My Dinner Dilemma

We're just shy of three months here and have already enjoyed numerous dinners a la Francais. Which is to say we've partaken of home-cooked meals made by locals, not that we've enjoyed home-cooked locals. ("That is called cannibalism, my dear children, And is, in fact, frowned upon in most societies."1) On the one hand, this has been wonderful. We've felt very welcome, enjoyed some truly amazing dishes, and experienced the most gracious of hosts willing to struggle along with us in chopped-up Franglish conversation. On the other hand, it has been quite intimidating as the list of gourmets we need to have over for "reciprocal dinners" keeps growing while I attempt to remain in denial.

Even though I'm known for using any excuse to throw a party (I once threw an impromptu celebration - with printed invitations and everything - when my then 3yr old son announced it was his favorite stuffed animal's birthday), I must admit I am completely reticent to host anything involving a meal made be me which is then served to French people. I have never seen dinner parties done so lavishly than in the homes of these friends we've just made. I suppose it could be argued they went out of their way to impress the Americans, but I don't think so. The savoring of good food is as integral to the French culture as the vineyards are to it's landscape. People here don't eat just to sustain life, they eat to dine, adding enjoyment to everyday life. For a foodee like me, it is truly divine. But I fear I excel far more at the consumption of exquisite nourishment than I do at the creation of it.

At our first dinner, we arrived around 6:30pm and enjoyed the lovely summer evening sitting on a deck overlooking the valley of the Vienne river while we partook of "les aperitives" - a crisp, light rose, sparkling white wine, sausage and cheese-stuffed petite croissants, mini-quiches, mini-crab tarts, chips and nuts. Once the sun settled in for the evening and the night air turned brisk, we adjourned to the dining room where a most elegant table for twelve was set. Being that I've got 14 years worth of breaking/losing wedding registry items, matching plates and glasses that don't have Disney characters on them seems impressive enough these days. But this was candlelit, gorgeous and breakable!

The menu consisted of darling individual-sized potato tarts like the one pictured here, and something akin to a fork-hearty beef and carrot stew. This was all accompanied by an unlimited supply of fresh baguette and copious amount of red wine.

Around 8:30pm, I mistakenly began to mentally prepare for our departure when the next course was presented - crisp mixed greens with a tangy vinaigrette, accompanied by more baguette and wine. A platter of assorted French cheeses followed. I tried little bits of everything, but of course have no idea what I was eating, except one was very identifiably goat cheese. Unfortunately, I did not learn until after this dinner that the French are perfectly fine with you leaving any amount of food on your plate with all courses except the cheese course - where apparently it is in bad taste to leave any morsel behind. Once I mustered up the courage to start exploring the "Fromage" counter at Leclerc, the reason for this cultural "faux pas" became quite obvious in that with every uneaten bite your basically throwing away money.

Our American disbelief behind the success of the French diet became alarmingly clear when the final course commenced roughly three hours after we had begun eating. Dessert. A generous slice each of a perky lemon tart and glazed fruit tart (which I brought having acquired it from a neighbor-but I suspect it came from a store), coffee or tea and more bubbly for the adults, while the kids enjoyed ice cream bars. No doubt my husband would have preferred to still be a kid. But I was in my glory.
The only thing missing was the chocolate.

When we got in the car that night, despite the rapid onset of a drunken food coma, I managed to quickly surmise the dangerous spot I was in.

"How in the world will I ever be able to return their invitation after a dinner like that?"

"Aww, easy," David encouraged me. "Just tell them they're invited to a traditional American meal and serve hamburgers and french fries."

I would have laughed. But my expanded stomach was constricting those muscles too much to manage it.

1 Must give credit to Johnny Depp in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" for this little gem of a quote.