Tuesday, March 30, 2010

A quick Jack story

So, Elise was asking Jack at lunch what subjects he has after lunch. Le mathematique et l'anglais, he said. Math and English.

That reminded us of one of our favorite Jack stories which I had been meaning to write about. A few weeks ago,  Jack was telling us about an English lesson, and he mentioned that the teacher always asks him to repeat a word after she says a word, and the class says a word. "Say it like Jack says it," she tells the class.

The only problem is this. In the midst of telling this story, he was giving us a few examples -- "classroom", "brother", or "friend" -- and as he did, he spoke with a CRAZY accent that was part-pirate and part-Scottish Highlander, full of rolled r's and lots of music. "Is that how you say the words to the class?" we asked him, horrified. He nodded immediately, and then when he saw our faces, said "Oh, no, of course not."

What to believe? I do *not* want to ask the teacher about it. But if, in 15 or 20 years, you encounter a young person from Burgundy who speaks English like a pirate, we will all know who to blame.

Monday, March 29, 2010

A visit from a good friend -- w/PHOTOS ADDED March 30

The kids have been literally bouncing since the arrival of Elise, a French woman whom we have known since the summer of 2006. She had come to Lethbridge to attend the wedding of a great friend (whose family members are great friends of ours) and she stayed on two months to see more of the U.S. and Canada, practice her English, and help us with the kids. Now a professional technical writer and translator, and fluent in three languages (French, English and German... Katie pointed out that she can count to ten in three languages -- French, English and Japanese, which is practically the same thing), Elise stopped by Burgundy en route from Austria to her family's home in Brittany for Easter.

Everyone is thrilled.

I don't know how much the girls remember her -- they were just one the summer she stayed with us -- but they warmed up to her right away and all three kids have been fighting over who gets to sit by her, who gets to hold her hand, who gets to hug her. It's pretty wonderful to see.

We decided to celebrate by visiting a chateau this afternoon, and picked the one John ran by in his race -- Le Chateau du Clos du Vougeot. It is home to amazing winemaking equipment, including two 500-year-old ENORMOUS wine presses. According to the chateau's website, the château and its vineyards were the property of the Abbey of Cîteaux (which we visited with John's parents in February) until the French Revolution after which they were considered "state property". In the 1800s, the chateau passed from one owner to another, until 1944, when it was sold it to the organization Société civile des Amis du Château du Clos de Vougeot ("Friends of the Château du Clos de Vougeot"), which gave the Confrérie des Chevaliers du Tastevin a 99 year lease on the property.

It is a beautiful chateau, and Kate and Liv spent a lot of the time when not peering down a well or snooping in the former monk's dormitory pushing Fou-Fou across an old stone table in the castle close. Jack was at school and so missed this one chateau, but he and Elise got to take a walk up to Les Chaume before dinner and so had their own special outing, too.

You can also check out the tarte aux pommes I made for dinner, courtesy of Laura's family recipe.I seem to be having more luck baking (at last) now that I am sticking to French recipes. Later this week -- tarte au citron (I hope!).

And I just added more pictures -- but my computer is still being cranky. They are a bit out of order and won't stay centered... but hopefully you can get the idea of the fun we are having!



 

A rainy Easter egg hunt

The kids spent all of five minutes at a rainy Easter egg hunt Sunday organized by their school -- long enough to find six chocolate eggs in Les Chaumes and beat a hasty retreat to a warm, beautiful house. They were happy to have the hunt, happy to have their eggs, and happy to be home.

I managed to get a few shots:

Sunday, March 28, 2010

GUEST BLOG: Splattered with mud, bottle firmly in hand...

While I am the primary writer and keeper of this blog as well as the blog I kept in Japan, there were times in Japan when John had a say, too. It seemed to happen when he experienced something the rest of us didn't (taking Katie to the emergency room for her head wound, for example), or when something was so momentous and huge, we both had a lot to say (the election of Barack Obama, for example).

So, although I had my own account of some of yesterday's fun, I thought it would also be good to hear the story from John's point of view. Enjoy!

***

While it is generally good to write about these experiences while they are still fresh, the timing certainly shapes the description. If I wrote my account just after the race, I might have raved about the event under the influence of a runner's high (and bolstered by the treats given out at the end of the race as well as the prospect of picking up my bottle of wine). The rain and mud on the race course may have been more prominent features in the guest blog if I had written last night, as I became increasingly sore.

Instead, I am writing the next morning. There is no runner's high nor crippling soreness. Just a bit sore--enough to remind me that I did not train properly and that I am 15 years older than when I ran this distance in a much quicker 42 minutes.

I thought a bit about speed at various times in the course even though I was more motivated to run this race by vin than vitesse. The lure of the vin lived up to its billing--both the beauty of the vineyards and the fun of receiving the bottle of wine at the end. However during the race I couldn't help but think about the vitesse, and the lack of speed.

This race is much bigger than any I have been part of. They cap registration at 2,500, and the #2330 that I wore suggests that they had full numbers. The course is beautiful but also fairly narrow as it winds through the vineyards. We came rather late to the race despite the advice of our friend Thomas that for a good time you must start near the front as you will otherwise be stuck in the crowd bumping into other runners. I started far from the front, and he was right.

Runners were excited and jumping around as men with microphones stoked this enthusiasm and then counted down for the official start. The gun fired and if I hadn't heard it I would not have known the race started. There were so many people in front of me that we just kept jumping up and down as there was no way to move forward for what seemed like a long time. So much for speed at the beginning.

As the race went on the pack spread out and there were opportunities to pass people while avoiding the big puddles and the deepest mud. This allowed me to feel reasonably fast while passing people. The race was messy but fun in the early stages like here where I saw Lisa and Jack near the 3k mark and when passing through the impressive Château du Clos-de-Vougeot at the point where we turned back toward Nuits-Saint-Georges.

Not long after passing this chateau there was a second table with cups of water along the near side and what appeared to be pate, more substantial snacks, and perhaps some wine on the far side. Next time I will have to stop, linger on the other side of the table, and indulge in the original reasons for doing this run. However, this time I was still thinking about speed and grabbed a cup of water from a volunteer--there were an amazing number of volunteers in this remarkably well organized event--while on the move.  

At the time, not slowing to eat or drink seemed the thing to do. I was pleased that I was not tempted to walk at any point in this run, but when a joker passed me near the 8k mark it became clear that my "running" was often mere jogging. Yes, this participant was in the costume of a joker, like on a playing card. I had left most costumed participants behind earlier in the race, but perhaps I should not have been surprised by this alarming development. After all, two very tall drag queens in miniskirts had passed me 1 km earlier. 

This led to more philosophical musings about speed. I had passed many more runners than had passed me (this is not difficult to do when you start behind so many other runners), but I think serious runners would have been less tempted by the pate and wine and more concerned about being passed by anyone in costume. I became somewhat resigned to the thought, which turned out to be accurate, that my time would likely be one minute slower per year of age since the race I had run full-out 15 years ago.

Of course this does not have to be true. We have a friend in Canada who is older than me and she runs marathons and ultra-marathons every year with what seems to be faster times with age. But I did not think of her. Instead, I thought--with growing empathy--about the old Ford Mondeo station wagon that we are driving around the village here in France. 

The car we are borrowing has 250,000 km on the odometer and there are many signs that it is not as spry now as a decade ago. But, as they say here, il roule (it goes, it rolls), with a shrug suggesting that it is how it is and that is sufficient. That became my mantra when passed at 8 km by the joker. Il roule, et ca suffit.

Seeing the 9k sign was energizing and I shifted my inner Ford Mondeo into a higher gear and passed a dozen or two runners to finish in good form. Just as turning up a car radio can "fix" problems by preventing the driver from hearing thumps, whines, and sputters, I cranked up Lisa's iphone and ran that last km in the 4.5 minutes it took to play James' Born of Frustration.

After clipping off the electronic device on my shoe, which allowed them to record my modest time, I was pointed to an exit where I was given a bag of treats including this race shirt and a coupon to pick up a free wine glass at the tasting as part of the many festivities for the 49th vente des vins in Nuits- Saint-Georges.

Creaking body and all, it was great fun. The girls did not seem disappointed that I had not won the race and Jack and Lisa were able to see the full scope of the race and have very French race experiences of their own (she did get the wine and pate I had foolishly passed on). That link takes you back to Lisa's account of the day and the picture of the bottle of wine that initially motivated the run through mud-splattered spectacular scenery--vines, chateaus, jokers, drag queens, and all.

A day of castles, wine, chocolate...oh, and a 10K for John, too

The French, while certainly not perfect, do a lot of things VERY well.

I like the way they enjoy their food, and while I have been known to grumble occasionally to myself that stores and shops close every day between 12 and 2 p.m. (such PRIME shopping time for me!), deep down I am glad to know all of those employees get to go home and have a nice long lunch with their families, too.

I like the way almost all French people that I've encountered seem to actually LIKE children. They don't go overboard with accommodating them in certain ways (not a ton of booster seats or child menus in restaurants... but children are welcome to sit and enjoy whatever food they will eat off the regular menu)... but all that I've met (young and old), seem genuinely delighted with them, like to talk to them, and understand that they need to run and shout and play hard.

And, at the risk of losing my feminist credentials, I have to say I like the way French men treat women. There is none of the leering or staring or gawking... but there is a certain kind of appreciation of women that is just, well, nice. Doors are opened. Mothers are treated kindly. Feelings of respect and admiration of women are obvious (even to me, an outsider). It's pretty great!

I must now add another item to that fantastic list -- the French know how to do races just right. I asked John to write a "guest blog" to tell the point of view of the actual runner, but from my point of view, it was perfect. There were 2,500 runners, and more than enough volunteers to make things run smoothly. The race did in fact go through beautiful country, wrapping through a castle and along vineyards and up and down rolling hills. While he didn't do the official "gouter", John did see glasses of wine (and what he thought was pate) at some of the water stops. Back in town, he was able to pick up his beautiful, specially labelled bottle of a white burgundy.


And... the kids and I had a good time, too. Well, the girls took a much needed nap and spent the race looking like this:



Jack was wide awake and waited for the race to start looking like this:


After dropping John at the race start, I drove to the middle of a vineyard where the road was cut off. As soon as I explained that I had deux petites sleeping in the car but wanted to watch my husband and take some pictures, one of the kind volunteers let me drive forward, park by the blockade, and invited me and Jack to watch the race with him (see what I mean about French men?).

Some of the runners looked like this:


Others looked like this:



 John looked like this:



Allez, John, allez!

After cheering him on, the kind volunteer and I chatted some more. I mentioned how John had been eager to receive the bottle of wine after finishing. He said "oh, you like wine?" Bien sur, I said. So he pulled out an unlabeled green bottle of some wine he happened to have in the back of his van.

Then he pulled out some pate and crusty bread (see what I mean about appreciating food? I got the sense he'd never leave home without a supply of great wine and delicious snacks). He made sure Jack didn't hurt himself when he played on the old rock wall, and I enjoyed the wine and gout as we cheered the runners on (I shouted "Bravo!" while he shouted "Courage!").

And despite what could only be described as the world's least rigorous training effort, John finished in the top half or so of the 10K runners (I was impressed he finished at all, running in the rain and mud). A quick trip home to shower and have a gouter for the others who didn't enjoy the wine and pate... and we returned to Nuits-St-Georges for John to pick up his wine and for the kids and I to hit the end of the chocolate festival.

The kids were invited up to the stage to make little Easter confections. See what I mean about liking kids?


Yes, it's not a perfect country (no country is, right?). But the things they do right, the French seem to do so very, very right.

And -- to the American-Canadian-temporary-French man in this house --I just have to say bravo!

Saturday, March 27, 2010

A French fiesta

We had a great dinner last night with Thomas and Geraldine, their kids, and their friends Muriel, Sylvie and Jeremie. Geraldine had wanted to introduce Muriel to John as she has ties to one of the local Buddhist communities.

So we cracked open the Coronas and lime, offered fresh salsa, guacamole, (super-super hot) marinated green chilis and homemade tortillas and nibbled while the enchiladas finished cooking.

Everyone enjoyed it thoroughly, although it was probably the least French-like meal to be found in all of Burgundy last night, with a few small exceptions. I had to use shredded emmenthal and fresh mozzarella for the enchiladas as there was nothing close to sharp cheddar or Montery jack cheese (still tasty, though!), and instead of trying to make a traditional Mexican dessert (sopapillas or fried ice cream), I instead opted for a tarte au chocolat (with a dash of cinnamon).

And I was hugely relieved that the tarte turned out. Maybe I just needed to make a French recipe for my French baking skills to actually result in something edible? At any rate, I used Laura's wonderful and easy-peasy recipe for the pastry and found a French recipe for the chocolate part online (only to find out Geraldine has a recipe for tarte au chocolat on her blog that I should have turned to instead. Next time, I'll go there first!)

On the health front -- Katie showed no more signs of illness, thankfully, although she did take a BIG nap yesterday afternoon. So while Jack and Liv crashed before the party ended, Katie stayed awake til the end, and at midnight she was munching on chips while watching us clean up. What a party girl.

Here are a few photos of our fiesta. The first two are evidence of successful tortilla making:


Sorry about the bad shadows on the next two -- but I wanted to show off the tomato-and-(canned)-corn salsa (lots of garlic and cilantro, too) and the limey-guacamole:


The kids set the table and were happy to have their own small kids-table. In the second photo, Jack is making name cards:


I forgot to take a picture of the beer or the enchiladas -- you'll have to trust me that they were all tasty. Here is everyone at desset, and a close-up of the tarte:


And finally, a photo of the beautiful orchid Muriel and Sylvie brought us.


The French seem to have a wonderful talent for bringing the most thoughtful gifts when coming to your house for a meal. We are now the happy owners of this amazing orchid -- and, from Thomas and Geraldine, a terrific cookbook... on French cooking, of course.

Merci mes amis!

Friday, March 26, 2010

Twenty-seven tortillas, one jar of "le cumin", and six Coronas later...

No, I haven't had the Coronas yet, but I did have much more success at the grocery stores today. I stopped by a different one (which proclaimed it was "the better market" -- a title which turned out to be true this time around) and quickly found "le cumin". I am now fully prepared to make loads of Indian food, too, with my big bottles of cumin and tumeric!

And I also found what I *think* could possibly maybe perhaps turn out to be something close to cream cheese. I shelved all of my pride, searched for what looked like something that resembled cream cheese, and approached the cheese counter for a hilarious conversation that essentially confirmed that I had indeed found a soft, bland, tasteless processed cheese that children like to eat. Perfect. I think Kraft and Philadelphia Cream Cheese company will soon be incorporating that definition into all of their marketing and promotions!

For the record, it was pas-de-probleme to make the tortillas yesterday, although I stopped at 27 and picked up a bag of store ones (for the kids, I told myself) in case we run out.

And... I found a six-pack of Corona at the store. Hooray! John did wonder a bit at the wisdom of paying top dollar (or euro) for mediocre Mexican beer. I convinced him it would add a certain je ne sais quoi to the celebration. We'll see what everyone thinks.

One small glitch... we got a call from school today (no one likes those) saying Katie had been sick and would we please come and pick her up right away. She also threw up on the way home. Since then -- she's been fine.

So...I left a message with Geraldine and Thomas  letting them know (and had to contemplate the following before calling: "hmmm, what is the past-participle of 'to vomit'"? Elle a vomi? Elle est vomue?") and hope the dinner is still on. We also learned, when picking Kate up, that there is one other case of a gastro-illness in class and both head lice and chicken pox are going around. Nice to know some things about preschools are the same around the world (and I am quite thankful our chicken pox drama is behind us).

Well, I'm off to pick Jack up at school and finish the party prep. I'll try to remember to take pictures of our Mexican feast (French style).  

Bon appetit!

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Bits and pieces (and feeling a bit grumpy)

I think there comes a point when you are traveling (whether for a week or a month or more) that you just get grumpy with everything in the new place.For me, anyway, the moment comes once I am past the jet lag and culture shock -- after letting my guard down a bit and having had the luxury of settling in.

Well, I reached that point today.

It's my own fault, really. We are having Geraldine and Thomas and their family (and some of their friends we want to meet) over tomorrow night. Geraldine had suggested having just appetizers at her house, but we wanted to have them to our place.

But then, what to cook? After having been treated to this, well, I wanted to bring out more than chips and beer (although these friends are such kind people, I don't think they'd complain! Clearly, this is my issue).

But there is the minor fact that I have had disaster after disaster when baking (but not when cooking) since arriving in France. It might just be the universe's way of saying "Lisa -- there are 42 amazing patisseries within a 10 minute drive... why bother baking in this country?" But as I wrote to a Lethbridge friend earlier (the same friend I turned to for advice on what to cook for this little party), I foolishly continue to try baking, and so far have made: terrible, heavy, tasteless chocolate cake; flat, brittle sugar cookies (not just once... but three times); and banana bread that feels like it weighs 3 kilos! At this point, my confidence in the kitchen is not quite where it should be.

This good friend recommeded cooking something I do well, and mentioned some of the favorite things she's eaten at our house. With this advice in hand, I decided on something they can't usually get in France (and something our family loves): Mexican food.

This seemed like a good idea at first. What better than a nice limey-tomato salsa, or a lovely garlicky guacamole? But today, as I trawled the grocery store in search of frozen corn (what kind of country only has canned corn? How hard would it be for them to bring in some frozen corn?), as I tried to find something akin to cream cheese (what kind of country has 1,000 cheeses but nothing with that lovely gray Philadelphia label?), and as I helplessly read labels to see what might be cumin (I didn't have my electronic dictionary, so made my best stab and bought what I thought was cumin -- something called curcuma -- but it turns out to be tumeric), I realized this could well be a foolish undertaking. Oh, and did I mention I am going to try to make tortillas (and can only hope that it will go better here than it did in Japan)?

I guess we'll just have to see how it goes Friday night.

John has been laughing at me all day -- saying how much I must be suffering with my cheese choices here in this godforsaken land, how maybe we should go back to Japan because at least THERE, I could get Philadelphia cream cheese.

I think in terms of food, I want the best of France -- the rich cheeses and pates and sauces and desserts -- but I also want (at my convenience, of course), my favorite things from around the world: fresh Mexican food, savory sushi, aromatic Indian. That's not so much to ask, is it? (And don't worry. I am not expecting anyone to feel too sorry for me. I realize this is a fabulous problem to have...). I also think my frustration at the search for ingredients is probably linked to homesickness in a roundabout way. I clearly love everything about France. But it *is* still all foreign, and there are times it would be nice to have a bit of a break and a return to the familiar.

At any rate. I have the tortilla dough "resting" right now, and I will keep you posted on how it all goes (and anyone in France need a BIG bottle of tumeric?).

In other, less grumpy, news:

* We had Lauren, Claudia, and Penelope over yesterday afternoon so their parents could have a lunch date. After feeding the six little ones lunch, and a lot of playing, we took a big walk up to Les Chaumes, and everyone had a blast. At the end of the visit, they looked like this:


The one terrifying thought that went through my brain during the visit was that, in theory, a person *could* have six kids of these exact ages (8, 7, 6, 4, 4, and almost 2). While these certainly were six well-behaved and delightful children, it was not a pleasant thought!

* We had been waiting for more than two weeks for a shoe sale to start at a place I think of as France's Famous Footwear (higher quality shoes than Payless, but not a store that will break the bank). I was disappointed to arrive this morning to find that none of the leather, sturdy, beautifully made shoes were included in the sale. We did find a good deal on two pairs of these:


While not the kind of shoe you'd want to wear every day, they are adorable (and fast, super-fast, Livie declared).