Ratatouille à Cheval

When I first came to France, I was convinced that everything would be French. And while I was partially correct — there were customs, foods, and of course the language that were completely foreign to me — I was disappointed on one count: entertainment. While there are some great classic French films, amazing French books and a handful of amusing French television shows, for the most part, modern French culture is inundated with Americanness.

Which is nice, I suppose, for never feeling too far from home. But it also means that here we spend a lot of our time watching American sitcoms, meaning that most of my French friends know exactly what a prom is, even though they’ve never been to one, nor would they consider wearing formal attire anywhere near their school gym… if they had a school gym.

But there’s something nice about being able to identify with what’s going on on television, and as an expat in France, that’s something that I don’t have. When I watch shows about people in the States, going to work, coming home, hanging with roommates, I realize that even though certain elements of that life exist here, the ensemble that is portrayed on television is directed at someone else. While it’s fiction, it’s modeled after a life that exists… but it doesn’t exist here.

The more I talk with other expats, the more I realize that there are certain elements of daily life that we all share… and it has often made me wonder what a sitcom about expat life would look like.

First of all, you have to give the American expat girl a French boyfriend. Not only is this — I’m rapidly growing aware — a norm amongst American expats who have remained here after school, but it also gives you the opportunity to spotlight all of the really fun cultural and translation mishaps. First, there’s the issue of not calling your boyfriend/girlfriend by the name their parents gave them. French first names are easily Americanized and vice-versa, so that Julien and Samuel become “Julian” and  “Sam” when you’re talking to your American girlfriends about your French beau, and you find yourself having a hard time remembering to turn around when Katie and Leslie become Kah-tee and Less-lee from the mouths of your French boyfriend’s friends and family… and perhaps the man himself.

Our on-screen Franco-American couple has, of course, fallen into the trap of speaking constant Frenglish, which means that all of their friends and — especially — anyone who doesn’t know them, looks at them strangely when they walk down the street having a conversation that, to monolinguals, sounds like only one side of a phone conversation:

Julien, alias Julian: “Qu’est-ce qu’on fait ce weekend ?”

Katie, alias Kah-tee : “I don’t know… what do you want to do?”

Julien: “Whatever. Je m’en fiche.”

Katie: “I m’en fiche too. Oh, hang on. (answers phone) Allô?”

Subtitling my imaginary television show would be difficult.

While this would be fine as a sitcom, it would be much better as a drama. Not only would it be much easier to portray the constant smoking and drinking and inappropriate flirting that goes on if the show were on cable, but there’s no shortage of drama as an expat, not the least of which is the annual trip to the préfecture.

I took my préfecture trip today… and I was not the only foreign girl with a French boyfriend in tow. Our on-screen Frenchman stands obediently next to the American expat as she waits in line, arranging documents and trying to track down that photocopy she knows she made, “Oh putain where is it?” From the window just one away, she overhears a conversation she wishes she didn’t understand, something about the translator that a poor Brazilian girl used for her birth certificate having faked her accreditation and not even put the right dates on the translation. She’s screwed. Our heroine wonders if she remembered to bring a photocopy of her passport.

And then, she’s finally standing in front of the smug-looking woman who’s just made an extremely comical switch from jovial and friendly with her co-worker who just got off break to standoffish and glacial as she glances at her documents.

“C’est une photocopie?” Our French préfecture lady asks. You need a pinch-faced actress. That can be one of the criteria for the audition. She’s holding out the printout of the housing insurance it took a month for our heroine, Katie-Kah-tee to finally get sent to her, after calling every day for two weeks and then every other day for two more. She knows it’s not an original document, even though that was what she was supposed to bring. Cue some kind of music that makes audiences know this is critical. Picking music in television shows is not my strong point, but I’m sure that’s a profession in California.

“Euh, c’est-à-dire…” And that’s when Julien-Julian steps in, in perfect French… because, you know, he’s French.

“C’est l’original. Par mail.” Discussion closed. There’s a French understanding. It’s like a secret handshake, but the French are too cool for that.

Oh… the drama that would be had… if the expat life were on television. I’d watch that show.

All this to say, I got my carte de séjour today. I am legal for another year. As has become my tradition with the Country Boy, beers and burgers were to be had for lunch. But instead, let us celebrate with ratatouille à cheval, or ratatouille with an egg on it. You’d know what that meant if you watched my expat life show. I can see it now: an entire episode devoted to the misunderstanding between cheval — horse meat… probably lovingly prepared by Julien-Julian’s grandmother for Sunday lunch — and à cheval — with an egg on it — which is what Katie-Kah-tee makes for herself when she finally gets home, famished, after having fed cheval to the chien.

Ratatouille à cheval

1 onion, thinly sliced
2 Tbsp. olive oil, separated
salt, to taste
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 eggplant, diced
2 zucchini, diced
1 red pepper, thinly sliced
1/4 cup tomato paste
1 cup marinara sauce (or puréed tomatoes)
1 tbsp. herbes de Provence

1 tsp. olive oil (per person)
1 egg (per person)
salt and pepper, to taste

Heat 1 Tbsp. olive oil in a heavy skillet with a lid, over medium heat. Add the onion and a hefty pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion starts to brown, about 15 minutes.

Add the minced garlic. Stir until it becomes fragrant, about 2 minutes. Remove the onion and garlic from the pan.

Add the second tablespoon of oil. Add the eggplant. Cook until it starts to brown, about 5 minutes. Add the zucchini. Cook another 5 minutes. Add the pepper and stir to combine. Add the tomato paste. Cook 1-2 minutes, until it starts to thicken. Add the onions and garlic back to the skillet. Add the marinara sauce. Stir to combine and cover.

Cook at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours. Stirring occasionally. Add water as needed to deglaze the bottom of the pan or to thin the sauce. Add the herbes de Provence. Remove from the heat.

In another pan, heat the oil over high heat. Add the eggs. Fry on one side until the whites are just set. Season with salt and pepper and serve over the ratatouille.