No, this isn’t about literature, philosophy or trying to justify playing computer games. Brain food is actually about, well, brain as food.

FRENCH FRIDAYS A shiny pink intestine sits on the Charles-de-Fitte Avenue in Toulouse, reaching out of the ground to an overpowering height. I’ve always had the feeling that the museum curators don’t call it the intestine, but Toulousains certainly do. It’s a handy landmark for giving directions – and it symbolizes the entrance to Toulouse’s [...]

France does not claim steak tartare as its own…

Southwest France proclaims itself as the family home of cassoulet, even if the towns bicker over who thought of it first like relatives at Christmas.

To avoid disappointment, let me state right now that I am not a sports journalist. However, build up enough atmosphere, enough history, enough daring and enough personal flair and I’m hooked…

Cuisses de grenouilles – the dish so popular that it gave an entire nation its nickname. It comes as something of a disappointment, therefore, to discover that most French people pull a contorted or confused face at the mention of the humble amphibian.

Place du Capitole, or Place Cap to the locals, is the beating heart of Toulouse and…

A tiny street squeezes around the edge of Fermat’s Lycée and onto Les Jacobins – a rather forlorn, unimpressive pathway for such a grandiose monument.

So why am I starting French Fridays? Because I’m planning on writing about France and publishing posts on a Friday? Cunning. But there’s more to it than that.

People scrambled to safety, crying “the end of the world is nigh!”
Oh, alright, that was me. An apocalyptic drama was unfolding, and I wanted to fit in.