A Year of Promise

After spending Christmas with my boy's family, we had to part ways for the New Year, to my chagrin... It was the second year in a row like this, and I would certainly have preferred for things to be otherwise, but unfortunately my boyfriend's job doesn't allow for him to travel as easily at this time of year, whereas my office literally shuts down over the holidays. So it's the perfect opportunity for me to visit my family in the U.S.

So we spent the end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 separated by the Atlantic, but at the same time I knew we were together in spirit, especially since he's the first to encourage me to spend as much time as possible with my family. Of course he would have loved to join me as well, but I think that in the end it was probably for the best this time around, as it was a bit of an emotional trip (to say the least!).

It would be an understatement to say that the last two years have brought us a few challenges and painful moments -- after settling into our life together in 2005, with some wonderful weekend trips to Rome and several undiscovered sites in France, 2006 hit us hard when my boyfriend's mother passed away unexpectedly in May of that year. He is still working on recovering from that shock, and I know that only time can help him in healing. Then our apartment was broken into, and we worked on picking up the pieces and remaining optimistic for the future. We were convinced that 2007 would be better, but when he had his heart attack in April, I didn't even know where to begin to look for hope nor how to understand the reasons behind these painful blows. Of course, these past two years have also brought us many wonderful moments, including our unforgettable trip to Spain last March and summer holidays spent in Noirmoutier. Trust me, I'm not complaining -- I know we have been blessed in many ways. But I couldn't help but wonder when the wheel might turn in another direction, or what might be waiting for us around the next corner...

And then came the end of the year, December 2007... And the greatest gift that life could bring us: the promise of the future, in the form of a new life -- a new member of our own little family. I couldn't be happier, and I don't even know how to put into words how significant this is for me, for both us, how much it means to know that we will be sharing so many special moments together in the future. When we knew it was certain, and when the first tests and examinations were behind us, we took a step back and breathed a sigh of both relief and anticipation. Obviously we have some challenges ahead of us, and many unanswered questions regarding where we will eventually settle down for good, but the one certainty is that this new life, this baby growing inside of me, is the greatest possible promise of new beginnings and continued love. That is all I could ever hope for in the New Year. And it feels good.

Are We There Yet?

As I get older, I realize that I am somehow reverting back to my childhood in one way or another. Most recently I've become more and more intolerant of long car rides, and I try to avoid them at all costs. I just don't like being in the car! To be honest, I never really have, ever since I was a little girl, but I have vivid memories of the dreaded two-hour (!!) drive to the countryside where we would go camping with my grandparents. Today, of course, a two-hour trip seems like nothing, but it certainly creeped by in the backseat of that beastly hot car, my thighs clinging to the burning material of the seats (not leather, but not plastic -- pleather?!). Even when I drove my own car in Washington, DC, I didn't really enjoy it -- the only part I liked was turning up my favorite music and singing along. But most of the time I was just in a big hurry to get to where I was going, from point A to point B. Which I guess explains the fact that I've never had any particular affinity for cars of any kind, and that I could honestly care less if I never drove again. Unfortunately, I imagine I'm probably not going to be able to get around the need to drive at some point, especially if we end up leaving la région parisienne... A possibility, but not yet a certainty.

Saturday my boyfriend and I took a train from Paris to Le Havre to meet his father, and thankfully we spent the night at his house before hitting the road at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning. We drove with his father down to Besançon, where my boy's younger sister and her little family lives. I slept for the first few hours, but had a heck of a time getting into a comfortable position in the backseat. Again, memories from childhood... I know I was lucky to not have to take the wheel, to be honest, because I don't even think I could have handled it. I still haven't prepared for the permis de conduire here, and I know it's something that will eventually be unavoidable. But in the meantime, I just try to be patient when the drive is long and sleep the time away... When lunchtime hit, my boyfriend and his father were both inspired: they decided to make a detour to Vézélay, a village in the Burgundy region with a stunning basilica at the top of a steep hill. I had already been there once before, but was more than happy to visit again -- after a stop for lunch, of course! We were lucky enough to fall on a really nice local bistrot-restaurant called Le Voutenay on the small départémental leading to Vézélay, in a tiny town called Voutenay-sur-Cure. After a brief mix-up in which we managed to find ourselves seated at the gastronomic side of the restaurant, we glanced at the menu, realized our mistake -- and quickly rectified it!

After settling into our seats in a small, simple room on the other side of the restaurant (the "bistrot" side, as they called it), we chose our dishes and were chatting quietly when we noticed that one of the women at the table next to ours had gotten up to open up the curtains in order to allow some sun into the room, which was admittedly a bit dark. Apparently the waitress forewarned her to be careful, but alas -- a bit too late! As the curtain rod tumbled to the floor, the woman quickly jumped out of the way. My boyfriend's father jumped up to give her a hand, and the scene soon became comedic: as the lady climbed up onto a chair to put the curtain rod back in place, Jacques held onto the chair for her to stabilize it. The curtain rod started falling again, and just as it looked like the woman might fall herself, Jacques took hold of her around the waist and helped her lift the rod back into place... My boyfriend and I glanced at each other, our mouths open, a bit speechless at Jacques' bravado and spontaneity. My boyfriend couldn't imagine doing the same thing if he had been in his father's position, and he attributed it to the fact that his father was a doctor and wasn't uncomfortable about grabbing a perfect stranger like that, even if he thought it was to give her a hand (mind you, I don't think she would have fallen -- she wasn't really in danger, but Jacques just did what he thought was right in the moment). But there there was definitely an impetuous element to his gesture. And we all tried to laugh off the moment of discomfort... (It seriously felt like a scene from a sitcom.)

Of course, the woman's husband had been absent during the early part of the incident, as he must have gone off to the bathroom. And he showed up right at the critical moment, when Jacques was giving his wife a hand -- so to speak! He didn't look too pleased, but his wife kept joking about it, brushing things off and saying she felt "flattered" by Jacques' attention and assistance... And ironically, she was American! My boyfriend leaned over and told me to chat with her (something he often does in situations like this) and I felt a bit awkward, particularly after the curtain rod incident. So he asked her where she was from, and we did end up talking for a few minutes about our origins, how long we had been living in France, etc... But I didn't want to drag on the conversation and figured it was best to allow everyone to enjoy their meal. The funny thing is, the subject kept coming back up while we were eating, and my boyfriend and his father persisted in talking about it, while I kept trying to change the subject. "What are you planning on getting for dessert?" I must have asked at least a half a dozen times... The woman's husband then decided he wanted to make an example of me, kind of the "ignorant American just arriving in France," I guess, and he proceeded to ask me if I knew what he was eating... I guess he was trying to be funny, or friendly, or something, but I don't really like those kinds of things, particularly coming from a complete stranger. I would have thought he would have known better, after being married to an American fo 40 years! He went on to say that it was "tête de veau" and implied, with his tone of voice, that it was something he knew an American would never eat. I just brushed it off, said I had chosen duck myself, and told him to enjoy his meal. But underneath I was boiling...

Well, after that déjeuner mouvementé, we drove on to Vézélay, walked up the hill to visit the basilica, and then walked back down to the car. We didn't linger for very long, as it was pretty chilly outside (to say the least!) and we were all anxious to arrive in Besançon. I thought the second half of the trip would be much shorter, but unfortunately I didn't end up sleeping much at all, and we didn't make it to his sister's house until nearly 8:00. I didn't realize they lived right across the street from the village church, which was a nice touch -- I love hearing church bells chime throughout the day!

We've been having a nice, quiet Christmas together, and I've taken a few photos, which I hope to eventually post here on the blog (I've also baked a ton of cookies!). But the next few days are going to be hectic, as my boyfriend and I are taking a train back up to Paris tomorrow morning, and then I will be flying to the U.S. on Thursday to visit my family for New Year's. So I may be "out of commission", so to speak, for a few weeks... Then again, I just realized that this is my first post in almost three weeks anyway, so I guess that's nothing new! I'm going to do my best to become a more consistent blogger in 2008 -- we'll see how long I stick to that resolution.

And on that note, I shall leave you, all my dear friends throughout the blogosphere, and wish you a very Merry Christmas (If you celebrate, of course! Happy holidays to everyone in any case!)... See you in the New Year!

Event-Filled Week(s)

Sometimes these days I can't seem to keep up with things, but then there are other times, in the middle of the day, when I feel like I'm not doing nearly enough -- the irony of our time, I guess... I know that as the holidays approach time is only going to fly by faster, and the end of the month always hits me before I even realize it, with a pile of holidays cards still sitting on my desk patiently waiting to be stamped and sent. This year I'm determined to at least send out my cards to the U.S. by the 15th, holding onto my French cartes de voeux until the New Year -- one of the advantages of the French holiday traditions being that cards are sent in the New Year, and that custom holds that you have until the end of the month of January to get them out to one and all. Of course, in the past I've taken full advantage of this extended deadline, sending out some of my American cards down to the wire (using the French system as an excuse!), but I'd like to improve my card-sending skills, and avoid this procrastination that I appear to have ingrained in me.

Last week I unexpectedly attended several events that turned out to be wonderful experiences, ones I will not soon forget, and I have to admit that it is nice to have these kinds of appointments on my calendar at this time of year, when I'm inclined to get a bit of the cafard if I spend too much time at home alone. The curse of all expats, I guess! On Monday I crossed the Seine for a book-signing at Shakespeare & Co. -- Jeanette Winterson read from her latest book, The Stone Gods, and I couldn't resist picking up several books from her backlist as well, for myself and a few friends. I only just discovered her writing, I have to admit, thanks to dear Lauren, of course, who is my favorite source of wonderful literary (and cultural) inspiration these days. I'm looking forward to plunging into her writing over the holidays, when I'll have some time off from the daily grind and will be able to (finally!) throw myself into a few good novels. For some reason recently I've been having a really hard time reading for pleasure, a pastime that I've always taken for granted. I don't know if it's just the distractions of every day life or other preoccupations that are taking up too much space in my mind, but in any case I'm impatient to dive back into a good book again. I've also been disappointed by a few recent reads, and I have to admit that I count on a good book to pull me in fairly quickly in order to stick it out until the end... Perhaps I'm a bit too impatient and demanding, but I've reached a point now where I've decided that there are simply too many books waiting on my bedside table to be read, and I'm not about to waste my reading time forcing myself to enjoy a book that just doesn't do it for me. Basta -- life is simply too short, and I'm no longer reading out of obligation after all! Although sometimes I wonder if I may have missed my calling...

Winterson's reading was spectacular, by the way -- she was so dramatic and passionate when reading from her text, and she even went so far as to say that she practices a bit beforehand, that it's the least she can do, given the fact that we go out of our way to come to see her read. She really got into it, and climbed up on the table in the back of the shop so that we could all have a clear view of her throughout the reading. When I had her sign my books afterwards, I even picked up a copy of her children's book, The King of Capri, illustrated by Jane Ray -- when I saw it sitting there, tantalizingly, on the table, I knew I had to add it to my growing collection of children's books at home. It's a lovely fairy tale, with all the best elements: gorgeous, colorful illustrations, a story with a moral, and some appealing characters, including a little Italian cat.

Thursday night I was lucky enough to attend an excellent SCBWI France event held at the home of one of the organization's members in the 17th, where Uri Shulevitz spoke about his work for more than two hours (!!). He answered questions and went into great detail about his inspiration, his favorite forms of media when illustrating, his influences and even his most current work, which is to be published in early 2008. I was fascinated and couldn't help taking notes during the discussion, and I left the event feeling uplifted and inspired, convinced that I will soon apply my own inspiration to some drawings once again, and hopefully soon. Mr. Shulevitz's talk focused on the "invisible picture" in a drawing, as he called it, or the empty spaces in between two objects that ties them together, that unify a drawing and bring it to life. He emphasized that the "third picture" inside of a drawing is one that in fact you cannot necessarily see but that is only visible in your mind and is therefore stimulated by the story itself. In that sense, he explained, the meaning of a series of pictures in a story is often beyond the story itself and is made up of the elements that are underlying the story. The bigger picture, in fact, "needs to be fed by what's underneath."

Another point Mr. Shulevitz made during his talk that stayed with me is the importance of making a moment as specific as possible in a picture book in order to make the story itself more universal -- hence, a universal story can be made more personal and even more appealing. I was thrilled to be able to purchase a copy of one of his most famous books, Snow, which won the Caldecott Honor in 1999 and is magical in its use of spare text with enchanting, evocative and incredibly detailed watercolor images. All in all, I had a really wonderful evening, and thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of the event, including the delicious meal, the captivating presentation and discussion, and, of course, the company!

Tonight I'm off to attend another book-signing, once again at Shakespeare & Co., so I can pick up a few more copies of Clotilde's wonderful first cookbook. I already have a copy of my own, of course, that I got back in the spring when it was first published (fairly stained and a bit beat-up around the edges!), but I'd like to bring one home to my mom for Christmas, and possibly another for one of my closest friends in the States as well. Here's hoping I can get to the bookshop early enough for a good seat, and that I'll be able to get my hot little hands on several copies of her book! It's always a pleasure to hear Clotilde speak about her cooking and her writing, and her success is such an inspiration. This is one extremely multi-talented, warm, engaging and creative gal -- I have to admit that her blog is responsible for my motivation to finally get cracking in the kitchen. So I know this evening is going to be a particularly memorable event as well! I can hardly wait...

The Intrigue of "The Big Sleep"

Thanks to Riana over at These Days in French Life, I came across this fascinating op-ed piece from The New York Times... I have to say, this really got me thinking... And I know we live in an entirely different day and age, of course, and that we are meant to supposedly "move forward" in our approach to modern life, but who's to say that sometimes that act of moving forward might not -- or cannot -- involve a few elements of stepping back in time as well? Or learning from our ancestors and their slower approach to life in order to better preserve the world we live in? And perhaps we could learn to better appreciate our families, all those we love, by detaching ourselves just a bit more from all the material things that tie us to today's society?

I haven't put Riana's lessons to good use yet in my own daily activities, not nearly as much as I'd like, and I fully admit to succumbing to big-city temptations far more often than I should these days... (Yeah, I like some of the finer things too, I won't deny that!) But all that she has accomplished in her Slow Year has really inspired me in my own approach to life, and I will be putting these aspirations into action more and more with time. On that note, I really have conflicting feelings about Sarkozy's approach to certain elements of French society, and how things should change... I've always been a bit "on-the-fence" about my political leanings, and I've never spoken out about them here on my blog, perhaps out of fear of confrontation or disagreement (I've always hated arguments, although I know that French society is basically built on the beauty of debate!). And there are in fact some elements of Sarkozy's proposals that, in theory, make sense and seem to -- perhaps (do you sense my hesitatation here?) -- point us in the right direction. But why is it drummed into us from an early age, in today's society, to work, work, work -- hard and long -- to make more money so that we can, in fact, "be happy"? I know that in today's world we obviously all need to make money, to make a living, to get by, to survive -- but why does this have to be at the cost of our own personal happiness and fulfillment? Why does money have to be ultimately equated with our happiness? More and more I'm questioning this concept, realizing that my own happiness comes from the simplest of things. I'm already tired of the rat race at 33, and I don't even have a particularly stressful job! I'm tired of running after the "almighty dollar" -- or Euro in my case -- I want my happiness and fulfillment to come from those simple things. I know, I know -- you're all going to sigh and say, "You poor thing, but unfortunately, my dear, that's just not the way the world works!" And I guess you'd probably be right...

Or would you? I still have a problem with it. I just don't think I'm wired that way.

And don't get me wrong: I know there's nothing wrong with working hard, being ambitious, accomplishing incredible things. I just don't think I was necessarily cut out to be one of those people. I admire those who do set goals, who make so much happen, who get ahead and make great names for themselves. And I'm certainly not criticizing them. I think it would be great if there could be a better balance of both these kinds of people in the world... And I certainly don't expect anything to be handed to me on a plate, without any effort -- I of course realize that working hard brings great reward as well. But what's so wrong with spending more time with our families instead of working all the time, having in fact different values? Isn't that what a work-life balance is all about? Can we ever escape from this race?

My boyfriend has long said that he agrees with a lot of Sarkozy's principles, but I just don't know if this "work more to earn more" concept really applies to us -- that's the irony of this whole thing! I see how hard he has worked for years in a thankless job that has exhausted him and made him wonder about his own future. But at the same time, his philosophical side has allowed him to find happiness in the smallest, simplest of things, most notably the time he spends with his family and on vacation, away from the craziness of urban city life. It's a contradiction in action: obviously we have to work in that big city to be able to benefit from the comforts of the vacation away, but isn't there a better way of reconciling the two? And I just don't know if I necessarily want to "work more to earn more" myself as I get older... I believe I want more time to treasure the precious, valuable things in life, things that sometimes slip through our fingers faster than we all realize. When my boyfriend's mother passed away less than two years ago, that fact came into focus much sooner than any of us expected -- his father had worked very hard for many years to provide for his family, and after retiring, he planned on spending more time with the ones he loves, doing other things that he loves as well. But then he lost, far too soon, the one person who meant the most to him in the world... These are the curve balls that life throws at us sometimes, but it still makes me question our way of life.

I know that we all must struggle with these questions, and that in a way you may find these reflections of mine fairly clichéd and idealistic -- unrealistic to say the least. And I don't even know if there's a real "point" to my ramblings here today... Except to say that the "stop to smell the roses" approach is one of the main reasons why I fell in love with France! It was what made me feel comfortable here so many years ago, what made me feel at home. I have never really been able to put my finger on it exactly, never been able to describe to my family what kept me here. But I really think that this sense of wonder, this appreciation of the beauty of things around us without feeling compelled to have more at all times, finding happiness with less -- this is one of the primary things that keeps me here.

And to be honest, I'm sometimes a bit frightened that all of that is going to change, and faster than we realize -- far too fast for our own good. I feel lucky to have been able to experience some wonderful things in this country over the last 5-10 years, and very blessed in many ways. And of course I know that France is in need of reform, of improvements on many levels -- but what country isn't? My greatest fear is that this country may become a place that I no longer recognize, a place that it was never meant to be. Do we really want France to turn into another form of America? Please don't misunderstand me: I'm proud of my roots and my heritage, as well as the freedom and democracy that my native country represents, but I call France my home today for a reason. Wouldn't transforming France entirely ruin everything that we have come to know and love about it?

Sorry for this rambling tangent... It was just inspired by the article, and for once I really had to get my thoughts out there.

Now HERE'S a Nice Way to Cheer Me Up...

He had me at "Lunch?" Talk about reading my mind... And raising my wilted spirits, boosting my morale -- all that jazz... The way to a woman's heart is apparently through her stomach as well, at least in my case anyway!

When the phone rang at my desk around 12:30, I picked it up expectantly, recognizing my boyfriend's cell phone number on the raised screen. Perfect timing. It was so nice to hear from him, and even though most of our calls and exchanges throughout the day are completely mundane and inconsequential, this one bode well: he wanted to know if I would like to join him for lunch. After a dentist's appointment in the morning, he had decided to stay in the city a bit longer before taking his time getting back to our apartment in the western suburbs. He had a day off for once, a rarity, and it felt like a real luxury for us to share this time together. We hardly ever go to lunch together, as our lunch hours never coincide and I have to take the métro or bus to get to him anyway, but this time was an exception. Plus, most days I bring some leftovers from home, easier to warm up in our office kitchen and enjoy quietly with a book or with a few colleagues (plus, far more economical, of course!).

We felt like naughty schoolchildren -- or at least I did... When he suggested the brasserie, I couldn't help but say, "Is that really reasonable?" I knew it was exceptional, but it still felt forbidden somehow... But really, how often do we do this? We've been trying to pay attention to our budget, but some days just call for a treat. Today was definitely one of them. After grumbling into work this morning, fighting the crowds at St. Lazare along with hundreds of thousands of other commuters, I definitely needed something to cheer me up. Le Diplomate fit the bill, as it has a couple other times in the past (I'll never forget the time the waitress managed to save me a slice of rapidly-disappearing strawberry tart -- she will forever remain a favorite in my heart! And she still remembers it too...).

We first shared a foie gras aux figues -- heavenly! Really excellent, the best foie gras I've had in a long time. And then on to a fricassée de faisan avec jardinière de légumes... We enjoyed the meal with a glass of red wine, St. Emilion for me and St. Amour for him (I only opted out of the St. Amour because it was served chilled; I just don't like cool red wine! Otherwise, the romantic name is tempting, trust me. OK, you can call me cheesy, I don't care!). And then we shared a fondant au chocolat for dessert. So we managed to make the meal a bit more reasonable by sharing both the entrée and dessert. Still, it was far more expensive than anything we'd usually spend, with a hefty pricetag. But the meal was a nice moment of calm and happiness in the middle of an otherwise hectic period for me right now. So I honestly don't regret one second of it... On the contrary, it brought a broad smile to my face, and put me on a high that I'm sure will last...

At least until I make it back to the Gare St. Lazare to fight my way to the train back home tonight!

** On a sidenote, I managed to get a train around 7:00 last night, and even snagged a seat, which was darn near miraculous... But the only little bémol (I love this expression!) was that as I maneuvered my way down the train's stairs to get off at my station 20 minutes later, I only then realized that I had forgotten my umbrella under my seat (what was I thinking?!). Argh, another umbrella shot to the wind! But it's not as if it was one that I had attached any sentimental value to... I picked it up at Target in the U.S. last year, but it was super-practical in my bag and easy to use. What made me smile once again was when my boyfriend said, "Just think that someone who probably really needed that umbrella figured it was their lucky day." Isn't that a nice way to look at things?!

Mon petit déjeuner idéal

Well, this is basically how I like to start out my day on the weekend -- truth be told, I'd love to be able to indulge in this kind of breakfast every day of the week, but in spite of getting up extra early I still can never manage to squeeze in enough time to eat more than a few slices of bread with some coffee before heading off to work. Sundays are my exception, though, and the photo above shows what I love to enjoy, slowly and preferably with a good book (or with my boy!), before lazing around the apartment or heading out, depending on my mood and my motivation level.

This photo was obviously taken a few months back, early September I believe, when it was still peach season, or the end of the season anyway... In today's case, the peach was replaced by a pink grapefruit (complete winter addiction, I can't seem to get enough of them!) and the coffee by a hot chocolate... I can't let a Sunday brunch go by without my oeuf à la coque -- although years ago I would have probably shrunk away in horror from a soft-boiled egg, these days I love scooping out the eggy goodness. Sea salt and freshly ground pepper make it all the better.

Anyway, I just wanted to share a tidbit from one of my favorite meals of the day -- of course, I'm a complete gourmande and love eating any meal, but breakfast just about tops the list for me. Funny thing is, back in the U.S. I loved breakfast too, but it usually consisted of bagels and cream cheese with orange juice, perhaps some coffee too. When I go back home to visit, I do love to have bagels then, but I don't necessarily miss them all that much over here, given the fact that the bread is so good. I've become a bit of a bread snob, though, because not just any ol' baguette will cut it for me anymore -- I like the good stuff! Perfect with salted butter and fig jam, my favorite. The baguette in the photo above is a multigrain one, and my boyfriend and I go out of our way to pick it up from a boulangerie that's not as convenient, but has just about the best bread in our neighborhood. So it's worth the walk in the cold...

Speaking of which, I'm off to toast myself up some warm baguette now, and to prepare some lentil soup. I need something comforting on this freezing Sunday! I plan on staying inside all day long... And if I'm feeling motivated enough, I might just make an apple-pear crumble with ginger. Ohhh, and I even have some speculoos in the cupboard -- the perfect crumble topping! Wake me up when it's time for breakfast again...

Velouté de butternut aux épices

* UPDATED - now with recipe! *

Last Thursday was All Saints' Day, a holiday here in France, so I had a quiet day at home with my boy. Halloween came and went this year and I hardly even noticed, which is unlike me. I usually love to take in the decorations and even attend a party or two, but that just wasn't in the cards this time around... I didn't hear from a friend of mine who usually holds an annual Halloween fête, so perhaps this year something came up -- last year I had a good time dressing up as a chat noir, but unfortunately I didn't yet have a camera so I wasn't even able to immortalize the hilarious moment. I had gone all-out with the makeup, so the look was pretty convincing. A friend of mine did take a photo, but then I never got to see it... Oh well! I sometimes miss the Halloween fun from back home in the States, and although in recent years the French have gotten more into the holiday, it's true that it just isn't quite the same. Granted, there's a lot of commercialism in the holiday itself, particularly in the U.S., but it's still a great opportunity for kids to have a blast dressing in costume. When I used to work in children's books I helped out with organizing a big annual Halloween party, and although I was always stressed about my own costume, I loved seeing the wee ones dressed to the nines, wearing face makeup and enjoying the candy.

Thursday afternoon I took my time preparing a wonderful new recipe (I tend to be very long in the kitchen anyway -- my boy always jokes that we don't eat before midnight some nights, which is only a slight exaggeration!), a spicy butternut squash soup that was rich, creamy and delicious. I have to credit French Saveurs magazine for this little gem, and I'll be sure to include the recipe here later today, once I get my hands on it again. This time around I also had a little helper, because a friend of my boy's came over with his son and he joined me in the kitchen. He watched me making my way around the tiny space, curiosity piqued, and asked all kinds of questions. When I opened up the squash and started cutting it into cubes, he seemed fascinated -- so I asked him if he'd like to help out a bit. "Why don't you start by scraping out all those seeds?" He willingly obliged, and concentrated on pulling out every last one of the seeds with his fingers and putting them in a small bowl. We toasted the seeds in a small pan with some salt, and after cooking down the squash in a mix of chicken stock and coconut milk, we puréeed the soup in a blender, added in the toasted squash seeds, some poitrine fumée, which is basically the French version of bacon, and some fresh cilantro leaves. Valentin, my kitchen aide, rinsed the cilantro while standing on a stool over the sink, as you can see in the photo, and pulled the leaves off the stems. He did this so carefully, and I was blown away by how meticulous he was about everything. When we served the soup at the end, he was thrilled by the result -- even if the curry and the ginger made it a bit spicy! "Ca pique, mais c'est pas grave !" He didn't seem to mind too much, and ate half a bowl on his own, adding in some extra seeds from time to time. The seeds reminded me of the pumpkin seeds my grandmother would roast in the oven when I was a little girl.

I had such a good time making this soup with Valentin, I couldn't resist starting over again on Sunday with a new batch. I had bought two butternut squash at the market last week, so I had enough to make two rounds. Unfortunately, for some reason the second squash had barely any seeds! Good thing I didn't use that one to make the soup with Valentin... Here he is, super-proud of his efforts. He's quite the little cook! Wish I had started this young...

Velouté de butternut aux épices

(Spicy Butternut Squash Soup)

"Délicieusement onctueux !"

1 medium-sized butternut squash (the recipe doesn't specify weight, but I think that the average-sized squash would do -- the soup only serves about four small bowls, and it is very rich)

1 tablespoon of curry powder (more or less -- this is actually a lot of curry powder, so the second time around I only used 1/2 tablespoon -- depends on how spicy you like it!)

1/2 teaspoon of ginger powder, or 1 teaspoon of freshly grated ginger

50 cl of chicken stock

1 small onion

10 cl of coconut milk or light cream (crème de fleurette) (again, depending on how creamy and rich you like it)

a few fresh cilantro leaves

2 tablespoons of grilled or toasted squash seeds

4 slices of poitrine fumée, or bacon

30 g of butter

Salt (which I actually found unnecessary with the chicken stock and the bacon slices)

Peel the butternut squash and cut it into small cubes. [Also, reserve the seeds inside the squash -- you can toast these later in a small pan, with some salt if you like.] Peel and finely chop the onion. Warm up the butter in a large pot or Dutch oven and cook the onion on light heat for about 3 minutes, until it is transparent or a bit soft. Add in the ginger and curry powder and cook for another minute or so, while stirring. Add in the butternut cubes and cook them for about two minutes, again while stirring with a wooden spoon or spatula. Pour in the chicken stock and the coconut milk or cream. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and allow the soup to simmer for 20 minutes (until the squash cubes are nice and tender).

While the soup was simmering, I dry-roasted the squash seeds in a pan and then did the same with the slices of poitrine fumée until they were nice and toasty-brown and a bit crunchy.

Mix the soup in a blender or with an immersion blender (I know a regular blender is more high-maintenance, but I find it gives me better results, and the texture of the soup is creamier), add some salt if necessary. You can then serve the soup with a slice of the bacon in each bowl, or you can slice up the bacon into tiny pieces. Sprinkle on a few cilantro leaves and some toasted squash seeds, and voilà -- creamy, spicy butternut goodness!

* I found this recipe in French Saveurs magazine, november 2007.