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I must admit that when it comes to French cuisine I am woefully uninformed. While others might pore over guides about what and where to eat I am happy to get coincidental recommendations or risk just going into restaurants to learn about French food.
"Let's eat" is my strategy. Sometimes without knowing exactly what- as thumbing through my little Berlitz phrase book and dictionary from 1993 sometimes doesn't tell me what everything means.
Pictured, the fixed-price menu I had at the Hostellerie le Fénelon. Can you pick out the dishes I ordered from the menu? Advanced French students, gourmands and gourmets, can you tell me exactly what I ate?
Menu à 22.50 Euro
Cou de canard farci et sa petit salade aux noix
ou
Salade moulée d'avocat au saumon fumé
ou
Potage de légumes
***
Suprême de valaille panée aux noix
ou
Filet de sandre à l'oseille
ou
Faux filet grillé beurre béarnaise
***
Légumes du jour
***
Plateau de fromages
***
Carte des Desserts
La photo: à Carennac, dans le Lot, France. Mai 2009.
Almost everyday of our week in the Lot, We drove by the small town of Gramat. A painted commercial sign from long ago on the side of an old stone building catches our eye although it is almost obscured by a leafy tree in front.
Charmed by the coquettish eyes of the moon and the moustache of and the beautiful, soft watercolor effect of age on the painted sign we stop on a sunny day to take pictures of it.
We've barely taken two steps from the car when M. Foufou sees a cute pair close by: un canard and une cane. The drake and the duck are irresistibly close, especially when he takes out a telephoto lens.
I am left holding the camera bag while he tries to approach as slowly and silently as he can. The ducks are totally aware of their photographer, registering his every move and the constant clicking the camera. As he gets nearer they begin to inch away. Soon enough their feathers have been ruffled from the photo shoot and they fly off.
We turn to leave and face a Frenchman. He speaks to M. Foufou and gestures at the ducks and then at me, "Madame". He smiles. Il parle trés rapide. He repeats himself, lentement. Slow enough for us to get the gist of his French remarques: If I were you I would be taking pictures of the beautiful woman and not the ducks.
Off we go to take a picture of a moon that we think is smiling, too. It's France- who's charming, who?
M. the abbreviation of Monsieur, requires a period
Mme the abbreviation Madame, no periodIl parle trés rapide He speaks very fast
lentement slowly
remarques comments
Les photos: Gramat, Mai 2009.
My first visit to France this year was also my first French immersion course ever. For one week my gracious host guided me through joie de vivre in the French Alps. She corrected my French, answered my questions, explained cultural traditions and prepared our meals.
One of the very first things I learned was to come back to the table to finish my meal. The first three days I was getting up after the main dish thinking that the meal was finished only to find out that there was still fromages and dessert. By the end of that week I had learned to stay at the table- my stomach full and much wiser. Joie de vivre means enjoying a meal of many courses!
So on my recent one-week visit to south-western of France I vowed to put what I had learned to practice: stay at the table til dessert is served! Everyday I sampled one of the fixed-price menus instead of ordering à la carte.
le menu the fixed-price menu
joie de vivre joy of life
fromages cheeses
dessert dessert
la carte the menu
à la carte ordering from the menu
Les photos: Delicious four-course 21€ prix fixe menu at Le Bouche à Oreille, Alvignac. Mai 2009
How time flies! Especially now because I have two calendars to keep track, or lose track.
En fait, ces calendriers ne servent pas à mesurer le temps. These two calendars are to help me improve my French.
Deux calendriers ? Yes, this year I decided to compare the one for adults to the one for children. I couldn't decide if one would be too hard, the other too easy. When in doubt, get both.
My calendars are from Bertelsmann and are French/German. The calendars basically have the same look and philosophy. Mais, bien sûr ils sont différents.
The calendar for adult learners introduces a theme each week with each day introducing vocabulary through idioms, proverbs, cultural information, questions, puzzles and conversations- sometimes accompanied by photographs. The weekend is on one calendar page with a quiz about what I should have learned that week.
The calendar for children also works on a theme each week and the vocabulary is introduced through a sentence, a children's rhyme on Fridays and a simple quiz on the weekend (also one page)- always accompanied by a charming illustration. The calendar is designed so that the drawings can be cut out and used as flash cards: on one side the picture, on the other side word in French and German.I've had calendars for learning vocabulary before. Even though the calendars for adults have an approximate reading time of only three minutes, I find that these three minutes are easy to forget by the end of February. By mid-March I usually have a pile of calendar pages that I've yet to read much less study. I invariably have days where the only minute I spend on the calendar is tearing off the sheets of days gone by too quickly.So here I am with two calendars. The adult calendar is challenging in content and does present interesting facts. Did you know that the first Romanpolicier was set in Paris? Written in 1841 by Edgar Allan Poe! Intéressant! En fait, c'est intéressant, non? The children's calendar is chouette and the children's rhymes, too! At the moment I'm learning from both and still keeping up.
March is coming soon, though. And I wonder if I'll still be faithfully tearing off a page from each calendar every day. Will I still be reading all the words on the calendar page- especially the one for the adults? Will I still be diligently cutting out each illustration and writing the sample sentence on the back for a quick review every few days? Seul le temps nous le dira.
Learn French (and German) with your own calendar:For adults from amazon.deFor children from amazon.de from amazon.com
En fait, ces calendriers ne servent pas à mesurer le temps. In fact, the calendars are not really for tracking time.
Mais, bien sûr ils sont différents. But, of course, they are different.
Romanpolicier detective story
Intéressant! En fait c'est intéressant, non?
(How) Interesting! In fact, it is interesting, no?
chouette cute
Seul le temps nous le dira. Only time will tell.La photo: Up and Away over Taninges, France. Fevrier 2009.
You might think that - 13 days into the new year - it would be too late to wish anyone a happy new year much less send a card. Not so in France. You have til the end of January to send out your wishes.
This new year's you have the chance of keeping last year's resolution of sending out those new year's greetings- and in French, no less:
Meilleurs voeux pour l'année 2009
Best wishes for (the year) 2009
Mes meilleurs voeux pour cette année
(My) Best wishes for this year
Tous mes meilleurs voeux
All my best wishes
La photo: La fête de Saint-Sylvestre/le jour de l'An, à Zurich 2008/2009
France anywhere, everywhere or what to buy a Francophile wherever you are for wherever they are... for New Year's.
Here's a selection of four of my favorite "French" things in no particular order:
Paris dans un sac Pick up "Paris in a bag" from the japanese store Muji. These cute wooden blocks lets you set up your own mini Paris.
La tour eiffel emporte-pièce Add a parisian flair to this year's seasonal cookies with the Eiffel Tower cookie cutter from Sur la Table.
Coffret parfumé Let Estéban perfume your home with their scented boxes. Each box contain different scented materials (ceramic, glass, metal, cedar, stones) in beautiful shapes and colors. My favourite of the moments are Aube irisée and Esprit de thé.
Les premiers jours par Eglal Errera et Marjane Satrapi The Iranian and French graphic novelist of Persepolis fame, Marjane Satrapi is also an illustrator. Her illustrations drew me to Errera's book, The First Days. Errera's heroine Rebecca emigrates from Egypt to France as he did.Joyeux Noel! Hope you all have a Merry Christmas.
Sing-a-long: Vive le vent (Jingle Bells)
La photo: En route à Harlem, New York. Décembre 2008.
Au Revoir au Maroc
-a guest post from Karen Kindler
The short line to the outbound Moroccan passport control booth stalled as I arrived. An official pointed a balding German with raised voice and arms to the outside of the security barrier. Case closed. Go. The tourist went.
"Was ist los?" What's up? I asked the couple in front of me.
No immigration form.
Immigration form?! You need one leaving?!
I glanced back toward the security point and the rapidly growing line where the exasperated German squeezed out to look for whatever office had the required forms.
I stayed put. They can't mean me. Then it was my turn. They meant me.
I raised my eyebrows – not my voice – in helplessness. He raised his arm; his head began to drop in dismissal.
"Mais, vous n'avez pas de …?" I asked, pointing to a stack of cards on the edge of his desk. He blinked, huffed, then shuffled through the stack I pointed to … and found a blank form.
"Which flight are you on?" he asked in French. Then came another grunt, a raised finger, and instructions to complete the form where I stood, then break back in line when I was finished.
Now, I'm not a cute little girl with ample bronzed cleavage or someone with a name and position. Middle-aged, rumpled after days on a cross-country bus, and puffy with allergies that had kicked in again on the drive through the oases, it wasn't my physical charm that got me by.
It was a handful of French 101 words that caught his attention. They opened a door that English and German wouldn't have.
"Je suis americaine …" I had frequently confessed to questions during the week-long tour of the back roads of Morocco, at first unsure of the reception that revelation would bring in a Moslem country.
"Los Angeles!" or "Chicago!" greeted me.
"Mais non … Florida," I responded. Smiles, chitchat, invitations followed.
I spoke my simple French a hundred times that week. It got me directions and e-mail addresses, and allowed for unique glimpses into the lives of local people. It warmed them to me. I could feel it.
And the Germans in my tour group – most of whom had been to the States and could communicate in basic English – were thrilled to stick to German with me. They sought me out. I spoke their language. I could be trusted. And I could ask the local people questions for them, intercede with the bus driver, and order mint tea without a pound of sugar in it.
There is power in cleavage and money – short-lived and perhaps insincere (though I have neither in ample supply to really be able to judge) – but, a common language offered with a smile (even a puffy one) creates a bond beyond sex and profit – at least the opportunity for one. It can overcome religious, cultural, and political differences, and, even – sometimes – an overworked bureaucrat's first impulse to send a hapless foreigner to the back of the line.
Cool! N'est-ce pas?!
Read more of Karen's travel adventures in Stars and Stripes:
Vacation Club Deal leads to French Spa Weekend
A Month in a French Coastal Town Shows Total Immersion Has It's Benefits
Mallorcan Memories
On Top of the World
and more about her experiences in Morocco in Zaji magazine blog
Pursuit of Happiness
Mustafa and the Simply Bazaar - A Thrill Ride
A Sad Camel, A Failed Seduction and My Wish for World Peace
La photo: Karen Kindler
More of Karen's photos online at JPG
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