When is horse manure a smell you never forget? (And remember fondly)

We found this little picnic spot by accident—just outside Préhy, overlooking the Chablis vineyards rolling endlessly into the distance.

A weathered wooden table. Long grass brushing your legs. A crusty baguette torn by hand. Tart goat cheese, pâté wrapped in paper, a bottle of rosé cooling on the car floor. The air smelled of sun-warmed earth, vineyards, and honest countryside life.

Nothing fancy. Nothing staged.

Just food, place, and the people you love—fully present.

This is the spirit behind my Culinary Retreats in France & Italy.

Unrushed days, extraordinary food, and real connection—designed intentionally, not herded.

If this kind of experience speaks to you, message me and I’ll share the details.

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