La crèche

The Nativity or la crèche is the strongest Christmas tradition in Southern France.  Nativity scenes can be bought anywhere from the grocery store to an artisan who carefully handcrafts each figurine.  However, there are some major differences between the Nativity scenes I’ve seen as a child, and les crèches I have viewed as an adult. 

A few years, Christophe and I celebrated Christmas at his aunt’s house in France.  Sometime between the aperitif and dinner’s first course, I got a closer look at the crèche and noticed something odd: in addition to the shepherds and the wise men, there was a range of people in it that I had never seen before.

Christophe explained, “in addition to the Nativity seen at the Church, many families have their own, but it’s generally quite different.  See that woman there?”  He said pointing to a figurine in a skirt carrying a basket full of laundry.  “She’s the lavandière.  Her job is to wash the clothes; she’s in all the Nativity scenes in the Provence region.  This man here is the knife sharpener.  Often, jobs like these that no longer exist are represented in addition to modern day ones we still have.  For example, that person, with the blue, white, and red sash, is the mayor; he is in almost all the homes too.  There is the hermit and there is the Ravi”.

“The Ravi?”  I asked looking at a figure whose arms are thrown into the air.

“A person of simple spirit who is in awe of Jesus”, Christophe explained.  “He is there to present the idea that Jesus resembles everyone.  Many of these people represent careers that were important to the region at one time or another, and these ‘saints’ as they are called, are in proximity to Jesus in the manger according to their importance.  The crèche is symbolic and important, even to those who aren’t particularly religious because figurines like these remind us of our past.”

And with that, I was shown once again how religious and cultural beliefs are combined.  One does not dominate the other and there is harmony between their intertwined existence. Together, they present a lesson in accepting where we are now and where we came from.  Beginnings might be humble, but accomplishments can be great.  Christmas is a celebration of that, no matter where we might be.

I will be traveling for the holidays, so I won’t be posting my regular blogs.  But, I will be popping in from time to time with a story a share and I’ll be back sometime in January.

 Until then, Happy Holidays.

The 13 Desserts

We Americans might have our Christmas cookies, but Southern France has 13 desserts at the Christmas table.  The first time I heard this, I thought it was ironic since the French criticize Americans for being excessive.  My family might have had numerous desserts at Christmas, but never that many.  Then, I discovered the 13 desserts to be quite different from the sugary sweet desserts that I knew from my childhood; gone are the peanut butter balls and snickerdoodles, and in its place I have a platter filled with Mediterranean specialties, such as dried fruits and nuts, nougats, and a rustic bread made from olive oil called la pompe a huile.  The desserts consist of a vast array of complex flavors and textures revolving around earthly blends and local products, such as honey and lavender.   The colors are natural and the forms are organic, placing an emphasis on the untransformed state of the products. 

Historically, the 13 desserts represent Jesus and the 12 apostles and there needs to be the 4 Mendiants.  Those are dried figs, almonds, walnuts, and dried grapes which represent different religious orders: the Dominicans, Franciscans, the Carmelites, and Augustans.  The 13 desserts show how the area is in touch with its culinary and religious roots and how that still effects what is served at a holiday meal.

Having the 13 dessert at the Christmas table was quite a change for me, particularly since I consider chocolate to be the only reasonable dessert; however, I’ve grown to like this change and enjoy playing with the variety of flavors the platter offers.  I see the 13 desserts as a time to reflect on the holiday and see how many things the French eat and do are symbolic.  I particularly like that aspect of it; the holidays are a reflective and joyous time, and the 13 Desserts are subtle reminder of that.

Cheese: Tomme de Savoie

            “Tomme” is a category of cheese whose principle characteristic is that it is farm made.  Tommes can be made from any type of milk and are often weigh between 2 – 5 pounds.  During fabrication, the milk curds are pressed, but not cooked and are not intended to be kept for long periods of time.

            The Tomme de Savoie comes from the Rhone-Alps / Savoie region and has the IGP title (Indication Géographique Protégée) which means it must be made within the region to carry the name Tomme de Savoie.  Unpasteurized cow’s milk is pressed for 5 – 8 hours, and once turned out of the mold, is aged in caves between 8-13 degree Celsius for 1 to 3 months.  During this time, each cheese is regularly turned and brushed with salt to develop its semi hard gray rind.  The cheese itself is rich and mild, but develops more character as it ages.  It is best to serve with a fruity red wine such as a Côte du Rhône or a Côte de Brouilly.

            Tomme de Savoie is the oldest cheese from the Savoie region and dates back to the 14^th Century.  It was created by rural farmers who used the milk byproduct from butter and modern cheese makers contest that this humble origins continue to contribute to the cheese’s rustic appearance.

Come on… humor me.

For me, one of the hardest things about living with a new language is not the lack vocabulary, but the loose of humor.  In English, I think I am funny, at times I even make people laugh, but in French, many my comments fall flat.  Half of humor is timing, and I’m often still translating as the conversation moves forward.   Slowly, I’ve gotten better at this, but there another factor of humor I can’t control: culture.   Humor is cultural; a shared experience that collectively strikes a chord in our being.  Perhaps it something built upon moments in our childhood that form our understanding of an idea and it is that shared upbringing that makes us laugh at the same things.  Christophe and I grew up in completely different cultures; he’s French and I’m American.  We can watch certain films together and find the humor, but there are other films that are completely elusive.  Once, we were watching the movie Elf and he turned to me and said, “I don’t get it.”

“How do you not get it?  The man is over 6 feet tall and thinks he’s an elf”, I said wiping tears of laughter from my eyes.

“It just seems, I don’t know, not funny”, he replied.

And that is where our cultural differences collided.  Elf is a modern American Christmas classic.  It is built around our childhood ideas of Christmas, Santa Claus, elves, and the North Pole.  Christophe is from the South of France.  He grew up with Provincial traditions such as blé de Sante Barbe, the crèche or nativity, and traditional foods.  Elves existed, but they are tacking lawn ornaments.

Elf takes explaining to Christophe, and sadly, most of its humor is lost in translation but I’m still trying, and I believe.  And that’s all it takes, right?

Christmas Foie Gras



A jar of our homemade foie gras



It’s getting to look a lot like Christmas….

While Christmas trees might not be traditional in Southern France, the preparation and commercialization of the holiday are becoming as common as in the US.  Toy commercials fill the airways, perfume infiltrates the magazines, and foie gras appears in every store aisle.  That’s right, foie gras; the liver of specially fattened ducks.  Just like Champagne, it is considered a luxury item people splurge on for the holidays, and it is in every aisle and in every form at the grocery store.  It’s fully cooked, partially cooked, stemmed in a towel, flavored, and sold whole.  It covers all gams and can be bought for a few dollars a serving to a hundred dollars a serving.

Foie gras has a love-hate following, and we love it.  Not being an everyday food, we tend to splurge on this purchase, but in our own way.  We buy high quality whole foie gras, mix it with a little cognac, and prepare it ourselves.  Some might think it to be a little “too country”, perhaps even gross, but it far beats out any we’ve bought at the store.

Making homemade foie gras is one of the French holiday traditions I’ve adopted.  There are others, but this one is clearly the most gastronomical.

Blé de la Sainte Barbe

            In Provence, December 4^th is the traditional start to the holiday season.  Each saint has a day on the calendar and December 4^th is the day of Saint Barbara or Sainte Barbe.  On this day, lentil or wheat grains are placed in a shallow dish to germ for 20 days.  This blé de la Sainte Barbe is an old tradition that, if well germinated, is a symbol of prosperity for the next year.

           

Why a bowl?

            I drink my morning coffee very slowly; in fact, it’s still sitting right next to me.  I’ve always enjoyed long mornings with the endless mug of coffee coxing my brain into full consciousness. I like to take my mug with me wherever I go.  This way, I get the full, long drawn out effects of caffeine and don’t have to gulp it down in one sitting.  But now I don’t have a mug; I have a bowl: a bowl of coffee.  The French breakfast table is not set with mugs, but bowls, and it’s not for cereal. Breakfast coffee is traditionally served in a bowl which is drank entirely at the table.  It’s a completely bizarre idea to them to walk around with a coffee at hand.  In fact, it wasn’t until a year ago that I saw a travel mug for sale, and that was in a specialty store. The idea just hasn’t caught on.  The truth is the French drink coffee quite differently than Americans do.

            A few years ago, I watched the 1998 version of Godzilla. In this version, Godzilla attacks New York City and Matthew Broderick is a scientist who tries to stop it.  He gets unwanted help from a French military guy played by Jean Reno.  Who, when he arrives in New York, asks for coffee and gets handed something in a large paper cup.  He takes a sip, spits it out, and angrily demands what the heck he was just given.

            “Coffee”, was the response.

Now what’s funny about this film is how it played right into a stereotype and a reality at the same time.  To him, the coffee was weak, too large, and had no right being served in a disposable cup.  Coffee has its place at the table, and is not something to be casually transported around.   He eventually came around, and by the end of the film, was running around with special ordered lattes and mochas.  It’s a sub story to the film, but one that I noticed immediately and felt akin to.

So, we adapt to new environments and new standards.  My terribly French husband wasn’t too thrilled the first time he saw me plant myself in front of the computer with the bowl of coffee next to me, but he’s gotten used to it.  He’ll even rewarm it up for me.  I’ve gotten used to well, my bowl.  It can’t go everywhere like a mug can, but I’m trying to resolve to drink it at the breakfast table, at least most of it anyways.