Snow and Raclette

Saturday we had the pleasure of being invited up to Valberg, a ski area not far from Nice - a solid 90 minute drive (though only 90 kilometers) and 2011 meters up.
Our day started at a hundreds-year-old sheperd's barn, purchased 10 years ago from my old boss Philippe (see previous blog entry) and little by little turned into something habitable, but rustic. Philippe had invited his 3 childhood friends, their wives, and us. So off we went, party of 10 plus Estelle, all on snowshoes trekking about in a lot of snow and a lot of sun. Philippe's "grange" is litterally on the edge of the Parc du Mercantour, a massive French national park in this range of the Alps, called the "Alpes Maritimes" to distinguish them from other groups of Alps.
We picnicked halfway through on a pile of wood next to a summer sheperd's hut. My banana bread-- "But that's not bread! It's cake!" was the general response-- went down well with the group.
Estelle was delighted in her new snowsuit and boots and loved the view from Daddy's back.
After returning in the late afternoon, we had......wait for it............Galette de Roi, both kinds. I can't get away from the stuff!
Then, later for dinner, Raclette. The French verb "racler", essentially means "to shave" or "grate" or "scrape". This meal is a traditional cold-weather favorite, when large wheels of special soft cheese would be placed next to a warm hearth, cut open so that the inside of the cheese was exposed to the warmth. Boiled potatoes and smoked meats were laid out and people would go over and scrape off the edge of the cheese that was halfway melted. Then you plop that onto your potatoes or meat, and enjoy.
Nowadays, there are "raclette machines", things with an electric coil underneath and individual TEFAL mini-pans where you stick your cheese to melt it and then slide it out onto your plate. There is nothing better, along with some red wine and tomatoes and pickles (this is to cleanse your palate in between servings).
Thomas and I were like the observant guests around the table of these 4 men and their spouses, these 4 guys who have known each other 40 years. We have had the pleasure of joining them a handful of times over the years, and by now we know to expect to be entertained in their presence. They are like my brothers, except all the same age, and French, thus ready to holler about politics and religion - as opposed to sports and hunting as might be the case with my freres.
A wonderful lovely day, and one very tired Estelle when we got in our rented 4-whl drive car at 10 pm that night to drive back to Nice. She was asleep before I had even clicked my seatbelt.
A few photos:








The Musketeers - Xavier, Michel, Philippe, & Jean-Pierre - a force to be reckoned with.

And finally, recuperating from her big day out, Sunday involved crawling around on the laundry basket.

Milestones

Toothbrushing, complete with toothpaste. And, no more using the bath ring. One evening of slip-sliding-away in the tub sent us running to buy a grip-map to keep everybody stable at least as Estelle discovers her new-found freedom in the tub.

Pretending to wave like the queen.

Walking ALL around the port with Daddy on a Sunday morning.

Making her toy that is a top work all by herself.

And a video of our favorite leek peddlar returns.....

Shoes and shopping carts

Queen of the King Cake

Can you see the extra kilos on me?
It's Monday morning, and Thomas and I are recuperating from going to 3 different get-togethers this weekend to eat....you guessed it, Galette de Roi. Each event featured both kinds of cake mentioned in my previous posting - the Frangipan and the Brioche (called a "Royaume", I was just informed this wkend- this means "kingdom" in French).
There's some kind of tradition that the youngest person at the event has to climb under the table at the cutting of the cake. Here's how it works: The host cuts the cake in equal parts numbering however many people are there and going to eat it. Then the youngest person there has to climb under the table and shout out the name of someone at the table - that person then gets served the first piece. And so on. All of this is to be sure there is no "tricher", or cheating, about who will wind up with the piece that has the "fevre" and/or the statuette, thus they get the crown and good luck!
Estelle was often under the table but that was just because she was enjoying exploring all these different homes we were visiting (all 3 of which had cats, which was TRES interesting for her). At the last party we were at yesterday, the hosts decided that whoever Estelle would look at first would get served, etc.
As you can see, it is SERIOUS business, the season of the Galette.
Event #1 Saturday brunch: at our neighbor's, who are both professional musiciens with the Monte Carlo Opera - the cat decided she like Estelle's portable high chair.

Event #2 Saturday tea-time in Grasse, sort of near Cannes, at our friend Emma's: Estelle was NOT the youngest attendee - here she is, coloring with Elodie who is 4 months younger.


Event #3: In the hills above Nice, we are at the home of 2 brothers I have given lessons to for 7 years. Their mom, Valerie, made her OWN Frangipan, which is a first for me. It was leagues better than anything I have had from any boulangerie, even the top-notch ones. As I said in my last post, I am no big fan of Frangipan, but yesterday chez Valerie changed my mind. Around a lovely fireplace, we enjoyed our galette with "cidre" - not apple cider like in New England, but fizzy cider, either "doux" (sweet) or "brut" (lightly alcoholic). Here is Valerie, cutting her beautiful Frangipan, under the watchful eye of Estelle:

Royaume:

Also at this party was the man who is responsible for me deciding to stay a 2nd year in Nice after my Fulbright year - Philippe. He was my boss my first year in Nice, and looked after me as well as any of my brothers would have. His reference letter got me my job at the university, he introduced me to Valerie and her husband and their boys (who incidentally own our apartment where we live now), and because of Philippe I kept my head that first year when I was in a bit of a state: culture shock when suddennly you realize that America is not the center of the universe, 911 shock having arrived in Nice on Sept 23, 2001, and lastly it was only a few months after losing my Dad. Where would I be now if Philippe hadn't said to me one day in January 2002 "You should look into a job at the university"????? Only fate knows.

Morocco Part I

Where have we been all week? Spent all wkend handling Estelle's 104.5 degree fever, finally winding up Sunday morning in pediatric "urgences", come to find she had an out an "angine" (viral throat infection). She threw up all over herself and me after the doctor swabbed her throat to check for strep. Lovely. In the panicked clean-up of that incident, we managed to lose a "doudou" (favorite little plush doll-thing). Good thing I bought 5 way back when, so I'd have extras just in case of such an occurence. Now she is fine.
EPIPHANY:
As Sunday was Epiphany, we have thus crossed from the "Buche de Noel" period into the "Galette de Roi" period. A "Galette de Roi" is what is known in America as a "King Cake". In the States they are primarily associated with New Orleans and Mardi Gras/Carnival - but here in the motherland, the party starts on Epiphany. There are 2 kinds of Galette, Brioche and Frangipan (almond-paste). I'm not crazy about either but Thomas is all about the Frangipan. When you buy either one in the bakeries here, you get a crown and then whoever finds the "fevre" or bean in the cake gets good luck. Often there are also little statuettes in each cake, with a different theme each year. Here is Estelle celebrating being back from her trip to the hospital, feverish cheeks and all. She enjoyed her little statuette but wanted nothing to do with the frangipan, preferring a simple butter cookie.


Here is what I ate instead: The last of the Buchettes. Santa's got his axe out for the last time this season!



Anyways, here are some photos from our trip to Morocco 6 weeks ago. Better late than never!
In Marrakesh, in the "medina" (old walled city):
Thomas with the "minaret de la Koutoubia" behind him - the most famous mosque in Marrakech.

Who is this fool with a snake around his neck? And what's more, he had to PAY to have the snake put around his neck. Please note that it pales in comparison to the real deal snakes, the cobras that were always doing their little scary Riki-Tiki-Tavvy (if you know this kid's book, then you hear my fear) thing. You can just make part of one of these beasts ou, coiled up, on the bottom of the photo. Those serious snakes were kept under tambourines until it was their turn to dance to the music. Anyone who knows me knows I have an unconditional, Code Red fear of snakes. Every time we walked by this place in the Place Jemaa-el-Fna, I made large detours to avoid these crazy men and their damn serpents. It was mildly traumatizing.

These next 3 photos are NOT in the famous place Jemaa-el-Fna, which is huge - sort of like part of the Mall down by the Smithsonians in Washington, but full of every kind of anybody trying to con you into buying either orange juice, dates, spices, wooden camels, hats, or, like some idiots, give up your money so you can get a snake put around your neck. However, there are smaller squares all throughout the medina, essentially offering up the same scene, minus the snakes (hallelujah). These photos are from a rooftop terrace where we were drinking authentic mint tea. I also hate mint, in fact used to think I was allergic to it, now just realize it upsets my stomach. However, the mint is so diluted, and there is like 100 parts sugar to 1 part mint, so you barely taste it. Who cares anyways when you're up on a roof taking photos of the wild scene below:



THINGS YOU CAN BUY IN MORROCO:
Eggs

Mint leaves for your tea:

Wierd colored stuff from an "herboriste" to cure all your ailments
Dried rosebuds

A tanned goat hide, for all your leather needs

More mint leaves and other who knows what from this young boy. We saw much "child labor" in the city, especially in the "souks" (roofed markets) - but always young boys. I almost never ever saw a young girl anywhere walking about- only at the letting out of school.
Carpets by the side of the road

Carpets on a roof, in case that's where you do your shopping

Carpets on the walls of a village outside Marrakech, to be visible by the tour buses

That's enough for one day!

Holiday videos

Anyone but my mother, sisters and nieces will be bored watching these, so unless you are them, don't bother! But when there is an ocean between you and your granddaughter/niece/cousin, you'll take anything, I guess. I do have to say that I keep thinking of my now 26-year-old niece, Sara, who was born when I was 11. She was queen of the castle for a while in our family, and if you think Estelle is the center of the spotlight in these videos, imagine poor Sara surrounded by her grandparents, 10 aunts and uncles, and their spouses/significant others (okay so maybe I was single when I was 11, but you get the point). That poor kid was like our social science experiment (It should be noted she is now in the process of becoming a lawyer, no doubt in order to better defend herself and others in front of large, hostile mobs, be they blood relation or otherwise). Estelle, with only 4 people surrounding her at the holidays, is getting off lucky.

Happy New Year!

The Blog is back in business. We flew back to Nice yesterday just in time to ring in the new year with a unexpected visit from my 2002 colleague Paula (English) and her BF Thomas (Austrian). Paula and I hadn't seen each other in almost 3 years. It should be noted that Paula, along with Fate, is responsible for me meeting my own Thomas - she organized the happy hour evening on Oct 23, '02 that eventually steered our little group into Vieux Nice that night, and thus to me meeting "The Hockey Player". So what a treat to spend the evening in such international company, jumping from English to French to German (not me for that tongue, however!).

A recap of a wonderful 8 days in Angers looked a little like this:
Lots of eating and visiting with friends, and the children of friends, like this first shot with pals Annaelle, Capucine, Lison (at table with Estelle) and Feriole (little boy in vest). That's Brice, one of the dads, with a piece of something in front of Estelle. Notice that Estelle is the one climbing on other's people's furniture in the 2nd photo!


Perhaps Estelle's biggest gift, though undeclared, was a whole new redecorated bedroom at her grandparents' house. Like an idiot I never took photos of it, but boy is it cute! Here's a shot where you get the idea of what the whole room looks like. It was once Thomas' grandmother's bedroom when she lived with him.

And here's the grown-ups, opening gifts at 11 pm on Christmas Eve, after the evening mass. Note the closed shutters in the window. They are admiring a photo calendar made especially for them starring guess who. Also note father-in-law Guy who enjoyed his gingerbread man ribbon so much that he decided to go for the Indian look.

After the gifts it is of course time to eat around midnight. We had foie gras, bouche de la reine (hot pastries filled with veal giblets and other sundries), and topped it all off with, of course, buchettes! (see photo)

Flash forward to the next morning when her highness awoke to her shoes under the tree (as is the tradition, as opposed to stockings), and everything around it just for her!

Admiring a gift of cubes that make animal noises of whatever photo is matched up on one side. This is an amazing invention. Daddy especially enjoys it.

How many Ouillades does it take to put together a wooden bicylette?

Riding around in front of the fireplace (and the creche) on "Luna", the new velo!

Checking out a parc in downtown Angers with Tata Agnes and us too.

Even the parcs have cool ruins in them!

Back in Nice on New Year's Eve morning, we had tons of Christmas cards in our mailbox (thanks to everyone in the States!). One padded envelope also contained a gift from Aunt Martha, which turned out to make me cry when I opened it - a reproduction of an old Christmas book from my childhood that I had forgotten all about, The Sweet Smells of Christmas. Here is Estelle fresh off the plane, opening it up:


After a quick read of the new book, everyone got into their pajamas for a mid-morning nap--having been up since 4 am for our flight.(previous photo shows Estellle a bit "fatigué". But I knew that lots of packages awaited us at the post office so I cut my nap shorter and charged out the door with my pull-along granny cart to La Poste.....where I almost literally got my head chopped off by the descending overhead door when I slid in at 11:59 am after my nap-just at closing time. When I left, they had to raise the door back up for me to let me out. But they only raised it up about 5 1/2 feet (size of the average French woman, I guess), thus I was forced to LIMBO my way out of the post office hauling my loot. Heavens. Quite sure they were mocking me. Here's a photo of the sleepyheads enjoying opening gifts from Aunt Joanie upon my return (by the way, I also picked up a few BUCHETTES at the bakery on my way back).

Like grandfather, like granddaughter - getting into the "wear a ribbon on your head" act.

First yogurt of 2008. What a treat!

Our little family spent the first day of this year at Uncle Craig and Doug's for a yummy New Year's brunch, complete with everything you could ask for. Estelle got these glasses which were her favorite part, though she fought being photographed in them!

A good start to the New Year! My best gifts included a new suitcase, Krullers mailed from Vermont (oh, the bliss...), the new book about Rhett Butler, and a snow globe of Dracula's castle in Transylvania from my Romanian cleaning girl, which is hilarious. And, perhaps the greatest gift for the entire country of France, smoking is BANNED in all restaurants, bars, discos, casinos, etc, starting today. Shocking, but true. Such great news for those of us with kids.
Happy NEW YEAR to all!

Estelle's new Housecoat

Today's French lesson;
I learned that a "housecoat" (a word we all use in my family but perhaps is less common around the US?) is a 'robe de chambre", whereas a bathrobe is a "peignoir".
The learning never ends when you are a foreigner.
Now Estelle has a housecoat for the cooler months. It sports a monogram of "Becassine", this old cartoon character, I guess you would call her. She is from "Bretagne" (or Brittany) that part of France up in the north west, not far from Mont Saint Michel. She's like the TinTin for girls, in her own wierd way. This is her: