Faits d’hiver

There’s a linguistics phenomenon–I’m drawing a blank on its name at the moment, though I’m sure someone will remind me promptly–that says that a person or culture will justify an erroneous statement or linguistic progression so that it makes sense. A morphological example is the justification of “self-destruct,” a word that shouldn’t exist: destruct is a root from destruction, a noun which comes from destroy; the idea should be relayed through the use of the word *self-destroy, but somehow, this is the one that doesn’t make sense.

As for me, I generally find that my brushes with this phenomenon are syntactical ones; a favorite from my childhood is my father’s “uninformed policeman.” As a child, he misread “uniformed policeman,” justifying, perhaps, his disregard for New York City cops, but also creating an image in his head, one that he often relayed to us, of a policeman running around, discombobulated and disgruntled, asking everyone, “What’s going on? Wait! Who?”

Still makes me chuckle.

As for me, I more often find these phenomena existing in French, most recently (to my knowledge, as such phenomena only become real when you’ve been told of your error) with the news expression faits divers. Faits divers are human-interest stories, directly translated as “diverse facts.” Up until a week ago, when I was to write a fait divers for my grammar class, I was convinced that faits divers were actually faits d’hiver, in French, pronounced nearly the same way and meaning “winter facts.” I justifed this via the logic that most of the stories were rather uninteresting and kind of unnewsworthy, but that they were the only stories that a local newspaper could find to print in the winter, when things got cold and boring.

Yes, I realize that this logic is rather flawed, but for some reason, it held fast until I found out the real expression.

As of last week, the faits divers in Paris are true faits d’hiver: anyone who’s seen the snow on the streets of Paris as of late can attest to this fact, as snow invaded Paris’ streets and its television stations. I’m told that every year, pundits claim to not have seen the snow coming, and yet one out of every three years or so, it invades. Reminds me of a certain High School Roommate telling me every winter in Andover that winters were “never like this.”

Regardless, the snow appeared, and for a week, it has reappeared again and again, causing traffic jams, falls, slippery highways and work-hour snowball fights. It then melts into puddles that refreeze overnight and cause even more falls in the early morning hours, as meticulous Parisians attempt to pick their way through sheets of black ice.

And chili. Because what’s a snowstorm without chili?

Snowstorm Chili
250 g. kidney beans, soaked overnight in water

1 bottle red wine
650 g. ground beef
350 g. chopped steak

1 tbsp. vegetable oil
5 slices bacon or 1 small container lardons
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbsp. cumin
1 dried cayenne pepper (more for more heat) 2-3 chipotle peppers
1 cup tomato paste
1 red pepper, chopped
1 green pepper, chopped

Pre-soak the beans overnight.

Chop the steak, and marinate both the steak and ground beef in the red wine.

Heat the oil over medium heat and fry the lardons until crispy. Set aside. Add the onion and cook until soft and translucent, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic, cumin, cayenne, chipotle and tomato paste. Fry 2-3 minutes, until fragrant. Remove and blend in a food processor or with an immersion blender.

Add more oil if needed and heat over high heat. Fry the red and green peppers until soft, then set aside. Remove the beef from the wine and cook in batches until browned. Add the beef, lardons and spice paste back to the pot over low heat. Add the wine and beans. Bring to a simmer and cover. Cook, stirring occasionally, for at least an hour (more if you can. Remove the lid to cook down to desired consistency. Season with salt to taste.