It lies on the western hills of California and enjoys the status of the chief Pacific port of the country. It also sets fashion in culinary canons across the whole of the United States. It is to San Francisco that we owe the notion of «Californian cuisine» with its fresh and simple delicacy.
San Francisco charms by its compact location — it seems demiurges placed it neatly, like a piece of a delicious cake, on the peninsula between the bay of the same name, the Pacific Ocean and the Golden Gate channel.
The story of San Francisco started in the late 16^th century when the ships of Sir Francis Drake, reckless English «gentleman pirate», anchored there. In 1776 there was established a Spanish presidio («fort») that became the birthplace of the city (at present, this area hosts a military base). Half a century later, Presidio grew into a peaceful Mexican settlement, Yerba Buena, to give in to the Americans in 1847 and obtain its real name, San Francisco. Its further development was fueled by the romantic years of the Gold Rush and the discovery of a rich silver vein. California turned into a point of attraction for adventurers and entrepreneurs from China, Japan, Italy, the Philippines, and around the world.

The labyrinths of history have buried the explanation why the authentic foie gras can originate from no other country but France. To be more precise, goose or duck liver prepared in a particular way must be produced either in the north-east (the «goose» provinces of Alsace and Lorraine) or the south-west of the country, at the foot of the Pyrenees (the «duck» provinces of Gascony and Perigord). Meanwhile, there is nothing about the poultry, or their food, or the climate of «the world capitals of foie gras» that would make them different from neighbour areas. It is no surprise that the French gastronomic archives contain over a hundred recipes of the preparation and serving of the delicacy whose high price and exquisite taste can compete with the rare truffles of the same province of Perigord.

The variety of French wines is so abundant that one life is probably not enough to try them all. There is hardly any region in France not involved in grape growing. Bordeaux, Burgundy, the Rhone and Loire valleys, and Champagne are the largest vineyards of France. The green carpet of vineyards covers almost a million hectares of the country’s territory. The Rhone Valley is unquestionably one of France’s major winemaking regions.
The river Rhone starts up in the mountains and flows all the way down from glaciers, through the south of France and out into the Mediterranean Sea. With its castles of the Middle Ages, Roman ruins, and the snow covered tops of the French Alps, the Rhone region is without a doubt one of the most picturesque provinces. All the rivers in the valley are connected with the Rhone, and all the roads lead to Lyon — once the Gallic capital, today it is the second largest city after Paris.

Italian desserts, that conquered gourmets’ hearts around the world, can whet the appetite by their names alone: tiramisu, reminiscent of a bitter hint of coffee; almonds gently crunching in tiny cantuccini biscuits; the refreshing delicacy of zucotto… The popularity of the Piemontese cream pudding panna cotta (the melodious word combination means simply «cooked cream» in Italian) spread beyond the borders of Italy long ago.
Panna cotta is considered a variety of pudding with its classical recipe invented in England as long as three centuries ago. Up till now, the British believe it is not just a mainstay of their national cookery but also a symbol of the mighty British Empire.

…The hall is packed long before the concert is to start. Spirits are high. Enthusiastic, excited, concentrated faces; everybody is waiting for Rachmaninov to appear. He will play his Second Concerto tonight. Those who consider Rachmaninov a superficial, light composer capable of bringing nothing new to art, look gloomy and skeptical. But these are few.
Suddenly the audience burst into applause. Rachmaninov cannot be seen yet, only those sitting and standing in between the columns are the first to notice him. It is from this side that the storm of applause breaks out to greet the beloved composer and pianist.

Ray Bradbury is a lucky man. The luckiest of men, it seems. «I’ve lived a great, wonderful, fantastic, life», says the writer, full of joy and vitality. «And, to be honest, I have nothing to regret. My greatest success is my work, of course. I wrote 25 books, 300 short stories, 30 plays, and 60 scripts for TV series... And even now I can not and don’t want to give up writing!»
In 2005, the lucky man Ray Bradbury turned 85, but he looks much younger, 70 I would say. Besides, he always has a friendly smile (and a great sense of humour), which makes him another 10 years younger. And yet he looks serious: even in sunny California he prefers a shirt and tie to a light T-shirt. The image of the famous sci-fi writer is supplemented by glasses that, even with thick lenses, cannot hide his lively eyes. And the last thing — to complete the writer’s portrait — Bradbury has still got a firm handshake.
«I was born at the right time», says Ray. «In 1920, radio did not exist, nor TV. We could not even think of going into space. I was born at just the right time to invent and describe all these fantastic things. Which in fact I was doing every day...»