Last week we had an escapist trip to Roma. My imagination has no limits, especially when it comes to European visits, so buckle up, we are headed to France.
I’m not talking about Covid, or the fact that my child is coming unglued without school, or all of our collective worries. Let’s drown our sorrows in butter. And wine. The French have so many wonderful expressions, profitez is one of my favorites: basically to enjoy life and take it all in.
Stephane speaks to James almost exclusively in French, and I have learned so much listening to their banter. Since we have all been spending so much time together, James has slipped into a sort of Frenglish that is adorable and hilarious, especially since he has inherited my Southern accent. So if you can, imagine a Mississippian-Texan saying “Hurry, grab my net so we can catch that papillon!”
To appeal to my husband’s roots, this was the week of the galette. I love galettes because it’s pretty hard to screw them up. They are not meant to be perfect pastry art, but rather more of a rustic, rough around the edges tart that can be either savory or sweet. Here is one of each…
Strawberry Rhubarb Galette
David Lebovitz is one of my favorite pastry chefs, food writers, and Paris afficienados. I highly recommend his book L’Appart and his food blog. He often demos recipes and cocktails in his IG stories.
When I saw rhubarb season was upon us, I turned to him because I knew he would know how to make the perfect treat.
We found this was best eaten the day it was baked, or lightly toasted the next morning for breakfast. (Work from home problems.)
We would not be proper Frenchies, or any fun, if we did not include a festive cocktail. However, I consulted an Irish friend, Ian Doyle, who has made the very most of quarantine by making a different classic cocktail every night. Follow along on IG with the hashtag #ianscoronacocktails. Salut!
2 oz. dry white wine
2 oz. Campari
2 oz. soda
Serve in a wine glass with lots of ice. Voila!
You may need some light reading while you are enjoying your galettes and bicyclettes on the terrace of your figurative favorite Parisian bistro. Also, here is a little theme music.
Being an aforementioned Mississippian, I have stacks of my mother and grandmothers’ Junior League cookbooks from all over the south. I hooted when I read this article in Vanity Fair written by friend, Larrison Campbell. Pour yourself a “refrigerator martini”, and enjoy!
Last year’s Memorial Day parade
Being married to someone who identifies as more French than American, I have to sometimes remind this crew of our stateside traditions. My son can sing the “Marseillaise” in its rousing entirety, but I am not sure he knows the Star Spangled Banner.
I was surprised that James was actually very sad to miss the Memorial Day parade this year. I mean, what little boy does not love standing by and watching army vehicles, fire engines, police “motos,” and banging marching bands? But he also asked me to tell him again the stories of his grandfather who was in the army. So, thank you to my Daddy and Pop Pop, and all of those who served our country.
On that note, I really appreciated this op-ed from The New York Times which focuses on what we are all doing “right” this Memorial Day as a nation. It serves as a reminder that children aren’t the only people who respond to positive reinforcement.
March on my friends.
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