Whoops I did it again.

I went to the market this morning with a very short list. Fruits and vegetables. Fruits and vegetables. And some fresh spaghetti for the kids.

I would *not* be swayed by the siren call of the basil-olive tapenade, by the succulent smell of the roasted, marinated tomatoes, by the smooth shell of a perfectly formed tortellini. Most of all, I would NOT yield to the temptation of any kind of fromage.

Well, I got my fruit.

I got my vegetables.

And I was on my way to get my spaghetti for the kids. But when it was my turn to be helped, the vendor wouldn't let his new assistant serve me. He told the new assistant: "She is my special friend -- I will get her spaghetti -- did you know her kids love this stuff?" And then when I told him that after today, I had just two more Saturdays at the market before "quitting" France, he didn't believe me. He looked so very, very sad. And he said I would always have a special place in his heart, and he hoped he would always have a special place in mine.

So of course I had to buy the tortellini.

And then, on my way to buy flowers for a gouter with friends this afternoon, I walked by my favorite cheese vendor. Or should I call her my dealer. She is, after all, the one who on my first visit had the nerve to suggest I try a new cheese she was offering that day, a tasty, salty gruyere that is made high in the mountains by cows that, I am sure, receive regular massages and manicures. What other explanation for the the price -- 44 euros per kilo? Yes, that's right, there is a cheese in the world that costs about $30 a pound -- and it IS that good. Really.

That first taste was free, of course. It  always is. And like a good junkie, I've been dutifully coming back each week to see what the latest specials are (although I only ever buy a small slice of the most delicious, expensive kind on the Saturdays she has it). So clearly, CLEARLY, when she stopped me this morning to say bonjour, when she said she missed seeing me last week, when we talked about chateaux and the Loire and a new cheese she had -- well, really, I had no other choice. Before I knew it, I was walking away with three small packets of cheese in my bag, and my wallet noticably lighter. The only saving grace is that she didn't have my (crazy expensive) gruyere this week. Otherwise I might not have been able to face John when I got home.

And finally, I had everything on my list (and then some). I was almost free. I was walking toward my car, almost all temptations behind me, and who do I see? The olive-tapenade-tomato vendor -- another of my favorites where I usually stop at every week but had purposefully walked by this morning. He caught my eye. He gave a warm bonjour.  How could I say no?

(Does it help that he gave me a good deal on it? Probably not.)

Clearly, I have a problem...and what a wonderful problem to have. But for the sake of our budget and our cholesterol, it is probably good we only have two Saturdays left.

Sigh.

Two Saturdays left.

This won't be easy.

Fun, fun, fun in France (even with a germ or two)

This afternoon, as Katie was throwing up in the car on the way home from lunch (into a sack and not all over the rented minivan, thankfully), Olivia leaned over and whispered to her Grannie.

"I know why Katie doesn't feel good," she explained. "I gave my germ to her."

And indeed it appears she has. Thankfully, Olivia is back to her usual genki self today (that's the Japanese term for "spirited" and one of a handful of Japanese words that still lingers in our family's vocabulary. We have noticed it is now filled with many new and wonderful French terms, too, including mon coeur (my heart), ma puce (my flea/sweetie), and mon petit chou (my little cabbage/dear). But Katie is clearly in the midst of battling the same bug. At least we know it's not appendicitis, and we're hoping her recovery comes as quickly as her sister's.

And a little sickness didn't stop us from having a good time these last days. We have hung around the house a bit more than we first planned, which is no hardship, and we have also made a few trips into Beaune for various food, shopping, wine, and walking delights. We also had the pleasure of having a gouter with Geraldine and Adele yesterday (who later were joined by Pierre, and the smile on Jack's face when he saw his older friend ride into the drive seemed to illuminate the whole village, at the very least). And today, we kept the girls out of school (this was pre-Kate sickness, post-Liv sickness), said goodbye to Sharon at the gare and wished her bon voyage as she headed north to Brittany to visit dear friends, and then had an AMAZING lunch at a stony cave called L'Incontournable. To all Burgundians... if you haven't been to this fabulous restaurant at 29 Rue Carnot... you should get there as soon as you can!

And in between all of this, there have been tasty meals at home (including a gluten-free goat-cheese quiche I made last night and a Mont D'Or feast tonight), walks to some of our favorite places in the village, and lots of book reading, wine drinking, clothes changing (by Kate and Liv who are thrilled with the sundresses Grannie brought), talking, and laughing. John and I even got our date in last night -- not to Ciboulette, which was "exceptionally" closed on a Wednesday night, but to an Italian restaurant that turned out to be just right.

We're hoping Katie is well enough tomorrow to head out on our Loire trip. Liv was in good form within 24 hours, so fingers are crossed that Kate will be too.

Here are a few fun photos of the last few days. What you can't see in the photo of Katie with the lollipop is that her smile comes not from the sugary sweet, but from the brioche in the bag that I just got for her. She is definitely picking up some French habits. And near the end (I think sixth from the end), you can see mom walking out of my favorite fromagerie in Beaune -- just like me, with a smile on her face.

A family recipe

Still no official word on what the mystery plant may be. Might be reason to come back to Burgundy some spring in the future just to research more!

But... my dad did ask me to pass along his special "anti-skunk" recipe to my amazing in-laws after reading about our faithful hound Kaia's encounter with a skunk earlier this week. I did. And then I realized that since I often post or link to recipes (for things like tarte au chocolat or tortillas, true), maybe someone out there might be helped by my dad's surefire way to get the skunk smell off of a dog.

From the all time skunk trapper of Teller County, Colorado: Mix together one quart of 3% hydrogen peroxide, 1 teaspoon of mild liquid dishwashing detergent and 1/4 cup of baking soda.  Before bathing your pet, put cotton balls in his ears and a drop of mineral oil in each eye to prevent the mixture from irritating the eyes.  Rub the mixture through your pet's coat and brush it through with a soft brush, then rinse well.  You might have to repeat it until the odor is gone, but it really does work.  This is my long time remedy from Heloise.  When a skunk sprays the yard, I use a spray bottle and spray it around and it gets rid of the odor.  Poor Kaia.

Are skunks a problem in France? I can just imagine the conversation with Geraldine and Thomas (who patiently answer all of my random French questions) -- it's sure to be a good one!

In completely non-smelly other news... the kids and I are surviving John's absence for a work trip (we finished day four today -- hooray!), and we couldn't have made it through today without Lauren, Claudia and Penelope (and their parents). I was running low on patience this morning, and had a long list of shopping to do at both the Beaune Saturday market and the regular supermarket to prepare for my mom's visit. The kids do NOT love going to the market with me. They love the carousel there, of course, and John always takes them to it on any market morning. But going from stall to stall while I buy vegetables and cheese and chicken has never been their favorite activity. And with all of the tourists coming to town and the market more crowded than ever, it would have been even less fun.

So Alli kindly offered to have me drop the kids at her place and sent me on my way. What a friend! I had a great market morning -- a few of my favorite vendors passed along little extras today, some breadsticks and a few extra flowers -- and you will be shocked to hear I bought all of my favorite cheeses -- but this time for selfless reasons! My mom and Sharon can't eat gluten -- when I explained that to different vendors they gave a look of recognition (they had clearly heard of a gluten allergy) and then all of them, every single one, gave the saddest face ever at the thought of being unable to eat French bread. So I figured what they will miss in bread we will make up for in cheese! How very, very noble of me, I know.

The kids had a blast playing with the May girls. Kate and Liv adore anything that the nearly two-year-old Penelope does (and Penelope loves having them as adoring fans). Jack, Lauren and Claudia traded a few Pokemon cards while they were at it. And when I returned with my final haul, all the kids (and moms) walked back to town to get an ice cream cone -- a perfect end to a day that could have been so stressful and frustrating for all four of us. I did get a bit misty as we walked and I watched Lauren hold Kate and Liv's hands, and Jack take Penelope's while talking to Claudia... because it is clear how lucky we are to have such good friends, and how sad we are to be getting to a point where we can count down how many more market mornings we'll have. That's just not something I want to think about too much.

So... to avoid any more weepy eyes, I'll just say the kids and I returned and started getting ready for Mom and Sharon. John will pick up them up tomorrow night in Lyon after having made a whirlwind trip to Paris and Barcelona (again, I am struck by how much cooler than sounds than making a whirlwind trip to, say, Calgary and Winnipeg). And hopefully, at this time tomorrow night, I'll be saying bienvenue maman!

I never thought this day would come...

...but it has. Today marks the first day that I have officially had my fill of French cheese.

It took coming to the French Alps (through the Jura, home of the stinky and wonderful Mont D'Or) to get to this point. But the home of fondue, raclette, and tartiflette (which my friend Geraldine wrote about, in English, on her blog) has led to this sorry, sad state.

To counter all the deliciousness of this region, John and I did the only thing we could think of doing when given the chance to go out to eat tonight while Kathy and Alex watched the kids. We headed straight for a Japanese restaurant.

And it was great. I don't think miso soup has ever tasted as good as it did tonight, after spending a few days under the spell of the Savoy region's specialties, which seem to have been created to eat after days of hiking and skiing (and not just meandering around town, walking to an awesome ice cave, or taking a tram -- pictures to follow after we get home tomorrow).

And as I happily plucked pieces of salmon with soy and ginger with my chopsticks (snitching bites of John's sushi from time to time), I felt like things had come full circle. In Japan, given the chance I headed straight for the wonderful French restaurant across the street. Now in France, given the chance (and at last too much cheese), I returned to Japan -- at least for one night.

Row, row, row your bateau

Beaune was its most beautiful yet Saturday morning, and so we headed to the market (which is getting so crowded with all of those *tourists* (we say, feeling like we aren't really one of them), then to lunch, and then to Le Parc de la Bouzaise (which John had never seen) while Kathy and Alex toured the Hotel Dieu (which all of us had enjoyed).

At the market, the kids took a turn on the carousel, while I visited my favorite cheese vendor and was praised (?) for my luxe taste in cheese. Uh-oh. I don't think that's actually a good thing. But we returned with a plate full of our favorites, as a gift from Kathy and Alex (now those are GOOD friends).

At the park, after playing in the maze, after looking at the animals, after watching Jack fly through the air on the crazy swing/merry-go-round-this-would-never-be-legal-in-the-U.S.-or-Canada piece of playground equipment, and watching Kate and Liv master the art of sliding down a fire pole (Uncle Steven would be so proud), we decided to take a little boat ride.

First Jack and I headed out... then John took all three kids.. It was the kind of afternoon where you might start humming to yourself something about life being but a dream...

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!

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).

Things I learned at the market

We all headed to the market this morning, although the kids were happy to quickly detour to Chez Alli and John (or, perhaps more accurately, Chez Lauren, Claudia and Penelope). They played and played while we shopped and shopped. A few lessons learned:

1. If you have the option of having a real butcher "prepare" your chicken -- take it. This was the first time I bought a whole uncooked chicken at the market, and I wanted to prepare this recipe which calls for a whole chicken to be cut into eight pieces. I am more comfortable roasting a whole chicken, so hesitantly asked if they could couper the bird for me. In no time at all, they chopped off its head and feet, removed the guts, and had that bird beautifully prepared in eight pieces for me. If I do it again, I'm going to ask if I can take pictures -- it was *that* cool to see.

2. There is more than one kind of garlic. I found this out today when I tried to buy three bulbs. The vendor gave me a bit of a confused looked, and asked if I had a garden (giving me a look like I could not possibly be a gardener). I immediately panicked, thinking my reputation as someone who kills all plants had crossed an ocean, wondering how he KNEW I was a terrible gardener. Then he explained that the ones I was trying to buy were for planting... and the ones for eating were at the other end of the counter. Ah. Who knew?

3. I shouldn't take John with me when I buy cheese. It's not exactly cheap, but it's SOOOOOOOOOOO good. He just didn't know how good. Until now. Sigh. (Cheese of the week: an amazing cheese from high in the Alps that had been aged 29 months. I need to start bringing a pen to the market and writing down names... I always think I'll remember, but I never do.)

4. If you see people in a line for something, whatever they are buying is probably worth trying. This has turned out to be true for an amazing whole grain bread (two of the last four weeks) and an incredible goat's cheese (today).

5. You can learn a lot by asking where something comes from. One of my earliest market mornings, I asked (just out of curiousity) where the bananas were from (most that I had eaten in my life were from North and South America and I wondered where French bananas came from). The vendor said, a bit apologetically, that they were not from Martinique, but from Cote d'Ivoire. Well, at the next vendor, I saw bananas from Martinique. And they were delicious. Today, a vendor was selling two kinds of strawberries, one a bit more expensive than the other. I asked where they were from. These, he said with great pride, are from southern France. These others, he said, were from... Spain (the way he said it made it sound like he had found those strawberries under his couch, leftover from a long ago spring, and he was very sorry he was having to display them). He also said the French ones were more fragrant (had more perfume) while the Spanish ones had more sugar. I tried the French ones. They were magnifique.

6. It's kind of hilarious to watch two people with bad French accents try to talk to each other (example: the kind man selling Asian food (spring rolls, samosas, noodle dishes) and me). Neither of understood a word the other said, but somehow he ended up with his money and I ended up with spring rolls. I guess that's a victory of sorts.

7. And the best suggestion of all came from the website of David Lebovitz (source of my tasty chicken recipe). "One thing I've learned in France," he wrote, "is that if someone who's an expert tells you to eat something—you should eat it."

He's right.

How to keep everyone happy

It's a Wednesday, which means no school for the kids, which means (until now), traipsing off to tour a castle or cathedral or cheese-making abbey.

But today we stayed closer to home. When talking with our new friends Alli and John over the weekend, we came up with the brilliant plan of exchanging our offspring occasionally to allow the adults to go out on a date -- or at least get lunch in a place where you wouldn't want to take your kids. And so today it was our turn (and next week we'll be returning the favor).

So we left Jack, Kate, and Liv happily playing with their new friends - and this was the kind of day they had (Photo courtesy Allison G. M.)

After sipping a wonderful 2006 white wine opened by John and Alli, we headed out to La Ciboulette, a great little restaurant in Beaune that locals seem to love. And this was the kind of day we had:

Yes, that's the cheese course in front of me. You have to love a country that devotes a whole course to cheese.

Here's to good eating and good friends (of all ages).

A Burgundian feast with Burgundian friends

And... because the day wasn't French enough, or fun enough, we returned home from the fabulous festival, gathered a few things together, did a quick blog post (now *that's* dedication) and headed back out the door, to Géraldine and Thomas's house, where they had promised us a true Burgundian lunch.

To get a sense of just how wonderful a true Burgundian lunch is... I will simply say that we arrived just after 12:30 -- and returned home almost seven hours later. In between, we experienced this:

Thomas preparing the kir (an aperitif of creme de cassis and white wine). In the front, you can see the parsleyed ham appetizer.

This, apparently, is the best kind of creme de cassis to buy. Always good to know these things!

The delicious ham, which was offered with a kind of cheese-puff (not the Cheetos kind)... I will ask Géraldine for more specifics on this and some of the other food.

The table, which Jeanne had set (and included beautifully drawn name cards for the kids -- all nine of them! Three of Géraldine and Thomas's, three of ours, and three of an English-speaking colleague of Géraldine's and his wife).

Ham and rice for the kids -- that's Pierre sitting next to Jack. Even the "simple" children's food was prepared with a tomato, creme and wine sauce. The kids were not expected to linger over lunch for several hours. They ate first -- and went off to play.

First course -- escargots, made in a Burgundian style. The shells were stuffed with the snails which were mixed in a parsley, garlic, and butter sauce and baked for nine minutes. Below, Géraldine and her colleague discuss how to prepare the escargots, which we all loved.

The giant bowl of snails, in time, became a giant bowl of shells. Géraldine and Thomas said the shells can be reused -- I think Géraldine said she has used her grandmother's shells for escargot, but said these are different shells. (I could be completely wrong about that, too... there was a steady flow of English, French, and wine).

 The main course was chicken prepared with a mushroom and "yellow wine sauce", as well as potatos (baked with cheese, wine, and other good things). Our hosts said it is more typical of the Jura region just to the east of Burgundy (in the mountains, and home of the tasty Mont D'Or cheese). It was as good as it looks.

 To balance out this food, we enjoyed these wines:

 And then had cheese -- a Comté, a Camembert, and a stinky (and very tasty) one called Epoisses.

Jack and Pierre became engrossed with the Wii after a while -- whereas John and I were engrossed with the vineyards you can see right outside the windows.

And more time passed, and more talking, and then Thomas brought out dessert -- pears prepared in a Dijon way.

I asked if they were somehow prepared with cassis. Nope, he said. Just dependable Burgundy wine (and a little pepper, cinnamon, sugar and vanilla).

The kids played and talked and nibbled on bread and played as we leisurely enjoyed our meal. As always, I felt like taking a nap at the end of the feast -- but instead, after the last sweet pear bite was devoured and fortified by good coffee, everyone put on coats and scarves to take a walk.

By the time we ended up back at Thomas and Géraldine's house (in the background), Olivia was sobbing because she WAS. NOT. TIRED. So we hurriedly (for the first time during the whole visit) put the kids in the car, kissed goodbyes, and thanked mille fois for such a wonderful experience. We also promised to have a meal for them at our home soon.

With kids asleep and time to look at these pictures, both John and I are still marveling at this day. The beauty, the food, the view, the friendship, the fun... it was so rich in every sense. This feeling of being so lucky, almost blessed, to be here is balanced with the knowledge that we just purchased our tickets to leave France for England (on May 23). It will be so hard to leave -- and not just because of the fabulous food.