Le Vélo à La Cressonnière

Le vélo lives at La Cressonnière. She's a happy little gal, but when I was talking with her, she mentioned ... she doesn't have a name. I think she would very much like one. Any suggestions for a proper French name for my friend?

*ps- Lucette and Jane have friends with the most adorable names. Astrid, Augustine, Peroline, Juliette ... and doubly beautiful when said with a French accent!

*pps- It's so curious how our American "ear" can't make sense of certain sounds. It took Lucette two weeks to figure out Peroline's name. Perhaps because of the sounds and that they are unfamiliar names? Today I was helping out at school and I asked an 8 year-old boy in Jane's class what his name was. I swear it sounded like "Grandpa" with a French twist. Like "Gharahndpa." He repeated and I tried about five times. I don't think I ever got it right because he sweetly changed the topic and told me the only English phrase he knew: "Donkey Kong."

*ppps- Later in the day I found out Grandpa's name. It was Benjamin. Well, for heaven's sake.

The Painter's Ladder

The Past and the Present: Normandie Life

I snapped a little shot on my phone of the main street of our downtown area. I think it actually gets more charming as you move in a little further towards the church ... but I have been so touched by all of the flag buntings that I see flying on houses and at the entry to this marketplace. Did you notice the nationalities? With the 70 year anniversary of World War II this last summer, there are tributes everywhere.

Our little town here was hit by bombs so severely that 90% of the town was destroyed as the Allied Forces were forced to attack the German occupation. The photos I've seen are so sobering. And certainly, I think of my own Grandfather Stone and his experience.

I had my first language exchange/chat yesterday with a French woman, as we both want to work on our language skills with a native speaker. (Incidentally, her English is far better than my French and she is very patient!) She was surprised to hear that often, Americans think the French don't like us.

Pourquoi? She asked, surprised. She proceeded to talk about Americans as the friends of the French and told me a few stories of her family during the war. This is Normandy. And these events were not that long ago.

Many of the buildings had to be rebuilt from the ground up, some restored expertly, and others have been fabulously patched and mortared back together. We love to drive around and point out buildings that show new and creative stonework that managed to salvage original structures.


But even though the events of the past are not at all forgotten, a resiliency and pride are notable. To see flowers blooming and a monument erected at the spot the tanks first rolled through ... Wow.

We have yet to get to the D-day beaches. Have any of you been? Any tips or things we should definitely do or see? If you have never been, like me, what would you be most curious about?

How to Buy a Corsage from a Treehouse Boutique

 We all know that quality and freshness go hand in hand. So first thing, when you need to buy a corsage from a 9 year-old treehouse entrepreneur, make sure that all blossoms have been picked within 24 hours and have been stored in a cool place, like her mother's refrigerator.

Next, you need to ask yourself, does the floral artist really take care in her craft? Does she have a vision? Does she keep a broom in her treehouse to signal an attention to detail and a tidy workspace? Does she look darling in her sundress and wear a contented smile?

If you find yourself answering yes to all these questions, proceed with confidence.

To begin, ring the bell at the establishment to let your florist know you are interested in her wares. She'll lean over from her ledge and give you a thumbs-up. You may now climb the ladder to begin the selection process.

As you are browsing, feel free to ask for recommendations in the assembling of your corsage. For instance, for a mere 20 centièmes more, you can add a sprig of greenery that will really make the whole bouquet come together.

 Once the assembly is complete, she'll wait patiently for you when you realize you forgot your money in all the excitement. When you are ready, just drop the fee in the bucket.

 

She'll haul up her cash to her boutique and lower back down the most beautiful corsage you ever could have hoped for.

And for free of charge, award you with a beaming smile to boot.

The corsage can be worn or placed any number of places. However, behind the ear is always a good choice and will even stay put during a rousing game of badminton.

Without a doubt, you will find that this is the best purchase you've made in ages.

Covert Photos From the Yogurt Aisle

When I have emailed, FaceTimed and Skyped with my dear ones, inevitably, the question will be asked: "What is different?" or "What do you love about being there?" Of course, there are many, many things to drone on about, but I always feel compelled to share about one very critical thing: The Yogurt Aisle. (Capitalization mandatory.)

So, the French are serious about their yogurt. It's called yaourt and it seems to rival the baguette in the importance of daily consumption. (Well, okay, nothing beats the baguette here, but it's close!) When you go to the marché, there is a full, double-sided aisle fully loaded with yogurt.

I've been wanting to take some photos (just with my phone) for weeks now, but the aisle is always so busy ... I just felt too creepy taking photos. So I came first thing this morning, right after they opened the store. (9:00am. Nothing is open before 9:00am except ... the boulangerie, where you can buy baguettes. Of course.) And even still, I had to circle a bit until it was relatively empty and pretend to be looking at my phone for something very important. Click. Click-Click. (I don't know why I feel so embarrassed! I wouldn't care at all, back in the States...)

So let's break it down. On the left you have primarily the natural, unsweetened, and not-excessively-sweet-good-for-breakfast yogurts. Mixed in you'll find some crème and some yogurt-like cheeses. Judging by the amount of these yogurts I see it people's carts, I'm pretty sure they have it for breakfast just about everyday. And maybe lunch. And some of it goes in sauces. And baked goods. And as a topping. 

On the right it's all dessert yogurts. I don't even know how to describe it. As Pops said, "It's like a parade of every kind of dairy deliciousness you could imagine..."

And it's not just straight yogurt. It comes in multiple forms: mousse, crème brûlée, fruit compote, tiramisu, rice pudding, with meringue ... and in flavors that will make your brain explode just a little, every.single.time. (Fleur de sel caramel, chestnut mousse, apple tarte, caramel, dark chocolate pistachio, lemon zest ...)

And all kinds of yogurts come in the standard paper or plastic tubs, but often in darling glass jars or even petite terracotta pots (See above photo, middle and to the right). It's also worth noting that yogurts are typically smaller in size than American yogurts. A culinary French theme is definitely: Better to have a little bit of something exquisite than a ton of something subpar. I think this is an excellent philosophy that I will adopt as soon as I stop eating three at a time.

I'm told that everyone here eats a yogurt after dinner. And at school, the kids always have a yogurt as an option for dessert at lunchtime. So I pretty much take this as permission to eat yogurt all the time, anytime. (PS- Did I tell you I was off dairy and gluten for 10 months before we came to France? I think that might be against the law here. And I am very law abiding.)

So would you be as infatuated as me? Even if you aren't normally a yogurt fan, does this pique your interest? What would you go for first?

Along the Path

Let's Try to Eat French, Steamed Mussels

Have you ever cooked mussels before? I confess, before we went to Honfleur, I'd never really had a big bowlful much less prepared them. Somehow things in shells seem rather daunting. But les moules are a big thing here in Normandy. And when I was at the market the other day, I noticed all of the older women clucking about this giant pile of mussels. Curious, I held back and pretended I was looking at a jar of jam and watched how the scene played out.

On a giant platform, a massive amount of mussels were displayed on a bed of ice. The ladies would grab a plastic sack and with the provided metal scoop, fill up their bag with the amount they deemed appropriate. Tie off the sack, walk over to the fish man, and hand over the goods for him to weigh and determine the price.

It seemed easy enough. And turns out it was! I completely guessed on the amount needed and when the fish man asked me a follow-up question, I responded with c'est tout (meaning "that's all," my go to response when I have no clue) and he seemed content with that.


Back at home I did a little research on prep and simply spent about fifteen minutes at the sink rinsing, scrubbing off any bits or barnacles, and removing "beards." Sounds weird and gross but kind of like wet, briny corn-silk. No biggie. Grab, yank towards the hinge point, discard. And if any are chipped or don't close when you tap them, this means they aren't alive anymore and you should toss them. (I kind of forgot they were "live" and it was a little bananas to see them slowly open and shut!) Finally, I placed in a bowl of water, covered, and kept in the fridge 'til dinner.

When evening came and it was cookin' time, I loosely followed a recipe online. You can leave out the cream if you want, but I used Creme Crue Sineux (from our landlord's family farm!), and I used half wine and have (hard) cider, because that's another big thing here.

Honestly, it's about the easiest thing ever and it cooks in just under 10 minutes if they are small like these.

And when you take off the lid and they have all opened through some culinary magic, it's so exciting!

It's also exciting to eat with your fingers, pile up all the empty shells in an extra bowl, and eat lots of crusty bread to soak up the juices and make your belly extra happy.

So, have you cooked these before? Could you convince your kids that they aren't too creepy looking? What about oysters (I have no idea on this one!)? Do shellfish scare you? Do you have other kinds of recipes that are super simple, tasty, and fun to serve a family? 

Lucette Claims Her Domain

For the first time, she has her own room. To read, to lounge, to just have some space of her own.

In general, I think privacy amongst family is overrated ... it's good to be in each other's business. But I can appreciate the luxury of having one's own domain. Particularly at eleven years-old.

 But if she's in there too long, we start to miss her and we come a tap-tappin' on her door. I think she likes that too.

And if you keep taking photos ... the fun really starts to begin.

La Porte, La Cressonnière

I have a feeling that someday we will look back on our stay here at La Cressonnière and marvel. It would be hard not to. With that in mind, I'd like to start posting on the maison itself. And where better to start? At the front door of course ...

 If I recall correctly, the door is near original to the house. It dates to about 350 years ago! That means this door is older than the founding of the country I was born in.

My landlord mentioned that a few of the front panels had to be replaced (note the difference in texture towards the bottom and right?), but that he was horrified at the suggestion that the whole door be replaced.
 

 I couldn't agree more. While heavy, and a bit awkward ... and truly drafty (when winter comes, we'll cease use of it, stuffing batting in the cracks and hanging a curtain over the doorway), it brings me great delight to wrench the porte about and traipse over its threshold.

I'm quite certain a brand new door wouldn't have the same effect ...

Jane à Honfleur