Gauthier, one of the math teachers, invited me to dinner with his family, and, loathe to turn down a free French meal, I accepted.
He drove me through woods still teeming with wild boars (their eyes don't glint in the dark and they don't hurry for anything, so they're common roadkill) to his house, situated next to an honest to goodness (small) castle, unfortunately hidden from the rode by a very high wall. But we could see the Sequoias G. said had been shipped in to line its front walk.
His six- year old daughter Lise drew me this stunning (no really, looking at it I'd guess she was at least nine) picture and had to show off her reading abilities by reading her homework- her mother was glad I was there.
They also had a three year old son, Arnaud, who's speech is still a little hard to understand. I almost said something but then decided my status as non- native french speaker didn't permit it.
Their other son has an adventurous Greek name that I will tell you if you ask me, and chesnut hair down to his shoulders. He was shy and smiled a lot to cover it up.
He is in a European section at school. This means he has extra English classes and even another subject -math- taught in English. He's also taking a class to prepare for the TOFL, which from from their description apparently makes the SAT look like some quiz on the back of a cereal box. He is also currently attempting to read HP and the HBP (if you don't know what that means...you muggle!) in English, which is also very difficult considering the vocabulary (pop quiz- do you know how to say "parchment" in the language you learned at school?). A lot of the names for people and places were changed in the translation as well..."Hogwarts" is "Poudlard," "muggle" is "moldu," "Severus Snape" is "Severus Rogue" etc.
We talked and ate in a living room/dining room with a tiled floor, decorated in oranges and reds. They had lit a fire for me in their (real) fireplace (with real wood). Gauthier and his wife Victoria had both done a lot of travelling before settling down. Elephant statues, one which Victoria had bought in Thailand, lined the mantlepiece. They also had Asian parrots in cages outside (though G. assured me they were bred here and were used to the cold.)
Dinner served plate by plate. First an
apératif of sweet white wine with mini crackers garnished with a smattering of tomato sauce and cheese and herbs so they tasted like mini pizzas. Then dinner proper, with avacado halves with some sort of creamy seafood sauce on top (there might have been crab in it), and a main dish of endives wrapped in ham with cheese and bechamel sauce. Victoria said it was a traditional family dish in Northern France, not something you'd find at a restaraunt but common at home (I can believe it because the little boy I babysit's mom gave me the same thing for lunch the other day). Then salad, then cheese, served on little square plates of various colors. Neufchâtel. I like it. It's very salty and firm (I'm still not partial to runny cheese, which seems to be most of them around here), crumbly almost like goat cheese. I don't think it travels well and for that reason you can only eat it in Normandy (I think...).
Then the dessert-King cake.
La gallette des rois is served particularly at epiphany, but any time in January seems close enough. (also, they apologized for not leaving the Christmas decorations up. Likewise as I hit the big sales as the mall the other day they were still playing "Santa Baby" over the loudspeakers. It takes awhile to get them going, but once the French really get started with Christmsas, it seems they want to take their time with it.)
The typical
gallette normande is flaky and golden like a croissant on the outside and filled with
frangipane, an almond paste. A
fève is baked inside. The word means "bean," but nowadays the
fè
ve is generally a tiny ceramic figure- I've seen everything from miniature ceramic eclairs to Droopy the Dog to Hermione. The person who ends up with the slice of
gallette containing the
fève is crowned "king" with the paper crown that generally comes with the cake when you order it at the bakery.
Young children are usually suspected of cheating at this game, and they are consequently ordered to hide under the table where they can't see the cake. As the pieces are cut, the children call out the name of the person to whom each slice goes.
Lise got the
fève, a little white cow with lime green spots. To lessen the sting of the other's loss, she was allowed to crown a "king" which turned out to be the elder son (looking very King Arthurish with his long hair under the gold paper crown.) The little girl explained to her Arnaud that she picked the older one because he had won the last time. Fortunately, the little boy was too absorbed in eating his cake to pay much attention to anything that was going on.
Then the digestif- coffe, but G. showed us a bottle "de la vraie" (of the real stuff)- something like Calvados, the Normand apple whiskey. However, this was in a large unlabeled bottle, having been homebrewed and therefore outside government control.
G. poured me less than half a digestif (smaller than a shotglass) glass. His wife scolded him for pouring me so much and he gave her a little less, abstaining himself as he had to drive me home. I made a
canard with it (literally "duck," but also a sugar cubed dipped in alcohol or coffee, often given to children to young to drink whatever it is).
Woah.
Apple on crack.
I took a tiny sip of it. A tiny speedy Johnny Appleseed blazed a path right over the base of my tongue.
I might have to see if I can find something similar to bring home with me.
Apparently when Gathier first started dating his wife they drove around visiting all of her relatives in the country. As was the custom, each gave him a
digestif- and another when he'd finished the first. Only they gave him this stuff in something more like a pint glass-half full. Repeat five times or so. And he's still driving. And lucky to be alive now.
But he apparently passed the test because they've never made him do it since.
