Chocolate wars

For the eight years that we have been coming here, Vaison has had one gourmet chocolate  shop. There are, of course, chocolates made and sold at some of the bakeries/patisseries and there is the Comptoir de Mathilde which is a franchise and to my way of thinking a tourist shop. 

Peyrerol has been the gourmet chocolate shop in town since it opened in 1998. The chocolates are excellent and always presented in creative ways. For instance, we took a fish made of dark chocolate and painted silver to our friends to celebrate “Poisson d’avril” (fish of April) which is the French version of April Fool’s Day. At Easter, the shop was filled with gorgeous creations of eggs, bunnies and bells (in Europe, Easter goodies are delivered by the bells of Rome). The store has earned the respect of the people in town. When one takes a gift in the distinctive black and red Peyerol bag, the recipient is always delighted and knows that the gift is special. Peyerol has been synonymous with gourmet chocolate in Vaison and has been the best place to buy high-quality chocolate and chocolate creations.

Until now... “There’s a new kid in town...” Renting space in a newly renovated shop and situated right around the corner from Peyerol is Jeff de Bruges. 

Jeff de Bruges is a franchise gourmet chocolate shop. I first heard about the chocolate shop twenty years ago when a Lansing friend asked us to bring some Jeff de Bruges chocolate back to the states for his wife. As the name suggests, it is Belgian chocolate (a hands-down favorite of my brother-in-law.) I don’t know when the company got so big but there are now Jeff de Bruges shops all over France.

This new store has me sitting on the horns of a dilemma. (A very uncomfortable place to sit!) On the one hand, I find myself feeling somewhat chauvinistic and protective and thus thinking that our store (Peyrerol) is enough - thank you very much - and I don’t want this franchise crowding the playing field. On the other hand, I love chocolate and am interested in tasting whether Jeff de Bruges is still as good as I remember. On the other hand, I always prefer locally-owned. And on the other hand, can there ever be too much chocolate?

Purée!

Last week, we invited French friends to dinner. During the conversation, I noted that Marie would say “Purée!” instead of swearing or saying some other mild oath.

“Purée” is an example of how food terms are inserted into the French language everyday. It makes sense: food and food preparation are extremely important in France. As I have said before, it is not easy to find a bad meal here. The French also seem to appreciate and support local (and fresh) foods more. 

I wrote about food idioms before (2013) but I have since learned some more. Hats off to French food and its place in French conversation. Here are some more French food idioms:

haut que trois pommes - as high as three apples (very short, knee-high to a grasshopper )

mettre du piment dans sa vie - put some spice in your life

avoir la pêche – to have the peach (feeling peachy, to be in fine shape)

Avoir un cœur d’artichaut - have the heart of an artichoke (falls in love easily, give one’s heart easily)

Etre pressé comme un citron - to be squeezed like a lemon (squeeze someone dry)

Raconter des salades - to tell salads (to lie)

Les carottes sont cuites - the carrots are cooked (all is lost, no hope)

Rouler quelqu’un dans la farine - Roll someone in the flour (to dupe someone, to play someone)

Faire le poireau - Act like a leek (hang around, stay too long)

And last, but not least:

La cerise sur le gâteau - The cherry on the cake (the icing on the cake).

Purée! The French have a lot of expressions based on food.

Le Dolium

We celebrated Ellen’s birthday by going to a very nice restaurant in Beaumes de Venise. The village of Beaumes de Venise is located at the edge the Dentelles de Montmirail mountains about 20 km from Vaison la Romaine.

Celebrating a birthday at a restaurant in the winter months (January – March) can be tricky. This is the season of “congé annuel” (annual vacation) for many restaurants. I had suggested a few names only to discover that these restaurants were closed until March 7 or later. I finally made reservations at Le Dolium (Dolium is the word for a Roman clay jar). Sometimes I get lucky. We had an excellent meal.

When one goes to a good restaurant, one expects good food and good service. We were not disappointed! From the “amuse bouche” (appetizer) to the end of the cheese course, everything was well prepared.

The “amuse-bouche” was salt cod presented with a piece of pickled pepper (how many pickled peppers can Peter Piper pick?) and a sprig of fennel. Following the appetizer Ellen had sashimi as her entrée. I had foie gras. Since we share everything (also known as eating à la Ellen), I can say that the sashimi was as good as my foie gras. The main courses were a continuation of what we had begun to expect: excellently prepared and presented food. Ellen had Merlu (hake) and I had a filet of beef.

Often, it seems that vegetables are an afterthought but at Le Dolium, our meals included a nice portion of vegetables. In addition to the veggies, Ellen had a mushroom (morels and asperagus) risotto that was the best risotto I have had. (It sets a higher bar for my attempts to make this creamy dish.)

The cheese course was a round of goat cheese on which they had dribbled some garlic-flavored olive oil served with a small salad of arugula and mesclun.

“You eat first with your eyes”. The dishes at Le Dolium were all very attractive – even the choice of plate styles enhanced the presentations.

Since the restaurant is attached to the Beaumes de Venise wine coop, it is not surprising that they served the wines of the coop. I remember that a French friend had told us that the best of the wine coops in the area was Beaumes de Venise. We shared an excellent red: Terre du Trias 2013.

“I Can’t Stop Smiling” (Love and Theft)

We arrived at our apartment in France last week. A friend from Aix en Provence came to the airport to greet us. Our neighbor had driven from Vaison la Romaine to pick us up and bring us back to our “pied à terre” (“pied à terre” is our term to describe our 400 sf villa <]; > ).

The next day, we were sorting clothes and organizing things at the apartment for our séjour here. Since we rent out our apartment when we are in the states, our return often includes the exercise of finding objects and returning them to where they belong (where I think they belong.) There have been times when I have found a kitchen utensil at a spot different from the one I had chosen and then decided that whoever moved it had made an improvement in our kitchen arrangement.

As I was working at nesting, I found that I was smiling. At one point Ellen looked at me and asked: “What?” to which I replied: “I can’t stop smiling.”

I know that part of the curve in my smile comes from recognizing how lucky I am to be able to live this dream. Another part of the smile comes from how much I enjoy the French language and things French. Being here makes me happy.

Looking at the differences between here and there is pronounced this year. I smiled when I saw that diesel fuel costs less than a Euro per liter! That translates into almost $4 per gallon in the states but I have never seen fuel prices as low as they are now.

The taste of a French baguette is something I miss during our time stateside. I don’t know whether it is the flour or the climate or the way they bake them but I take a bite of a baguette from one of the local bakeries (there are six in our village) and it makes me smile.

“Exotic” foods are not so exotic in France and thus a whole lot cheaper (and that makes me smile). Lamb is affordable and fresh and local but one can also find rabbit and duck and fresh mussels and… and I won’t even discuss the differences in cheese selections.

We have the good fortune of having wonderful friends in the states as well as in France. I am probably being repetitive given other blog post that I have written but friends enrich life and make me thankful and make me smile. In fact, I can’t stop smiling.

Summertime and the livin is easy… (George Gershwin)

We have been back in the states for two months now. I have stopped interjecting French words into conversations. (I find that most people just look at me strangely when I say “voila” instead of “see” or “there you are”.) I try to remember to say “yoo-hoo” instead of “coucou” when I’m trying to get a neighbor’s attention.

We have acclimated fairly well to our state-side lives. Even though we have been living our schizophrenic lives for seven years now, I find that I still get surprised when we make the transition.

·         I lament the fact that I cannot walk to a grocery from our Lansing home. (The City Market is a little over two miles from here – but there remains only one produce stand (and the good cheese shop). There are neighborhood weekly farmer markets but nothing quite like market day in any village in Provence.

·         Americans dress far more casually than the French. Sweat pants and T-shirts seem closer to the norm than the aberration. We seem to have forgotten Jerry Seinfeld’s comment that ‘people who wear sweats in public are announcing that they have given up’.

·         Dining out in the states usually includes taking home a doggy-bag – more accurately, a styrofoam container – for the second portion that was served as part of your meal. The size of the portion served here is much larger than what we expect in France. (There are now some French restaurants which have begun offering take-away containers.)

·         For a long time, we have thought that food in France was more expensive and wine in France was less expensive than here but my perceptions are changing. Meats, cheeses and local vegetables seem to be equal to or less than American prices. For instance, a log of goat cheese that costs almost $10 in the states sells for about ¼ th that amount in France. ‘Exotic’ meats, e.g., duck, quail, rabbit, even lamb, are far less expensive in France and more often locally produced. Eggs are more expensive but bread – a baguette – is about a third of the US price. (Clothing is more expensive in France.)

·         We are fortunate to have a home with a backyard large enough for my vegetable garden. Many fewer houses in our village have enough land for a garden and at our apartment, we can manage only a few herbs grown on the balcony.

·         It seems easier to find a good craftsman/mason/carpenter in the states. We have heard horror stories about craftsmen and their work here but not nearly as often as we hear the stories of poorly done work in our village. not sure whether Angie’s List covers France…

This past weekend, we went to the christening of our godson’s first child. While the baptism was the main event, driving to North Carolina permitted me to reconnect with a high school friend and to see my sister and beau frère who drove from Wilmington to meet us in Raleigh for lunch. The events and gatherings were all fun: what beats family and friends?

Nesting (Nidification)

We have been back in the US for about 18 hours now. We have spent most of that time “nesting” – taking clothing items out of our storage bins and putting them back in the dressers and closets where they will remain until the next round of house-sitters arrives.

We have done this enough times that it is a fairly routine activity. “Nesting” is a whole lot less stressful that getting the apartment ready for renters. It is an activity that we can perform at our leisure. Except for the occasional item that I NEED RIGHT NOW, most of it can take place over the days and weeks ahead. Leaving the apartment and France is stressful because: a) we are leaving France and I drag my feet on getting things packed and put away and b) a renter arrived the same day we left, so we had a specific window of time to get everything ready for renters.

Our house and lawn (British “garden”) are in great shape. Our house-sitters took wonderful and meticulous care of our house while we were away. They even prepared (tilled) the vegetable plot and planted garlic last winter!

After noticing and admiring the house/garden/vegetable plot, the next thing I noted was how much earlier darkness arrives in Lansing when compared with our village in Provence. When one follows the latitude lines, Vaison la Romaine, FR is on a par with Traverse City, MI, 200 miles north of Lansing. The further north one goes, the longer the summer daylight hours become. This morning when we woke at 6:00 (after an early night of jet-lagged sleep), the sun had not yet risen. Provence can support tropical plants and long growing seasons thanks to the Gulf Stream and the trade winds that bring warm air to southern Europe (until climate change shuts down the Gulf Stream and Provence becomes cold like Traverse City in the winter…)

There is a real comfort from being back in our neighborhood. One of my French friends wanted to know why we continue to split our time between Vaison la Romaine and Lansing. The easy and honest answer is friends. We have wonderful friends – many of whom are also our neighbors. Hearing the description of the circle of wonderful friends and family, my French friend had to admit that he admired the American style of open front yards and porches where one can easily encounter neighbors. (The French usually construct high – 8-10 ft. – walls around their properties.)

Now that we have put away enough things to feel comfortable, it is time to go to see/talk with neighbors and friends.

Civility

This morning, as I was about to enter the bakery to get my daily baguette, a young boy ran past me and into the shop. He asked for a baguette, handed the clerk a 5 euro bill, took his change and darted out of the bakery. The clerk looked at me and shook her head. “Il est entré sans dire ‘bonjour’, il a pris sa baguette et il est parti et il n’a dit  ni ‘merci’, ni ‘au revoir’.  Les enfants ces jours-ci!» (“He came in without saying ‘hello,’ he took his baguette and left but did not say ‘thank you’ or ‘good-bye’. Kids these days!”)

I suppose that worrying about kids and their lack of manners is universal – and the older I get, the more I worry.

The incident made me think of a list that I saw recently at Matadornetwork.com. The list was: 11 ways to humiliate yourself in France. Number one on the list was: “Fail to say ‘bonjour’”. (To see the list of 11 no-no’s to avoid in France, go to: www.matadornetwork.com/life/11-ways-humiliate-france/ )

I have gotten better about being sure to say ‘bonjour’ no matter whether it is at a shop, a box store or a social gathering but I am far from perfect. For instance, the other day, when my American friend Ray was with me, I could not find something in the grocery store, so I stopped a clerk and asked where I would find X? He stopped and said ‘Bonjour’ and after I replied with my own ‘bonjour’ he took me to the aisle where X was located. – and yes, I was embarrassed. I am most often guilty of failing to say ‘bonjour’ to everyone at a social gathering. If there is a roomful of people, I will often say ‘bonjour’ only to the host or those close by…

A little civility goes a long way. It takes almost no time at all and shows a level of respect that we have lost or have forgotten.

And if you think I have bad French manners, think about the kids these days!