I Was Thirty-seven Years Old And Still

I Would Happily Die With A Bottle Of White Burgundy In My Mouth.

Upon Reflection, I Decided I Had Three Main Weaknesses: I Was Confused (evidenced By A Lack Of Facts, An Inability To Coordinate My Thoughts, And An Inability To Verbalize My Ideas); I Had A Lack Of Confidence, Which Cause Me To Back Down From Forcefully Stated Positions; And I Was Overly Emotional At The Expense Of Careful, 'scientific' Though. I Was Thirty-seven Years Old And Still Discovering Who I Was.

Was It A Sign Of Creeping Decrepitude?

Cooking Was Taken With Such Seriousness In France That Even Ordinary Chefs Were Proud Of Their Profession. That's What Appealed To Me.

A Party Without Cake Is Really Just A Meeting.