The story of this mushroom buckwheat soup starts with a dinner date with Maxence.
With two little boys and rich work lives, we make it a point to book baby-sitters on a regular basis, in order to enjoy an evening just for us grownups. Sometimes we go see a movie (a movie! in an actual movie theater! oh, the thrill!), sometimes we catch up with friends (uninterrupted conversations! swearing allowed!), sometimes we go to a party (an actual party! with music! and dancing! this is too much!), but most of the time, we have dinner just the two of us at a restaurant in our neighborhood, which — lucky for us — is rife with wonderful places.
I get ridiculously excited about those evenings. I think it is one of the many convoluted gifts life hands you along with small children: yes, time for yourself becomes pretty scarce. But when it does come, you drink it up and bathe in it and cherish every drop like it’s the very nectar of the Gods.
