Nomadic Kitchen is a food & travel journal and marshmallow confectionery based out of Vermont.

“And this, what does this mean? ‘Flipping,’ I thought I understood, but not in this sentence.” My neighbor Genevieve slid the English nov...

“The truffle must always be the queen of the night,” Johann caught himself as he poured champagne, “well, unless your wife is there.” He’...

Paris. Is there any place in the world more dreamed of, more longed for, more romanticized? Hemingway claimed that if you’re lucky enough...

I re-watched the end of Ratatouille last night, the movie that so wonderfully inspired so many to recreate a Thomas-Keller-cum-Remy-the-R...

Places are not foreign, you are. You always will be. The imprint of your individual presence on a faraway land, no matter how hard you pr...

"I'm living in the French countryside." I have no illusions about how romantic that sounds, how romantic that is. But a house this old, b...

When sharing my plans to come to France, the reaction was surprisingly formulaic. I'd be met with a rush of excitement, a pause, and then...

As the train jostled back and forth, I couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated. Rough-and-tumble Marseille was behind me and ahead: Nice...

Wrinkled noses, pitied sighs, fallen smiles: these are the reactions I met most often when telling people, "je vais à Marseille." "Marsei...

Week one in two words: solitude, scrambling. Most of my time has been spent learning, exploring, traversing--quietly and alone. Here, the...

So you bake Julia Child's clafoutis (because let's be real, on your first night you couldn't stop sleeping). Sometimes the best thing you...