Usually, just because I am French, I am asked to choose the wines for outings, conferences and the likes. The thing is, I have no idea what to do, because I know next to zero about wine. But I can’t say so, because I am French and all French are supposed to be experts in such things, right? I had to learn a few tricks to be able to talk about wine. Why didn’t I just tell the truth? Well, because I would have had to write and print dozens of fliers and distribute them every day to acquaintances, friends and colleagues. That’s how bad it was. What to do? Once again, I learned to go with the flow…Here is how I did it:
It is impossible to talk about the French without mentioning food. To cut a long story short, there are two things we French are supposed to be good at: sex and food. When I mention that I am French (which everybody knows by now anyway), we usually start talking about food. Why food first? Well, because the British don’t like talking about sex when sober. It usually comes after a few pints. But I digress. I could write the script of the conversation in advance: my interlocutors start mentioning the restaurants they have been to lately, and try to get my approval. They want me to admire their exquisite tastes. Alternatively, they list the bottles of wine they have recently bought at an auction, and want me to say that they managed to get a fantastic deal. Most of the time, I don’t know the restaurants they are talking about, and I would never buy super-expensive bottles of wine, because I simply don’t see the point. Most of my British friends have a wine cave in their house. To cut a long story short, we don’t. Nor to we have a sex dungeon, for the record.
Today I have a guest post written just for you by Paddy Davy, whom I met on Twitter (you can get his updates here). Paddy is a talented chef (just look at the pictures if you need any convincing) who wants to create a brand of traditional rural pubs that offer excellence in food and service. If you want to support his venture, please visit Leclere Taverns. I really think that he is on to something!
To top everything up, Paddy is a Francophile. Of course he is. And he has created a version of bourride with a British twist just for you! I like it so much that I think I will try it on next time I have guests at home. Read on, and enjoy!
I don’t know where I belong any more. What can I say? I am a citizen of the world. We landed yesterday morning from New York, and it was Bastille day. This means that nobody was working in France, but of course in London it was business as usual. Except that we all fell asleep on the sofa at some point.
I always feel a bit homesick on Bastille day. As in, a bit out of sync. There is no reason as to why I do, it’s just the way it is. In fact, it is not even clear what it is we French celebrate on 14th of July: is it the Storming of the Bastille on 14th of July of 1789 or the Fete de la Federation which celebrated the unity of the French people on 14 July 1790? Nobody knows.
In order to get rid of the blues, I went to Brasserie Zedel to celebrate the 14th of July. They had invited me, and I had never been. To cut a long story short, Brasserie Zedel offers you a 3-course meal on Bastille day if you come wearing a beret and a stripy T-shirt. They do the same in January for the ‘galette des rois’ but you have to wear a crown. I felt a bit too old for this, and went with my LBD. They still invited me. Phew! Fashion faux pas averted.