Hooray, look what I found! It’s that lovely Breton butter that I was swooning over a year ago. I spotted it in the refrigerator case in one of the nice delis in Hove (Bona Foodie, for any interested Brightonians) and I snapped it up immediately, remembering how I had loved it so much in Paris that I wanted to lick the butter wrapper after breakfast.

Of course, as I was buying it, I thought, "There’s no way this butter is going to live up to my expectations." Vacation food exists in a world of its own, and sometimes when you remove that food from its natural surroundings (i.e., you take it home with you), it loses a bit of its glamour.

Well, I’m happy to report that, in Brighton or in Paris, that Breton butter is just scrumptious. It goes without saying that eating it on a piece of toast in miserable, rainy Brighton while sitting in front of the computer is not quite the same as eating it on a fresh baguette on a sunny Saturday morning in Paris while sitting outside the Sorbonne - but it is still très très bon!