"Mary Frances, having reconciled me to olive oil, did something greater still: she won me over to butter. It was her skirling* that did it. Now, when I make eggs, I cut my measure of butter (Mary Frances would probably still think me very stingy) and skirl it in the base of the pan, making it figure-skate over the surface. And I think of her skirling in the kitchen at Marseilles in bare feet on the red-tiled floor, with pots of geraniums on the window ledges and the mistral blowing outside."
Laura Freeman, The Reading Cure: How Books Restored My Appetite.
Vuillard, At Clayes, Geranium on a Blue Table in front of the Window.
*Scroll down to I.8
