Thanksgiving

We have found that folks over here are kind of fascinated with Thanksgiving. What’s it all about? Why do we celebrate it? What are we thankful for?



For instance, David recently went to a luncheon with a British group and was asked about Thanksgiving. He mentioned several things he’s thankful – family, health, etc., etc. After they continued to press him for additional answers, he finally said we are thankful we’re no longer British. Fortunately, they saw the humor in his response, and I’ve heard he will be invited back again.


Since Estelle, our “French daughter,” has spent a year in the US, she knows about Thanksgiving. So she was quite receptive when we asked if we might prepare and serve a Thanksgiving dinner to her and her family at her house. Our kitchen is minimal so we asked if we could do most of the cooking in her real kitchen with David and me doing ALL of the prep, cooking, serving, and cleanup. She agreed, and we began planning.


Our first hurdle was a turkey. We watched various butcher stores and grocery store meat sections for turkeys or even a turkey breast to roast. We found none. It seems that turkeys are considered Christmas dinner fare here (makes sense since they don’t have a Thanksgiving). Also, we had heard several horror stories about Americans special ordering a turkey for Thanksgiving and getting a dead turkey – complete with head, feathers, feet, and all its insides. That was not exactly what we had in mind. So we jumped at Estelle’s offer to order a turkey from her favorite butcher. The turkey we ordered would be headless, footless, featherless, and eviscerated. Or, as Estelle put it, “naked and empty.” First problem solved.


Our next hurdle was a pumpkin for pumpkin pie. Forget a can of Libby’s – we’d happily settle for a pumpkin. Pumpkins came and went for Halloween (they are getting into Halloween, trick-or-treating, and jack-o-lanterns over here). Then the pumpkins disappeared. We checked regular grocery stores, specialty “green grocers,” public markets, everything we could think of – no pumpkins. So we settled for apple crisp with whipped cream.


Here’s our final menu:


• Stuffed mushrooms, celery with cheese, and potato chips(Estelle’s two boys are crazy about chips)


• Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, green salad, cranberry sauce, fresh bread and butter


• Apple crisp and whipped cream


• Champagne, Crozes-Hermitage, Beaujolais Rose, dessert wine from Bordeaux (similar to Sauterne)


• Coffee


(Estelle provided the bread and coffee.)


Saturday
We actually prepared dinner in stages. I had been cutting and drying bread cubes for some time for the stuffing and prepared the ingredients to the point of the actual baking to take to Estelle’s. I also had the “overnight mashed potatoes” and apple crisp ready to take for baking in Estelle’s real oven. We took all of these, the cranberry sauce I had prepared, the whipped cream, the corn, and the wine to Estelle’s on Saturday. (Side note: Estelle lives in St-Genis-Laval, a suburb of Lyon that’s about 45 minutes and one transfer from our apartment via public transportation. Fortunately, most people around here, including us, have what I call “wheelie carts” for transporting heavy or large loads.)

We also went with Estelle to pick up our naked, empty turkey. Two very envious, attentive cats supervised my every move as I prepared the turkey so Estelle could put it in the oven Sunday morning.

Sunday
The load we brought Sunday was much smaller and lighter, so we were able to forego the wheelie cart in favor of two large bags. (Laurent, Estelle’s husband, had just come off a twelve hour shift at 7AM so we were a little surprised to arrive at the house and find him raking leaves. Amazing!)

The turkey was filling the house with delicious aromas when we arrived. We got everything else cooked, prepared for serving, and ready to go. I cooked, David cleaned, and we both shooed cats out of the kitchen. (We did have to insist several times that Estelle and Laurent should act as our guests and not worry about preparing, cleaning, serving, etc.)


Everyone had a good time, ate a lot, and Estelle, Laurent, David and I enjoyed leisurely after-dinner conversations. Then it was time to divvy up the leftovers, do the final clean up, and head back to our apartment. Thanksgiving was a success – the dinner had been all we had hoped it would be.

PS-Almost forgot to tell you...after dinner Laurent brought out their prized bottle of Calvados (apple brandy) to share.  This particular bottle is special not only because of its size and age, but also because it was one of their wedding gifts and is inscribed with their names and wedding date.  It is well over 20 years old and still definitely has a kick to it.  Estelle says it had more apple taste to it when they first got it.  What a perfect end to our Thanksgiving dinner with them!

The Mystique of “La Bise”

One of the most interesting (and pleasant!) customs in France is “la bise,” the exchange of kisses on the cheek when one meets a friend, family member, or even is introduced for the first time. (The kisses aren’t really kisses in that one’s lips don’t usually touch the other person’s cheeks.)



It’s really a lovely, warm way to greet people, but it can get cumbersome at times, and it can be awkward for the uninitiated. Picture several of us in my French conversation “class” at AVF. Assuming we all arrived at about the same time, we each exchange “la bise” or “faire la bise”. It can look almost like two sport teams lining up and shaking hands after a game. So far so good. But, not everyone arrives at the same time – in fact people sort of dribble in one-by-one over the next half hour or so. Each new entry is expected to greet each and every one of the others with “la bise.” As you can imagine, this can be a little disruptive to the class. (“Work arounds” can be creative as demonstrated by a fellow American who recently arrived quite late to class. She entered the room, saw that there were already about fifteen of us gathered around a table in the rather small room, did a beauty queen two-handed kiss directed at all of us, and said, “bise, everyone.” Got to love American ingenuity!)


But, wait it can be more complicated than that! How many kisses? And, which cheek do you start on? Lyon is pretty laid back on the protocol; just one kiss on each cheek, and figure out where to start as you go. (I’ve noticed most people start on their right side, kissing the other person’s left cheek.) It seems to work just fine; I’ve never seen any accidents. (David reminds me we have an Irish friend who simply leans her face forward and lets the other person pick the cheek. Whatever works.)

However, not all of France is as relaxed about this as Lyon is. Here is a map showing how many kisses are expected in various regions in France. I have to admit, I’m not sure how up to date this map is since the protocol for this custom seems to be pretty fluid. But, I wouldn’t want to be in my French class in Brittany or Champagne – we’d never have time for conversation!


It’s always interesting to learn new customs, and this one is a particularly enjoyable one!

Can you believe everything you see? - Trompe-l'œil in Lyon

Trompe-l'œil is a French term literally meaning “deceive the eye.” It is an art technique that depicts objects and scenes extremely realistically and creates the illusion that those objects and scenes (which are actually flat) are in three dimensions. There are great examples of it on walls all over Lyon, and it’s fun to be walking around and suddenly see one. We thought you might enjoy seeing some examples so here are some pictures taken on our walk today.

 None of the windows is real, and the people depicted have all been important to Lyon's history.

Here's a "store front" we saw today.  Everything you see is paint - even the bulletin boards.

It was hard to get all of this one in.  As I was trying to find just the right spot to stand, I turned around and saw four other people doing the same thing!

Here's another one from today's walk.  Only the fire hydrant is real!



THE NEW 'DO - part 2

David’s Story:



I can admit some degree of sympathy on this one – I got my first haircut about six weeks after our arrival in Lyon. Trying to find a place was the first hurdle – I did not want to use a ‘beauty parlor’, even though most advertise men’s and women’s cuts. My hair is straight-forward, and I thought a simple cut was the way to go. I finally asked our French daughter, Estelle, and she checked with her male co-workers who recommended a barber shop about a kilometer away. Twice I walked to the shop; both times it was closed, even though it was supposed to be open. [One of the fun things about French shop-owners is the individuality of the business.] Finally I arrived when he was there a working on a customer, and promptly sat down in the wrong chair to wait my turn. As part of the service, you get a shampoo and I had chosen the chair where this process took place. Once I understood the process, and told the barber [who spoke no English] how much hair to remove, the results were great.


So watching Anna agonize for weeks was an experience. First she announced that she was going to wait and let her hair grow longer. Then she discussed French beauty shops with our landlady, who kindly volunteered to go with Anna the first time. Anna wanted to do it herself, so she went out one day to face the ordeal. I told her I would have a gin and tonic waiting when she got back. As the hours went by, I wondered if she had gotten lost, or could not face coming home with the results.


But, as you have seen, it all came out well – we celebrated with some Champagne, and one more adventure goes into the record book.

THE NEW 'DO

Anna’s story-



I last got my hair done the 21st of July - that’s quite a while ago. I normally get my hair cut every six weeks and always go to Jessica, a woman who has been doing my hair for more years than I’d care to remember. When I was saying good-bye Jessica, she gave me her card with hair color numbers on it so I would be good to go when I got to France. As I say, that was July 21st – definitely more than six weeks ago. So why did I wait so long? Fear. I was afraid that I would be unable to communicate adequately with any potential hairdresser. (Mind you, my fears were not totally unfounded. I have vivid memories of our friend Sally, telling us about almost getting a buzz cut when a hair dresser thought she meant leave 1” rather than take off 1”.)


Our landlady and friend, Dominique offered to accompany me to the salon of my choice to help me make my wishes clear, but that seemed like a coward’s solution. I SHOULD be able to handle it myself. Right? After all, the nice thing about hair is that no matter what one does to it, it will grow out. Dominique also sent me the names of several hair salons that advertise that they have English speakers on staff, but none of them is nearby and they also seemed like a coward’s way out. So I thought and worried and tried to build up my confidence to forge ahead but did nothing. Now, across the street at the end of the block, is a hair salon that we must walk past at least 8 times a week. I decided that was my goal.


So Saturday, November 6th, I did it! I had practiced saying I’d like to make an appointment and describing what I wanted done and headed out of the apartment before I had time to come up with another reason to put it off. I walked right down the street and into the salon and told them I’d like to make an appointment. Before I could go any further about what I wanted done, the woman who greeted me said something in lightning-speed French. All I really got out of it was “non.” Fortunately, another employee speaks English and came to my rescue. They don’t take appointments – it’s strictly on a walk-in basis, but they could take me “maintenant” (now). She asked what I had in mind and then explained it all to Maryline, who would actually be doing my hair.  And, that was that.

Although she doesn’t speak English and my French hair salon vocabulary is very limited, Maryline took very good care of me. All told I was there for about 3 hours. During that time I learned some new vocabulary – for instance, the French term for highlights is “meches.” (I hope you are taking notes – you never know when things like that will come in handy!) And, of course, we both gained more practice in charades. And, even with all the pampering, including head and neck massages, the bill was only 98 € including the VAT of 16.06 €. 

So what was the end result? Well, I haven’t been this blond since I was about 3, but the effect really isn’t bad at all. I’m pretty happy with the cut; it looks good straight and even looks okay when I get caught in the rain and the curl takes over. I will definitely be back to see Maryline.

(David will give you his version next.)

Tous pour un vin, un vin pour tous (All for wine, and wine for all!)

The title for this posting is the tag line "des Vignerons Independants."  Now that's a marketing slogan we can get behind!

Imagine hundreds of independent vintners under one roof, and you have the 20th annual Salon des Vins Des Vignerons Independants in Lyon October 28th through November 1st.

 This event is so huge that it’s housed in Halle Tony Garnier, a 17,000 square meter (well over an acre) hall, built over a century ago with no interior pillars for support. (This was quite an engineering feat in those days and one of the reasons Tony Garnier is revered even today as an innovative and exemplary architect who just happened to be based in Lyon.) 

Our French “daughter”, Estelle, had lots of free tickets so we met at the hall, and the three of us went in together. I have never seen so many winery booths in one place before!

David took a couple of pictures in hopes of giving you an idea of how it looked.

 

The regions represented were Alsace-Lorraine, Bordelais, Bourgogne - Beaujolais, Calvados, Charentes - Poitou, Jura - Savoie, Languedoc - Rousillon, Provence-Corse, Sud-Ouest - Armagnac, Val-De-Loire – Vendee, and Vallee du Rhone. The wineries were not organized by region, but there were signs above each booth that showed the region (as well as color-coding by region), name of the winery, their typical wines, and the names of the winery owners. We also got a program to help us choose winery booths to visit and navigate to them.

One of the things that made this event so enjoyable was that the wineries represented were all independent; they have come together as vignerons independants to market their wines and set standards for all in their group. The Charte du Vigneron Independent is as follows (translated):
• Respect the land
• Work with his/her vines
• Harvest his/her grapes
• Vinify and nurture his/her wine
• Make his/her brandy
• Bottle his/her wine at his own premises
• Market his/her products
• Improve his/her product while respecting tradition
• Welcome and advise on the tasting of his/her products
• Take pleasure in presenting the fruits of his/her labor and of his/her culture.

We can definitely vouch for the last item! The owners themselves were often the ones manning the booths, and many were enthusiastic and enjoyed talking about their wineries, their wines, the regions, the vintages, etc. (2009 was a great year, by the way.)

We would have loved to stock up and cellar several of the wines we tasted, but we are just here a year, and our “cellar” in the apartment is a closet in the living room. We didn’t walk away empty-handed though! We managed to carry eight bottles (from Champagne, Alsace, and Burgundy) home on the metro.