A Blast From The Past: Why I Heart France: Reason # 5

The French mother-in-law is a much maligned creature. Much like her American counterpart, La Belle Mere (literally translated: "Pretty Mother") is often accused of being overbearing, demanding, and have been known to coddle their sons to the point of co-dependency. More than a few of my friends have told me their Belle Mere horror stories, so it appears I have hit the French Mother-in-law jackpot.

Today my own French Mother-in-law stopped by for coffee on her way home from her weekly "soin de visage" (Fancy french facial treatment). Not only did she fold the mountain of laundry that was piled on our bed, she took all the wrinkled items home with her to iron. She then proceeded to dry & put away all the dishes I had just finished washing. Oh and did I mention that she just happened to bring along a hot baguette from the best boulagere in town and a fresh green bean salad topped with her nearly legendary sweet vinaigrette?

...And some people ask me if I'll ever move back to the states. Well let me tell you now, that living under these conditions makes it highly unlikely.

What can I say? I married well.

Why I Heart France Reason #20: Pimps.

If you ever happen to be at the Novotel hotel in Metz, be sure to stop by "Le Bar" and order a "Pimp in Soho".

Extra credit points if you do it with a straight face.

I bet you can't do it.

Why I Heart France Reason #19: Fungus.

At the request of blog commenter 'Tired of Snow', Saturday night Frenchboy and I managed to get a table at one of the cities best restaurants, Au Pampre d'Or, without a reservation.

It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it.

It's true, Au Pampre d'Or happily lost it's Michelin star recently, but after ordering and being absolutely charmed by the 5 course Truffle Menu I have no effin' idea why.

Now, before we get to the food porn, can I just say how much I adore the French for their love of mold and fungus? Before moving to France, I had only heard of chocolate truffles (although I don't think I'd ever eaten one of those either). So naturally I am absolutely fascinated by the idea of eating a spore that costs nearly €2,000 for a kilo.

Last night we must have eaten at least 50 grams of truffles and I won't lie to you:

It was Divine.

An Amuse-Bouche fit for Royalty.

I love when they bring your food under a cloche. (What do we call that in English?)
The French do have a flair for the dramatic---even in their food.

I wish had stolen a copy of the menu because describing this first dish as
"scrambled egg soup with truffles" doesn't really do it justice.
It was amaaaazing.

Pigeon with truffles!

How is it that I've lived in France for 7 years now yet I had no idea that you're supposed to eat your Munster with light sprinkling of cumin? Seriously? I'm just finding out about this heavenly combination now?

I love when they bring you two platters filled with
what can only be describes as"pre-desserts".

The cutest mini pistachio muffin on earth.

Insane chocolate soufflé that what so perfectly light and fluffy that I felt like I was eating chocolate and mandarin flavored air.

And a bit of Meringue for good measure.

Take that André Michelin!

Why I Heart France Reason #18: Scandalous!

The BP oil spell is ruining a corner of the planet, there are wildfires blazing in Arizona, and a mine explosion killed 45 people in China, but in France all anyone is talking about is the “Champs de ruines” that is the French National Football team. I thought the whole under-aged prostitution ring scandal was as bad as it could get, but apparently we haven’t seen nothin’ yet! The French simply cannot get enough wine, cheese, and scandal in their diets. How do you say "More please!" in French?

Last night there was an hour long special about the incident in which during last week's World Cup match, player Nicolas Anelka told coach Raymond Domenech to quote: “Go get yourself f*cked un the *ss , you dirty son of a wh*re.”

Ahem.

As a nouveau immigrant, I still haven’t fully grasped how much a part of the culture Football is for zee people of France, but last night’s broadcast has brought me a whole heck of alot closer to finally getting it. Seriously—I haven’t seen so many gloomy faces and grim expressions since the 9/11 terrorist attacks. I’m talking about grown men on the verge of crying on national television….over effin’ football! I’ve always understood that the French have a gift for the dramatic, but this has become full-fledged theater. Step up and buy your ticket.

Yesterday the entire French football team pulled a no-show for practice in protest of Anelka being kicked out of the World Cup and sent home from South Africa. And oh wait! The plot thickens! I just read that an emergency meeting has been scheduled for today to see if the team can be salvaged. (Warning: If the team collapses it may throw the whole country into civil war. But no worries. In the even that this happens I will continue blogging from the Häagen-Dazs ice-cream shop in Kirchberg mall in Luxembourg City.) I can’t wait to see what happens next. This is better than the last movie I rented on Pay-per-view.

Stay tuned. And don't forget the pop-corn.

Sidenote: All of this TV watching is excellent for my vocabulary. My new favorite expression: “Champs de ruines” which is basically a fancy French way of saying something is FUBAR.

Sidenote#2: Also, Thierry Henry is hot.

Just sayin'.

Why I Heart France Reason #17: Sin Delivery.

One of the things that always made me a bit grumpy about living in the armpit of France is all the modern conveniences that you simply can't get. The French simply can't seem to get the hang of delivery service. Yes, we can pizza delivered, but untill about 2 years ago if you didn't go to pick it up yourself, the pizza would arrive chez vous roughly 1.5 hours after your ordered the damn thing, on the back of a 18 year old motorbike-riding half-wit who clearly jumped up and down on it 3 or 4 times just before he rang your doorbell. And did I mention that said pizza would taste like it had been seasoned with old gym socks?

Somehow in France you can get a doctor to come to your house at 8PM for 5 Euros, but pizza or egg rolls? B^tch, not if your life depended on it.

So imagine my delight when I got this flyer in my mailbox a week ago:



Alert Drink offers free home delivery of aperitifs, smoothies, cocktails, wines, champagnes, salads, sandwishes & paninis, ice-cream, desserts, and....wait for it......Sex toys and accessories.

At first I thought it was just bizarre, but then I realised the Alert Drink genious. We live in a part of France where they roll up the sidewalks at 7PM. What about us drunks and pervs who want to party till dawn?

Ah, finally a delivery service with us in mind!

Why I Heart France Reason# 16: Being French Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry.

Please carefully consider this conversation I overheard yesterday at the bank:

French Lady w/ pancake-ass: Bonjour, I need to make a deposit into my account.

(she hands him a fat envelope.)

Mr. Dim-witted Bank Teller: Merci Madame, Just one moment.

(Insert sound of dim-witted tapping sounds on computer keyboard.)

Mr. Dim-witted Bank Teller: There you go Madame, Please sign this form.

French Lady w/ pancake-ass: Uhm, Excuse me. This isn’t my account. You put my money in someone else’s account!

Mr. Dim-witted Bank Teller: Oh?

French Lady w/ pancake-ass: Yes! That’s not my name!

Mr. Dim-witted Bank Teller: Ooooh! Good thing you caught that!

(Insert sound of more dim-witted tapping sounds on computer keyboard)

Mr. Dim-witted Bank Teller: There you go Madame, Please sign this form.

(French Lady w/ pancake-ass carefully re-examines and then finally signs form then storms out of bank.)

(End Scene)

Yep. The dim-witted bank teller acidentally deposited this Dame’s 3235€ (make that 4,524.86 USD) into someone else’s bank account (yeah I have the eyes of a hawk and I could easily see the amount written on her deposit slip over her right shoulder.) and then blows it off like it’s no big deal?

Now, after living in France for so many years I’ve grown accustomed to the French inability to assume responsibility for their actions or to make a proper apology, but syriousleee…as soon as I heard him say “Good thing you caught that!” I thought to myself “Good thing it’s not my money you f*cked up buster because I’d have to leap across this counter and mince yur teeny frog brain a bit.”

Ok, my heat and hormone induced violent tendancies aside…wtf? Am I the only one who thinks that since he made a grave error concerning a boatload of cash, that he could have broken the Frenchy Code of diss-Honor and at least offered this woman a "Oh, Excuse me Madame!"?

Heart-felt Sidenote: Just for the record I would like to state that I have nothing against the pancake-assed folk among us. I am well aware that not everyone can be blessed by the great Godess of Junk-in-the-Trunk. But since this poor woman's ass was so insanely nonexistant, that's pretty much all I can re-call about the woman's physical appearance. Please refrain from sending me hate-mail relating to pancake-assed people's rights etc etc.

I even have a hat to prove it. But not really.

Why I Heart France Reason #15: Drink Up For Jesus!

One of the things I love most about living in France is the fact that Frogs claim to be Catholic, but are really total heathens that will turn any religious holiday into an excuse to get ripped on really tasty wine.

I freakin’ love easter.

*hiccup*

And in my best effort to become more Frog-like I too took part in heathenous activities this weekend. (In fact, months ago we booked tickets to Paris not realising that this weekend was in fact easter weekend. Duh!) Gone are the days of shopping for the perfect outfit to wear for the church Easter recital on Easter Sunday. This year we skipped all that and just went shopping on Easter Sunday!

What are the odds that Jesus will bitch slap me straight to hell for celebrating his miraculous return from the dead with Korean Barbeque, 11 euro worth of FrenchFries, and Ferragamo loafers?

Why I Heart France Reason #14: "You're my BFF....Bitch!”

Anyone who doesn’t live under a rock knows by now that Franco-American relations have been a bit tense throughout history. At best the two countries can be considered “Frenemies”.

Over the years this has caused me to get into many enthusiastic yet completely fruitless arguments at cocktail parties. They usually go like this:

Frog: Your country eeez so bad. France is zee best.
Me: Whatever. The US sucks, and so does France. The French can be so dillusional about their own country.
Frog: Oh la la, Zeees atteeetude eeez so teeepically Americaine!
Me: Oh, so you’ve met all the Americans?
Frog: No, but I goed to New York City for holidays one time 10 years ago and I watch 'Starsky and Hutch', everyday so I understand everysiiing about zeee U.S.
Me: Oh, then you understand I’m about to kick your Froggy ass right about now?
Frog: I go outside to smoke now. Bye Bye.

(End Scene)

But I’m here to tell you folks, the world it is a changin’! Er’body in Europe got MAD love for the O-man. The French especially. In fact these Frogs love Obama so much that they are apparently willing to buy U.S. currency to prove it.

I found this ad in the TV guide. And honestly I ain’t mad at whoever thought this up. I’m only pissed that I wasn’t clever enough to think of selling a Frog a quarter "for only 3 Euros" first.

Also, not too long ago while on my way to the post office I saw this.

It’s not everyday that you see a big-ass American flag draped outside someone’s window here in my part of France. I was so astounded at the sight, that I actually stopped my car in traffic, whipped out my camera and took three photos, much to the dismay of the Frog in the Twingo that was stuck behind me. But he didn’t even honk his horn or give me the screw face. And I can't help but believe that he sat there patiently most likely because he saw the Obama bumper sticker on the back of my dope ride.

Why I Heart France Reason #13: "Ohhhhhh, Ooooh, OOOOH!”

Last night FrenchBoy and I were up late after treating ourselves to a little Christmas Eve Eve sushi dinner. I finally turned off my computer, put on my pajamas, and plopped myself down on the sofa to watch a bit of TV and possibly drift off to sleep. As soon I started flipping through the channels I knew it was going to be a tough task to find anything good to watch past midnight, so I immediately flipped over to the Sc-Fi channel. Much to my disappointment, there were no episodes of Deep Space 9; instead there was Alien Sex Attack 3.

I heart France: Reason #13: Girl-on-Girl soft-core Sci-Fi porn dubbed into French on the freakin’ Sci-Fi channel.

We have Canal satellite TV, so both soft-core and hardcore porn start showing up on certain channels anytime after about 11 PM--especially on the weekends, but I was kinda shocked to see it on the Sci-Fi channel. After the shock wore off, FrenchBoy and I just started laughing-- partly because of the fact that there was porn on Sci-Fi, but also because the whole film had been dubbed into French, including the totally ridiculous moaning! Apparently French porn audiences are so cultivated that they can distinguish an American “Ohhhhhh, Ooooh, OOOOH!” from a French "Oooooo, Oooooh, OOOOH!” Authenticity is everything---especially in porn.

All of this leads to one inevitable question: Who are the actors that dub Girl on Girl Sci-Fi porn into French? Exactly how crappy does your career have to be going to get that gig? Or maybe I’m kidding myself. Perhaps these are the most sought after voice-over jobs in the French film industry.

If anyone has the answers to these questions, please do share.

Why I Heart France Reason #12: BJ Newvo!

I can never correctly spell Beaujolais Nouveau. From here on out I will refer to this wine as BJ Newvo and I encourage you to do likewise.

I know it’s a bit late to be blogging about the BJ newvo, but this is my blog so I can blog about whatever I want. And right now I want to blog about this singular question: Why is it that to endlessly pontificate about BJ Newvo has become the benchmark for whether or not you are a too-cool-for-school-wine-know-it-all-hipster?

OK, OK, the French tradition of rushing out to buy the BJ Newvo is a bit over the top, but then again---so are the French. Frogs have a flair for the dramatic. Can we please just leave it at that? Everyone knows that Georges Duboeuf is pimping us jail-bate wine. Stating this fact repeatedly is like standing up in a crowded room full of cartographers and proudly proclaiming: “I have discovered that the earth is round!”

F*ckin’. Duh.

Do these people actually think they are saying something that other people haven’t been saying for at least the last 50 years? Someone in the United Nations general assembly should draft a resolution that declares BJ Newvo bashing a form of torture or otherwise cruel or inhuman treatment because I don’t know how much more I can take.

Footnote #1: You know you’ve been “French-ified” when you find yourself getting into by-proxy arguments over Beaujolais Nouveau.

Footnote #2: Note to the wine producer who makes the wine pictured below, courtesy of my local Match supermarché. BJ Newvo already gets a bad enough rap. The naming of your particular brand does not help matters. Thanks for nothin'.

Why I Heart France Reason #11

I haven't done one of these posts in ages, so now seems like the perfect time since, It's that time of year again. Time for the Miss Mirabelle Pageant. You'll have to follow the link back to my original 2006 post if you need background info on what the pageant and celebrations are all about, because today in the right here and right now you are about to experience the loveliness that is the Mirabelle parade!

That's right. After living in Moselle for nearly 5 years, this year was the first time I actually went to the Mirabelle parade. The French in-laws drove into town just for the occasion, and that was all the impetus I needed to join in the festivities. French-father-in-law was so excited to go that you would have thought that Johnny Hallyday was performing.

Anyway, here are just a few low hi-lights from the parade:


There were marching bands.

Kids in costumes.

Hookers dressed like pirates.

Naked body-painted guys on stilts

And people in Black face.

Now, to be fair I should put the whole scene in context for you. The white people, who were dressed up as Africans were accompanying a float whose theme was Africa. (Why? We don't know.) On said float there were several real Africans (Whatever the hell that means.) joyfully playing drums.

Since the parade, I have had several discussions about the "Afrique" float --All of which have ended in ruckus laughter. The intellectual mind of course tries to understand why on earth you would dress a bunch of white people up as Africans. The only thing I could come up with is that perhaps the parade organizers couldn't find enough real people from Africa to participate. Lord knows my Black ass wouldn't be on that float playin' bongos. But then again as my husband often reminds me. "You're not African.". Hmmmm. And he has a point you know. Charlize Theron is technically more African than me. And while I'm off topic, I should state that what I find so interesting to contemplate is, why this type of costuming is considered totally playful and acceptable in France, but would surely cause a riot in the United States.

So, Why I Heart France Reason #11: White people dressed up as Black people.

While you're mulling all this over, please enjoy this video of a Big Blue Opera Singer!

Why I heart France: Reason #10

Tomorrow morning I'm going to the Dr.'s office. I'm going to walk in without an appointment, sit in the waiting room for 10 minutes then I'm going to go into his office and demand shampoo.

Why? Because my favorite shampoo for my seasonably cranky scalp is free if my Dr. gives me a perscription for it. Before I leave I will pay him 20 euros. At the Pharmacy I will pay 4 Euros for two months worth of shampoo. A week later the French Social Security office will send my 24 euros back in the form of a check.

I heart France.

And now...for some Dave Sedaris "Bend Over and Say "Ah":

Why I heart France: Reason #9

Did I mention that one of the reasons I love France so much is because I love the food?

Thursday was French mother-in-law’s 40th birthday. *wink wink*

In normal French fashion we had a lovely family barbeque complete with gorgeous yummy food and of course lots of Wine and champagne.

That’s all I have to say about that. The photos speak for themselves.

France is Deee-liscious!

Why I heart France: Reason #8

At this point I don't have to try to convince you that the French are crazy about bread. And since I'm crazy about bread too, perhaps it was my bread destiny that brought me here to this nonsensical country. (Yes. There is such a thing as "Bread Destiny".)

So last week when my FrenchBoy clicked from over from my blog to Sam de Bretagne and read the post about her breadmaker he immediately started twitching and foaming at the mouth.

"...and look, there's a rebate!"

After much research we settled on a inox model from Kenwood. FrenchBoy claims it's a mother's day gift for French Mother-in-law inspite of the fact that he ordered the model that matches our new kitchen. I doubt it'll ever make it out of our apartment. I certainly hope not anyway.

So, Sam, if you're reading this, this post and illustrative photo from this afternoon's shopping expedition is in your honor, but it comes with a warning:

If I gain another 10 kilos from eating all that fresh bread, you know who I will blame.

Why I heart France: Reason # 7

Les Soldes!

For those of you who don't already know, twice a year the French government regulates crazy sales periods where all retailers are allowed to sell their crap at massively reduced prices. So for several weeks each year the entire country turns into one big clearance rack.

French Boy and I headed out to see if we could find anything for what is now being called "The Star Trek Kitchen". (More on that tomorrow) We didn't end up buying anything , but we did get some good ideas on appliances.

Later after shopping we had lunch and snacks with the French in-laws.

French God-mother Francine and her husband Francis were invited too.

For dessert I ate about 5 of these lil mini eclaires. Aren't they just adorable!

And that pretty much wraps up our lazy weekend. It was too cold to do much else. Monday is the big day for Barbie Dream House planning. We have an afternoon meeting to discuss.....toilets! I'll keep you posted, because I know you're totally enthralled.