Things French People Love

I've been watching and learning, here in La Canourgue, for three months now, and I've noticed a few things that the folks around here seem to adore. These are generalizations, of course, and I'm sure that with time, I'll discover that it's not true of everyone, but for the time being - a few Things That French People Love.

Cantaloupe: For some reason, the French adore cantaloupe melons. It's called "melon", as if cantaloupe are the only melons cultivated to be consumed by the masses. I rarely see watermelons in the store or at the market, and honeydews seem to be non-existent. There are occasionally some weird-looking African yellow-y things in the supermarket, but by and large, cantaloupe is the melon of choice. In the summer, it seems, no picnic or barbeque or quiet lunch at home is complete without this orange fruit sliced and served to each person. They eat it as a first course, and everyone exclaims with pleasure how sweet (but not too sweet) and delicious it is ... I have eaten so much cantaloupe this summer that I would be perfectly happy to never encounter it ever again. There is a huge one reposing on my kitchen table as I write this, a gift from the melon vendor whose table sits beside my front door every market day. I know my husband will happily suggest cutting into this piece of fruit when he gets home from work for his midday break, and I will smile, and say, of course, and eat it, and try very hard to enjoy it. Maybe a love for it will eventually sink in? I am living in hope.

Peanuts:  Do you like peanuts? I've always considered them to be sort of the poor cousins of the nut family. You eat them when all the other nuts in the mixed nuts can are gone. Or you crush them up and use them to garnish pad thai. Or, best of all, you can pulverize them and mix in a little oil and sugar to create peanut butter, one of the best substances known to man. Not so in France. Here, you go to someone's house for dinner, and bam! The bag of peanuts comes out. Everyone happily digs in and eats them by the handful as an appetizer. There are crackers, potato chips, and things that look like Cheetos, but are peanut-flavored. (Yuck, by the way.) If you bring a bag of mixed nuts (this is if you can find one in the store) to the party, the peanuts are winkled out and eaten first! It boggles the mind. And, as I may have mentioned before - no peanut butter. It is, quite literally, an unknown quantity here. The "exotic foods" section of the grocery store might have a jar or two available, but it will inevitably be the extra-super-chunky variety that consists of mostly chopped-up peanuts and hardly any "butter" to be going on with. I have no idea where the love of plain peanuts came from, but it is bewildering. A country noted for its love of food and cooking, and most of its denizens think peanuts are an appropriate snack. I just don't know. Also, the French word for peanut is "cacahuete", and, you know, being American, I don't like to eat things that have "caca" in the name.

Peach iced tea: I was excited to find bottled and canned iced tea available in France. I thought I would be making my own sun tea, if I wanted this particular beverage, and was pleased to see that wouldn't always be necessary. But ... if you don't like peach flavoring, you're up shit creek on this one. Fortunately, I do! Just about every grocery chain has a house brand for bottled beverages - soda, juice, etc. And apparently, for the French, "iced tea" and "peach" are inseparable. (I have seen a few bottles of mango iced tea here and there, but never in any quantity, and always with the word "nouveau" -  new - prominently featured on the label.) There is even an iced tea syrup available (I have a bottle in my own kitchen, in fact) that you just add water to and, voila!, a delicious iced tea beverage is waiting for your consumption. However, it is always peach iced tea syrup. Never lemon, never raspberry, never plain. Perhaps I should contact some beverage manufacturers here and suggest the lemon, raspberry, or mint options? If Lipton doesn't get in ahead of me, I might be able to open up whole new vistas in the French ready-made beverage market.

Outdoor activities: I come from a very suburban/urban area of the U.S. When people there have leisure time, they generally go to the movies, or shopping, or to an amusement park. Maybe they head to a public park with some friends for a summertime cookout. In this part of the world (the least-populated area of France, actually),though, when people have down time, they head outdoors. Hiking, biking, camping, swimming, canoeing ... I imagine there are places in the U.S. where this is the case, as well - I just never lived in any of them. My husband and I spend countless hours in our yard, gardening, mucking out the stream that flows through it, and inviting people over to barbeque and eat al fresco. And I've learned to be careful when someone invites me on "une petite balade" ("a little walk") ... because, depending upon the person, that could mean a hike of twenty kilometers through the mountainous terrain that surrounds us, or it could mean a short stroll to the outskirts of town and back. You just never know, and it appears that you should be prepared for either outcome when you accept their offer. I am hoping that, with time, my mind reading abilities become better and I will know when I should bring water, sunscreen, and Power Bars along for "a little walk". I'm sure I'll get there some day - and I'll probably be walking, when I do.

Meat: First, there's saucisson. It's a kind of dried sausage, kind of like pepperoni. You slice off little pieces and eat it with bread or by itself. The people around here eat it all the time, and there are an infinite number of varieties. I have no real idea exactly what goes into the making of these things, but they taste fantastic (despite the sort of vague feet-like aroma before you cut into them). Then, of course, there are pates and terrines and mousses. All made out of some sort of meat (usually organ meat, like livers) and sometimes veggies, like mushrooms or onions, and molded into a sort of loaf that you then slice hunks off of and spread on bread. Again, delicious. Think of it sort of as meat jelly or jam - makes a great sandwich. So, these are the before-the-meal meat products, and then you move on to the entree portion of your lunch or dinner, which is always ... surprise! More meat. Sausages - pork or lamb, usually - or perhaps pork chops, or thin beef steaks. Maybe a roasted chicken - boneless, skinless chicken breasts are not very popular here. Sometimes people will have turkey steaks or perhaps a piece of fish (usually salmon, unfortunately). But always, always, the main course around these parts is meat. Here is the crazy part: I've never, since I've been here, seen anyone marinate a piece of meat. There is this little packet of dry herbs that comes with any steak or chop you buy in the market that most folks will rub on the meat before they cook it, but that's it! (And it always consists of mostly rosemary. Mom, watch out.) I made an herb butter with some fresh chives and parsley last week to put on some steaks I was broiling for dinner for myself and my husband, and he looked horrified as I applied it to the meat prior to putting it in the oven. Thank God I had rejected the balsamic vinaigrette and shallot marinade that was my other idea - he might have left the house, and me, upon seeing that perpetrated on a steak he intended to eat. I have been afraid to broach the subject of marinating with my new French friends - it seems so universally neglected that I feel sure there is some big, glaring reason for NOT doing it that I haven't yet discovered. I will continue, of course, to marinate in the privacy of my own home, but in front of others ... rosemary, anyone?

I discover new things every day, and will continue to parade those things past all of you. Thanks for reading and sharing in my adventures!

Pronunciation Guide:

melon: meh-LOW(n)
cacahuete: ka-ka-WEHT
nouveau: noo-VOH
voila: vwah-LAH
une petite balade: ewn puh-TEET bah-LAHD
saucisson: so-see-SOHN
pate: pah-TAY
terrine: teh-REEN

Bread and Bonjour

I've been pondering two things that, to me, seem quintessentially French - and that you really need to understand, absorb, and participate in to become comfortable living in France or with the French. As my title suggests, these things are bread and greetings such as "bonjour". Let me break it down for you:

Bread: The staff (or stuff) of life, right? In France, you simply MUST eat bread. There is no conversation about it, like, "Hey. Should we go buy some bread for [insert meal here]?" You go to the bakery every single day and you purchase whatever bread supplies you need to lay in for that day. End of story. People here eat bread with any and every meal they consume. Bread with their coffee or hot chocolate in the morning. Bread for their sandwiches at lunch. Bread (of course) with dinner and most especially with cheese, which you eat at dessert time. And I'm not talking Wonder Bread here. Mention sliced sandwich bread like that, and most French-born citizens will give you an incredulous look, as if you just announced you like to eat dog poo for dinner. No, French bread is the long, crusty on the outside, chewy on the inside baguette, first and foremost. There are many other kinds - I am most partial to the bigger cousin of the baguette, the flute, because it is a little less dense than the baguette and has a fluffier interior. (My husband rolls his eyes at me when I state this preference.) There are breakfast breads (pain au lait, pain au mie, brioche) that don't have a hard crust and are excellent for dipping in beverages, there are sweet pastries (pain au raisin and pain au chocolat) that are related to the illustrious, flaky and delicious croissant, and there are literally thousands of regional specialties in both sweet and non-sweet, hard and soft varieties. For example, in my village they make a big ring of country bread called a couronne, and this is apparently impossible to get in Paris. It's very good, but I am a little stumped as to why you just don't eat something else while you're in Paris that they don't make here? (Like Chinese take-out or kebabs from the 24-hour kebab stand.)

But this is the thing about bread: it is not just a staple in your diet. It is part and parcel of the French man or woman's identity. Bread is not just sustenance; it is religion. I am pretty sure that there have been wars here (or at least really big arguments) over where you could get the tastiest bread. Everyone has their particular preferences, not just for the type of breads they prefer to eat on a given day, but also for the actual bakery where these are procured. People don't just buy bread from anywhere, all willy-nilly. No. Absolutely not. You go to the bakery you have ALWAYS gone to, and there is no deviation. I think when you move someplace new, you get a window of time to sample the local bakeries, but once you've gone there multiple times in a week, you're committed. And if your bakery runs out of something you want? You go without. No running across town and picking up a loaf from the other bakery, oh no. Perhaps, if you wear a wig, dark glasses, and a cape, you could drive to the next village over and buy bread there, maybe. If you had house guests, for instance, and needed bread to feed them. But you are loyal to your baker, and he or she will be loyal to you. Our bakery is literally about fifteen steps from our front door, and Patrick is now such a good and regular customer he can even take home bread if he forgets his money - he just brings payment to them later on, or even on the next day. Can you believe it??? I am working hard on ingratiating myself with the people who work there, as well, and it will be a happy day when I can say more to them than "hello", "good bye", and "one flute, please".

Bonjour: Literally, it means "good day". French people use it as an all purpose "Hello," or "Hey there!" What's different about this greeting is that you use it, um, all the time, and with everyone, whether you know them or not. First, you must greet (and say good-bye to, by the way) whoever is at the cash register in any shop or store you enter. Ditto for bars, pharmacies, the library, the post office, hotels, government offices ... anywhere, really. Even if you're just entering that building to browse around and have no intention whatsoever of buying anything or asking for any further assistance, you MUST greet them with "bonjour". (Or "bon soir", if it is after 6pm or so.) When you exit said establishment, it must be accompanied by a "au revoir", or "merci, au revoir", if they have assisted you in any way. This is gospel. It is the only civilized way to behave here, and if you don't, those employees of wherever you have just exited will gossip about you and comment on your rudeness. I am not kidding - I've now done it myself, at the campground. Wow.

And greeting people is not limited to interior spaces. We have a really deep windowsill on our ground floor window, which I sit on quite a bit, enjoying a book and/or a cigarette. Since we live in the village center, people are walking by all the time. Whether they are people I happen to know or tourists gawking at the architecture, they all will toss out a "bonjour" or "bonsoir" as they drift past me - even kids! In fact, it is now easy to tell the tourists who are from countries other than France, because they are the people who don't greet me as they walk in front of my house. (Well, there are also several long-time residents of La Canourgue who studiously ignore me and refuse to let out a bonjour in my direction. I generally pretend to be completely absorbed in my book when I see one of them coming, so I don't have to meet their eyes and recognize the slight. Or, if I'm feeling froggy, I say bonjour first, and watch the sound speed up their steps. I am hoping that, eventually - like in five years, maybe - they will get accustomed to the sight of me and grace me with a greeting.) If you're taking a walk, you say "bonjour" to anyone who makes eye contact with you, in general. Can you imagine it? Try - imagine you are walking down a street in your own town or city. Now imagine saying hello to complete strangers as you go. Strange, right? It seemed that way to me until I started doing it, and now I just can't stop. It's an addiction. But it's also 100% really and truly French. Of course, in Paris, people don't greet every person they see - the city's too enormous for that. But in the suburbs of Paris? Yep, bonjours abound. The really fun part? If you actually know the people, more often than not you also get to do the cheek-kissing thing. And that's a whole 'nother ball of wax ... I'll save cheek kissing for next time, sportsfans.

Take care of yourselves and each other, and make sure to give a nice greeting to the person behind the counter the next time you go to a bakery. Or your mechanic's. Or Target. If people look at you funny, just tell them you are experimenting with other cultural norms. If they still are giving you the hairy eyeball, just say, "merci, au revoir" and walk away. You can't win 'em all.

Pronunciation and definition guide:
baguette: bah-GETT (crusty loaf of bread, about a foot long)
flute: FLOO-tuh (crusty loaf of bread, about twice the size of the baguette)
pain au lait: pahn-oh-LAY (soft breakfast bread, made with milk)
pain au mie: pahn-oh-MEE (soft breakfast bread, as above, sweeter. Both are similar to Hawaiian rolls.)
brioche: BREE-ohsh (soft rolls with an egg wash on top to make them shiny. Sometimes have giant sugar crystals decorating them.)
pain au raisin: pahn-oh-ray-SAHN (croissant-like pastry with raisins baked in)
pain au chocolat: pahn-oh-shock-oh-LAH (croissant-like pastry with a seam or two of dark chocolate baked inside)
couronne: koo-RUN (a hearty whole-grain country bread, baked in a ring like a crown)
croissant: KWAH-sahn (you know what these are)
bonjour: BOHN-jewr (hello! or good day!)
bon soir: BOHN-swahr (good evening)
merci: MEHR-see (thank you)
au revoir: oh-vwa (good bye)