Black is the new black

The Reveillon du Jour de l'An is near, aka the New Year's Eve party, and I will try for the occasion to answer the most difficult question in the life of a woman ever invited to a social gathering, since the dawn of humanity. I'm sure the prehistoric women must have asked the same fatidic question to their prehistoric beloved husbands: "Honey, what do you think I should wear to the Paleo-party tonight? The leopard skin or the fox fur?..."

The fact that we as a species haven't changed too much in the latest millennia calls for this special post on what not to wear in France, for which I politely invite the male audience to leave for this once: I have no clothing advice for you, gentlemen, my apologies!

Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a French Christmas Carol

Joyeux Noël ! Merry Christmas, my friends!

 



Santa Claus is coming to Versailles

"My beloved child, your kind letter brought me a lot of pleasure. Here I'm sending you my portrait. You see, the postman found me, he's a clever one! I have received a lot of requests. I don't know if I will be able to get you what you wished for. I will try, but I am old and sometimes I can make mistakes. You have to forgive me. Be good, work well, I'm giving you a big kiss! Santa" wrote Françoise Dolto 50 years ago, and the rest is, how they call it, history.

And after all these years Père Noël looks fresher than never, as his about 60 French female assistants can attest with wholehearted enthusiasm. He's amazingly fit too! This year he managed to gather almost 2 million letters from France or abroad, all by himself, to his nice cozy South Western residence in Libourne near Bordeaux where he keeps his headquarters. Yes: there is no North Pole in France, you know it, so the French have chosen a more original approach to the matter, like they do with any matter!

Everyone who ever wrote to Santa in France by December 20 in the last 50 years received a personalized message on a post card, signed by Santa himself. And better, ever since Santa became a fierce Internet buff, you can write him online and go play with his apps.

Here's Santa in Versailles, the suit adorned with fleur-de-lis:

Did you write your letter to Père Noël?

Étrennes or not étrennes, that is the question!

If you live in the average French town, you've lately been solicited by quite a few waves of professionals passing by your apartment or house and asking you to buy 2013 calendars and other (useless) goodies.

The firefighters department especially sent their most beautiful specimens to lure hundreds of female weak minds into potential sin, insensitive to the fact that these are the last days of the year, our last chance to recollection and deep meditation on this year's too often transgressions of the divine laws. "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it" said good 'ol Mr. Oscar Wilde. Who are we to contradict him?...

Santa Claus Is Garbage

Le père Noël est une Ordure, Santa Claus is a Stinker! This provocative title consecrates the most popular Christmas movie in France, winning it the enviable title of cult movie and anointing the actors in it to the rank of movie legends.

A bit of toilet humor, a bit of blunder, caricatural characters and quite a lot of predictability seem to make the ingredients of a French cult movie. At least this is the conclusion after watching this one in particular.

Time Travel to Versailles: December 1912

The Versailles Journal - December 1912

"Unsettling times

The Balkan question catches more than never in our times the attention of the whole world and it stretches out even more every day, extending until anxiety. It's what the universe feels; it's what we all feel: that in a few days it will take such a turn that everyone will know if the outcome is peace or war.

The situations, like we have already expressed it before, are particularly delicate and the conference that will open between the belligerents will come good only with the condition that the allies will not let themselves put off their road and their agreements and that they will firmly rule out every discussion that could divide them.

Europe finds itself divided in two camps.

You like me better rich

And it's time to take your wallet out because this weekend is the Téléthon in France. Even the tiniest association in Versailles (and there are many) organizes various activities meant to raise funds destined to the research for curing rare diseases or help improve the life of patients suffering of these rare diseases. Our complex building's association organized a discovery dance class and a children dance show, but there are concerts, raffles or theatre shows all over Versailles. A great occasion for going out, socializing, and proudly wonder at the talents that your progeniture inherited from yourself and not from your partner.

The association at the origin of the Téléthon, AFM (Association française contre les myopathies) was created by patients and their families as a reaction against the annoying tendency of pharmaceutical industry to only fund the research of the most frequent diseases, more economically profitable due to the number of potential clients. 54 years later, AFM raises almost one hundred million in 30 hours of Téléthon (the record was hit in 2006 with almost 107 million euros), it founded a research center for the genic therapies, Généthon, legally authorized to develop its own drugs, an Institute of Myology, and an institute for stem cell therapy, I-stem. Wow, the power of the civil society!

It's not only the estimated 3 million people carrying those rare diseases, it's the pride of the French nation at stake and a strong feeling against the capitalist pharma-market, so people are generous. Combine it with a tax refund of about 66% and the picture becomes even clearer.

Happy giving!

It ain't over 'till the fat liver sings

Let's talk turkey today, my friends. I mean... duck!... After all those sugary things we've cooked and the chocolate intoxication, it's about time to recompose ourselves and get down to a serious business in France, causing much grief to animal protection associations, but great pleasure to the foodies all around the world. I named here the foie gras, guilty as charged! Vegetarians, please read attentively the following paragraph, it is entirely dedicated to you! And to you, animal protection activists!

The foie gras is a special duck (or goose) liver, obtained by deliberately force-feeding the birds in their latest days of life thus causing it to become excessively fatty until catching various conditions such as the fatty liver disease or hepatitis. Then the birds are politely invited to go to their final destination: the duck, respectively goose heaven, and the result is fat. V*e*r*y fat!
Here ends the paragraph and be warned that if you read what follows, you will do that at your own peril!

Get the party started

If you've missed, like myself, to buy or make your Advent calendar before the 1st of December, know that you can still have time to catch up with every French child in Versailles (hey, I can hear you!!! my childhood is not *that* far away!...) Just go in every shop around and you'll find it packed ad nauseam with Christmas decorations, the special Christmas food section already in place since the beginning of November, and INCREDIBLE DEALS of 5-10% off, Christmas specials! So buy fast! Buy it now! Buy often! Or just simply buy! However, know that I advocate self-control and moderation at this time of the year (at least because I strongly believe that any food that can be stored for more than a month in retail shops has something fishy about it, notably an indecent amount of preservatives which is très bad for your health...)

Organist on the Versailles roof

Hear this, dear reader:

Then imagine how would it be to listen to something like that live, then hurry to hold your places at the Pipe Organ Festival in Versailles, "Versailles au son des orgues" (Versailles in the sound of pipe organs) in the churches and cathedral of Versailles Scheduling: November 24 to December 2, then December 9 and 16.

Then come back and hear that:

Let there be Christmas light!

It is official: the winter is finally here, the mayor declared. This, too, coincides with the first time of the Versailles year when I officially *won't* complain about the Versailles weather and it is not only because our omnipresent mayor lit the magic lights of Christmas all around the city.

Well, "all around the city" is just a way of saying, among other ways of saying, and you should take it as a figure of speech just because not quite everything is lit in Versailles for the Christmas season like I thought it would be (and as you might imagine). You know, with all those stories about the most glamorous city in France having the most glamorous castle ever, one should expect that the royal town officials will put on a lavish display of Christmas decorations, which will transform the city into a genuine ray of light, for the world to be reminded of the incredible former cultural radiance of this great city. Bla bla bla bla bla bla: I've spent my first winter in Versailles constantly erring around, a night owl waiting impatiently for the real thing to begin, which never did!

Shopping pong in France

There is a love-hate relationship between the French people and the concept of buying/selling goods. Because quite about everything in France must be regulated by the state, the commerce cannot escape to the rule: the Mighty State tells you when to buy and sell things (period!) and all this is reinforced by some strange laws and cultural usage.

It all dates from back in 1906 when a law dictated that all the employees should have one day of pause in their work week (to help fight a terrible high mortality rate among common workers: 45% of them had a life expectancy of less than 40yo) and, even if the state is not religious anymore, the chosen day was Sunday for everyone, obviously a Christian cultural heritage. In the long tradition of pagan festivals transformed into sober Christian celebrations, the time had come to transform a religious symbol into a secular one: the "repos dominical" (=Sunday break) rose from the ashes and became a privileged moment aimed for rest and family bonding, or so the State, well... stated!

This Sunday break concept is so ingrained in the French minds that every government attempt of changing it in the past years rose waves of indignation and protest along with the complete dismissal as a ruthless capitalist of any foreigner who ever dared to argue against it (tell me about it!).

Our Versailles Opera House is more royal than yours

Tourists are long gone at 7:30pm, trying to find refuge against the dark in one of the more or less traditional restaurants around the City Hall, when it's time for the subtle lights of the château to witness a new and different kind of movement. Waves and waves of silent pilgrims, dazzled by the greatness, flow up toward the castle like a forbidden sect going to a decisive meeting. One or two small groups stop at the golden interior gates so they can take one last look before getting in, angry with their cameras incapable of taking hold of so much beauty. "Tourists!" exclaim the others with condescendence as they're heading straight to the right side of the imposing building, barely looking at the lights.

This is The Secret Society of the Versailles Opera House Spectators and tonight they're on a mission.

Come on-a my house, I'm gonna give you candied marrons

It's never too soon to get ready for Christmas and the shops all around Versailles are already ready, teasing the consumers with Christmas decorations and food (with emphasis on food!). Even the Versailles municipality installed some Christmas lights on the streets (but not powered them yet as we try to be gentle with our planet and electricity budget) and I can already see twinkling lights in some of the shops' windows (or maybe they were already there from the last year...)

Anyway, I was asking myself what can I do to bring a little excitement in my kitchen and prepare for the upcoming holidays (the Christmas spirit and all) and while perusing my endless recipe list I found the perfect thing to do: les marrons glacés, candied chestnuts. This delicacy in particular costs an arm and a leg to buy ready-made (60+ Euros per kg, more than 1 Euro a piece, something like a macaroon, you know...) but sweet chestnuts in general are a must-have ingredient in all the French winter holidays cuisine: simply roasted or steamed as a side dish, in crème de marrons (a chestnut purée, often used to fill the traditional Christmas cake, la bûche de Noël), in dinde aux marrons (turkey with chestnuts, the traditional Christmas main course) or candied, individually wrapped, and served as it is as a much loved sweet.

I declare open the chestnuts craze of this year!

Attention, please! The recipe after the jump doesn't contain chocolate, hooray!

Survival kit against Versailles' winter

If you are, like me, unable to get used to the constant rain, grey sky and all in all sh*tty winter weather (and, mind you, this kind of weather lasts about 8 months in here, at least!), you absolutly need a plan in order not to sink into depression, especially when you are at the most difficult phase of the culture shock, the Negociation phase. As one who fortunately survived it (hey, I've applied for the French citizenship!...) I am happy to be able to give you some advice on how to overcome it with a fairly good degree of success.

 

French citizenship law n°5: Thou shalt be grateful

In France there's no holiday similar to Thanksgiving, but I am thinking of suggesting one to the French government (with the related day off, of course!) as a special day to celebrate the immigrants' appreciation toward the Universe after their tons of papers have been finally accepted by fussy civil servants.

Today I am being thankful for:
1. waiting only three hours at the prefecture's naturalizations counter (instead of four, the last time)
2. no security agent showed me how to press a button to obtain an order number
3. I've only witnessed one surreal discussion with a civil servant ("- Excuse me, madame, is this the passports counter?" "- Yes". The person goes back to her place and waits some time until her number is displayed; here comes her turn: "- Excusez-moi, I'm here to request the delivery of my first passport". Civil servant: "Oh, for this you have to go to the City Hall, they're the ones in charge with it!"...)
4. I had the chance to be called in during lunch break (when there's only one civil servant active, the two others being out), therefore the three hours of waiting instead of four from point n°1.
5. And finally, because my citizenship request application was accepted, youuuhooo!!!... I didn't get any receipt though, if they lose anything from there, I'm toast!

The War of the Worlds: Chocolate Invasion

Can you imagine having to pay a 13Eur admission fee to enter a place where people sell you things? And be happy, almost grateful about it? After a half an hour of queuing up in an area where you unwillingly smelled what some of the others sharing your fate ate for lunch?

It happened in France, A.D. 2012, at the Salon du chocolat Paris. Not only we've paid our privilege to get in, but we've almost become intimate with half of the population inside and nobody else seemed to have enough time to pay attention. In a big hangar packed with people we've had our moments of bliss and despair, but we couldn't leave the place until we've seen it all. Every. Single. Bit. of what was exhibited.

French citizenship law n°4: Vacation is sacred

Every day now I'm expecting the very last paper (or so I think) I need to complete my already thick folder of legal papers required for the naturalization process, then I can finally go back to the prefecture to submit it to the all merciful State.

It is a paper from my bank (une attestation bancaire) where they should cross their hearts that I have the money I say I have in my accounts to prove my revenue. A bank statement will not do (which I can easily download from my online bank account), the nice civil servant told me last week, so I asked the bank by phone on Friday (I know, I know!...) to find a way so I can get this attestation bancaire ASAP, as the naturalizations applications can only be submitted on Tuesdays and Tuesdays alone (from 8:45am to 3:45pm). And, if possible, to get it before Tuesday, s'il vous plaît! (today, that is)

The bank clerk seemed extremely willing to help and explained that no, I cannot go directly to their office to get the paper I need, they absolutely have to send it to me by regular mail, so they can make sure I didn't delegate my personal Dr. Hide instead of me to get it, thus potentially releasing into the world the information about my extensive fortune (I wish!) and thus violating my precious privacy. Now, after waiting three days for that paper to arrive and it isn't here (unlike the day of Tuesday), I have mixed feelings whether I should praise my bank for being over-cautious with my data or I should be fuming with anger.

French citizenship law n°3: Thou shalt be athletic

I've finally managed to gather all the documents needed to apply for the French naturalization, after spending all the morning copying/printing ad nauseam (they require two copies of each paper) and feeling sorry for myself, for the trees of the world and for my lost time. The result is a folder thick enough to kill someone if by any chance someone will dare to get on my nerves these days - well, except the civil servants in charge with processing it, of course!...

French citizenship law n°2: Thou shalt be very pacient

The second meeting at the Yvelines prefecture just took place, for my French naturalization process, after my first unsuccessful attempt of the last week. I entered the Prefecture full of hope today (technically yesterday: it's past midnight...), at around 11am, proud of myself when I saw that there was nobody waiting in line at the reception desk (wow, the peak time schedule displayed at the entrance and on the internet was actually real! I was impressed...).

I left the prefecture last week deeply hoping that the number dispenser that everybody ignored was actually working and I approached it this time with some sort of nervous anxiety, when a security guard (probably, umm, well... guarding the thing) looked at me with a quizzical brow: "Bonjour, monsieur, I would like to go to the Naturalizations Office, please!". He pressed the corresponding button himself, like suggesting that I was unable to do it on my own, and told me to wait near the counter 39 until my number will show up. 'Now, I didn't know that information, I was too quick to jump on conclusions, there!' I'm thinking, feeling somewhat guilty with too much prejudice... "Merci, Monsieur!" and I take a look at the piece of paper: my number is 997 and there are "only" 29 people before me. Estimated waiting time: 2 hours. Holly sh*t! That doesn't begin well...

French art for French art's sake

There are an estimated 6 million amateur musicians in France, but - I've seen it myself at the Associations Forum this September - actually everybody is engaged in practicing a form of art or another in this country. Just ask any French you know what do they do besides their official work and you'll receive some major art form as the answer: playing an instrument, singing, dancing, acting, photography, painting, sculpting and who knows what else... I've met French men and women actually defining themselves as an artist before their day job breadwinning profession: the sensitive French soul is mercilessly exposed to the world, you'll find out on the same occasion, but the world doesn't always understand the hidden genius behind (every one of) it.

Watch any contemporary French movie you wish and you'll see conclusive examples about how a mason is in fact a deeply perceptive musician, an economist is a genius novel writer and even a racketeer is a sensitive piano player (can you tell I enjoy Romain Duris movies?...). Nevertheless, there is an enthusiasm about art in France that I find truly ecstatic; what's left for the rest of us is the art of enjoying art, because art is everywhere!

That's why I didn't want to miss the Artists' Open House days this weekend in Versailles, when local artists open their studios to the public. It's a rare opportunity of seeing the artists on the very spot where they create their masterpieces and you get to ask them any stupid question you want, you'll be taken seriously (in the name of the art).

French citizenship law n°1: Thou shalt be pacient

This morning, at the prefecture of Yvelines, around 10:45am, in front of a counter with a big sign above reading: "NATURALIZATIONS".

Me: "Bonjour, madame, I would like some information about the French naturalization process"
Public servant: "I'm sorry, we are not in charge with it, please go to the reception desk for further information"
Me: "But there's this sign 'Naturalizations' up here..."
Public servant: "I'm sorry, please go to the reception desk, they will tell you what needs to be done. My colleague and I are not in charge of naturalizations, we are in charge of foreigners."
Me: "But I *am* a foreigner!"
Public servant: "I'm sorry, please go to the reception desk, they will tell you where to find out more information"
Me: "Merci beaucoup, madame !"

At the reception desk, about 30 people in front of me waiting in 2 lines (+ one fast line for parents with children, French citizens and other emergencies), all for the one and only open counter. The two security guards at the fast line are making sure everything flows the right way and are more than happy to answering anyone's questions. 30 minutes later, it's my turn:

Macaroon night fever

Macaroons are *the thing* in here, they're considered the ultimate chic, sign of exquisite taste and sophistication. Serve macaroons to your French guests and your apéro party will be a smashing hit: everyone will melt with pleasure at the view of the delicate texture and fine flavor, and you can be sure that they'll love you forever! Then, after the love is gone, they'll start an endless debate about who makes the best macaroons and what are the characteristics of an exceptional one, debate that'll last the whole evening, giving you the opportunity to perfect your French language skills!

The really good macaroons are expensive, veeery expensive: ask monsieur Pierre Hermé, the best of the best, who sells his at the bargain price of more than 2Eur a piece. Chic and cher make the French dream, but then, hey, who can blame them? The best macaroon I ever tasted was a caramel&salted butter one from his fancy shop, an absolute dream!

So my quest to bake my own macaroons was launched the last week, after a few days busy with reading, watching and studying everything that was ever recorded about the subject, directly from the (more or less) stars of macaroon-makers on the Internet. But you can imagine they are not delivering all the secrets in their recipes and then there are different ideological schools of how it's best to do it. I had some choices to make: Italian meringue or French? egg whites at room temperature or directly from the fridge? oven temperature at 140°C or 180°C ?

After 5 pathetically failed attempts and a pair of deceased kitchen scale batteries, I can now heartily say that I finally have the right proportions to produce some decent easy to make (yes, I really said easy to make!) macaroons and I am more than happy to share the recipe with you:

Macaroon 5 - De Re Culinaria in Versailles

...or, more exactly, 1755 (MDCCLV), this is the year when this famous royal cookbook has seen the light so everyone who's anyone could potentially have the same food as the king and his court, if they could afford it, that is! And there weren't a lot of them from what I see from the recipes (truffles, salmons, cockscombs, sucking piglets, and I'll pass) that's probably why the book proudly carries the inscription "With the king's approval & privilege" - "Avec Approbation & Privilege du Roi".

We're in the full reign of Louis XV at the time, so one couldn't do many things without his royal approval, let alone writing a book! But Louis XV was also a great gourmand who distanced himself from the rigid dining etiquette imposed by his illustrious predecessor and used to invite his friends and mistresses to more informal dinner parties in his private apartments, where savory delicacies were served. Legend has it that sometimes he even prepared himself the hot chocolate that everyone was crazy about: cocoa was a scarce commodity so having it was a sign of distinction, not to mention the fact that it had a reputation of being an aphrodisiac! I was wondering who spread the word...

Macaroon recipe, from the old cookbook, after the jump...

Our Versailles white night is whiter than yours

The days are getting shorter at an alarming pace and winter will soon knock at my door finding me bitterly crying over summer (yes, it's still me, the same crazy one who wasn't that happy with the Versailles summer only few weeks ago!... who can understand women, right?...)

In the lost paradise it used to get dark at around 11pm, the rain wasn't that stinging, the wind didn't invade just everything and things would have got done with infinite more alacrity knowing that the day light was there. But then, with a shorter night we couldn't have had the White Night!

The green gold of Versailles

Every once in a while the silence of my building complex is troubled by the annoying noise of what could be a jackhammer, jet engine or a giant bumblebee. Even though there's a military base in the Versailles district of Satory (I live in Montreuil), I am quickly forced to abandon the hypothesis of a jet flying right outside my home, the same for the one involving the gigantic bumblebee (they'd destroy the tree from my window and I can see it clearly, this very moment, from where I'm sitting...)

What's more, the impeccable streets were already repaired during the summer break so I have no idea what's going on. I'm fretting with frustration: I have a deadline, merde! There are people working around here, helloooo!?!... I can't react yet because I'm in the work fever, but I manage to see someone outside, from the corner of my eye, looking like the gold seekers that so amused me the last summer on a beach near Montpellier, carrying some complicated metal detector gear and totally focused on the task. The only problem left to solve is that the gold seekers I knew were extremely discreet and this one, exasperatingly, isn't!

Run, Versailles, run!

Let's start running, guys! How about 16km in 47 minutes and one second? We would start near The Eiffel Tower on the Quay Branly, then we would continue on the Seine banks to Issy Les Moulineaux (the city of the Microsoft French HQ), then to the Gardes hill in Meudon, to finally arrive at the feet of the Versailles castle, but only if we successfully resisted to the fairies charms in the Meudon enchanted woods, of course!

 

More pictures after the jump...



я русский in Versailles

A few days ago I received an invitation to the live preview of the new album of Philippe Jaroussky, "La voix des rêves" (The voice of dreams), at the Versailles Royal Opera House, a concerto where most of the tickets were already sold in private sales, I am kindly informed. The thing wasn't made public to the common of mortals but these last few days before the event (and we were only left with the cheapest tickets, if you please!)

Well, I wasn't too surprised, knowing that Philippe Jaroussky is the adored talented and spoiled child of the baroque music in Versailles. He's the most famous French countertenor, he sings like an angel, is native of Yvelines (was born in Maisons-Laffitte) and owes his last name to his grandfather and an impetuous French civil servant:

Time Travel to Versailles: September 1912

The Versailles Chronicle - September 1912

"Autumnal pleasures - Grape harvesting time - Paris and its grapevines

The harvesting time will soon begin pretty much in every single corner of France. Considering this, we found it curious and interesting to remind our readers that, before being what it is, Paris was an enormous vineyard and that it was on these various lands that our capital was built afterwards.

From the oldest times, Parisis wine, especially the one harvested in the location currently occupied by the capital, had been favorably regarded. A Roman knight, Catillus Severus, who leaved us the account of a visit he made to Lutetia, the 2nd before the May Ides in 305, tells the following story: "Ursus invited me to an innkeeper by the roadside, to take a jug full of an excellent wine. This is the richness of the country. Parisians curse the memory of the wicked Domitian, who forced them pull off all their vines and bless the good Probus who allowed its replanting these days"

Versailles' hidden treasures

Once a year Versailles organizes, along with the rest of France and some other cities in Europe, the European Heritage Days, the only time a year when public or private institutions, usually not accessible to the general public, open their doors to visitors. Crowds of French proud citizens, regardless of age, rank, or situation in life, sprint all day long to see the mayor's office, the National union of historic military vehicles collectors, or places where historical events took place.

 

And historical events there were in Versailles: wars, peace treaties, revolutions, treasons, utopias, ideals, kings and queens, simple people and rulers, megalomania and humility, all mixed together in a vibrant story, better than any fiction adventure book you'll ever read. The guides that animated the visits were so passionate and knowledgeable (in French only, sorry!) that it crossed my mind several times to ask if they would adopt me so I can have their storytelling every night before bed...

 

I obviously thought of you all, while I strolled on the streets of Versailles these two days, grateful of the privilege of being able to live on the very place where so much of French history took place, and brought you some pictures of hidden parts of my all-time Versailles favorite building, the Versailles Prefecture.

 

Pictures after the jump...

 

Newcomers to Versailles, beware!

When you move to Versailles and you know nobody in here, there will be no nice neighbors coming to wish you a warm welcome, carrying a bunch of freshly baked croissants, nor any invite to their apéro dinatoire (= drinks and nibbles informal sort of party, mostly an appetizer before the actual dinner) and there's even a smaller chance of someone insisting for you to come to their birthday party, even if you happen to share a wall and you are mutually acquainted with some private aspects of each other's lives.

All in all, you're on your own, my friend, and, unless you already are a superstar, you'll probably get royally ignored! You're gonna have to put in some effort (and frustration!) if you are eager to integrate, as the French are extremely family centered and they wouldn't risk their secure universe for anything in the world, not even for your overly smiling, nice self!

In these circumstances, two main solutions are presenting to you:

Chocolate, mon amour!

Well, not quite mon amour, but I solemnly promise myself -and to the world- that this is the last recipe having chocolate in it, at least for this year! And the reason why I have tortured myself tasting the chocolate mixtures like a thousand times (and hey, cocoa is a mild drug, ask the many chocoholics out there!) is that the dessert I will present you today has the name of Versailles in it, it's a "Versaillais au chocolat". Logically it deserves the place of honor in my blog and therefore I was more than ready to sacrifice myself and my kitchen (now partially redecorated with real chocolate splashes) in the name of Versailles puritanism. See how brave am I?

No one really knows who created this rich dessert for the first time, but considering that cocoa was so rare and, by consequence, so fashionable at the Versailles court (introduced from Spain by Anne of Austria, the wife of Louis XIII, and then continuing to gain in fame until its biggest fan, Louis XV, who, btw, left us a hot chocolate recipe written by his own royal hand) it really was no surprise that one of the many chocolatiers that Versailles had came up with this invention, presented it at the court and won the posterity's heart. It's also called "Trianon au chocolat", "Royal au chocolat" or "Croustillant au chocolat" (chocolate crispy cake).

The strike strikes back

The autumn not only comes with the joy of socializing again (essentially to brag about the defunct vacation) and the solemn resolution  (once more!) that this is the year when I'll read *more*. It also comes with the sweet whisper of the ineluctable autumn strike creeping up. Every year, the reason for that one big strike in September/October stays a little foggy (for me, at least! The last years' was in protest against moving up the limit age of retirement, if I remember right. Or was it against reducing the overall number of teachers?...). Anyhow, nothing could take away the feeling and the aura one gets after surviving one big French strike.

It's coming! It's coming!

What do you mean, what's coming?!? La rentrée, of course, the glorious return from vacation! I can hear its humming approaching from far away, little by little, gaining in force and nerve: right now, when I was finally beginning to resign myself with living a life of humble austerity and wise meditation on the moral benefits of solitude!!!

New job opening at the Store: Scapegoat needed

'The Scapegoat' by Daniel Pennac

"A female voice emerged from the loudspeaker, as airy and full of promise as a bridal veil:
'Monsieur Malaussène is requested at the Customer Complaints Office.'

It was a misty voice, as if a David Hamilton photo just opened its mouth. But, all the same, there was still a detectable smirk lurking behind Miss Hamilton's haze. And the smirk wasn't a nice one at all. Anyway, I had to go. I reckoned I might make it there by this time next week." ('The Scapegoat' by Daniel Pennac)

Sun is shining in Versailles - just don't get too used to it!

I think that the one-week Versailles summer is over, says Versailles weather channel: there will be a little burst of sun this weekend and then au revoir! hasta la vista!! adios!!! bye bye!!!! The eternal clouds will threaten again the decent minds of decent people, you know, like the ones used (and raised) with 4 distinct seasons per year.

The French + Chocolate = LOVE!!!

Ah, le chocolat!!!... The long, lasting, passionate, immortal love story, shared by every single French person I've ever met... I mean I do actually know a French who hates cheese (although he might be the only one left, the shame of the nation!) but I've never ever seen anyone who openly declares that they don't love the dark concoction (and I don't have any hope to meet one, as I am told when researching for this post)

"The darker it is (=the higher the cocoa percentage it contains), the better!", this is how one of my ex-colleagues concluded the thoroughly explained chocolate theory (remember, any French can give a 3 hour speech on anything related to food. You've been warned!). So I officially became an oddity when declaring that I don't like chocolate: it happens that I have a bad childhood memory with something so bitter (like the communist era I was living in) that cut me forever the apetite to discover anything that looks like it. For me, quite the opposite works: the more it's mixed with milk and filled with anything other than cocoa, the happier I am! Ooops, I've just committed a cultural faux pas!

But, rest assured, the French nation has resolved to show me the light, because everywhere I turn to I will be chocolate-imagery-flooded. There are hundreds of chocolate bar types in supermarkets, in candy shops, in chocolateries (imagine entire stores dedicated to chocolate, with professionals having spent a couple of long years studying it in order to acquire the title of "maître chocolatier", chocolate master) and then I'm not even counting the books or the cooking shows presenting chocolate in every imaginable form and combination. Not to mention the all very popular chocolate fair held every autumn in Paris (and in the biggest cities all over France) "Le salon du Chocolat", where a "World Chocolate Masters" competition takes place and the "International Cocoa Awards" are granted...

Summertime - August in Versailles

Summertiiime, and the liviiing is eaaasyyy!!! Nope, we're not lost somewhere in South Carolina where the cotton is high and the marvelous Ella is enchanting the spheres with her voice...

Welcome to Versailles, France, where the living is equally easy ever since its inhabitants have all fled the kings city, like they do every August. The reason is not, as one might think, some vesuvian-induced urge or other lurking catastrophe, but something of capital importance for the respectable middle and upper-class French: vacation!