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: