Dad on My Mind

It's not very often that I write what might be considered a "timely" post, but this one just came to me naturally, after reading about Polly's father over at Polly-Vous Français...

There is no specific anecdote that comes to mind, but my memories of my father growing up are all of a smiling man who was almost always in a good mood, and loved to share a bowl of popcorn with me while we watched one of our favorite TV programs together, even in my twenties when that program was more than likely Seinfeld or Law & Order. My father and I have the sort of unspoken bond that is simply impossible to describe or explain; it's just there. I understand it, and I feel it, but I can never really put it into words. He can make me laugh with a certain expression on his face, or simply by looking at me and smirking in that funny way of his... I can pull up snippets of our time together in my mind, freeze-frame them and just remember the laughter, the warmth, and the security he has always brought me when we're together. There's just something reassuring about my father's presence that I definitely miss like a hole in my heart so often here in France. And I've often said that my dad gives the absolute best hugs in the world, and they're truly one of the things I look forward to the MOST when I go back home to the U.S. for a visit.

My boyfriend often comments on the fact that I've adapted fairly well to my life in France, and more specifically to the distance between my family and me. As much as he loves the U.S. himself, and American culture, he points out that he couldn't imagine putting so much distance between himself and his immediate family... They're very close, and speak by phone pretty much daily, even more so since his mother passed away two years ago. Obviously I miss my family and friends back home, but I guess somehow I've seen this distance as a force that has helped me to grow and evolve as a woman, to become stronger and more independent more than anything else. And obviously now that I'm going to be bringing my own first child into the world, I think more and more about this distance and it worries me much more now than it ever did before. I do wish my family was around the corner or at least a short enough distance away so that they could be here in a heartbeat if I needed them. But, of course, I made the choice to live here, to put down my roots in France, several years ago, and moving back to the U.S. is not really something I have in mind, nor a real option, for the immediate future. Besides, for the most part, in spite of the everyday challenges (and growing cost!) of living in France, I really do love it here, and it has become my home in more ways than one. Even if I AM constantly learning something new, in both the language and cultural departments! But I have faith that we'll somehow figure out a way to make it all work out...

But, ahem, as usual, I've gotten sidetracked...

From as far back as I can remember, my father has been the guiding force in my family life, even if he was the least vocal presence, or just a calm, quiet form of reassurance. I inherited the gift of gab from my mother, but sometimes I wish I could be as strong, reserved and solid as my father, in his quiet, unique way. How else can I describe him? Again, bits and pieces come to mind more than anything else: his voracious appetite, often taking seconds and thirds at the dinner table and complimenting my mother on her cooking skills (but somehow never putting on any extra weight around the middle!); his love of pepper on pretty much anything and everything, a culinary preference that somehow I DID manage to inherit and find myself applying to more and more of my favorite dishes; his work ethic, putting in long days at work and then coming home to fall asleep in front of the evening news, the evening paper spread out on his lap, and a light snore growing into what my mom jokingly would refer to as a saw; and his favorite weekend pastimes of washing and waxing his car, which over the years evolved from a Chevy Nova to a Jeep Cherokee and more recently a Ford Explorer, as my parents adopted the American attachment to 4X4s, an apparent "necessity" on certain parts of the East Coast in the winter, and in the summertime, mowing the lawn, now even more of a hobby since he acquired a riding mower that allows him to mow the larger amount of land around their small rancher house.

These days I imagine my father indulging in his favorite hobbies, namely watching baseball in the summer months and football in the winter (although I think baseball will always remain his ultimate favorite), and spending hours paging through coin collecting books in order to find that one elusive hidden treasure to add to his own burgeoning collection, a passion he has had since his own childhood. My father never used to talk very much about this pastime, but more recently he has shared some of his special "finds" and the playfulness and mischief in his eyes when he recounts a coin-collecting tale always make me smile... Particularly when I know he has finally been able to indulge this interest even more in recent years, now that us kids are all grown up and have flown the coop.

My parents also adopted a little beagle a few years ago, Ginger (that's her posing so endearingly in the photo above!) and she has become a major part of their lives as well -- more the princess of the castle, shall we say... When my dad makes his famous sandwiches in the kitchen, she comes running, hoping for a snippet of something from the table. When I was home for a visit a few years back she came bounding out on the back porch and literally stole my sandwich right out of my hands before I could even stop her! As infuriating as she can be at times, and as much as my parents (particularly my mother) seem to indulge her, I know she has brought a lot of happiness to their lives, so I could certainly never begrudge them that... And if anything, when I come home now her presence is a good excuse to get my dad and I out walking together around the neighborhood, lost in our thoughts and exchanging a few thoughts and memories as we explore the area and he tells me about their local haunts.

I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to share the origin behind my "pseudonym", so to speak, here at my blog -- Ace is a nickname my father gave me when I was a little girl, albeit not one that he used particularly often. But he would occasionally pull it out in a moment of congratulations or encouragement, when he most wanted to let me know how much he believed in me... So a few years back, when I was setting up a new e-mail address, the words "Always Ace" just made sense, as it's a nickname that will always remain engraved in my mind as a mental and emotional reminder of my father's presence in my life, no matter where I may be living. I don't think anyone has ever put as much confidence in my capabilities as my father, and I can find no words to adequately express my gratitude for his presence in my life, for his smile and laughter in the toughest of moments, for his steadfast unconditional love. I know that no matter what happens, he wouldn't hesitate to get on a plane and be here in a flash, and I can't wait until he and my mom do exactly that after my Little Bean arrives later this summer...

Thank you, Dad, for just being you.

My Favorite Children's (Picture) Books

Time is flying by, and I have to sheepishly admit that I've been very slack about preparing for the actual arrival of our baby -- in less than three months' time (and that's if he/she decides to arrive on time!). Granted, I've picked up quite a few adorable little onesies and various outfits since this past January, most of them during the sales (and more than I expected, when I take a step back and do a quick inventory -- YIKES, how did that happen?! They say you always have TOO much for the first three months...), and I bought a few used items thanks to a friend who hooked me up with the MESSAGE group in Paris. But otherwise, equipment-wise I'm not exactly what you would call prepared. And my boyfriend and I have pretty much decided that we don't necessarily need to prepare a whole room at this point; a little corner will suffice, until we figure out where we're going to settle down for the long term. Plus, his sisters will be passing on quite a few things to us, so it's really hard to tell how much we will really need once they've given us a hand -- something I'm incredibly grateful for, trust me! I may break down and purchase this children's dresser, though, basically because I LOVE the sweet green color, and I just think it will be useful for years to come, more so than a table à linger or actual "baby" furniture so to speak.

But if there is one domain in which I feel sufficiently prepared (as if it were that big of a priority, I know!) it's the book arena... One of the first things I bought for my baby-on-the-way was a book, several actually, while back in the U.S. for New Year's. Some of you may already know that I worked for a few years in the children's book department of a bookshop, handling everything from meeting with the sales reps (and getting so excited about the books that I practically sold them for them!), selling my favorite books to grateful customers, choosing and ordering the books to stocking the shelves and decorating the windows. Some days I really miss that job, but I definitely don't miss the stress it entailed (believe it or not!) nor the negative level of communication between the management and employees -- to say the least. But I digress...

In any case, in my time spent there I was brought back to my childhood again, in so many ways, and I was brought back to those years that I was so passionate about books in general. (As a little girl, I was the "nerd" who loved walking up a sunny summer street to the local library, where I would spend hours in the air conditioning poring over books until I had to go home again for dinner...) And if there's one thing I can say for certain, I am eternally grateful to that time in my life for reconnecting me to a part of my nature and my personality that I never should have left to fall by the wayside. (I'm also pretty happy to have picked up a wonderful man along the way as well, but that's another whole story!)

During my fairly short stint as a bookseller (and buyer), I managed to collect a few of my favorite children's books to hole away for safekeeping until my own little ones arrived -- some people would be surprised to see how many kiddie books I had on my shelves, without the children around to enjoy them! But these books have always been a pleasure for me as well, so I impatiently await the moment when I will finally be able to share these stories with my own first child.

Now, we're not talking about a library full of books, trust me, but merely a few shelves full of picture books and board books, with a couple educational books squeezed in there and one fabulous collection of children's stories that I know will forever remain a classic. I managed to track down several of my own books from when I was a little girl while I was home in January, including our well-loved, tattered copy of The Cat in the Hat, as well as a copy of Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends (and boy, does that collection of poetry bring back memories...).

This is a post that I started writing, in fact, months ago, before I even knew I was pregnant. I wanted to share a bit about my favorite children's books, just because it's a world I so love, but now that the Baby Bloomer is soon to arrive, I have all the more motivation to get these titles out there! Please feel free to share a few of your favorites with me as well, in the comments. I'm always happy to hear about little-known titles, or ones that I've simply forgotten about over time! (And how I love rediscovering books from my childhood!)

Of course this list isn't exhaustive by any means, and it only includes the titles for children up to about the age of 5 or 6 I would say, but I remember savoring the time my mother would read to my little brother, even when I was already 8 years old and he was still very little. I've just always loved reading from picture books, especially when the story strikes the perfect balance with beautiful images. But I have favorites from other times in my childhood as well, including Charlotte's Web and even later still, Cynthia Voigt's Homecoming.

So, without further ado, voilà my most recent (and constantly changing!) list of faves:

1. The Giving Tree - Shel Silverstein - The all-time classic, the only book that gives me chills every time I read it. I'm so lucky to have gotten my hands on a clothbound copy of this treasure while I was working in the bookshop; I will hold onto it forever.

2. The Gruffalo - Julia Donaldson, illustrations by Axel Scheffler - This is one of those books that just so happened to show up along my path while working in the bookshop, and between the sharp, colorful illustrations and the craftiness of the little mouse who outwits the other animals pursuing him before finally meeting the "Gruffalo" (and YES, he does exist!), I just can't get enough of it, especially since it also has a great rhyming rhythm that gets kids right into the story.

3. Morris's Disappearing Bag - Rosemary Wells - For some strange, inexplicable reason, this is a book that stands out in my childhood, and one of the rare books that I STILL have at home, as a reminder of my littlest years. I'm not quite sure what appealed to me the most, whether it was Wells' adorably warm, colorful illustrations or the story of little Morris who feels so left out when his older brothers and sisters get such cool Christmas presents that they each show off with such flair. I love how in the end he makes his magic "disappearing bag" appear even more unique than anything else, and everyone wants to get in on the fun! Such individuality, and I love when that theme is emphasized in children's books.

4. Knuffle Bunny - Mo Willems - Now HERE'S a recent book that bowled me over as soon as I read it the first time -- everything about it is endearing and appealing, as sappy as that may sound... The combination of black-and-white New York street photos with the quirky colorful drawings on top only enhance Mo Willems' portrayal of baby Trixie, just hitting that age when she's garbling away like crazy but is still pretty much incomprehensible -- until she pronounces her first real word at the end! But not before she loses her beloved stuffed Knuffle Bunny, and drives daddy crazy looking for it... I was sold on Mo after his first Pigeon book, when it won the Caldecott Honor in 2003, and I've become a big fan of his naive drawings and wacky, addictive sense of humor. He also really has a way with kids... Apparently he was inspired by his own baby daughter when he wrote and illustrated Knuffle Bunny, which won the Caldecott Medal in 2004.

5. The Magic Paintbrush - (exists in several versions, as it is based on a Chinese fable, if I'm not mistaken; I have the Julia Donaldson edition as well as a tiny French edition) An enchanting, inspiring story about an incredible paintbrush that brings everything it paints to life. But the main character, Shen, who was given this magical gift, has to protect it from the greedy plans of the emperor, who wants to use it to create more and more riches for himself.

6. The Cat in the Hat - Dr. Seuss - Who doesn't know this eponymous tale by Theodore Geisel, most definitely his most well-loved classic, along with Green Eggs and Ham, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish? I have a mini boxed set at this point, as well as my worn copy from childhood, but I'm sure this is a book we'll read together time and time again... I have a particular affinity for Dr. Seuss as he was such a major part of my childhood, so I had to hold myself back several times from buying some anniversary collected editions a few years ago. I may regret not getting my hands on those, though...

7. When Everybody Wore a Hat - William Steig - I'm sure some of you out there have already heard of a silly, loveable monster by the name of Shrek, right?! Well, he was invented by none other than William Steig, also quite known for Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. But his last book, When Everybody Wore a Hat, was the one that really touched me, with the voyage back in time to another era, when Steig himself was growing up in the city, and the many different people he encountered. Something about his childlike drawings here gets to me every time.

8. Frog and Toad Are Friends - Arnold Lobell (and actually the whole Frod & Toad early reading series) Such whimsical, sweet, funny tales of friendship and exchange, these books make me nostalgic for my childhood every time I read them again today. There is even a certain depth to the stories, something that children wouldn't necessarily grasp of course (at least not immediately), but I think that is truly what is so magical about the best children's books out there, how perfectly they capture childhood and its complications, while they presage the difficulties, challenges, and painful moments of adulthood and all that it brings at the same time. Frog & Toad just really bring back memories... And oh, how I love Lobell's drawings!

9. Miss Nelson is Missing - Harry Allard, illustrations by James Marshall - I don't know if I first heard this book when I was really little, or if I heard it for the first time when looking over my mother's shoulder as she read to my baby brother, six years my junior. I used to get a kick out of listening to her read to him, even though by then I was reading plenty of my own books. But there's just something about storytelling time... And Miss Nelson is one of those irresistible tales that gets you smiling from the start. Naughty schoolkids, a sweet teacher, a nasty witch, and a mystery: all the ingredients for the best kind of story!

10. Harry the Dirty Dog - Gene Zion - The memories of this book came rushing back to me when I found a special hardbound anniversary edition of it in a bookshop this past January, just when I was wandering around looking for the best board books of the bunch... Actually, this edition also includes No Roses for Harry, and Harry by the Sea. But the first tale is of course the most memorable one, in which Harry runs away and has a good time getting dirty all day long, but when his family doesn't recognize him he has to find a way to convince them that he's still the same dog!

11. Goodnight Gorilla - Peggy Rathmann - When looking for those baby board books, I fell upon an edition of this adorable "word-free" picture book, full of images that are so perfect that they tell the story on their own. When a friendly zookeeper's animals all follow him home one night while he's trying to close up shop, he has to usher them each back to their cages. But one tricky gorilla keeps getting loose again! I love the one double-page illustration of the gorilla's toothy smile shining in the dark of the zookeeper's bedroom.

12. The Snail and the Whale - Julia Donaldson/Axel Scheffler (is it obvious that I'm also a big fan of this writer/illustrator team?!) After discovering The Gruffalo, this educational picture book showed up in my book-buying catalogue one day and it was love at first sight. I'm a sucker for Scheffler's flair for color and setting, and this cautionary environmental tale is the perfect balance of fairy tale and modern fable.

Gosh, I think I'm going to stop here with my dozen, although obviously I could go on forever... I also love The Dot, by Peter H. Reynolds, which should be put between the hands of any budding artist who has lost his/her sense of confidence -- or for that matter any child who thinks he/she can't draw! And Zen Shorts, another Caldecott Honor winner which has breathtaking watercolor illustrations and a refreshing take on philosophy for the youngest crowd.

Ahhh, I'm turning into a monster! Anybody have any favorites they want to add?! Obviously I'm OPEN to new discoveries! (Even though our sagging bookshelves may not be too happy...) [Oh, and by the way, if you're as into children's books as I am, or you just love a great collection of children's stories, this book is a must-have. I love paging through it and re-reading some of my classic favorites... So many are in there!]

Fresh Memories

I decided to make financiers again this afternoon, just as I had done two years ago at about this time, for Easter weekend as well. I pulled out the same recipe I had used then, from a past issue of Elle à table, and checked to see what I would need. I knew I still had some ground almond powder leftover from a past recipe, so I really would only need to get some strawberries at the market because I like to make the version with half a fresh strawberry planted in the middle of the almondy batter. [And as an aside, I scored some luscious early-season Gariguettes at the market, 4 barquettes for only 3 €! Still not sure what I'm going to do with the rest of them...] My financiers had been quite successful the first time around, and I had even made them a few times since then, but I think I'll always remember that first time, because it was one of the first pastries I had brought to contribute to a family meal at my in-laws' home in Le Havre... Two years ago this month, and I had also brought a tarte bourdaloue, recipe taken from the same magazine. I think I was feeling ambitious that weekend... Miraculously, both recipes had turned out well, and even though I was suspicious of the pear and almond tart results, it was scarfed up pretty quickly, which is always a good sign...

When I try to think back to that weekend, I don't remember many details, but it was one of the last times we spent with my mother-in-law before she passed away unexpectedly from a sudden and severe stroke. It was an enormous shock for my boyfriend's whole family, and I still recall that period like it was yesterday, stunned into such silence and pain for several weeks, trying to make some kind of sense of her loss. Even today I know it is still fresh and very painful for my boyfriend, and he often tells me of his desire to pick up the phone and share something with his mother -- and suddenly realizing that he can't do that, because she isn't there anymore...

You see, my mother-in-law was someone really, really special... Perhaps the exception to all those stereotypes we all hear about mothers-in-law. She was strong and supportive from the beginning of my relationship with her son, never suspicious and critical, and if anything she encouraged me in my new cooking and baking ventures, telling me to have more confidence, to not worry about every little detail like I tended to do. I would call her up for a small tip when trying a new recipe, and she would laugh and say, why, if I were doing that I would just improvise... She would reassure me and tell me that she was sure it would turn out great. Oftentimes it did, and to this day I think this was the case because of her words; I am so grateful for her support, for the short time that I knew her, for her trusting smile and her respectful warmth and discretion, always giving advice when needed but keeping a certain distance when things got délicat. I never knew anyone quite like her: she had such wonderful taste, chic and yet simple at the same time, warm and yet not afraid to say what she thought, a marvelous combination of her German heritage and her time spent in France for most of her life.

My boyfriend is still very attached to his German roots, in spite of spending his adult life in France, having grown up on French soil. He tries to go back to visit his uncle and cousins in Konstanz, on the border of Germany, Austria and Switzerland, whenever possible, but as you can imagine, it seems to be less and less in recent years... We made a brief trip there two years ago this past winter and had a wonderful time at the Karnival, visiting the region and spending time with his German family. I have vivid memories of the many pretzels and huge glasses of beer, my pathetic lack of skill with the German language, my struggle to breathe after eating so much for so long... (Man, can they put it away in Germany!)

Who would have ever thought that we would lose her so soon? We all have those fleeting thoughts of the things we would do if only we could be with that person again... I know she would have helped me to decorate our apartment, to choose curtains for the windows (Something I STILL haven't done! Maybe partially because she isn't here to share it with me...), to make it through the tough times in my pregnancy. She was a warm presence and shared so much with me in such a short time... I learned to use a Romertopf baking dish because of her, with the one she passed on to me, and took to preparing a pintade aux pommes et lardons on a regular basis, as I knew it was one of my boyfriend's and his father's favorite dishes. I plan on making one again this weekend, as a matter of fact...

Now if only I could find enough confidence to attempt the sacred linzertorte, the German tart that my boy's mother would bake for him every year, without fault, on his birthday and bring to him especially, even taking a train from Le Havre to Paris just to see him and to bring him his favorite dessert. This year his sister e-mailed me the recipe, but when we dashed off to visit his father again I didn't get a chance to give it a try the weekend of his birthday. I still plan on trying my hand at it, but I have to admit that I'm more than a bit intimidated, as I know how much he loved that tart, and how much he associates it with his mother and his memories of her.

I think of her so often when I'm in the kitchen, baking away. And I think of her now, as I head back into the kitchen to pour the financier batter into the baking molds. I know she would be happy for us, for the baby we are expecting and have desired together, and I know she would ease all of my fears about being a good mother.

I miss you, Brigitte.

Reflections on Friendship

I met a friend last Thursday evening for a drink after work, at a table in a café on the Place Pereire, and we squeezed in so much in just under an hour and a half... I could have stayed chatting much longer, as I wasn't in a hurry that night, but she had to get home to meet her husband. I'm always in awe of how much we have to catch up on when we get together, but then again, I think the last time we met for drinks was in March -- believe it or not! The time just flies, and I'm constantly reminded of when my parents used to say things like that when I was a kid -- how much faster time seems to go by as an adult. This fact has become more and more vivid for me in the past year or so. In a sense, I don't feel my age at all -- I'm dumbfounded by the fact that I am, in fact, in my early 30s -- I feel much younger in my head and in my heart. And then at other times, for example after a long day, when all I want to do is return home and rest, do simple, homebody-type things, I can't help thinking that I'm acting much older than I should, or that my interests and hobbies revolve around older types of things -- like cooking and hanging out at home! A bit ridiculous, I know, but I've realized more and more that I'm just not cut out for the partying scene -- I guess I never have been, but for years I would try to blend in and make myself enjoy things that just weren't my cup of tea. Now I'm realizing that of course there's no shame in that, and I might as well revel in the things I love, no matter what the rest of the world may think.

But the last two weeks or so my calendar has been packed with more "social occasions" than usual, and trust me, I'm not complaining -- I love catching up with friends, having something to look forward to during my long days at work. It's what keeps me going -- isn't that the case for a lot of us? I guess not everyone, because some of you lucky dogs out there actually have jobs and professions that you enjoy, but I just haven't found that niche yet, unfortunately. At least I can say that I'm in a country I love, in spite of all its flaws and frustrations, and that I have a lot of wonderful people in my life who make the long days worth getting past. That's something, isn't it? That and knowing that there is some potential out there for future endeavors, future possibilities -- I just have to keep my mind, my eyes and all the doors open.

But when the social outings pile up, and I have a heck of a time figuring out how to squeeze it all in, that's when I feel like my head is going to explode. And I don't even have kids! I know how hard it must be for folks like Jenn to find a balance for herself and her family. And here I am having a hard time just fitting in enough time for my boy and me. This week is jam-packed with fun, but I also have to be sure to fit in some time doing those necessary things around the apartment, like cooking, cleaning and laundry. Obviously life -- and living! -- are much more important, but then again you certainly want to feel good about the home you're returning to at the end of the day. Such a juggle!

When my friend Sarah and I got together last week, we found ourselves reminiscing about the time we met back in the States, in the late '90s, when I was working for a French company as a marketing assistant. She was an au pair hoping to improve her English and we were both spending time at the Alliance Française in Washington, DC (I didn't want to lose my French, so I was serving wine and cheese, and she wanted to meet fellow French-speakers living in the area). One day one of the guys I was working with at the time saw a photo of us together, and he said, eyes blazing, "I have got to meet her!" I was stunned by his adamance, but I eventually complied, knowing full well that he wouldn't leave me alone until I did... Their first meeting didn't lead to many sparks -- at least I didn't think so! -- but about a week later I received a call in my car, and Sarah told me that they were officially a couple. They had really hit it off, both loving to swing dance and sharing so many of the same interests. It was unexpected, but I was of course thrilled for them.

Fast-forward eight years later, and they are now married and living in la région parisienne. We lost touch there for a while -- life and all that -- but then caught up again about a year and a half ago, and since then Sarah and I have tried to get together to have drinks from time to time. Again, we always have a million things to talk about, and this time around was no exception. In fact, I felt like we were really on the same wavelength in so many ways, and a lot of what she said to me really reassured me about my current fears and concerns, regarding life and the future in general. It's funny how we so often see so many wonderful things in other people, how much we admire and appreciate their qualities, and then in fact they tell us that they see those same things in us. Of course it's a good feeling, but it's also kind of unsettling...

Well, before I head off in some kind of random philosophical direction, let's just say that I'm hoping we can make our evening drink sessions more regular, and not so few and far between. I love the conversations we have, the memories we share, and the thoughts and feelings that get stirred up in these simple moments of friendship.

It's funny, because I've always thought that my memories, of either my childhood or even of more recent years, were never very vivid, but when I actually think long and hard about things, specific images and precise moments really do come to mind. One of them is a party that I attended with Sarah on a July 4th weekend years ago, by the Chesapeake Bay, when a wonderful Australian friend of mine was in town for a few days. We studied together in a program at the Sorbonne for a semester, and he was one of the brightest spots in those months of study. He recently e-mailed me on "our" birthday (we share exactly the same birthdate, both day and year!) to share some pics of his son. There was the whisper of possibility, of something more happening between us several times over the years, but it wasn't meant to be... When he came to visit me in the U.S., he was living in London at the time and I was in the early stages of a relationship. Today he is married with a baby boy, and here I am back in France. I remember the dress I wore that sweltering July night, the strap that snapped when we were dancing, the fact that we had stayed in touch in spite of the distance between us. I really hope I can continue to do the same as time continues to fly by, remembering each other when we can, and catching up whenever life makes it possible.

Trip down Ten Years

I thought this photo of my niece swimming at her 10th birthday party in June was so beautiful, so serene and yet so bright and energetic (quite a juxtaposition of sorts, non?). That's Ally all right... in a nutshell. She looks like one of those dancers in the water -- what are they called again? synchronized swimmers?-- and you can just feel, sense how happy she is in this moment. So carefree -- so thrilled to be alive. It's often in times like these, when I see the utter innocence and pure bliss of childhood, that I myself wish I could be a kid again, with no fears, worries or responsibilities -- not a care in the world.

Ally was born ten years ago this year. Her birthday in late June really struck a chord with me, hit home in more ways than I ever expected. I look at pictures of her now and I'm dumbstruck by how fast she has grown up, how much she has changed and matured, how beautiful and talented she is at her age. She has so much potential and is full of joy, in spite of any difficult circumstances she might have had to endure at times. And I am thousands of miles away from her...

I berate myself, beat myself up about not writing more often (never enough), not keeping in touch as much as I think I should or wish I would... And yet I do think of her all the time and I am reminded of her throughout the day by the funniest little things. That I couldn't be there this year for her 10th birthday party -- well, it was harder than I thought it would be. Now I'm trying to put together the perfect birthday package, something special I can send her to let her know I'm thinking of her, and also to give her a little taste of France, in tiny doses. Does anyone have any fabulous suggestions of some great things I can add into my care package for a 10-year-old American girl who has never been to France, but who is definitely curious about the culture and life here? I'm hoping she'll make it over to visit one day, and I don't know if that opportunity will come when she's in high school or before, but in the meantime, I'd like for her to share in what I love about this country. Whenever I go home to the States for a visit, she asks me all sorts of questions about France and what it's like to live here -- she's at that age where she's overflowing with curiosity and sweet inquisitiveness, and she tells her friends about her tata who lives in such a faraway country. (I've given her coloring books and children's books about France over the years -- I need some new ideas!)

Now when she picks up the phone she recognizes my voice immediately, and I can never seem to pull the wool over her eyes. She asks me how to say words in French, and then giggles on the other end of the line. I feel her spirit with me here sometimes, her whispering -- coloring feverishly like I did at her age -- so fascinated with drawing, singing and dancing, all the art forms I, too, enjoyed as a little girl.

I've already picked her up an adorable t-shirt from Petit Bateau with "La vie est belle" written on the front, and she told me that she loves polka dots right now, so I've been keeping that in mind in my hunt for gifts... She's definitely a real girlie-girl, loving pretty things and always checking out my makeup bag when I come home. Two years ago she begged me to buy her some lip gloss at a Victoria's Secret sale! But I grimaced and promised to let her have one of my own lipglosses when we got home... I had other *better* gifts in mind for her...

Every time I go home I find myself wanting to spoil Ally, and the truth is that she is surrounded by love in my family. Her arrival was unexpected in all of our lives, but she is an angel: she brought us closer together in more ways than we ever could have imagined. Today she makes me laugh and sigh over the phone with her maturity, her quiet philosophy at such a young age -- in some ways I think she knows more than she should at 10; I guess that's the curse of her generation... I don't remember ever being so aware of the world around me, of so much in general, in the way that she is -- constantly.

My boyfriend was hilarious a few days ago: he said, "Why don't you fly your niece over to spend vacation with us in Noirmoutier?" He said it so innocently, so seriously -- like it was a literal possibility. But we all know that flight fares at this time of year are out of this world, so this is utterly unthinkable. And there is the matter of discussing it with her mom and dad, my younger brother, who would need to work out some logistics. It's a nice idea, but like I said, for another year -- perhaps even next year, if we can plan it out ahead of time. I'm hoping some of my family will really buckle down and visit me here in 2008 -- it's been far too long...

A Taste of Home

Saturday afternoon I prepared a simple summer lunch for my boy and me, happy and relieved that for once we could spend a weekend together and just relax and wile the time away, doing nothing in particular. We so rarely get to do this! I had been to the local market in the morning and had stocked up on some much-needed fruit and veggies, including the requisite melons and peaches for this time of year, as well as some end-of-season mara des bois strawberries and some lovely tomatoes. Probably not my best market run by far, but still a fair one, with enough goodies to keep us set for at least a few days.

I also treated myself, for the first time in a while, to two cheeses from the fromager, something I don't do very often simply because the cheese can sometimes be quite pricey. I try to save excellent cheese like that for special occasions, like when we have guests over for dinner -- but this weekend together seemed like a special occasion to me, so I splurged. We already had some coulommiers in the refrigerator that some hotel guest had asked my boy to throw out (*gasp! the horror!*) and which he slipped into his bag and brought home. So I picked up a nice chunk of vieux comté and a small sliver of gouda au cumin. I was also tempted by a chèvre but figured I better limit myself, because the last time I went crazy on the cheese we never finished it and it stayed in the fridge for far too long. (I have to add here that this cheese splurge was also partially inspired by the wonderful posts over at Chez Loulou, who has a weekly cheese celebration, and Amy at C'est la me... who does some occasional wine and cheese pairings.)

So we had our melon et jambon de parme combination along with these lovely cheeses, some fresh bread, as well as a simple baby spinach salad mixed with cherry tomatoes and a shallot-infused vinaigrette. Simple, fresh, but filling. The night before I had thrown together the same salad I had brought with me to Katia and Kyliemac's Bastille Day picnic: tomatoes, cucumber, feta cheese, fragrant olive oil and cilantro. I swear, I never tire of summer meals! (Can you tell?!)

Midway through the meal, it hit me that I was dying to make my mother's famed Steamed Shrimp Macaroni Salad -- it had been far too long since I had thrown together a batch, and I had just so happened to pick up some shrimp on my morning shopping trip. Of course, this recipe is difficult to replicate here in France, namely because I don't have easy access to the key "secret" ingredient: Old Bay seasoning, something any true Marylander and Chesapeake Bay resident has in her kitchen closet/pantry. But lo and behold, I had (for once) cunningly picked up a bottle of the seasoning last summer and had been waiting for just the right opportunity to make good use of it.

Now, every summer I get a craving for the one thing I simply cannot have here in France, and the one food that I always say I so desperately miss: Maryland steamed crabs. I unfortunately won't be making it back home this summer for my crab fix, but shrimp comes a close second. And like I mentioned in my earlier post, the pathetic tourteaux they have here just don't come anywhere near the beauty of Maryland crabs, and of course they are all missing the spices the crabs are steamed in back home. Over the years I've gotten more and more addicted to spicy food, and now Old Bay just seems like child's play to me -- but it does pack a punch if you're not used to the spicy stuff! And I know the French don't tend to like spicy things in general. (On a side note, this reminds me of a French joke I heard ages ago, "Manger épicé en même temps, ce n'est pas facile" which is basically just a silly play on words -- it sounds like "Manger et pisser en même temps, ce n'est pas facile"... Translates to "Eating spicy food at the same time isn't easy" but also sounds like "It's not easy to eat and pee at the same time" -- Don't mind me, guess that was altogether off-subject -- but it made me laugh to myself!)

Oh, so getting back to the subject at hand: my mom's shrimp salad recipe! I did copy it down years ago, and like I said, I don't get to dig it out all that often, but I decided I need to start making more dishes that remind me of home and that may also be appealing to my boy and his family. This salad of course makes for a great vacation dish, is a big hit at picnics, and given the fact that I'm trying to assemble some good vacation recipes for my trip down to the Atlantic Coast in August, this seemed like the perfect addition. It's easy and quick to put together (the longest part is probably just peeling all the shrimp and dicing the veggies) and you can make lots of it at once! Depending on how much you need, of course. My mom's recipe serves about four as an accompaniment, less as a main dish.

In fact, this recipe may appeal to those back home in the U.S. who can get their hands on the Old Bay seasoning, but for my expat readers here in France, it may leave you wanting! I'm afraid I don't have any suggestions for a substitute, aside from perhaps some paprika or a spice of your choice -- but again, to my mind, it just wouldn't be the same. In fact, the shrimp at home in Maryland is actually steamed in Old Bay, and then of course my Mom adds more into the recipe, so it's doubly delicious!

So without further ado (finally, I know!), voilà the classic Steamed Shrimp Macarani Salad:

1 pound (about 500 grams) steamed shrimp, peeled and deveined

8 oz. elbow macaroni (also not quite the same in France, but any pasta resembling macaroni is fine, of course!), cooked, drained and rinsed

3/4 cup mayonnaise (again, my Mom's notation here is for "Hellman's real" mayonnaise, which just makes me chuckle... in France, of course, most people make their own mayonaisse, but I'm not going to quibble with that -- and I have to admit that I cheated and used bottled mayonnaise myself)

2 tbsp. vinegar

1 tbsp. mustard (also not the same here -- I brought back some French's mustard from home, but I imagine Dijon would work just fine, although it might just give it all the more of a kick!)

1 tsp. sugar

1 tsp. salt

1/8 tsp. pepper (2 pinches)
1/2 tsp. Old Bay seasoning, or to taste

1 cup sliced, chopped celery

1 cup chopped green or sweet red pepper

1/4 cup chopped onion

In a large bowl, stir together mayonnaise, vinegar, mustard, sugar, salt and pepper until smooth; add in Old Bay seasoning last. Add macaroni, celery and onion; toss to coat well.

At this point, I cut the shrimp in half, and sprinkle some additional Old Bay seasoning on them, as they haven't been steamed in the spice here in France. Then you add the shrimp into the salad, stir together once again, cover and chill in the refrigerator until serving.

Enjoy! I don't know about you, but this sure reminds me of home...