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Its the bit of trivia I share more than any other that Frances former colonial ties mean that over half. ALBUQUERQUE N. M. KRQE This weeks edition of the Pick 6 features great performances from the high school to collegiate level, as well as ALBUQUERQUE N. M. KRQE For the first time since 1. New Mexico Aggies are headed to a bowl game. CookingAcademy2WorldCuisine-Screenshot04-Fugazo.jpeg' alt='Load Crack Cooking Academy 2 World Cuisine Free' title='Load Crack Cooking Academy 2 World Cuisine Free' />Algae Algae, seaweed, nori, kaiso, agar agar, miuk, carrageen, Irish moss, spirulina, tecuilatl vitamin rich edible gifts from the sea. Consumed from prehistoric. Manual Toshiba Tv. The news was made official on SundayALBUQUERQUE N. M. KRQE The 6 6 Dallas Cowboys still have a glimmer of hope on making it to the playoffs this season. They are coming off o He served the State of New Mexico as a law enforcement officer for more than 2. Now, hes using his retirement to combat a problem hWeve seen people steal those big ticket inflatable yard decorations before, but now one woman says she caught a pair of Christmas grinches A New Mexico filmmaker is one of five directors being put to the test in a new reality series put on by famous director Robert Rodriguez. Breakfast Roads Kingdoms. Oysters in the March Bastille. In Paris, oysters are a celebration for a party, for a Joyeux Nol, a bonne anne. Half of the hutres eaten every year in FranceEuropes largest producer and consumer of themare ingested between Christmas and the coming of the New Year. The year was coming to an end a very long 2. Endings of things are worth a pause, a commemoration. This time, it needed a celebration. I didnt think I would cry. I got up from the floor, next to two grey suited men embracing, and looked around in the plenary dark. On enormous ceiling hung screens, U. N. climate chief Christiana Figueres was pumping her fists in the air, eyes brimming over. In the overflow hall, 1. Translation headsets fell to the floor. French Foreign Minister Laurent Fabius gave a thumbs up. People held hands, raised them aloft. Everywhere, exhausted negotiators were openly sobbing. Cross legged on the carpet, I exhaled. And between the cheering and blurry laptop words, my breath came in heaving hiccups as history happened around me in each hug, each sigh, on each wet cheek. Its been such a long road since the 2. Copenhagen, I managed to say on the radio, in tumbling words all these years, those fights and late nights and justified cynicism, and now, weve done it, even though no one thought we could. Weve finally managed to agree. There was a party organized by activists, attended by all. In a club in downtown Paris, with sticky floors and beer in plastic pint cups, people who hadnt slept in days chose not to sleep for one more night. As we got off the bus, Parisian pedestrians shouted their congratulations. Christiana came, proud daughter in tow. Golf shirted U. S. Todd Stern did the YMCA and took selfies with sweaty young ladies. The head of the E. U. delegation, Luxembourgs environment minister, shook her hair loose, dancing nose to nose and hip to hip with a man in tight jeans. We danced til sunrise and emerged into a new world. Id been dreaming of this breakfast for days. We meet at the March Bastille, round the corner from the tacky fun fair, past the rows of polyester hats and clothes sold in cellophane packets. There are only four of us, despite promises from a dozen others are in hotel beds, draped with laptops and sleep. There have been other meals, after other negotiations, in other places Cancun, Durban, Doha. Sometimes, there isnt a chance for a goodbye mostly, no cause for celebration. This time, in the 1. Im late. I find them already eating, pressed up against a turquoise trestle table in a throng of coats. Emmett from PRI has found a bottle of something white with a vague hint of chardonnay. He produces another plastic cup. There are nests of kelp draped over plastic, scattered with calcified debris. From the laminated Tarifs Dgustation, I choose the Spciales over the Hutres Fines. Last weeks discovery of the Thalassa stall at the march had come too late there was only time for last ordersa single oystersaid cailleur Louis, before the police came to chase them away. I asked for a pied de cheval, the size of my palm. Youre not sleeping alone tonight, are you Louis had asked me, entirely seriously. It was an order deemed serious enough by Osman, a Senegalese engineer, replete with enormous cigar and jaunty chapeau, for an invitation to their weekly oyster party. Today, cailleur Louis is multitasking, shucking knife in one hand, bottle of muscadet in the other. He assembles a cluster of happiness. The hutres spciales are sweeter than the Fines with their hint of iodine raised off the coast of Normandy with the flavors of the Channel filtering through their bodies. Naturally spawned in April, they are now beautifully fat. I prod with a terrifyingly sharp, candy pink plastic shucking knife, trying not to cut my tongue while scraping the oyster into my mouth, adductor muscles and all. They are masculine, metallic, sea sweet, with a taste of noisette on the tongue. Osman brings us bread spread thickly with butter. There are crabs, too, boiled, cold perfect in their simplicity. Louis turns one upside down for me, bashes it against the table until it falls apart. Emmett cracks the legs with his teeth. I scrape the tomalley with the side of my thumb, and lick. Podcast producer Helen is picking from a plastic bag of tiny steamed mussels, fat and juicy and brimming over. The turquoise plastic foldout table is a mlange of salt sweet. There is something honest, almost primal, in its purity. It is a celebration of contrasts, gentle and extreme, a place to eat to honour the coming together of everything thats been before. A place for new beginnings. There is oyster brine on my coat, running down the inside of my sleeve. It makes the webbing between my fingers sticky. I hold out the oyster shell. Louis upends the bottle of muscadet into the brine and grins. I sip as the salt and sweet swirl together. It tastes like tears.