, one of (at that time) the few female
lawyers of note and substance in France. I would provide details but I have no
memory now, nor did I on the return trip to Paris those many years ago. But I
know I loved every minute.
##########
The Montana Legislature has passed and
sent to the Governor a bill allowing residents to harvest roadkill for personal
consumption. Skeptics can Google for confirmation.
But
let’s say you’re a retired old coot in the high mountains and your Social
Security check has been delayed by six foot snow drifts. You are motoring your
’75 Ford pickup down a dirt road and Bambi crosses your path oblivious to your
approach. Do you slam on the brakes, or…
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