salsa pocket al la french

French pastries are delicious, and I love croissants. Yesterday, we took a side-trip to Russia (when I upload the pictures, you will understand), and on the way, found a beautiful bakery. My adventurous nature got the best of me (what? you didn't know I had an adventurous nature? its really only limited to pastry selection) and I chose a mysterious turnover-looking pastry for lunch. I'm sure it wasn't mysterious to the French, but with my language skills - which have now expanded to include "hello", "please", "goodbye", and "get out of my way", there was no hope of discovering what it contained until I took a bite.

First, I thought it was tomato sauce (like a pizza pocket, cold, and not as delicious). Then, it was spicy. And then I realized it was salsa. In a flaky, golden crust. And a little bit of cheese. Disappointment? Yes. Was it good? Not really.

Update: Yorkie count is in the billions. Everyone in France has a dog, and it appears that over half own Yorkies, or strange wannabe Yorkies that are a little too large. John and I stumbled across an antique market yesterday in Old Nice (if only overseas shipping was free - I coveted about thirty beautiful tea sets), and most of the vendors had their little dogs curled up in packing boxes and things. We tried to make friends with one, but he wasn't really having it. Lesson learned: French dogs can be as rude as French people.

Actually though, the French have been very kind to us. They don't even hate me when I butcher their language. I tried to order some bread goods the other day with the skills John taught me, and the woman had to resort to English to understand me, and HER English was minimal. But she still gave me my benets (delicious golden fried dough with powdered sugar, oh my).

Today we're headed to Marseille - our trip to Avignon has been canceled due to train schedule, but this should be a neat replacement.

much love!