Showing posts with label Nice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nice. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Cuisiner, Manger, et Deguster- To Cook, To Eat, and To Savor

This draft has been in my list for three months--it is an overwhelming project to talk about food in this country--but I can definitely say the experience has been an evolution for the inhabitants of this apartment.  


Produce - fresh, local produce- is abundant.  We arrived in Nice at the height of citrus season.  The Cours Saleya marché was full of beautiful lemons, huge oranges from Italy, and tiny clementines from Spain.  The French apples are yellow to light green, best for apple tartes or in recipes, but we have found the Chanticleer are great for eating.  Throughout our stay, strawberries have ripened; asparagus, artichokes, and tomatoes have come into season.  There have always been gorgeous ruffled heads of lettuce and purple garlic.  It is hard to shop the market without wanting to take pictures.  











Then, combine the produce with an amazing assortment of cheeses, less expensive than in the US and tasty.  Emmental and Comte have become go-to's for quiche and crepes.  Big, salty chunks of Parmesan are everywhere and we shave them for pastas and salads.  We love Tomme, which we never see in the US, on sandwiches.  We have all developed a taste for chèvre (goat cheese): the pepper encrusted version, toasted on toast points and drizzled with honey on a salad, or in wraps with arugula and pine nuts.






















The BREAD- no one in France should ever be gluten free.  The croissants are 1 euro and heavenly, you can buy a pain au chocolat for .90 euro at most boulangeries or the grocery.  The baguettes have become a staple:  crust that will cut the roof of your mouth, big open bubbles in the soft inside.  No one in American can bake like this--for this price.  Our bakery downstairs has decent baguettes, but Blanc bakery on the Rue de Alexandre has the best (.10 euro more).  Both of my children are always happy to run out before dinner to grab a fresh baguette.  Many times, they hand it to you in the paper sleeve still warm from the oven.  It is truly hard to resist just biting into it.  


And the meat...the butcher is still frightening.  The cheval/boeuf grinder still freaks me out and my fear of ordering some kind of organ... but the Porc Rôtis already tied and sprinkled with herbs de Provence or the beef daube never disappoints.  I did have a fiasco the first trip to the butcher.  In my angst to do the transaction in French, my brain was preoccupied translating languages so I went the wrong way with pounds to kilograms.  In my head, I thought I needed to double the amount of beef needed for us and the Bullingtons.  The butcher's eyes got really big when I said "Douze kilo" (equivalent to 24 pounds)--I think he thought I was a new caterer.  He talked me down to 4 kg which fed both families- two nights.  

Those first weeks, we enjoyed the walk to the market and the experimental cooking in the tiny apartment kitchen.  I had a
french cookbook and we bought a crêpe pan and spreader, made Beef Daube, roasted pork with apples, fresh tarts, Salade Lyonnaise, (think really yummy lettuce, vinaigrette, bacon and fried egg..) and Pissaladiere (pizza with caramelized onions).  Even the shopping was an adventure, translating labels and reading the origins of all the produce at the Cours Saleya.  We also have plenty of time here, without driving to after school activities, to cook and enjoy meals together.

Sandwiches have become a major food group for us.  Most boulangeries sell sandwiches on fresh baguettes for under 5 euro(3euro average).  These are 12 inch baguettes filled with mozzarella, fresh tomatoes and basil drizzled with olive oil, salami with pickles and butter(yes, it is a condiment), ham and butter, tuna, you name it.  Even though the bread can sometimes be a jaw workout, you can barely finish the sandwich.  And they travel well.  Picnics account for at least a third of our meals.  Even if we just take a sandwich to the Promenade des Arts or Promenade des Anglais to watch the people.  And we never board a train without a Savoreux sandwich from our favorite train station bakery, Paul.  


The Deguster (to savor) portion of this trip hit a high point in Lyon.  A beautiful, centuries old city, Lyon celebrates the local cuisine.  They had the Méres Lyonnaises, the Lyon Mothers, that were the first women to make the small family style restaurants famous.  They have their set of celebrity chefs like Joseph Viola and Paul Bocuse.  And a great many new fresh restaurants- one where we took our cooking class with Guillaume.  Guillaume by the way, holds a degree in chemical engineering but had his pastry exam within the last few weeks to be certified as a French Pastry Chef.

As much as we enjoyed all this at the beginning, I can tell you that slogging bottled water in my rolling cart from the Monoprix has gotten old.  I bailed the kids out of trips to the grocery so they could work on school.  Sometimes, the French cheese stinks up the refrigerator.  The tourists have begun to crowd the market, and more lavender and soaps kiosks have popped up.  There are nights when my kids don't want the subtle French flavors and crave Mexican or stir fry.  And that is okay.  We have all learned new things and learned to appreciate new flavors.  Pete ate Foie Gras in Lyon-"it is the world champion, how can I not try it"- and Camille continues to order canard, veau, and lapin in restaurants.  But we have tried lots of new things and broadened another horizon.














Thursday, April 21, 2016

This morning...at the Immigration office...



On this trip, we have crossed several hurdles, both official and cultural, to attempt to integrate into this country.  First, was the library cards, trying to obtain proctoring for exams.
Next was the Yacht Club membership,
and even the grocery discount cards...
All of these were really warm ups for the real thing...

Two months ago, on March 14th, while I was living la Dolce vita in Northern Italy I received these two emails which I quickly forwarded to Kelly Bullington labeled S#*% and S#*% part deux.


From: convoimmi2@ofii.fr
Date: March 14, 2016 at 11:01:23 AM GMT+1
To: MCGRIFFK@BELLSOUTH.NET
Subject: Convocation pour la visite médicale
Madame, monsieur,
L'OFII, dans le cadre de ses différents dispositifs vous convoque pour la visite médicale
Dans ce contexte vous êtes convoqué(e) :
 Le 07/04/2016 à 08:30 heures
Vous trouverez dans le fichier joint tous les détails de cette convocation.

Merci de ne pas répondre à ce message.

L'Office Français de l'immigration et de l'intégration.


For those non-French speakers out there...these were "invitations" for me to show up at the Office of Immigration and Integration for a medical exam.  Needless to say, KB celebrated until she realized that she too had received these two letters.  Luckily, I was able to get my appointment postponed since the children and I were in Hyères for the Europacup on 07 avril.  Poor KB had to be the first to enter the system.  Thanks to her trailblazing, at least I knew what to expect.  My appointment was kindly rescheduled for 21 avril, 8H30.




I took a taxi this morning to the visa office- no reason for any additional anxiety from public transportation.  I have a huge binder of paperwork, photos, passport, international health insurance and a receipt for 241 euro to get another stamp in my passport so I can stay here.  The French understand ma français when they feel like it, yet no one has a problem taking my money.  
I spent the money on the taxi to avoid stress and then there was "une accidente " with Les velos(bicycles) et les voitures(cars)  

Needless to say, many emergency vehicles and commuters jammed on the Promenade des Anglais this morning at 7:50am.  





37 euro for the taxi- 
20 minutes in the grimy hallway-


a security guard with a wand checking paperwork-

and a receptionist later---I am sitting in the waiting room with a Moroccan student, a Russian housewife, Japanese students, a Muslim looking guy on a laptop, an Indian in Tevas, working on a cell phone and some Asian girls...


The Russian lady and I are the paleest and cleanest of the group.. She explained that she and her husband wanted to buy a place in California but the visa requirements were too stringent- and while she admits that the French bureaucracy is annoying, the Schengen visa is easier... And they fly here door to door in 5 hours.  

The morning chatter among employees is infuriating, I need another cup of coffee and they are taking their time- their sense of urgency seems to be missing- 
30 minutes after our appointment time, A woman in a white medical jacket just came in and called 3 students by name.  She had large paper clipped papers for each of them.  Is there a way to make sure I have a group of papers in that stack?
And we wait...

9:07
They know my name!!! They just called me and my new Russian friend to a better hall. I am in the system, no turning back now
9:11
My Russian friend is already out said they check eyes in the first room.
C'est tout .

9:29
Moving through the system- 
I was called into the first room, she checked my eyes, had me read a French passage which I butchered, weighed(a little extra considering les baguettes et les croissants) and measured me(I am tall enough to be in France) and checked passport and insurance.

Then another room where I had to take off my shirt and get a chest X-ray.
Each of them ask if I speak French - My patent response- un petit peux- Their patent response is that we will continue en français until you can't understand anymore...I continue to try, most of the instructions I can understand there are words like l'oriel(eyes), assurance(insurance), chemise(shirt) and directional words like à droit (to the right) that keep me from looking completely foolish.  

Next stop, a sweet man asking about my health, it took him several times to convince himself that my blood pressure was really that low, confirmed from my X-ray that I didn't have tuberculosis.  He stamps the visa application.

Then a lady at a desk....
Passport-check
Certificate de domicile(proof that I have a roof over my head)-check
Timbre(stamp that I paid 241euro for this awesomely fun morning excursion)-check
She puts a printed stamp in the passport...

9:48
Je suis finit!
And I rode the velobleu home! Feeling like an official French visiteur.





Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Patientez


It is on the ticket machine for the tram, it is on the credit card machine to rent bikes, it flashes through my American brain -fully awake from 3 cups of coffee- while I stare at the rack of laundry to dry.

Patientez- literally translates to Please wait- but my brain is rewiring to think Patience.

What is the hurry, really?  We have more towels so if it takes 3 days(and it won't) for these to dry, ok.  We are not hungry right now so the batter for the crepes CAN sit in the fridge for 2 hours.

Last week, I waited 5 minutes in the grocery store for an elderly man to bag his groceries the exact way he wanted them bagged, the cashier sat calmly with her hands in her lap and waited as well.  Really, what is the hurry?  The first week we were here, Kelly and I were at the same Monoprix and the cheese we were buying did not have a price.  The cashier held it calmly, waiting.  We quickly came to the conclusion that she was not helping us and was being rude.  We quickly told her we didn't want it,  paid for our groceries and left.  After the episode with the older man, I think she was telling us- no hurry, go get the price, I will wait.

I am quickly realizing that my rush is self-inflicted and maybe fueled by American society.  Americans see or hear the word "wait" and think "why?" or "what else can I do until then?"  French see the word Patientez and know that it will happen in good time, just be patient and wait.

The culture and attitude is contagious.  At church on Sunday, the English speaking Anglican church, the pastor called for the scripture reader to come up.  There were 3 to 4 pregnant pauses before a proper little English lady stood calmly, approached the lectern, and slowly and perfectly, enunciating every word, read a scripture that took up half the page.  I followed every word.  I have a very different memory of being asked to read scripture in church.  My instructions were to go up on the last stanza of the hymn (so as not to keep anyone waiting) and I felt my heart beat in my ears as I read faster and faster to get it over with.

I have a calendar at home by the back door where I list all the daily activities and appointments.  It gives me a great sense of accomplishment to wipe off each day, complete.  In France, I have yet to get a calendar.  There is no sense of urgency to wipe off a day or rush out.  I still make grocery lists, the kids are magically still on track with school, we have read at least one book each since we have been here and yet- no one is in a hurry.

Hopefully we have developed some patience while we Patientez.

Be patient....
In nothing be anxious; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.                                -Phillipians 4:6