Bon Voyage!

After seeing Julie & Julia, I started cooking with more verve, frequency, and a higher-pitched voice. I’ve borrowed books from the library, both adult and children’s, to help me start learning French and decided to venture to France. I’d also like to go back to Italy.

I’m not sure how I’ll pay for this grand explore, but I have found that whenever I think passionately about something, it happens. Some preliminary changes, aside from financial, will first need to take place.

My 17-year aviophobia needs to dissipate. I’ll elaborate on this problem in a future blog. Just know, there are 10 rational reasons why this fear exists, perhaps more. On second thought, I think I’ll take my canoe.

I’ll need to find someone whom I deeply trust to care for our Lab, two pussy cats, and home, unless I sell the house fully loaded prior to departure.

I’d like to meet some relatives online who live in France and ascertain their willingness to meet, wine, and dine with an Americanized Bergeron. From the little research I’ve done, the name was first found in Burgundy in eastern France bordering Switzerland and Italy, so it sounds as if I’m on the right track.

Since making these decisions and taking some action, I’ve been dreaming almost nightly about being in different countries and cities with different people. The more I read, the more vivid and delightful my dreams.

The last thing I need to negotiate is whom I shall go with. The person would have to be expressive, enjoy tasting wine and new cuisine, adore exploring, and be thoughtful, to include not smoking.

Any offers before “bon voyage”?

Bergeron crest, courtesy Rich Bergeron, from acadian.org

Muttering the Art of French…

You know how some movies can change your life for a while? Like Psycho, Fatal Attraction, and Rocky? I remember seeing Sylvester Stallone’s movie in 1976 and leaving the theater with an exuberant, fighting spirit, punching the air like someone who’d lost her marbles. I feel as if I become part of the film. Not even a shower can get it off. Especially not a shower.

My daughter would much rather watch Sarah, Plain and Tall with me than True Lies. I scream and jump and emote all over the place. I’m a mess at the theater too. By film’s end, I’m the only one left.

I just saw Julie & Julia and feel my energy still simmering. Meryl Streep portrayed Julia Child and her lively, loving spirit beautifully. She reminded me of my Nana, who was one of the most positive people I knew. She could find something good in everyone. Everyone. She’d probably say that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad just had a hard childhood, and he’s harboring an old wound because his mother always made him eat all his Ghaliye Mahi, and he never liked the smell of fish. Poor little guy.

Until she was four, Nana spoke only French and was eventually known for her excellent cooking and elegant dinner parties. So seeing Julie & Julia started a fire burning in my little French oven and stirred an ancestral desire to become better at giving others a most basic need.

A Renault. No, food, really. The way Julia prepared her dishes was akin to carnal accretion. Just watching her stir tantalized the imagination and taste buds. There was a lot of finger licking in the movie. I had already been on a cooking roll, and the movie kicked me into fourth gear.

I stocked up on butter, heavy cream, fresh vegetables, and French ed books. My friend came over with her handmade recipe books, greeting me with a joyful “Bon Appétit!” and we started planning a dinner party.

We’ll prepare chicken and vegetables in parchment, a fabulous rice dish, and lemon fluff…or is it fluffy lemons…or lemony fluffers? Oh, I can’t remember, but I’m sure all our guests will say, “Wee!”

I mean, “Oui.”

If anyone understands my strange comments, let me know, and if you like it, link it!
http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2010/02/muttering-art-of-french.html