Today is the Birthday of Balzac. I am not familiar with Mr. Balzac’s work (although “The Music Man” hints he wrote ‘dirty books’).  Mr. Balzac had two infamous habits:  He was forever editing and correcting his works,  long after it was tactful or convenient to do so.  I imagine his publishers were quite nettled by his insistence to reprint something.  I empathize with Mr. Balzac, for I too want to continually edit earlier entries and ‘fix them up’.  I suppose I should leave them alone but when I see a grammar error or a less-than-elegant sentence structure I  want improvement.

Mr. Balzac is also known for coffee drinking, which he did continually throughout the day, which I wonder has a correlation to his anxiety about his prose.  Someone connected the dots this morning when he reminded me “Balzac” is the name of a coffeehouse in Stratford, Ontario. They also sell ice cream, and no rubbish either!

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Food seems to be on mind more than usual.  Spo-fans may recall I am taking a history course of France covering 1760-1820.  I am at 1804; Mr. Napoleon is running around Europe doing all sorts of brilliant albeit nasty things.  He stopped long enough at The battle of Marengo to create a new supper: Chicken Marengo.  I have never heard of Chicken Marengo, but I am keen to find a recipe for it as close to the original as possible.

Mr. Bonaparte hasn’t fared well with time. If people recall anything about him they remember him as a shorty with a complex.  Apparently he has another legacy:  chicken dinners.  I hope to make some this weekend, served with a good wine (ironically an Italian one) and perhaps a cup of coffee for small chocolate cone.

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