Sitting in airport hotels as a child, excited about the impending hours in the air. On family holidays to the Dordogne, days in the car, followed by weeks in the sun. In posh London restaurants for a special occasion. The eighties for me was full of French onion soup.
And then it just disappeared. Did I stop eating it, stop noticing it? Or was it just considered untrendy and old fashioned? Whatever happened, it’s only recently I’ve begun to rediscover it. The first taste brought memories of those airports, restaurants and rustic French tables rushing back. It was pure warm nostalgia. Continue reading
