...and by ‘whine’, I mean something closer to ‘incessant-babble-in-less-than-adequate-French-whilst-helping-myself-to the-veal-casserole’.
Being the first one to serve yourself from a communal dish is always awkward at a dinner party. The first person sets a fundamental benchmark; namely how much is socially acceptable to heap onto your plate without being labelled a glutton. Sure, you can usually avoid being assigned this role with a brief shoulder shrug and a ‘no no, YOU first, I insist’, feigning distinguished politeness. However, take out the spoken word and you’re left with what could easily be mistaken for pure and simple confusion. This is what happened to me on Saturday, with the school nurse urging me more than once to take the lead and help myself, a kindly yet impatient smile etched across her Oh-So-French face. Impatience or hunger, I wasn’t quite sure.
This palaver continued for every single one of the four courses, and after an initial faux-pas with the salad (turns out for the Frenchies 3 measly lettuce leaves count as an entire course), I became somewhat wiser, so that by the time we came around to pudding, I found myself declaring ‘Mais non non, ça suffit’ after just half a satsuma.
Small portions or not, I absolutely love French cuisine. In the past few days I’ve eaten individually foil-wrapped parcels of salmon baked in the oven with a creamy mushroom sauce, crab and beetroot salad, exotic fruit with cinnamon drizzle and tender veal casserole in a tomato and carrot sauce. Just two dinner parties have yielded over seven types of cheese in total, and I’ve sampled Beaujolais, orange and limoncello liquors, not to mention endless quantities of real Normandy cider. Every day I eat in the school canteen, I’m treated to a gourmet four course meal, which has been known to include such luxuries as foie gras, rabbit, and even once a triple chocolate gateau (of which I got given seconds; a major perk of making friends with the chef).
However, there are two sides to La Belle France’s culinary offerings. Of course, fast-food is prevalent everywhere these days, and it’s not abnormal to spy the odd McDonalds. But Quick, France’s slightly more upmarket answer to Burger King, has taken ‘cool’ junk to new heights by injecting black colouring (yes, BLACK!) into the buns of its Star Wars themed ‘Darth Vader Burger’. In Le Havre itself, one has the unique opportunity to sample such delectable outlets as Kebab Snack (catchy), Crunchy Food Chicken (otherwise known as the Oh So Original ‘CFC’), and my personal favourite, Bunny Kebab, who’s poster actually depicts a cute, if not slightly worried-looking pink rabbit....
With all this luscious fodder around me 24/7, you can imagine the effect on my waistline (HIIIII MUMMAAAA DOVEEEEE). Luckily, I’ve joined the swimming pool, and another of my new year’s resolutions is to go there at least once a week, and actually SWIM, tempting as the Jacuzzi and waterslide are! So far, I’ve kept to it, and really enjoyed myself, although yesterday I arrived home with an incredibly chapped face and lips. It is worth noting at this point that the fitness pool is outside, which strikes me as bizarre for a town in the notoriously rainy North of France, not to mention wastes a lot of energy to heat it. The design is typically French; finicky and ultra-modern, all waterfalls and white décor. It’s all lovely; the only issue being how far away it is from chez moi, which does nothing for my ever-fluctuating motivation levels. Take today, for instance. Should I? Maybe?
Nah. Think I'll order a Dominoes.
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