Living amongst the French for so long has changed my opinions… and not necessarily in the ways that one might think.
France, for example, is famous–especially in my capitalist country of origin–as being plutôt gauchiste and generally socialist, even with a president in power who emulates the States’ free market economy. As a native of a blue state who went to high school in an even bluer state, I dutifully filled out my ballot and sent it home voting straight down the Democratic party line.
And yet… the more time I spend here, the more I miss my free market economy, my “right to earn a living,” my right to live my daily life without the red tape of nine million bureaucratic forms. And I have to admit, while it’s often overwhelming, I sometimes miss the unending work ethic of my countrymen… how strange, considering the 35-hour week seems like such a draw when you’re not actually living in the system, how much I craved it when under the pressure of overachieving Americans.
Not all of my opinions are political. In reality, very few of them are. Politics take a back seat in my daily life, especially ones that directly affect me. I’m on top of stories about Libya and Egypt; I know exactly what’s happening with Prop 8 and Planned Parenthood legislation, but in the day-to-day, there are other cultural influences that have much more bearing on me… and while I’m aware of the ramifications of talking about oneself all the time, a blog is really just a refection of the ego, isn’t it?
Most of the changes I’ve found in my opinions come about the more I integrate myself in France. When I first got here, for example, I couldn’t have cared less if someone was tutoyant or vouvoyant–I was more worried about whether I was using the right form of you (familiar or respectful) than if others were doing the same. But a strange sentiment overcame me a few weeks ago, when I started my new semester and our oral expression teacher tutoyait us. I know she did it to make us–international students coming from a variety of countries where the grammar rules for which “you” to use vary or don’t exist at all, but the second I heard it, it made me squirm in my seat. I couldn’t say why, but it shocked me. It didn’t feel right.
Maybe I shouldn’t appropriate nearly as much French culture into my own life. I’ll always be American; I know that. But the more time I spend with the Country Boy and his friends, conducting my daily life in French, switching from vous to tu as easily as I eliminate the refrain of “like… you know…” from my speech in English when speaking with authority figures, the more I claim their culture as my own.
There are some things, though, that I’ll never give up: soup is one of them. Soupe in France is a puréed, silky smooth concoction. Potage can be chunkier, but the hearty, chewable minestrone and chicken noodle soups from back home surprise my French friends, especially when I call them soup. Luckily, the American Proust Fan doesn’t feel the same, so when we wandered through our local Saturday market to collect the ingredients for potato leek soup, I knew I would be able to approach my childhood favorite from a different angle. Baby leeks, still as tightly closed as scallions, fresh potatoes, herbes de Provence and just a touch of butter and cream come together in a soup that still has a bit of texture to it. I purée half of it for a silky smooth base, but there are still chunks of potatoes and soft bites of leek to stand out. I like it best this way, and in my kitchen, I get the last word… even if my kitchen is in France.
Potato-Leek Soup
6 leeks, trimmed and washed
15 g. (1 Tbsp.) butter
2 tsp. salt (plus more to taste)
250 g. potatoes
1 Tbsp. herbes de provence
2 Tbsp. crème fraiche
Rinse the leeks well to remove all grit, then slice into small half-moons. Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over low heat, then add the leeks and salt. Cover and cook for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lightly caramelized.
Chop the potatoes into chunks and add to the skillet. Cover with water by an inch, then cover and bring to a simmer. Cook 20 minutes, until the potatoes are tender.
Using an immersion blender, blend about half of the mixture. You can also do this by removing half of the mixture to a blender or food processor.
Remove from the heat and add the herbes de provence, crème fraiche and salt to taste. Serve with sourdough bread.
That soup was madness, MADNESS I tell you. And I don’t care what the French say; soup is, tout simplement, that which goes everywhere if you don’t put it in a bowl.
I remember when I first got here and you told me that you were beginning to have French reactions to improper tutoyer/vouvoyer – now I understand exactly what you mean. The phonetics teacher shocked me too. It makes me feel strangely juvenile… I guess from the way you tutoie a kid without thinking about it.
I concur. Soup is like “stew”…I assume it was originally “leftovers”, but I think your concoction makes both sides happy as it has a creaminess with chunky bits for the potage set.