Annnnnnd we’re back! We didn’t really go anywhere, but now that we’re finally settled in to our little home, life has happily slowed down, and I haven’t had anything to post for a few weeks. Jeff has been subbing 5 days a week (yay!), and started training for his second marathon (crazy).
Meanwhile, I have been using my energetic days to play house, walk to the library/post office/grocery store (they’re all within 4 blocks of our house!), and take Jay to the park. On my lethargic days, I read, knit, and watch the cats play in our yard (we’ve named them Pippin—after the hobbit, and Puma—looks like a mountain lion. They are frisky felines). Right now I’m reading Jane Eyre (quite riveting), and Julia Child’s autobiography, called My Life in France. It is really making me want to move to Paris!! On sunny afternoons, I have been sitting in the sun on our porch to knit while Jay plays. My bones rejoice in soaking up all of that vitamin D! I think I may be getting old. Over the past 2 weeks during Jay’s naptime, I have also spent plenty of time preparing a sacrament meeting talk about temples. It is now DONE: I somehow managed to stand in front of PEOPLE today and TALK for 20 minutes! I feel soooo relieved that it’s over.
Jay is the most interesting one of us these days—he has started learning a few new languages! Yes, our son can speak dog, cat, monkey, horse, and the occasional cow or pig on certain days. (see the video) Jay is also becoming quite the little climber. Yesterday, Jeff found him sitting on top of our computer desk! Another thing Jay loves is THE PARK! We have a nice little park right around the corner, and Jay has recently learned how to go down the big tall slide all by himself! He goes down backwards on his tummy. I need to take a video of it. He would go down the slide all day if his pregnant mother had the energy to catch him at the bottom for that long! Jay is such a happy little fellow. We love him.
This week we had a tiny little puppy visit us. This street is great—we get to enjoy animals without the work of having pets of our own! [Oh, we got pumpkins this week but forgot our camera at the pumpkin place. oops]
That’s the end of White family updates!
OK, don’t feel obligated to read this next part—in the 2 books I’m reading, I discovered 2 beautifully written descriptions of food: one is of a very BAD British meal (from Jane Eyre), and the other one is Julia Child rhapsodizing over her first French meal. Even if I don’t particularly like food right now, I still appreciate good food-centered literature. Bon appetit!
Jane Eyre’s nightmare breakfast (from Ch. 5):
“The refectory was a great, low-ceiled, gloomy room; on two long tables smoked basins of something hot, which, however, to my dismay, sent forth an odour far from inviting. I saw a universal manifestation of discontent when the fumes of the repast met the nostrils of those destined to swallow it; from the van of the procession, the tall girls of the first class, rose the whispered words -
"Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again!"
"Silence!" ejaculated a voice
A long grace was said and a hymn sung; then a servant brought in some tea for the teachers, and the meal began.
Ravenous, and now very faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of my portion without thinking of its taste; but the first edge of hunger blunted, I perceived I had got in hand a nauseous mess; burnt porridge is almost as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself soon sickens over it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each girl taste her food and try to swallow it; but in most cases the effort was soon relinquished. Breakfast was over, and none had breakfasted. Thanks being returned for what we had not got, and a second hymn chanted, the refectory was evacuated for the schoolroom. I was one of the last to go out, and in passing the tables, I saw one teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it; she looked at the others; all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one of them, the stout one, whispered -
"Abominable stuff! How shameful!" (from Jane Eyre, ch. 5)
Julia Child’s first French meal:
“Suddenly the dining room filled with wonderfully intermixing aromas that I sort of recognized but couldn’t name….My stomach gurgled with hunger.
I couldn’t help noticing that the waiters carried themselves with a quiet joy, as if their entire mission in life was to make their customers fell comfortable and well tended…
…We began our lunch with a half-dozen oysters on the half-shell… This platter of portugaises had a sensational briny flavor and a smooth texture that was entirely new and surprising. The oysters were served with rounds of pain de seigle, a pale rye bread, with a spread of unsalted butter.
Paul had decided to order sole meuniere. It arrived whole: a large, flat Dover sole that was perfectly browned in a sputtering butter sauce with a sprinkling of chopped parsley on top. The waiter carefully placed the platter in front of us, stepped back, and said: “Bon appetit!”
I closed my eyes and inhaled the rising perfume. Then I lifted a forkful of fish to my mouth, took a bite, and chewed slowly. The flesh of the sole was delicate, with a light but distinct taste of the ocean that blended marvelously with the browned butter. I chewed slowly and swallowed. It was a morsel of perfection.
…at La Couronne, I experienced fish, and a dining experience of a higher order than any I’d ever had before.
Along with our meal, we happily downed a whole bottle of Pouilly-Fume, a wonderfully crisp white wine from the Loire Valley. Another revelation!
Then came salade verte laced with a lightly acidic vinaigrette. And I tasted my first real baguette—a crisp brown crust giving way to a slightly chewy, rather loosely textured pale-yellow interior, with a faint reminder of wheat and yeast in the odor and taste. Yum!
We followed our meal with a leisurely dessert of fromage blanc, and ended with a strong, dark cafe filtre…
“…Mairci, monsoor,” I said, with a flash of courage and an accent that sounded bad even to my own ear. .. Paul and I floated out the door into the brilliant sunshine and cool air. Our first lunch together in France had been absolute perfection. It was the best meal of my life.” (from My Life in France, p. 18)
Isn’t it great how BOTH of these quotes are “food poetry,” even though one is describing a disgusting meal, and the other a heavenly one?
This is a tiny sample of the luscious literature I have been feasting on!
