Welcome to the Café

All my life I have wanted to own a restaurant. I know my siblings have the same thought.

It's in our blood.

Once upon a time, I thought I'd have a cute little place called The Red Hen. I would specialize in egg dishes, of course, and also bread. I saw red checkered curtains and a few plants. Baskets. Crocks. A touch of country and a touch of French. Perfect for 1980.

The I had this crazy idea I'd buy an old depot and start a diner called Bertha's by the Tracks. I look more like a little red hen than a Bertha, so I thought I'd have to hire a jolly woman with ringlets to play the role of Bertha. I'd specialize in hearty soups and sandwiches and name them after railroad lines.

Chicago and Northwestern would be hot beef. Milwaukee Road would be German - something with sauerkraut, maybe. Burlington Northern Santa Fe could be some sort of fusion dish with a Tex-Mex twist. You get the idea.

It would be a place for hungry business people. Bertha would offer sage advice and an occasional ribald comment. I'd hang old train prints on the walls.

Later I fantasized about a place called Café du Soleil, which would offer Mediterranean fare. For the past several months, I've been wondering if it might be possible. But my timing has always been bad.

Concurrently, I've been seeking a way to express myself and do more writing. I made my living writing for many years, and although I still write news releases and memos, it's not the same.

I've also been looking for a way to bring my blog, French Kitchen in America, back to its roots of family, food and France. I wanted to try more French recipes. In recent months, I have come to the conclusion they must be frugal French recipes.

I wanted a separate place for the humble little meals I make from scraps. Like the rest of you, I am watching money closely these days. Just in case.

Welcome to A Humble Little Café.