Joyeux Noël!

I had no intention of writing today-but here I am, it's just past 6 pm here, we have now almost finished our first family Christmas in France. The day started at a civilized 9 am, coffee by 9:10 and presents opened by 9:30.... a lazy afternoon (for the boys who played video games and built Legos) and I have cooked, eaten and cleaned (well a little)...and I must confess that I am already in my Pj's and cozy in bed with my lap-top. (It is already dark out after all.)

Technically this is our second Christmas in France.  We were here in 2001 when Maxim was almost 3.  We were at Alain's parents house and the most memorable thing about that Christmas sadly was that we all caught this horrific stomach flu that was sweeping across the country and we were sick for almost 6 out of our 10 day visit.

This Christmas in France was better than that--way, WAY better than that.  Last night we had Christmas Eve dinner at 'Carmen', Alain's brother's hotel/restaurant with everyone; grandparents, nieces, nephews, brothers, isters, in-laws.... more than 20 of us all together.  A really wonderful family evening; food, laughter, holiday spirit...and we even lasted until midnight! (but still the first to leave and considered an 'early' departure...before desert.)

So keeping this short and sweet--sharing a few pictures of our little Christmas at home here--just the 4-plus of us.  Despite being in month N-I-N-E of pregnancy, 2 bins of Christmas decorations that have 'gone-missing' since our move to France leaving me with precious little to deck-the-halls--and that our cute 9 euro Christmas tree is living up to it's 'Charlie Brown Christmas Tree' reputation by dropping all but it's last dozen needles all over the veranda--(I am afraid to even look at it let alone touch it!)

Yet a spirit filled Christmas------Sweet and cozy--a simple menu; roast pork with turnips, fennel and carrots, sauteed potatoes, cheese, a platter of dates, clementines and cinnamon marscapone cheese.....macaroons for 'premiere' desert and if I find any room left later--a buche de noel...or Yule Log....but maybe for tomorrow instead! 

Joyeux Noël chers amis!

Half-off Duck

Yes, you read it right, half-OFF duck..not half-of-duck...rather the former which indicates clearance-duck, sale-priced duck, discount-duck if you will.....

That's what has inspired me to post my first recipe on this blog, because as I type, slowly poaching away downstairs are 6 legs of 'discount-duck'....cooked in my absolute favorite fashion--confit de canard, which is essentially duck legs cured in salt and then poached in duck-fat, s-l-o-w-l-y.......for as much as 10 hours or as little as 2......sounds like a lot of work I know, but it is not.  In fact it most definitely falls into the category of 'easy French food that will make you look like a professional chef who studied culinary sciences at Le Cordon Bleu'....

I learned to make it a few years ago, after personally getting over the hang-up that it was probably way-too labor intensive and time consuming--the first part is not the case but yes, it does take time--but the time it takes is mostly taken up as time in the fridge 'curing' and time in the oven simmering away--neither actually takes your time.

Just a side note--I literally spent years researching (read tasting) every single duck confit I could find while dining out--and while I never ever had a bad entre of duck confit--one of the very best was found at a knock-your-socks off resturant in Woodenville, Washington called "The Barking Frog"... that was a five-course meal that still holds it's place in my history as the best meal I have ever had--and would be the last meal I would order should I find out I was dying tomorrow.

Honorable mention goes to my absolute fave bistro in the entire US, also located in the Pacific Northwest at Cafe Campagne, located in an alley just a few trudges up the hill from Pike Place Market-

-F-a-b-u-l-o-u-s duck confit served in a single-serving cast iron skillet served over crispy rich sauteed potatoes with garlic and rosemary..I have had it there many, many times and it is where I got my six year old hooked on it!

The 'half-off' part is the fact that I found fresh duck legs at our local super-marche for half of the normal price (about 3euro per kilo rather than the 7 euro and even at that it is not expensive at full-price and always available!)  In the US I think the price is close to double and found in the freezers rather than fresh most commonly.......so let's say aside from very special circumstances--discount duck is an "Only In France" thing!

By the way-if you are not familiar with it--the bonus is that once cooked the duck can be saved (stored in the fat) in the fridge for up to six months...it can be used in lots of different other French dishes like Cassoulette..but in our house we usually eat it all in less than a week--it's just way too tempting sitting there calling from the fridge!

Bon Apetite!

____________________________

Six duck legs or leg quarters
4 tbs. coarse sea-salt
4 tbs. Herbe de Provence
Black pepper
8 whole 'bruised' cloves of garlic
6 or more sprigs of fresh rosemary
2-4 cups of duck fat (you can buy this at gourmet markets, on-line, or render your own from cooking whole ducks and reserving the fat for future use.)

 Rinse and dry duck legs and place in large glass bowl--toss with the above and leave in fridge for 24 hours.

After the duck legs have 'cured' in the salt/herb mixture, remove from fridge and wipe off the excess salt and herbs with a paper-towel and place legs (and garlic cloves) into an enameled cast iron pot (dutch oven).

Cover the legs with the duck fat, put on the pot lid and place pot in 275-300 degree oven for 4 to 8 hours or more!  I tend to start the legs at 300 and reduce the heat down as they cook if needed.

When the legs are done, remove them from the pot and save all of that amazing duck fat in a clean jar for future cooking!  You can store the legs in the fridge in the fat or eat them within 2 weeks.....

To serve:  place the legs on a oven tray and 'crisp' the skin under the broiler for 5 minutes--serve with salad, pomme frite, or root vegetable puree......

	Savourez!

Ma Petite Baguette

This is an odd time of year for some, riding the holiday anticipation and preparation wave, squeezing in seasonal social events, finishing up work projects in attempts to have some assimilation of a break before the New Year, this time between Thanksgiving and Christmas turns out to be tricky as we all try to keep the inherent overwhelming pressure and stress at bay while still soaking up the spirit of giving, hope and gratitude---and this year it's a 'tween-time' for us in an additional way.

'Waiting for baby' is obviously the predominant 'anticipation'.....we have been playing the due-date game with both my OB's calculations (later not sooner) and my body's symptoms of readiness (sooner not later) and there is a 3 week discrepency between both of our calculations--and neither one of us will budge.....stubborn woman with baby inside vs. stubborn doctor with slide-rule EDD chart that differs from the way we have previously calculatted EDD with our other babies... and at the end of the day, baby will come when baby comes. Est-ce vrai?

But I just couldn't get my head around it...since our last appointment and the most recent one....I had a check-up just after Halloween and then a 5 week wait until the next that was at the end of last week.....(the next appointment is set for the end of this month--which to my calculation is past my due date and I will have a baby in arms by then and not a baby in tummy, but oh well!)  And I am trying to get over the fact that by now in the US I would be seeing an OB every single week at this stage and not going every 4 weeks up until D-day....again I say, "Oh well!"

So I thought maybe in France babies just 'cook longer'....you know, kinda like the baguette traditionnel, lovely golden-crispy on the outside and soft and fluffy on the inside.....absolutely perfect.  I would accept this explanation entirely.....but not the explanation that somehow since departing the US and settling in France there have been two to three random weeks of third trimester discomfort, aches and pains, sleeplessness and a-n-t-c-i-p-a-t-i-o-n just arbitrarily ADDED to my pregnancy!

And at Christmas time no-less!  I would much prefer to be focusing on the true spirit of the holiday than the thoughts described above....and lately as we get closer to la fin, la ligne d'arrivée, I have to say that my tentative and tepid relationship with my French-only speaking OB has gotten a might frosty as she no longer explains things to me--but rather falls back on giving me a look of exasperation and in an ever-so-slight condesending tone states, "Well that is just how we do it in France!" to which I look at the darling spouse (aka-French Guy) and say, "What did she just say!?!"

So I have been trying to work up the right attitude and peaceful spirit to write some beautiful and inspirational thoughts about Christmas in France...(between contractions) and I have re-discovered the importance of getting out of the house at least once a week, if not more with my camera. 

Christmas in France just sounds so idealic, non?  A few nights ago we packed the family into the car and took a quick swing through neigboring towns to check out the holiday light displays--it was a chilly Sunday evening just after 5 pm and the streets were quiet...it was nice, I shot about a dozen pics hoping to begin the collection of images of this December...

...for a few reasons; trying to capture the 'spirit' and also to document our first holiday as residents in this country and maybe someday show these images to my 'petite-filles-baguette-traditionnele" as a documentation of this month of her birth....

(hopefully!).........!


 We shall see!

Joyeuses Fêtes---Mes chers amis!

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's almost 9 pm and as we finish our first Thanksgiving outside of the homeland our friends and family are just beginning theirs.  I have to admit I was skeptical that this Thanksgiving would be even close to acceptable, I was actually expecting the day to pass as a painful reminder of how different life is now, and how much tradition and ritual we have left behind.  So it was a stretch of faith to take the boys out of school, gather the requisite ingredients of the most significant meal of the year and make plans to celebrate gratitude. But here I sit--the last stack of dishes brought to the kitchen, the kids in their PJ's because yes, they have to return to school tomorrow and re-integrate into French culture once more, and it has actually been a beautiful, sweet, and very very thank-filled day.

My day started with a very hot cup of coffee in bed, checking emails and internet messages.  Some of my friends have been without power for the past several days and I was eager to see if they had been restored in time to cook turkey or have made it through the snow and cold temps in the Pacific Northwest to travel to relative's homes for the 4 day-long weekend. Thinking of friends first and foremost in this day reminded me of the thing I am personally most thankful for; the people that have blessed me with their friendship and support, people who I have met randomly in life and given kindness...as cliche as it may sound, it has become apparent  recently that is less about what you have in your life and more about WHO you have in your life.  Being away from some of the people that I love for the past six months has taught me to value friendships and relationships that I might otherwise take for granted.

So starting the day on this note, with hot coffee (that although I can barely finish due to late 3rd trimester nausea but insist of having the mug between my two palms each morning nonetheless) and the plan to spend the day in a warm and cozy house cooking up the prized ingredients that were victoriously found on the quest for the traditional Thanksgiving day menu.....well the day was a winner before 10 am. But just to seal the deal, I decided to start the morning with the breakfast of champions for the family--crepes with Nutella and banana slices (which some view as desert...but not moi!)

And then it started to snow....well kinda.  How perfect is that? There was initially just the blackening of the sky and sudden temperature drop and then this wet, icy stuff coming down in torrents....but at quick glance it was actually a bit snow-like.  A few hours later we actually got some of the huge sticky flakes that melted when they hit the ground and finally this evening, right as the cooking was finishing, enough to make a few surfaces white.  Just enough to make a cold, grey day special.  What is it about the first snowfall of the season?

In between cooking in stages, starting backwards at the bottom of the menu with the apple tarte, I snuck in some quiet moments resting on the bed, keeping contractions at bay because I really didn't want a Thanksgiving Day baby, so I put my feet up, watched Thanksgiving specials on the internet and knitted a few more rows on the baby blanket I am trying to finish. (I am not a great knitter, but it does help pass the time).  The boys were downstairs watching a movie with Daddy and playing video games...and I have to say with food cooking away in the oven, a fire in the fireplace, 'snow' falling outside...all was peaceful in my world and it was very easy to be thankful.

I'm glad that we decided to celebrate Thanksgiving.  It would have been easy to write off the day and just proceed normally, we have plenty of excuses and we have plenty of French holidays and observances to fill in the gaps on our calendars...finding the traditional food items was challenging; sweet potatoes are not common, there is no canned pumpkin, or cranberry sauce or whole turkeys at the markets here--without extreme effort, special arrangement and expense.  But at the end of this day the menu exceeded expectations; a boneless turkey 'loin' roast perfect for four people, roasted sweet potatoes and an odd looking squash that is grown on the farm just down the hill from us (for which we paid cher 10 euros for!) brussel sprouts roasted with bacon, a baguette, a big platter of cheese and finally an American style apple tarte made with Normandy apples...all done by the 8+ month pregnant girl in a tiny kitchen....in a foreign country......do I get extra credit points for that?

It was all worth it, every effort and detail --- I know that we will always remember this Thanksgiving (and to be honest I am foggy on the recent ones before this year) because of the intention to bring to our new life, the importance of gratitude whether it is for things past or things yet to come.

Happy Thanksgiving cher amis! 

Without Country....

If you have been reading from the first post, or know me personally, you already know that the adjustment to ma vie en France has not been all together smooth or joyful for me.  In a large part, I will acknowledge that my 'attitude' about it all could be way better; but on the other hand I am pregnant, stressed and still more than a wee-bit homesick for ma vie Americaine.  So all that comes into play when I say that the only good outcome of yesterdays day-long effort for my 'carte de séjour' in the French Immigration system was that:

1. I did not go into pre-term labor and...
2. I did not start to cry until we were actually in car headed back home from Caen.

A friend said in a note to me recently, "I hope France loves you...."  it was a nice switch from the almost constant "You are going to love France!" but now I am thinking, I don't think France loves me very much or certainly not enough...at the moment.  If it does, it certainly has an odd way of letting me know, because after a long day, a pile of paperwork and an effort that began 8 months ago in the US with a trip to the French Consulate in San Francisco-- I am still not immigrated, in fact I am farther from being a legally accepted long-stay resident of France than ever!  And yes!  This is despite the 15 year marriage to the French citizen, birthing 2 (almost 3) French citizen children, and being accepted into both the French social security system and employment world and yes--even after paying the almost 400 euro extortion fee to immigration---what do I have?----N-O-T-H-I-N-G...although maybe I should be happy that at least they didn't take my American citizenship as a deposit.....until all this sorts out.

Even so, I am reminded of the scene in the movie 'French Kiss' where Meg Ryan is stuck in France after her passport is stolen and because she was in the midst of immigrating to Canada before she left the US on a trip to France to follow her 'true-love' , she sits across from an embassy official and is told in no uncertain terms that she is neither considered American or Canadian (or welcome in France)....she is essentially, although only temporarily, "without-country". A better expression, borrowed from my French sister-in-law....It's like finding your ass between two chairs...(pardon my 'french'!)

The thing was, I anticipated that yesterday's appointments, exams and interviews would be tedious and annoying--it was hugely important for me to 'succeed' as part of my own personal acceptance and emotional integration... another integral part of becoming a part of this new life.  I felt that this step would allow me to put just a tiny bit more distance between old-life and new-life and push me to embrace a bit more that I belong here and am attempting to make the very best of it!  Hence the 'rejection' from France--or failure to get a long-stay residency (more than 3 months) after doing everything we thought necessary above board with honest diligence--really really stings.

All of the French folks we know, upon learning of our pending appointment with immigration yesterday confidently assured us,  Mais oui ! C'est une formalité!  It is only a mere formality!  After all, I am married to a French, have French children, have a French social security number, have a French visa, can work in France...blah, blah, blah.....  To that I now say, Mais non!  That is for nothing apparently because guess what?  There is no bienvenue from France until I do several more things...actually many, many more things.....

Let's start with the 'normal' stuff--they still want me to do a radiology panel (x-rays) that couldn't be done yesterday because elle est enceinte, grossesse.....preggers! Same with the vaccines, so I was given a temporary excuse from that....next on the list--I have to take an 8 hour course in another city--and pass a test about French Civics....after that I have to complete approximately 400, yes that is FOUR-HUNDRED hours of French language class--in another city (about an 1.5 hour rt commute from home) and pass a 'diploma' on French before my final acceptance as a resident in France--now keep in mind, we are not talking about citizenship----just residency....in order for me to stay longer than 3 months and live with my French spouse and take care of my French children--in France!

Oh and this needs to happen before my next 'interview' appointment with the 'grande-fromage' in APRIL!

Did I mention that I am pregnant?  'Petite Fille' is due in about 5 weeks--last I remember after that happens I might need some rest....and she might be a tiny bit dependent on cher-maman for a while---but me?  I will be commuting each day to Lisieux and taking 400 hours of 'Francais' to avoid deportation!   Quelle dommage!  The point is that I WANT to learn French.....desperately in fact...but the idea of having a new infant (which is not invited to attend class with Mommy) and trying to schedule and accomplish that many hours of class and studying on which my living in France long term is at complete jeopardy....seems a bit dicey.

I am not happy.  I am desperately seeking 'on the bright-side' perspectives...."Look on the bright side--you are living in France!" is currently NOT one of them.....the fact that I was not escorted to a unmarked vehicle in a back alley and driven to the airport for instant deportation yesterday?  The jury is still out on that one......I could have been home in time for Thanksgiving....

Bébé à bord!

 

I am fully aware that I should have written this post months ago--in fact at one point I had it in my mind to write an entire blog about this pregnancy, not just one or two entries.  That was back in the ''early" days when I was in awe of being a wee-bit over 40 (okay I am 43 so let's just get that out there right off) and expecting a petite fille after having a full experience, and I mean f-u-l-l experience of all things B-0-Y for the past 11 years.  I mean seriously, I managed to completely shock all of those close to me with the news of the new little addition before we left the states and then had to weather the myriad of comments and questions about the 'oops' factor and 'how old are you exactly?' and 'are you sure you want another one?'  So once and for all here's the straight answer--NOT an 'oops', 43, and YES!

So in the midst of packing and making plans for this gargantuan life-change and move to a foreign country, and all of the heavy duty emotional luggage to pack to do it--I was in premiere trimestre with pretty serious morning sickness, but still feeling good, with absolutely no idea what might lie ahead as far as being pregnant and having a baby in a foreign country.

Before I go too far into that let me quickly bring you up to speed on where things stand now--(DISCLAIMER--skip ahead if you are not interested in the pregnant woman vivid details and possible rants and move on to the bottom of this entry that should contain some sweet musings about the joys of pending motherhood.....fluffy clouds and pink bubbles.....etc.)

I am now 33 weeks along and feeling every bit as pregnant as possible. Although the due date for baby girl is 7 weeks away--I feel I could check myself into the local maternity at any moment. Just about every time I stand up I get a serious, and I-mean-business-contraction. My body aches from head to toe and I can barely cross a parking lot without the intense desire to sit down and catch my breath--this coming from the body that used to run 5 miles a day--before 8 AM!   At this stage most of the time when she moves I feel like I am getting the wind knocked out of me.  Hiccups, which I seem to be getting all of the time (and baby too!) are the most painful mini-eruptions that make me feel like I am about to hyperventilate or throw-up, whichever is more convenient. In this eighth month, first trimester 'morning sickness' has returned joined by good pal acid-reflux I can barely eat, as if I had any space left anyways, and my body is again rejecting my old lifelong friend--COFFEE, which I need more than ever now that I am too uncomfortable to sleep, have chronic insomnia and actually have to stand up and get out of bed to roll-over ...... I could go on.  I won't.

Okay--back to thoughts about being pregnant in a foreign country.  When we arrived in June, my temporary midwife back home had set me up to go 2 months before seeing an Obstetricien in France. After a month I was eager to at least check-in with someone about my pregnancy--morning sickness was brutal and I was more exhausted than I ever expected to be despite knowing that in-part it was do to a stressful move and jet-lag.  In July we met with the doctor that would be my 'guide' through the rest of the pregnancy, although most likely not at the birth--In France the delivery of the baby and hospital care is taken care of by a 'sage-femme' which translates as 'wise-woman' and who is considered the midwife.  There seems that there will be one 'lead' sage-femme working with the team of delivery staff at the hospital and that my Ob will only pop in if she happens to be at the hospital on that day (she is only there on Fridays and some Saturdays).

Although my pregnancy has gone relatively without event, my relationship with my Ob has been a bit strange due to the language barrier.  She understands a tiny bit of English, but only speaks French so this necessitates the escort of my darling spouse to every single appointment.  Often I feel more like the body with the baby growing inside rather than the mommy-to-be pregnant woman because rarely (jamais!) am I asked how I am feeling/doing/eating/sleeping/...etc. It is all about baby--I am just the host, the mother-ship that carries the little alien and as long as baby is developing normally all else is irrelevant.  So without pouting too much, I got very little (aucun!) support during the 5 long months of morning-(all day)sickness or for any of the other little pregnancy related ailments unless I made a big deal and pressed darling spouse to translate the issue in an urgent nature to my doctor--to which most of the time the response was an endearing smile and a quickly scribbled script for something I would later have to Google and translate to see what it was I needed to take and how to take it!

Another interesting note about our relationship or should I say 'his' as in my husbands relationship with MY ob, is that she is most definitely an 'americano-phile' and she loves, loves, loves to talk about 'life in America' even more than she loves to talk about female reproduction or babies it would seem.  Although I appreciate that she takes her time with us (our appointments usually run close to an hour with a sonogram done almost every time)--she often engages the French-guy in speaking about things in A-m-e-r-i-c-a.  Consequently her son is living for a time in New York in the US and so she has a reason to be intrigued, but the problem lies in the fact that she and he (French guy) talk and talk and talk while I (la Americaine!) remain in an uncomfortable position (flat on the table, feet in stirrups) wondering how the heck talking about American politics, culture or traditions is relevant to the kicking, hiccuping alien that seems to be taking over my body.

So that is première partie of the story of pregnancy in France, only a brief scratching of the surface of much more that I will try to share before bébé arrive in S-I-X short weeks!  (Yes, now it's six!)  Oh, yes! I promised pink bubbles and fluffy clouds for those who hung around to the end of this post--

My favorite time of the day is early evening when my petite fille becomes very active and I can sit back on my bed close my eyes, both hands on tummy and just imagine what she will be like.  I have started to knit a p-i-n-k baby blanket and have been working in stops and starts on the tiny room next to ours to change it from an office to baby's room.  I do not take for granted for one second how amazing it is to be expecting this little person and what she will add to our life.

There--sweet, fluffy and sentimental....as promised. A bientot!

Faire la cuisine...

I have been thinking for a while now that I would like to post some favorite recipes on the blog when I have a chance to do it well--it's a lot of work.  I would have to have camera at hand because I personally always gravitate towards recipes that have pretty step-by-step inspirational images and rarely try any recipe no matter how intriguing if it doesn't have at least one picture.  Another issue is that I rarely do anything exactly the same way twice when I cook, nor do I ever measure--so both those concepts make it hard to share 'recipes'.....but I will try because just slightly before writing--cooking is one of my ultimate passions, and one I am hoping to sharpen even more living in France.

So let me just put out one very small disclaimer before I do get down to publishing a recipe or two.  Cooking in France is very different!  Cooking away from one's home environment is hard enough....do you ever pack up a sack of groceries and go to a friend's house to prepare a meal?  Maybe something you have cooked one hundred times but in a different, 'foreign' kitchen it is twice as challenging to get it right.  Even if you bring your own stuff; I love my knives, my wooden spoons, my old Le Crueset pot that is not so pretty anymore but I couldn't live without it.  But still, in a different place, it's a different experience.

Shopping here is a either culinarily inspirational at the outdoor markets or bland and tedious shopping at the 'Super-Marches'. I love the outdoor markets--Beyond being a visual feast--I love the concept of putting money directly into the hands of the people responsible for growing the produce, raising the chickens, making the cheese. But now the outdoor markets are limited to only one or two days a week as we are in 'winter' or off-season. The 'grocery' stores here have limited hours too during the low-season--usually closing for 'lunch' between 12 noon and 3ish...(which would otherwise be my prime shopping hours while the boys are in school.  )

Shopping at the super marche often becomes a 'wish-I-could-find-that' treasure hunt that after a time wears you out to the point of returning home only with a baguette, a frozen quiche, and a very sandy head of wilted lettuce instead of the bounty of ingredients originally sought. Or, if you do find the ingredient you are looking for, be prepared to discover that food items taste ever-so slightly different here; celery is much stronger in flavor for example and meats because they come from different varieties of animals fed something slightly different-also then taste different-for better of for worse.  That, and I am still getting used to the meat/poultry/fish thing here as well--parts and pieces are left on these beasts that I really don't want to see let alone handle or clean off.  Ugh--my almost ten years as a vegetarian still beckon fondly.....

When we moved to France last summer I brought with me all of the basic kitchen tools that I could not part with.  What I did have to part with is all of my small appliances and that was a painful divorce.  None of them would have worked because of their electrical wiring--so it was 'audieu' to my Cuisinart food processor, my Krups stick blender, and gasp---my 20 year old KitchenAid mixer.....Quel dommage!  I'm not completely gadget-dependent, but those three electronic marvels were my right-hand in the kitchen.  Pureed soups, pestos, chantilly, tapenades, hummus, home baked anything and ok--smoothies, quickly became extinct in my new kitchen.

Speaking of kitchen--my 'cuisine', contrary to the vision you might have of a classic 'French Country Home' lifestyle....is T-I-N-Y.  I also had a very small kitchen in our little 100 year old farm house back in the US, but this one I think might be even smaller--even my large appliances are 'mini'......but I have to say that according to standards and based on the other kitchens I have seen in normal homes in this area of France--my kitchen is actually quite average in size.

 I don't love it though.  Loving a kitchen takes you a long way when it comes to cooking well.  In our previous home, I didn't begin to love the kitchen until I had made a dozen meals for people I loved in it, hosted a few impromptu cocktail and 'amuse bouche' get-togethers, accomplished a few holiday feasts....not so here, so far.  Daily family meals aside, I have hosted one lunch for my cher in-laws to date and we have not yet hosted an American style 'house-warming' party--maybe that's the problem.

Again--I'm not getting into detail here, but the French proudly believe that there is no salmonella here in France--a whole cooked chicken might sit out on the counter for 24 hours, eggs are rarely refrigerated in the grocery store, cartons sit on a normal shelf right next to the sugar and flour, and meat fats are reserved on the side of the stove for future cooking without reservation about spoilage. 

Just a little glimpse of this foodies thoughts on cooking in a foreign place...So if all this has not completely put you off, and I hope it hasn't, stay tuned for a few of my favorite recipes. Cold weather is here and I am dying to make my favorite version of cassoulet or slow cooked duck....and if that doesn't entice you, will post some favorite food discoveries in France--and there are many! Bon apetit!

Looking through the French window....

The following is re-posted from an expat blog "Vive La Difference" by Jeralynn Benoit.  I am posting it here because it so obviously resonated with me as I adjust to our new life in France....enjoy!

Looking through the French window

I have always been a communicative person.  When I lived in the US, I worked in advertising sales for 25 years.  Now, suddenly after 52 years of life, I am settled in a country were everyone around me is speaking in a language that I don’t understand.  I always loved eavesdropping on conversations.  Now, I can’t understand a word.  I am on the outside looking in.  What I see is like observing a Tower of Babel.

It’s strange being in this situation.  When you don’t understand, your sense of hearing becomes muted and your other senses become more acute, especially your sense of sight.  It is as if this sense reboots.  What you can’t hear, you observe.  What you can’t hear and understand, you look for other signs of life.  You start observing peoples expressions.  When they speak to you, if they have a nice face, smile, then you shake your head, smile back, and say things like “ah bon” “oui”.  All the time hoping that what you are agreeing with is something nice being said.  If they gesture and speak in a gruff way, then it is “Pardonnez Moi”.  But it is said very emphatically. 

I remember when I first started glancing at the French news with my husband. I’d examine the screen for clues as to the sense of the news segment.  I’d ask myself, “What is going on in this picture? What are the people doing?  Where do they seem to be?  Are they speaking strongly, laughing?” When you can’t figure it out, you start creating your own story.  I’m thinking, “Nice outfit she's wearing.”  “Who cut her hair”?  “Wish I knew her coiffure.”  "I wonder if she lives in Paris?  Or, there is the other side of the coin, “Why would anyone pick that to wear”?  “Boy, that outfit is a bit risqué for TV.”  “That newscaster has such big ears.”  

On other occasions, we have had people come for dinner.  Many of these people speak some English, but hey, they are French and in their country…they are going to speak French.  Pour quoi pas (why not?)?  I try so hard to listen and pick up on the conversation.  “Ah, I recognize that word”, I think.  “Now what was the verb and what tense?”  “Ok, I can comment on that.”  But by the time I do get the words and the proper order, they are already on to another subject.  So I sit and I am mute with a stupid smile on my face.  Until the all time pretext for escape comes into my head.  “I know”, I say to myself,” I’ll excuse myself and abscond to the kitchen to see about dinner.”  That always works well.

While eating dinner, I chew, I smile, and sometimes I nod my head…. I haven’t a clue what’s going on!  Can you imagine how hard that is when you are a person who loves to communicate; who has opinions?  They must think my husband married a mute!  They are so wrong!  There is a person behind that smile.  She's intelligent; she has opinions.  She's funny.

By the end of the evening, I am so tired from serving dinner, and trying to listen and comprehend the French, that eventually, I just tune out.  I am underwater hearing only the vibrations of sound.  The brain has “flat lined”.

Now, after almost 9 years, my vocabulary has improved.  I can get by day to day.  I do understand more.  However, the art of conversation continues to be difficult for me.  Maybe it is that I started learning a language so much older than most. But I am determined to stick with this French language, continuing to cram my head with grammar, new vocabulary and idiomatic expressions.  I will triumph!  Even if they have to bury me with a French dictionary.

Ironically, there is a stranger sensation.  When we travel back to the States, suddenly I feel like someone turned up the volume.  I say to myself, “My God, I understand these people. I know what they are saying.  But these people are so loud!” 

Are they really louder?  Maybe.  Maybe us Americans tend to be louder.  All I know is that I am no longer on the other side of the window looking in.  I am among the milieu; I am among the living!

La quarantaine....semaine deux!

Despite the ramblings inside my head, words are not coming easily these days.  I thought I might sit and try to blog over this past weekend, but it never came to be.  Not for lack of topics; I have been wanting to put down some thoughts on this previous week's quarantine with Leo due to a nasty wave of 'Chicken Pox'--which turned out ironically to be some quality Mommy-Leo time and got me over my funk of being totally alone in the house for days on end...I have been shelving a pregnancy entry for a long time now, lots to write there, and I have a recipe or two to share as soon as I can recreate and stage the dish for publication.  I have even waited for just the right image to pop off my camera memory card that would inspire some poetic journaling...mais non!.....In fact the only photo that was even the tiny bit interesting is the one above which I am posting solely to 'brag' about the fact that these adorable little rusty chairs were found on the side of the road and now have a permanent home in my front garden......

And now, as my first born has also been afflicted with the plague-of-pox and I face another week as nurse, comforter, cook, housekeeper and entertainer...the idea of being be available to write something thought provoking and inspiring, well.....probably not in the cards for this week.

Rather, there is business to take care of when I am not nurse-maiding my poxy-tween.  I have been very distracted by sorting out the elements of my not-so-sweet-and-tidy departure from employment as an English teacher at the nearby private school (yes, the one the afore mentioned tween attends).  Either they have never dealt with medical leave due to maternity complications or are not familiar with legal protection of pregnant workers (as I am after Googling 'maternity benefits France' and researching for a few hours) or they are hoping by ignoring the problem it will just waddle-away and go home to knit something pink--this pregnant now-unemployed English teacher just wants to be paid for the weeks of work she did--and be done with it!  It irks me to have to tell 'them' what I am entitled to when they should sort it out....I want closure, closure is good...I like closure....being paid for hours of stressful, grueling work I like even better.

On another, far more cheery note; Mom and Dad arrive for a two week visit in less than 2 weeks; 10 days, 6 hours and 32 minutes to be precise-but who's counting.... so there's lots of preparation to do there.  We need to get a proper bed set up on the third floor, set up a temporary bed situation for the ousted 11 year old in his little brothers room, and maybe most importantly---install a toilet in place of the bidet in the second floor sal de bain so that my parents are not having to do the trek two stories down to use the  'toilette' in the middle of the night while they are here--and yes! also a very welcome addition for the 7+ months pregnant girl who craves modern (read luxury) conveniences more and more every day......

Et voilà...C'est tout!  

Hope I am not disappointing those in search of deeper, richer and more eloquent musings!  I will soon be adding links to my favorite gorgeously juicy blogs written by beautifully inspired women--the ones I read to get through days like these--so stay tuned!  I promise it just may be worth it!

À bientôt!

The first 3 months of life in France...

Sentir les fleurs....

Sometimes it takes a small thing to bring back the focus of what's important. Children have a way of doing that kind of reminding. Today I found myself doing my other career as 'La Mommy' and staying with my 6 year old who woke up this AM with a mysterious smattering of poxy-looking spots all over his back, tummy, neck, head and yes, even in his ears. Not chicken-pox we think because he seems to be absolutely normal other than the spots with no fever, a great appetite and quite pleasant temperament.  He doesn't seem to be sick--just spotty and he is acting so normal that we are not rushing him off to the doc.  We assume it's a latent reaction to a food allergen that he consumed, which is highly possible as he has a long list of foods we normally avoid and there is always a chance of a slip-up.  I do have to say that it was much easier feeding him in the US, and I am still trying to find all of the gluten, dairy, soy.....free products we easily had at home here in France.

In any case....a quiet day at home with the little poxy-boy reading books, playing legos, playing with cars, doing puzzles and word games...and I was thinking, if anyone needs a sense of purpose spend a few hours with this kid and by the end of the afternoon I was thinking that being a mom was probably all I needed to be aujourd'hui.

So nothing to report on ma vie en France for today--no amazing cuisine, no striking photography--oh, except that I did get through a pile of editing and discovered some shots I took at a local flower shop where someday I plan to drop some serious euros! But for today, the images serve as a reminder to take time to 'stop and smell the flowers' even when you can't afford to bring an armload home!

 

 

Performing Without a Net.

"Now in the center ring......performing without a net! ......"

C'est moi ! Yes, in the sparkly tights on the high wire, just me, and I just figured out that something is missing, something important, oh yeah...the safety net.

I am suddenly remembering today, this mention of a 'support network' that someone back home had stated would be necessary for me to take on this grand adventure; the one about moving to a foreign country, not speaking the language, being the comfort go-to for two young children and oh, yeah having a new baby on the way at 40-something. Was I not listening? Did I cover my ears and chant "wa-wa-wa-wa-wa"?

I do recall answering something to the tune of "Well we have all of my husband's family there, lots of nieces and nephews, cousins...." and that same person who was stating the obvious looking knowingly unsatisfied with my response and nodding slowly. (Consequently this person was an experienced ex-pat from another country living in the US).

So why is this all coming back to me today?  Well remember I quit my full-time teaching job last week? The one with the 180 students per day and 29 classes per week, 8.5 hour long days, that threw me into total immersion-hell working with 50 other teachers, 5 of which spoke a little english.......the one with the unruly students who sent me into pre-term labor that pushed me to slow down and take to bed for a few days to get things back under control? Yes, that job.

The first few days of academic career post-partum were really good--I rested, I wrote, I read. This week however things took a different turn.  When the kids were gone to school and spouse off to a job, the house got really quiet, and a little dark, and a little claustrophobic....I had a weird desperate sensation to open all of the windows even if it was cold outside, the quietness in the house was deafening and the thought of having the next 7 hours on my own made me feel nauseous and dizzy. 

I thought about calling someone before I noted that it was around between 1 and 3 AM local time to whomever I might call.  No one was 'awake' on Facebook to chat. In my non-almost-seven-months pregnant state I would have gone for a run to work out the strange anxiety that I could only attribute to this sudden sensation of isolation.

Then I realized I was in grave violation of rule #1 of Andrea Martin's 'How to Successfully Immigrate in a Foreign Country' from Expat.com. which states:   


1. Stay positive and keep motivated!

Whatever the reason that you moved abroad, the most important piece of advice is to stay positive and keep motivated. Do whatever it takes to keep a smile on your face when you are feeling lost, homesick or frustrated. Exercise, join a sports club, socialise with new people, travel and explore, start a new hobby, write a blog, attend motivational seminars. Find a way to keep your brain active.


Worse yet, I had completely ignored my ex-pat friend back homes advice about making sure I had a support net-work in place for these moments!  I have no net!  No safety net, no network, no-net-nothing! No wonder I had the sensation of plummeting to the hard concrete floor under the big-top-tented crazy world that I found myself in.

And the only solution?! Take a deep breath and get busy!  When the going get's tough---I needed something to do and FAST!  Off the list went anything too physical--clearing (bulldozing) out the room that will become 'Poppie's' nursery which is currently serving as "I-have-no-idea-where-to-put-this" storage since we moved in was a bit much to take on (while trying to avoid pre-term labor again)......scraping more shreds of wall-paper off the walls of Leo's room held no appeal.  So I turned to the old stand-by--cook something!

....and the first thing that came to mind was....CREPES.  Believe it or not, I had never made them before.  For some reason the task of making crepes had defaulted during the past 15 years to the French spouse--after all it is in his blood...n'est ce pas?

So this is where I would normally post the recipe and some beautifully styled images of my creations.  But c'est impossible....because 1. the recipe is way too basic (milk, eggs, flour, butter) and 2. the technique is easily mastered....and 3. there was no way that in the midst of pouring, spreading, folding and eating those magnificent little bad-boys was I going to stop long enough to take artistic photographs of the event. That and the fact that I could easily lift a pretty picture of crepes off the Internet and paste it like this:

So there you have it!  Let me just say this....who needs anti-anxiety meds in this world when there is sound advice, Facebook friends and a mere 3 minutes of effort to crepe eating Shangri-la? 

Pas moi, mes amis !  Bon Appetit!