Sherlock!

I didn't expect to like the new Sherlock when I saw it last year. But I did. I loved the witty dialogue and the relationship between Holmes and John Watson. I loved the fact that they were YOUNG--which was how Conan Doyle wrote them in the first place. I love the way that technology is embraced and the way that we see Sherlock's thought processes taking place like a computer program.

And last nights Baskerville episode, while a little silly in the end as mind altering gases always are, was really suspenseful and entertaining. I normally don't watch scary things late at night (I have vivid dreams even without the stimulation) but I couldn't turn this one off.

But it's also interesting to me to see how plots are recycled. Years ago a good friend of mine called Hal Barwood wrote and directed a movie about a mind-altering substance designed to make troops fearless and aggressive. Of course something goes wrong and the lab workers, sealed in an underground facility, try to kill each other. So last night's Holmes was a real case of deja vue.

What I like about this series is the clever banter and interaction between the characters that relieves the tension. I've always liked that sort of quipping relationship. Remember in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? That script was full of witty interchange even when the characters are fighting for their lives.  I suppose I enjoy it so much because it is what I strive for in my own work, especially in the Royal Spyness books. It's always a question of how do you make murder funny and yet keep the gravity of killing another human being? In the latest Naughty in Nice Georgie finds the next door neighbor floating in his pool with his head bashed in. She drags down her mother and friends to see. Her mother, never the sensitive type, takes one look and says, "What a disgusting looking man. He looks like a hippopotamus."

It's fun when characters say the sort of things we'd all like to say but don't!
So what did you think of Sherlock?

The Best Laid Plans

So much for my updates from Malice Domestic convention! It wasn't that I was partying so hard that I had no time. I actually missed the entire convention due to an accident on the first evening. I went out to dinner with a group of friends. We were given a big table at the back of the restaurant and I dakidn't realize it was up a step from the rest of the room. At the end of the meal I decided to use the rest room before we walked back to the hotel. I turned from my chair and stepped out into nothing. I went down like a tree onto brown ceramic tile. There was no kind of stripe or indication at the edge of the step which was tile like the rest of the room.

I was taken in a taxi back to the hotel and then it was determined I should go to the emergency room. It was my first experience of being in an ambulance and such cute paramedics too, but I was hurting too much to enjoy the experience. Three friends from dinner--Carolyn Hart, Eve Sandstrom and Jan Giles--came with me and spent the next seven hours with me in the emergency room, chatting to me and keeping up my spirits. I can't say enough how wonderful they were.

Less praise for the emergency room. It didn't seem busy but it took over an hour each time between doctor visits, e-rays, CT scan and all the while I was lying on a very hard gurney. It even took an hour and a half before I got an ice pack and then only because Carolyn made a fuss.

End result was that I have broken a bone in my pelvis. It is in place and the only cure is time. At close to five o'clock in the morning we arrived back at the hotel. The staff there (Hyatt Bethesda) were fantastic. I can't say enough about their kindness and willingness. The bell man who pushed my wheelchair up to my room telephoned the next day to see how I was getting along. The hotel sent up flowers and a lovely note. How rare is such attention these days.

I also can't say enough about the kindness of my roommate, Carolyn Hart, and of Eve and Jan, and so many other mystery writing friends at the convention. They kept up my spirits, came to visit and looked after me so well. As you can imagine I was worried about how I'd get home from Maryland as I couldn't put any weight on my left leg. Then I remembered that we have emergency medical evacuation insurance (taken out in case we got sick somewhere exotic) but it worked equally well in the USA. The next day a nurse arrived for me with limo to the airport and then she accompanied me home, first class, with a limo at the other end.  So given the circumstances it could not have been better managed.

The next morning I learned that I had won the Agatha Award for NAUGHTY IN NICE. I rather think the sympathy vote had something to do with it, but I promise not to go to extreme measures to win any awards in the future!

So now I'm home in my own bed and already thinking impatiently about starting my next book. I have at least a month ahead of me not being able to move, so why not get a head start. I've already got a great idea for Georgie's next adventure!

I'll keep you updated on my progress.

Catching my breath

Sorry for the silence this week. It's been a week of adjustment, packing up and driving from California to our condo in Arizona and then getting the condo up and running. And my week as host of Jungle Red Writers starts today so I had to write six blogs for that as well as my usual writing schedule (5 pages a day to complete the first draft by April).

So I've been a busy bee. And to cap this, Penguin have asked me to write an e-story to come out at Halloween to work up interest for my upcoming Christmas book, and they want it NOW. Ah, the tranquil life of a writer.

On a lighter note, I always have to smile when I write Penguin wants. I have a vision of the penguin waddling toward me going "oink". I checked into a hotel last year when I was on book tour and on the envelope was written "Room reserved for Penguin." I was intrigued.

And on a happy note: I heard this week that Naughty in Nice had been nominated for an Agatha Award. So all in all a good week. Hope you had one too.

Hooray for Royal Weddings

As the year draws to a close and we all start assembling our "best of" lists, I'm thrilled to tell you that Naughty in Nice, my latest Lady Georgiana book, showed up on the immensely popular Tressugar.come list of favorite books. So thrilled.

And for someone who writes about the royals it was a perfect year. Obviously the royal wedding was the highlight--but which royal wedding, do you ask? Apart from Hollywood royalty like Kim Kardashian, there were several real royal weddings this year, each a brilliant spectacle. In Bhutan the king married a well educated, well traveled commoner in a big Buddhist ceremony. In Monaco Prince Albert finally tied the knot. The queen's granddaughter Zara Phillips married a rugby star in a definitely relaxed and not at all royal ceremony and then there was Kate and Will's big day. This has to be my favorite royal wedding ever and the only one that has felt to me like a real love story and happily-ever-after.

Did you have a favorite royal moment this year? Should we take bets on what Kate and Will will name their first child?

Who am I writing for?

I'm about to start thinking about a new Molly Murphy mystery and also to come up proposals for the next three Lady Georgie books and I realize this is becoming harder than it was before. Not because I'm running out of ideas--far from it. I keep coming up with fun little twists and interesting plotlines for both series. The problem is that I am now so engaged in social media that I am in constant contact with several thousand fans. And they tell me what they like. I heard a lot of griping because Darcy did not figure prominently in Naughty in Nice. Of course there was the dashing and sexy Jean Paul de Ronchard instead but for keen fans of the series it just wasn't the same.

When I started writing mysteries I literally wrote for myself. I didn't think what might sell, what might make the NYT bestseller list or what might win an award. I knew what story I wanted to read and I couldn't find it on the shelf, so I wrote it. Now I feel all kinds of pressures--good reviews, bestseller lists, and above all pleasing my readers. It's got to be fun and sexy and dramatic and a good story but most readers want the story to be a personal one for Molly and Georgie. They want romance and heartbreak. They want their emotions involved.

This is now mmore of a challenge with the next Molly book because if you read Bless the Bride you'd know that Molly is now married. No more of that lovely romantic tension or the will they, won't they. So I have to think long and hard about where I want to go with that series. Children of her own to worry about, I'm sure. Daniel in danger. Cases that involve her personal life. So.... any suggestions as to what you'd want Molly to do next?

This raises an interesting point: should a writer keep her readership in mind when she writes, especially in a popular series. If the publishers had their way, we'd write the same book, over and over. Find a popular concept and stick with it. Look at Patricia Cornwell--that's exactly what she's done. Until now I've gone where I want to with my heroines, tried new things (like Molly meeting Houdini) and different tones for the books. But now I'm increasingly aware that my readers expect a certain kind of book when they see my name. Added pressure to perform and to please.

So, dear readers, what do you think? Should a writer write to please her readers? Should a series be consistent in tone and darkness so that the reader knows what to expect?  Do you get bored and lose interest if the stories are too similar or annoyed if they are too different? I guess I'm trying to please everyone and in the end the only person I can please is myself.

Come Chat with Me.

Great week of traveling, speaking signing my new book, Naughty in Nice, is now over. It was lovely meeting readers old and new in Dallas, Houston, Cave Creek, Scottsdale, San Mateo and Corte Madera. Now  I'm back home and catching my breath. And the week ahead features a unique event, one that I haven't tried before. My publisher Penguin has invited me to hold a live chat on their Facebook page, called The Crime Scene.

It's on Wednesday September 21 and it's at 3 p.m. Eastern time, which makes it noon Pacific Time, 8 p.m if you're in England. 9 in continental Europe and very early morning in Australia. I'm hoping that readers from all these places will come and join in. So if you have anything you'd like to discuss, any questions you want to put to me or suggestions for future Georgie book, Wednesday is the time.

There is nothing hard about it. Simply show up at the page and type on the wall the way you would normally.
During the hour I'm chatting I'll be giving away a fun prize or two. Maybe something naughty and French?

I look foward to meeting as many of you who can slip away from work, take a lunch break, an early coffee break or put the kids down for a nap. Get out the brie and crackers, the French wine and we'll celebrate together. Are you in?

Signs of Fall

Home for a breather from the heat of Texas and AZ. And I've decided I must have been a swallow in my past life. Because I was driving down the street today and I noticed that the leaves were turning yellow. And my first thought was, "It's fall. I need to get out of here."

You wouldn't have thought that someone raised in the bleak damp cold of Britain would need to live in perpetual summer, would you? But fall always stirs flashes of alarm in the depths of my pysche. I suppose it's something to do with the image of approaching old age that I equate with winter. Or maybe it's just that I hate being cold.

At my signing in Houston the other night one of the audience asked, "Do you have a thing about rain?" and she said that my characters always complain of being cold or wet or both. So I guess I must channel my own feelings into Molly and Georgie.  I grew up in a big drafty house where the wind whistled down the corridors so I do relate to Georgie and Castle Rannoch. And I love sunshine and warmth. Perhaps there was a tad too much of both for the past few days, but I'd rather be hot than cold.

The audience suggested that someone would be doing their PhD thesis some day on the leitmotif of rain in Rhys Bowen's novels. So I wondered how you felt about weather. Does it affect you much? Do you love seasons? Do you even like rain? And what about weather in books? Is it important to you?

I'm off to get ready for my big launch party at Book Passage tonight. I'm bringing French goodies (not naughty ones but different cheeses and a truffle pate as well as madeleines and meringes and of course lots of champagne) I'll get John to take pictures.

Rhys reports from the Road

RHYS BOWEN As those of you who Facebook and Twitter will know, I'm on book tour. I didn't like to blog over the 9/11 weekend as I felt weighted with the solemnity of the anniversary.

But I had a great weekend in Dallas including a luncheon with Fresh Fiction and dinner with my fellow Jungle Red Writer Deborah Crombie (who also happens to be one of my favorite people). Oysters, white wine and good conversation. A perfect evening.

Today I'm in Houston, back at the Hotel Zaza--site of last year's encounter with the Afghan tribesman in the bathroom (large photograph of staring tribesman actually). Sorry to disappoint but this year I'm not in the Splendida Suite but an ordinary room, minus Afghan. But there is an eye in my bathroom....

And today I had a real Lady Georgie incident. You know how things sort of happen to her? Well, I was in the window seat on the plane and the flight attendant handed me my orange juice.Only she thought I had a good hold on it when I didn't. And orange juice went everywhere... dripping off my tray, running down my pants and into my seat.I had been reading my Kindle so I kept that held high in the air so it didn't get orange juice in it. It took ages for the hostess to bring me more napkins and I tried to clean up. My pants were light beige linen and surprisingly don't look too bad, except sticky. So I've rinsed them out in hotel bathroom and am hoping for the best. I have a spare outfit but it's not as cool and the temperature is 102.  Why do these things happen to me? I never spill things at home.

Off to Murder by the Book tonight. More tomorrow.

Busy, Busy....

Did you ever have one of those days when you have so much to do that you don't know where to start?
I have one today, and instead of doing any of those pressing things, I'm writing my blog.

Later today I have friends arriving from England. That means making their bed, cleaning their room and making it look welcoming. Also cleaning my kitchen, making sure my husband hasn't left his papers all over the rest of the house, buying enough food and cooking a meal that can be served cold if their flight gets in late.

At the same time I need to prepare for my book tour which starts on Saturday (if you'd like to attend one of my signings please check my website, http://www.rhysbowen.com/, and if you'd like a signed book, but can't make it to one of the signings, you can call one of those stores in advance and I'll be happy to personalize a book for you.  Everywhere I'm going will be HOT so how does one look cool, calm and collected when the temperature in all the places will be over 100? Not easy. And I'm supposed to post about the upcoming tour on all the right sites.  (On a side note, those of you who followed last year's tour will be intersted to know that I've been put in the same hotel in Houston that had the portrait of an Afghan tribesman in my shower, making me feel I should shower in a burka. I wonder if I'll get the same room... or rather The Splendida Suite as it was called? Stay tuned)

And it's my week to be host at http://www.jungleredwriters.com/ so I've had to make sure my posts will be up and running for the days when I'll be on the road.

And the day I return I'm hosting a launch party at Book Passage in Corte Madera, my local store. Which means planning French food and champagne to be ready. Help. Going a little bit crazy.
Now I know those of you who are working mothers will be sniffing at this and saying, "That's nothing. Stop whining." and you're right. When I had four kids who had to get to morning swim practice by siz a.m. I had four lunches to make at five a.m. Then a day of writing and then in the car from three to six as they did swimming, gymnastics, plays, dance, soccer... you name it. In those days I really was running from dawn to dusk. But I'm out of the habit so this feels like a lot to me.

Those of you who have bought and read Naughty in Nice--thank you. Please make sure you enter my contest...details on the previous post and on my website. And if you liked the book I'd really appreciate your posting a review on Amazon.com. There is one truly terrible review up at the moment and it shows up first!

Okay, back to work.

Book Launch and Contest News

It's here: Naughty in Nice is officially in stores today. Or on your Kindle or Nook or Google Reader. Maybe it won't have reached your library yet, but make sure you request it.

So to celebrate the launch I'm running a contest. Here's the scoop.

Celebration of Naughty in Nice contes.
Prize: A fun French themed basket including a gift certificate to Barnes and Noble.

How do I enter?: Buy the book in any form during the month of September (or check it out from your library). Read it and answer this question..... Who is the man into whose embrace Georgie rushes at the beginning of Chapter 30?

Send your answer to rhysbowen@comcast.net by September 30.

Simple, isn't it? I look forward to your replies and will announce the winner at the beginning of October.

And now for our current contest winner--for the best comment during my month of French fun. It's Liz, who made so many good comments during the month.

Well done, Liz. Please contact me with info on where to send your prize.

And this week I'll be blogging all week at Jungle Red Writers. Please stop by at http://www.jungleredwriters.com/

Final Countdown, Last Day

Here we are, folks. Last day before launch. I'm sitting at my computer, making sure everyone knows that Naughty in Nice will be released tomorrow, then rushing out to buy stuff to stock goodie bags for my signings next week. (events schedule is on my website... which is still a work in progress, BTW)

So here's the last snippet that should entice you to read the whole thing. Enjoy:

I pushed open the door to the restaurant to see several men standing around our table. To my horror I recognized one of them as Inspector Lafite.


“Ah there she is now,” one of the men said.

“Inspector,” I eyed him coldly, “What are you doing here?”

“I have come for you, Lady Georgiana,” he said.

“If you wish to ask me more questions, you can see that this is not a good time or place. I have nothing more to tell you, either on the necklace or on the death of Sir Toby,”

“I do not wish to ask you questions at this moment,” he said. “We will do that at the police station.”

“The police station? I’m not going to any police station at this time of night.”

He took a menacing step toward me. “I insist that you accompany me, mademoiselle. I am arresting you for the murder of Sir Toby Groper.”

I stared him. My mouth was probably open, which I know is not acceptable for a lady. But you must admit it’s not every day that one is accused of murder.

“If you will please step outside, mademoiselle,” Lafite said quietly. “I’m sure you do not want to cause a disturbance and scandal in such a place as this.”

Shock does funny things. I looked at his comical face with its exaggerated mustache and I started to laugh as he took my arm.

Jean-Paul however had leaped to his feet. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “This young lady is the daughter of an English duke. She is related to royalty.”

“Her background is of no consequence,” Lafite said. “Please come with me quietly, mademoiselle, and let us have no unpleasantness. I am sure you would not wish to cause embarrassment to Monsieur le Marquis.”

One of his men took my other arm. I was conscious of faces staring at me as I was led through the restaurant and out to the street where several police motor cars were drawn up.

“Now, mademoiselle. Get in please.” Lafite opened a rear door of one of the cars for me. I was moving mechanically, like a puppet, but Jean-Paul stepped between me and the police vehicle door.

“This is absurd,” Jean-Paul said, his eyes blazing. “You know who I am and I can vouch for her.”

“Forgive me, Marquis. Of course we know who you are. However, we have reason to believe that this young lady is guilty of this terrible crime.”

“What reason?” I demanded.

“I am not at liberty to discuss this here. We will wait until we are in the privacy of the police station. Now please enter the automobile.”

“I’m coming too if you are taking her,” Jean-Paul said. He tried to force his way into the motor car.

“I am afraid that is not possible, Marquis. You must realize this is a very serious matter. You cannot be allowed to interfere with the course of justice.”

“Then I will go immediately to telephone a lawyer friend of mine.” Jean-Paul scowled at him, then touched my arm gently. “You are not obliged to say anything until you have a lawyer present. Do not worry, ma petite. It is all a horrible mistake and we will have you back home in no time at all.”

For the first time I realized the enormity of what was happening to me. “Please go and tell my mother where I am. Madame Chanel and Vera will know what to do.”

“They will be hammering at the police station door like ravening wolves,” Jean-Paul said with a smile. His hand touched my cheek. “Courage, cherie. All will be well.”

Countdown Day 5

Tuesday is getting closer and closer and I hope these little snippets of story are convincing you that you need to read Naughty in Nice. I'm not saying "buy" because I know that we can't all afford to buy new books and I think libraries are wonderful resources. What I hope you'll do is read and recommend. Oh, and enter my contest... details coming this weekend.

Here is today's snippet:
flirting is not one of Georgie's major skills, but she is trying it on the dangerous Sir Toby....

“Well, then, miss Georgie, I hope you’ll come down and swim in my pool one day soon. And maybe we could go for a spin on my yacht.”


“Could we really? I adore yachts.” I wasn’t sure if I was overdoing it.

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “Come over and I’ll take you out on the yacht tomorrow. Come any time you like. I’ll have the crew standing by.”

“That’s so kind of you, Sir Toby,” I said. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Not at all. Delighted to help out. See you tomorrow then.”

I gave myself a pat on the back as I left. I had positively had him eating out of my hand. Now if I could just find out if he had the queen’s snuff box at the villa, it should be an easy enough matter to slip inside and pinch it when I went down for a swim. Suddenly I felt very daring and worldly. I had flirted with a dashing marquis. I had had invitations from two English boys and wangled an invitation from Sir Toby. All in all a good evening. I chose not to remember the not so good parts.

Final Countdown, Day 4

It's getting close...only 4 days until launch Next Tuesday!
And on Monday I'll announce the details of my fun launch contest.

So here is snippet number 4.

Coco Chanel has persuaded Georgie, much against her will, to be a model in her fashion show for the elite expats in Nice. Georgie is sure something will go wrong.....

“And for my piece de resistance I give you the royal look, as modeled by a member of England’s ruling family, Lady Georgiana Rannoch,” Chanel announced.


There was a gasp and then applause. The catwalk stretched into darkness, looking about a mile long. I was conscious of upturned faces, sparkling jewels, champagne glasses. I forced one foot in front of the other, trying to walk as I had been taught. I was going to do this. I had done harder things in my life. I was not going to stumble. Step followed step. I was going to get through it.

Then suddenly it was as if my foot wouldn’t move, as if something was holding it fast to the floor. I felt myself pitching forward, stumbling, trying to right myself. I might have done so but the end of the runway was before me. Flash bulbs went off in my face, blinding me. I vaguely heard gasps of horror as I staggered then pitched forward into blackness

Countdown, Day 3

Five days to go until Naughty in Nice is born--it's like the end of a pregancy: expectation, can't wait to get it over, just a little worried....

So here is snippet three from my new book. And keep watching for a contest announcement toward the end of the week....

On the Train to the Riviera where Lady Georgie is heading on a dubious errand from Queen Mary:


I looked down the rows of white clothed tables, their silver and china gleaming in the glow of little lamps. From here I couldn’t see a table that wasn’t occupied and wondered what the protocol was about joining someone on a train and whether I could ever pluck up courage to do that.

Of course the first person I noticed was the handsome Frenchman, sitting alone with another bottle of champagne beside him. He looked up from his soup and caught my gaze. He didn’t smile or nod as would have been usual. Instead he frowned at me.

“You are English?” he asked in French.

I replied that I was.

“Curious,” he replied. He was about to say something else when a voice from further down the car called to me, “I say. Aren’t you Georgiana Rannoch?”

It was a smartly dressed English lady, probably in her late forties. She was sitting with an exquisite and obviously French woman. I agreed that I was.

“Would you like to join us?” the first woman said. “It’s rather full at the moment but we have room, don’t we Coco?”

The Frenchwoman nodded and smiled. “Bien sure,” she said, waving a cigarette holder in my direction.

The Englishwoman stuck out a hand. “You look the spitting image of your father. I used to know him well. I’m Vera, by the way. Vera Bate Lombardi, and I believe we’re related, at least through marriage.”

I sat down on the chair she had pulled out for me. She waved imperiously and a waiter appeared. “My lady will be joining us, so set another place and you’d better bring us another bottle of Veuve Cliquot.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to dine with a rather bossy Englishwoman who claimed to be related to me, but it was better than standing like a wallflower.

“I actually stayed at Castle Rannoch when you were little,” she continued, “although I don’t suppose you remember me. We went out riding together once. You were a splendid little horsewoman.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I don’t often get a chance to ride any more and I miss it.”

“So do I,” she said. “I’m in Paris most of the year now, traipsing around behind Coco, and one can hardly get a decent gallop in the Bois de Boulogne..”

“You do not traipse behind me,” Coco said in English. “It makes you sound like a dog on a lead. Since you take bigger strides than I, then I am usually running to keep up with you. But you must introduce us, Vera. This very English young lady will not speak to me unless properly introduced.”

I laughed, but Vera said, “Sorry. Bad of me. Coco, this is Bertie’s daughter, Georgiana Rannoch. And this is my dear friend and business partner, Coco Chanel.”

Count Down--Day 2

Only 6 days to go to the release of Naughty in Nice.

Here is snippet number 2--which takes place with the Queen at Buckingham Palace: 

“A valuable snuff box is missing from my collection, Georgiana.”


“Stolen, you mean?”

“I’m rather afraid so.”

“Isn’t that a matter for the police?”

She shook her head firmly. “I can’t mention this to the police. It’s too embarrassing. You see the snuff boxes were on display in one of the niches in the Music room. Two weeks ago we held a large reception there for the New Year honors. Shortly afterward, I noticed one of the boxes was missinGeorgig. So the choice of culprit is either one of the servants, or one of the guests at our reception. I have conducted a secret investigation of the servants, but those who were in attendance that night had all been with us for some time and had impeccable backgrounds. Which leaves only one conclusion—a person who attended that elite gathering made off with one of my snuff boxes

Georgie's task--to retrieve the snuff box from a notorious bounder!
 
Naughty in Nice in stores Sept 6, or order now from Amazon!

One Week Countdown starts Now!

Starting a one week countdown to the launch of Naughty in Nice on Sept 6th with snippets from the book designed to make you rush out and pre-order it, or at least line up at your local bookstore at midnight on the sixth!

And watch out for contest details at the end of the week. I'll be announcing the winner of my comments contest and telling you about the new publication contest both of which will offer fun and French prizes (no, not naughty ones)

So here's snippet number one:

The Riviera had never looked more inviting. The sun sparkled on a sea of deepest blue. Elegant couples strolled beneath the palm trees on the Boulevard des Anglais. The scent of mimosa blossoms hung in the air while a seagull soared lazily overhead…I gave a contented sigh.

“’ere, watch it, love. You’re slopping soup all over.” The gruff voice that brought me back to the present with a jerk. I wrenched my eyes away from the poster on the wall and down to the scene in front of me. A long, gray line of shabbily dressed men, muffled against the bitter cold, snaked across Victoria Station. They clutched mugs or bowls and stood patiently, eyes down or staring, as I had been, into a world that nobody else could see but them. I was currently helping out at the station soup kitchen. It was a bitter and bleak January day, and I felt as cold and miserable as those poor wretches who shuffled past me.

French Feast Memories

Returning to French food today and to some memorable meals I've had in France. When I was sixteen I went to stay with a French family. Usually the meals were simple in the extreme: a green bean salad with olive oil and bread for lunch. A thin slice of steak cooked in butter.
 However while I was there they had family from Corsica visiting and Maman cooked a special lunch. To describe this as lunch is an understatement, except that it started at one o'clock. The first course was a whole lobster each, accompanied by champagne. Then followe a pate, duck in a very rich sauce, a salad, a gateau sinfully dripping with cream and liqueur and then a cheese board. Every course was accompanied by a different wine. The meal went on until five o'clock. I had grown up on simple school food and maybe a sip of wine at Christmas and this was all way too much for me. That evening I was extremely sick.
But it did show me that when the French go to town on food, they REALLY go to town.

John's famous crepes recipe

My husband John is a big fan of crepes (yes, real men do eat pancakes).
He worked out a fabulous recipe. Because there is so much butter in it, you just need fruit and/or syrup to go with it. John likes it the old fashioned way with sugar and lemon juice.

4 eggs
2 cups milk
2 cups flour (by weight is 215 grams)
pinch of salt
quarter pound stick of melted butter

blend in blender.

better made the night before.
cook hot pan very thin. Serve with fresh fruit or choice of syrup
OR
Savory fillings like ham and cheese, shrimp with cream sauce etc.

Mmm. Getting hungry.

13 days to go until Naughty in Nice is in stores. Don't forget to leave a comment for a prize at the end of the month.

More French fast food

Day of anticipation. In exactly two weeks, on Sept 6th, I'll be celebrating the launch of my new book, Naughty in Nice

For the past two weeks I've been focusing on all things French--food, fashion, history. After posting on mussels yesterday my thoughts are still in Brittany and on their other famous fast food--the crepe.

If you want a light meal or a snack, you visit a Creperie. Actually the savory ones are called Galettes and are often made with buckwheat flour. They are topped with ham, cheese, fried egg, shrimp, spinach etc. All delicious.
But my favorites are the true crepes--thin crisp pancakes with fruit, chocolate, cream, honey, all of the above...
Sorry, I'm drooling. Have to stop.
My husband makes a terrific crepe recipe which I'll post sometime. It involves a whole stick of butter in the blender mix. No wonder it's so good.

Showing some mussel

Only two weeks to go until Naughty in Nice comes to a bookstore near you.

And I'm continuing my month of French fun and facts with some thoughts on French fast food: Brittany is one of my favorite regions of France. My sister in law has a cute little house there and I love the low key life there, and also the food.  The first time we visited her she took us to a worker's cafe and we ordered the favorite fast food lunch--moules et frites (mussels with shoestring fries). The mussels come simmered in wine and herbs, the fries in a paper tube.

We learned immediately that there is a right and a wrong way to eat them. We picked up our forks. Sue leaned across the table and whispered, "Please don't embarrass me. Watch."  And she picked up an empty mussel shell and used it as pinchers to extract the next mussel. Soon we were old pros and the combination of flavors is incredible.  Easy to cook too, if you don't mind scrubbing and preparing mussels.

Mmm. Now I'm hungry.