Thanksgiving

Friday, November 26

Once again I’ve resorted to writing my blog during the internet-less evening and posting it the next day, so that’s why it might seem strange if I mention “yesterday” as being Thanksgiving… which, by the way, was almost perfect. I really couldn’t have been happier with the way the dinner turned out. I owe a huge thank you to my mom and to Steve Wildey for being such awesome chefs, and to Justin for sharing Steve’s recipes with me; and also to Françoise, the English teacher who hosted the dinner and let me invade her kitchen to cook for two days, but I doubt she reads my blog!

Unfortunately I can’t post pictures yet because I am a dumbass and forgot my camera at Françoise’s house, but I should have it back on Monday and will upload then. This dinner was really a two-week-long project, between picking recipes, preparing the intimidatingly long shopping list, tracking down ingredients, and the actual cooking itself.

On Wednesday morning, Claire very kindly drove me to Carrefour so I could try to track down the last of the ingredients on my list, and I learned definitively that brown sugar, molasses (which I guess are kind of similar), corn syrup, cranberries, and wild rice don’t seem to exist in France. Corn syrup I can understand since it’s essentially heart disease in a bottle, but wild rice? Brown sugar? Who knows. At least goat cheese and butter were in abundance! After roaming the WalMart-dwarfing aisles of Carrefour, Claire dropped me off at Françoise’s house so I could get started on the cooking. Since I was off on Wednesday but worked Thursday, it made more sense to prepare as much in advance as possible and then reheat it all the next day.

It took about six hours of nonstop cooking, but I knocked out the pecan pie, wild rice and goat cheese stuffing, fennel and rosemary mashed potatoes (not pictured, having already been put in the fridge), and sweet potato soufflé, which left only the turkey and gravy for Thursday. I was able to multitask and work on a couple recipes at a time without forgetting anything or setting the kitchen on fire, so I count that a great success! I had to make quite a few modifications to the recipe to allow for the (non)existence of certain ingredients in France, but maple syrup made for a surprisingly effective replacement for molasses, corn syrup, and brown sugar, and regular French potatoes worked just fine in place of Yukon Gold ones.

I wound up staying the night at Françoise’s, because by the time I’d finished cleaning up after myself it was close to dinner and bedtime for her kids. Staying at her house also gave me a wonderful opportunity to catch up on Dexter and Chuck online… oh, the joys of having the internet in the evening. Perhaps one day in the far distant future I too shall be so fortunate.

Bright and early Thursday morning I had an 8:00am class and had hoped to start brining the turkey beforehand. It was then that I made the gut-twisting discovery that since I hadn’t specified anything to the butcher, they had left the head on the turkey (though it was ever so delicately twisted under one wing), and the heart and lungs were still FULLY ATTACHED on the inside… though I guess I should be thankful they’d at least plucked it and taken out the rest of the innards.

So needless to say, brining the turkey had to wait until after that first class. I’ll do my best to spare you the gory details – and gory they were – but let’s just say that it took me and my 3 € Ikea knives a solid 20 minutes to decapitate the damn bony creature, and then I also had its feet and tail to remove. Next came the exquisitely delicate procedure of sticking both my hand and a chef’s knife inside a 6-pound turkey with the goal of extricating the organs while not removing my fingers. Okay, so maybe I didn’t spare you the gory details… but at least I didn’t take pictures!

Lacking a pot big enough to accommodate both turkey and brine, I had purchased a cheapo bucket from Carrefour that worked just fine; and lacking a fridge big enough to hold said bucket, I stuck it outside in the hovering-above-freezing weather to keep cool. I boiled the freshly liberated giblets (what an ugly word that is, and it’s not much prettier in French, either: les abats) in chicken stock and white wine with some vegetables for two hours to make a broth for the gravy, then took a break from cooking to go to class.

Side note: all that work for the gravy turned out to be for naught, since I wound up spilling it all over my feet between Françoise’s car and house and didn’t even realize it til I got inside, wondered why my toes were wet, and saw the empty container. Perhaps trying to carry the turkey, gravy, measuring cups, recipes and my bag all at once was not such a smart idea… but hey, if every Thanksgiving dinner has to have its moment of crisis, then I count myself lucky that mine was so minor. I was able to whip up some replacement gravy with bouillon, white wine, flour, and pan drippings, which was functional but probably not nearly as flavorful as the one now adorning my boots.

When I got back from class, Fanny was making bread for the dinner, so I decided to postpone cooking the turkey until I got to Françoise’s house. That actually worked out much better in the end since it was such a small bird and didn’t take very long to roast, and it also had more time to brine that afternoon. Instead of it being ready to eat at 5:00 but having to wait until 7:00 when everyone else showed up, it was just coming out of the oven at 7:00 and gave us time to enjoy an apéritif while its juices settled and the other dishes were warming up in the oven.

More than anything else, the turkey was really my main cause for concern. Having never cooked one before or paid much attention while Mom was cooking one (I blame being dehydrated and comatose after running the half marathon for the past two years for my lack of Thanksgiving prep knowledge!), I didn’t know how to tell the difference between burning and roasting, and I wasn’t sure if I’d correctly modified the cooking times for a 12-16 pound turkey to accommodate my tiny little 6-pounder.

We actually didn’t eat until closer to 8:30 – such is the nature of French dinner parties! – but finally I put my foot down and ordered everyone à table, since it didn’t make sense to keep reheating things over and over.

And then, the moment of truth… how were the French (and German!) people going to react to Thanksgiving dinner? How was I going to react to my own cooking, for that matter? Was anyone going to die of salmonella?

Miraculously, everything turned out wonderfully, and everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy the meal. It was the first Thanksgiving for all of them, so perhaps it worked to my benefit that they had no basis of comparison :) Apparently I broke the stereotype that Americans can’t cook or don’t have much knowledge of what constitutes fine cuisine, so I was happy to have succeeded in that respect. Françoise commented that she had been a little apprehensive when I had first started cooking the day before, but that I’d really exceeded expectations. It made me feel really proud when everybody went back for seconds. They all seemed to like the sweet potato soufflé the most, so I hope you don’t mind that I’m sharing the recipe, Mom, though it’s certainly a bit different in its translated-for-French-ingredients incarnation!

The pecan pie was also well received, though by that point I think we were all too stuffed to really appreciate it (confession: I am thoroughly appreciating a slice of leftover pie as I’m writing now; and no, there is nothing wrong and everything right about eating pie… alone... in Feurs... on a Friday night..... maaaaybe I’ll have another slice).

We wound up staying until shortly after midnight – I felt bad about having to keep telling my family to call back later, and I felt really bad for Lilian and for Fanny, who had class starting at 8:00 this morning! I also feel silly for forgetting my camera as well as the book I’m reading and the flowers that Claire, Fanny, and Pascal brought, but in a fullbellysleepy haze, laden down with leftovers, I admit I was no longer fully functional.

It was a really wonderful evening though, and I’m really glad to have done it. I’m afraid now my family will no longer accept the excuse of me being too tired or not knowing how to help cook Thanksgiving dinner in the future!

As for the rest of my weekend, tomorrow night the American exchange student invited me to a Thanksgiving dinner at her host family's house, but aside from that I'm in for a solitary weekend in Feurs. Plenty of time to go running (I didn't run at ALL this week!), read, and plan lessons... sometimes it's nice to lay low for the weekend.

--

On another note, it snowed today in Feurs! Snow in November... so weird. I guess this means there's a lot more to come, and I probably won't be so excited about it when it's up to my knees, but for now it's very pretty. Fanny very generously let me play around with her digital SLR since I didn't have my camera, so figuring out how it works while she's out of town visiting friends may be another weekend project for me.

pre-Thanksgiving panic!

It's just been one of those weeks. I knew I might be getting a bit in over my head when I cooked up the idea of making Thanksgiving dinner, and this week so far has definitely lived up to its predicted stress level. Between it being the end of the month (and thus me all too eagerly awaiting my next paycheck) and needing to gather/prepare all the ingredients while still staying on top of lessons, there's been a lot hanging in the balance. This morning I had two classes, and then dashed over to the Tuesday marché to pick up the turkey and a bunch of other fresh veggies and just barely made it back in time to drop off my purchases before running yet again to the nearby middle school for class.

So it was quite a welcome surprise when I walked in the teacher's lounge and found they were having a Beaujolais Nouveau release party/luncheon, and before I knew it I'd been poured a glass of wine. However, because of the rush from the market and me just barely being on time as it was, I didn't have time to drink it before needing to go to my class of 8th graders... so I brought it with me. Sadly I had no time at the end of class to enjoy it either, since I had to run -- literally a dead sprint -- to get back to the high school in time for my next class (why oh why I agreed to teach a class that ends at 1:50 and start another at 1:55 when the two are halfway across town from each other, I will never know). So sad. It sure smelled nice, though... le sigh.

Now begins the real intensive Thanksgiving shopping and cooking. I've already made a few recipe-hindering discoveries, such as that there's no corn syrup, molasses, brown sugar, or canned pumpkin/sweet potatoes in France, but so far I think I can work around them. Runny maple syrup can replace molasses, riiiight? And fresh sweet potatoes ought to be better than canned ones anyway? We shall see... So far my shopping has been limited to the smaller supermarkets within walking distance, so I'm hoping that tomorrow when I go to the monstrously huge Carrefour that I'll be able to find more of what I'm looking for.

On a more positive note, today's Thanksgiving market shopping showed me that I'm starting to be recognized around town. When I went to the butcher this morning, they knew before I said anything that I was the one picking up the turkey. I also usually go to the same fruit/veggie seller who has the best selection, and he asked why I was buying more than usual today (suffice to say I don't usually buy fennel bulbs, celery and a kilo of sweet potatoes). Maybe it's just my foreign accent that gives me away, but it's still nice to see friendly faces.

Tonight I have the brine to prepare and then leave out overnight; hopefully it won't freeze tonight, since there's absolutely no room left in the fridge! Even though it's small -- really more like a big chicken -- the turkey takes up quite a lot of space in our tiny fridge. Tomorrow I'm cooking as much as I can since I'm off class, and then Thursday is turkey/gravy day. Here's hoping I don't burn anything...

Food Blog: Squash & Asparagus Ravioli and Veggie Fried Rice/Quinoa

While I wait for my Paris vacation pictures to upload on facebook (only two weeks after they were taken! yeesh) and for Claire and her boyfriend, Jean-Marie, to wake up, I might as well see if I can knock out the promised food blog. I'm actually a bit annoyed with myself for having woken up so early... we were out til 2:00am and I still couldn't sleep past 9:00. Thanks, Feurs, for conditioning me to go to sleep early and wake up early since there's nothing to do past 7:00pm :P But this weekend's antics will have to wait for a later entry.

First up: Wednesday night's pre-race blend of squash and asparagus ravioli in a mushroom pesto sauce, accompanied by sliced tomatoes and avocados.

To be honest, this meal consisted more of assembling and warming ingredients than actual cooking, but it still turned out well! (confession: the pesto did come from a jar...) I bought the ravioli at the farmer's market the day before, and although the shopkeeper recommended adding the asparagus ravioli to the squash ravioli (which he was almost out of), I think it was too much of a difference in taste for the two raviolis to really blend well. Individually, though, they were both delicious!

I got the idea for the sliced tomato/avocado salad from Fran, though a bit of lemon juice on top didn't quite equal the yummy herbed mayo she made. I did the best I could with neither fresh herbs nor mayo!

Thursday's dinner required a bit more creativity. I've been craving Chinese food, and an ample amount of rice and sautée-able vegetables put the idea of fried rice in my head. But having become somewhat of a vegetarian-by-default (at least when it comes to cooking at home), adding some protein seemed like a prudent idea. I spotted a box of quinoa in the pantry and was pleased to see that the cook times for jasmine rice and quinoa are similar enough that they could be cooked together, since I wasn't feeling ballsy enough to go all in for fried quinoa.

I made the rice/quinoa blend and chopped up an onion, some carrots and mushrooms, fried a couple eggs, then stir-fried the veggies before adding in the already-warm rice to fry. I used olive oil instead of vegetable oil, and lacking soy sauce I substituted lemon juice, salt, pepper, and paprika, with no real expectation of how well it would turn out.

The result: it was surprisingly good! The lemon juice latched on to the carrots, which made for an unusual (although quite tasty) flavor, and the jasmine rice and quinoa blended very nicely. I wish I'd had some snow peas or other green vegetable to throw in, but what the dish may have lacked in color it more than compensated for in taste.

I also made a salad that Fanny introduced me to that consists of chopped oranges and endives as well as raisins and walnuts. The bitterness of the endives took a little getting used to at first, but now I really like this salad and we usually have it a couple times a week. I also had an avocado with lemon juice, since it was perfectly ripe and added a bit of color to the plate. Definitely a meal I'll have to repeat and refine!

Continuing with the food theme, I'm going to get going since it's lunchtime here!

Weekends in Feurs

...aka, how best to retain sanity when stores are all closed and the school's internet is turned off. I thought for a moment that we'd been misinformed when the internet was working on Saturday morning (or at least what little part of Saturday morning I was awake for; I still seem to be compensating for my sleepless first week), but it turns out that's just because some schools in France are open on Saturday mornings. After lunch it was gone, and my sleeping in also meant I missed the Saturday morning farmer's market. It's actually kind of nice being out of touch with the world, since it gave me a chance to get out and explore when I might otherwise have been squandering my time trying to keep up with the abysmal UGA game.

We had absolutely gorgeous weather this weekend (sunny, windy, 73 degrees... just perfect), so that was even more reason to get out of the house and go explore. I went for a run along the Loire after finding the path that runs alongside it, though as of yet my sad attempts at marathon training have been more of the relaxing variety with frequent pauses to take pictures. I don't think this Loire trail is the 15km one I'd heard about, though, since it dead-ends after about 20 minutes rather than looping back around, so hopefully there is another one to discover.

After my run, Fanny and I had lunch and then went for a walk. Meals here have been very healthy so far. We basically just throw some veggies together (boiled carrots or potatoes, sliced tomatoes, etc., all from the farmer's market), accompany it with bread and butter and/or cheese, then have fruit and yogurt (ok, and nutella or honey...) for dessert. Fanny eats fish but is not very fond of other kinds of meat, so I may buy some tilapia or tuna at tomorrow's market and try to find an interesting way to cook it. I sense that I'm very quickly going to get spoiled off the farmer's markets and am glad that weekly markets have started infiltrating US towns, even though I didn't have the good sense to take advantage of the ones in Athens before I left.

Our leisurely stroll turned into more of a cross-country hike in flip-flops, as the plan to venture east from the school then cut back around to the north and then west towards home was thwarted by no roads or paths going north until we'd reached Salvizinet, a little town 4km away from Feurs. Rather than turning back, we thought to continue with the plan to circle back to Feurs via Civens, which was another 4km from Salvizinet and from there another 4km back to Feurs. After having already run an hour that morning, the prospect of another 12km was not entirely enticing... but hey, I'm training for a marathon, right? Suck it up, Myers. There were plenty of curious cows to keep us company (check out the guy on the left with the wonky horn). We did find a shortcut that let us cut out Civens, so it wound up being probably a 9km or 10km walk.

I had my first official classes today, though they were much like the one I "helped out" with last week. In each class, the professor told the students to ask me questions about myself and the United States, and each time I was met with awkward silence until I finally just decided to start talking and asking them some questions, though even then it was hard to elicit a response. They do seem to be very nice kids, though, just very shy and not sure of their English and probably having some difficulty with my American accent. Most of the professors -- if they've managed to throw off their French accents when speaking English -- have British accents, so it's understandable that I might be hard to comprehend at first. The first two classes I had were beginning English classes and they were very much deer in the headlights whenever I said more than one sentence at a time, but the latter two classes were more advanced and willing to talk, though it still took lots of prompting. This week and next week I'm just observing the classes and meeting the students, but after that I'll start teaching my own lessons, which is still a bit of an intimidating prospect at this point.

My 7:00 cut-off approaches, so I'll close with a better picture of the lycée and my apartment. Off to the left of the school is a track, and behind it is some motocross tracks; to the right of the frame, across the street, is a public gymnasium. Being attached to the school, our front door is a popular hangout for smoking (or, even better, making out) teenagers on breaks between classes, and we keep startling them by opening the door and coming out... mwahahaha.