On the Côte d'Azur, we escape to our secret beach before the cicadas begin to hum. Morning shadows still long, cedars on the hill protect the little harbor from the sun. The sun is piercing through in spots along the shore and we settle down. The water is so crystal clear we can see the fish swimming among the rocks.
Back at the house, Brigitte is rolling out veal escalopes in her cool Mediterranean tiled kitchen, lights off, shade down. She’s got some poutargue. She’s working her way along each flattened escalope with a sharp knife, slicing each one into smaller strips, getting ready to sear them.