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| Marie-Lan Nguyen CC BY 2.5 |
One of my favorite
movies to laugh over is French Kiss, with Meg Ryan and Kevin Klein.
Regardless of the snotty spirit of the desk clerk at the film’s Hôtel Georges
Cinque and that same raised-eyebrow disdain that Americans seem to enjoy
among the French--in fact because they cultivate this disdain despite our size
and power--their independence day should not go unnoticed.
The Storming of the Bastille was July 14, 1789, and they did, after all, rid
themselves of a despicable ruling class in an expedient manner. So, the anniversary is coming. Vive la Revolution!
Plus, they did give us that nice Statue.
So I recommend that we begin our French feast by raising a
glass of what we used to call Champagne until they raised such an odeur about
‘Champagne’ belonging solely to that specific region of France, that we must
now label it Sparkling Wine Made by a Champagne-like Method. In accordance with this logic, imagine
yourself at the drive-through at MacDonald’s, ordering an “alternating vertical
stack of beef patties and buns in the style of a German City”, in order to give
full credit to Germany while at the same time not rubbing the English the wrong
way by using the word “sandwich.”
Next, practice the très French manner of walking with
your nose in the air so that you may successfully circumnavigate the
beautifully-appointed table of moldering cheeses without losing consciousness
from the smell. They can change the
spelling to “bleu” to make it sound more gentile, but your nose is still going to tell you that
when dairy goods are rotten, it’s time to throw them out.
Do be careful while walking in this manner, not to trip over
the Singing Nun protruding from the corner, alternating her improbable 1960’s
hit song Dominique with the classic French children’s song, Alouette. For those who speak no French, allow me to
translate a few lines from this happy little ditty that every French
schoolchild knows: “Lark, nice Lark,
Lark, I will pluck you. I am going to
pluck your head, I am going to pluck your head . . .” to be repeated with
additional verses calling out the pending plucking of a variety of other
body-parts. I have a pretty good idea
what’s in store for the bird after all this plucking, and I’m not sure it’s
something that a normal child would enjoy hearing about.
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| Bastille Day fireworks in Paris / Yann Caradec CC BY-SA 2.0 |
But what have we come upon now! Mais oui, it is a display of beautiful
shells. Just enjoy the beauty and keep
on walking, because what you’ve got here is--yup--snails. Escargots. Slugs with tiny forks fashioned just for
dipping them in melted butter. These
could also be disguised in a casserole topped off with deliciously-seasoned
breadcrumbs to throw you off track, so you’ll want to pay attention as you make
your way around the table.
Eventually you will hit the motherlode of French delicacies
that Middle America has fully embraced, and it only takes one look at America’s
Middle to confirm the love. French fries! French onion soup, with its floating “lid” of
crusty bread and dripping melted cheese!
French toast! French dips! Croissants! Crêpes! Simmering pots of béchamel, remoulade,
mornay, velouté and other cream-, butter-, and wine-based sauces to
disguise everything revolting from Brussels sprouts to the aforementioned
snails. All to be enjoyed with the
unparalleled excellence of a fine French wine.
Enjoy a sweet finish to the repast with a decadent Napoléon,
that luscious layering of pastry and custard honoring one of history’s most
celebrated military losers (shrug it off--he was really Italian), or a rich crème
brulée while sipping café au lait, the forerunner of the latté,
of which how many million are consumed daily on this side of the
“pond”?
And as you relax and begin to slip into your
cholesterol-induced food coma, reflect upon the true independent nature of
France.
They don’t ask anybody for anything. They independently advance (and share)
medical science for the benefit of all mankind, and cooperatively participate
in monitoring world health concerns. They brought the wonder of the astonishing
antiquities of Egypt to the attention of the world, and they house and curate
unsurpassed historical collections of art.
Paris remains unchallenged as the capital of haute couture, and
they have long been imitated for their regional styles and cuisines. They partner with others for the common good,
yet are unintimidated about expressing their opinions on the world stage when
they feel the superpowers are out of line. Their blatant rejection of hypocrisy, often
misread as hostility, reflects the true essence of independence.
So on July 14, give a nod to Bastille Day and have a taste
of something French. And if anybody
doesn’t like it--well, let them eat cake.
Guest author: Clairsie Dotes
© Clairsie Dotes, 2009-2014
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