I didn’t used to like watching television in France. The choices generally range from poorly dubbed American sitcoms and even poorer French versions; I watch the evening news and American shows in English. And a lot of Doctor Who.
But the Country Boy likes watching television, and so I’ve gotten used to having it on. I actually found some French shows I like — most of them on Arte and pertaining to the culinary habits of people in remote villages in Europe. TCB likes the American sitcoms that I find so strange to listen to in French; he grew up on the same shows as I did — 7th Heaven, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Friends.
He laughs when he watches them, though it’s not for the same reasons I do. Joey Potter cries in the hallways of her Capeside high school, jilted by the popular football player, and Tom laughs.
“It’s not like that in France. We’re all the same.”
At first, I believed him… but soon after, I realized the proper response. “That’s what the popular kids say.”
Maybe the division of jocks and geeks and beauty queens in high school doesn’t exist in the same way as France; I certainly didn’t see it in my three months spent in a French ninth grade, but then again, I understood very little back then. What I do know is that there is definitely a clear division in this egalitarian state: Foreigners and French.
Being a foreigner in France is like growing up as a nerd: at this point in our lives, the teasing and the staring is usually over, but you’re still not one of them, and being back in school draws even more attention to this fact. I didn’t feel so Not-French until I started going to a French school, and even then, I hardly noticed it until I realized that none of them ever speak to me. It’s not as though they go out of their way to ignore me, but I don’t go up to them, and they certainly don’t go up to me. By the end of the semester, I had made a handful of school-friends, people I sit with in class and never see outside of school. One is a Liberian, the other is an Iranian-American. We gravitate towards one another, as nerds often do.
What I find interesting about the division, though, is that there must be something about me, something about my appearance, that signals my foreignness to others. Maybe it’s my lack of perfect accessories, the way that I sit or the way that I write. Whatever the small tic they’ve picked up on, the proof is in the pudding: the French people in my classes stick with other French people, and the other foreigners sense my foreignness and gravitate towards me, and I to them.
I don’t think it bothers me, not really. It’s just interesting is all. It’s one of those small cultural things that I never notice until my attention is drawn to it, and then I can’t stop noticing, kind of like the way that the French cook. When I’m scrolling through food blogs, TCB will sometimes look over and frown.
“Yes,” I answer, before he asks a question. “She’s French.” Even bloggers who have been in America for years show something of their origins in their food pictures, something that he can see and I can’t. Anyone who wants to shed more light on the subject, I’m interested. Until then, no one, not even the Frenchman, appears to be complaining about the American food that keeps coming out of this Parisian kitchen.
Goat Cheese, Bacon and Pumpkin Pasta
400 g. pumpkin or other winter squash (I like potimarron), cut into chunks
2 tsp. olive oil
1 tsp. salt
1 onion, thinly sliced
100 g. lardons or bacon
1 sprig fresh thyme
60 g. soft goat’s cheese
100 g. pasta
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Toss the pumpkin with the olive oil and salt, and roast for about 30 minutes, stirring after 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, heat the onion and lardons in a large skillet with a lid, over medium heat. Stir frequently, adding small amounts of water to deglaze the pan as needed, until the onions are soft and lightly caramel-colored, about 20 minutes.
Add the pumpkin, thyme, and 1/2 cup water to the pan. Stir to combine and cover. Allow to cook while you cook the pasta according to package directions. When straining the water, keep 1/2 cup of the cooking water to the side.
Remove the skillet from the heat, and remove the branch of thyme from the skillet. Toss the pasta and goat cheese with the pumpkin mixture, adding cooking water as needed to thin out the sauce.
Sounds divine!!!
What an interesting observance. I never really thought about it before.
When I was taking French classes at the local lycée when I was an au pair, nobody spoke to me either. I was invisible. I guess I just figured they were wary of the foreigner and I was definitely too nervous to go up and say hello.
What a delicious looking recipe! I’ll by trying this one for sure. Merci!