We’ve been blessed lately by a spate of sunny days that make it hard to remember what I was complaining about a month ago. (There’s a lesson in there somewhere.) Things are changing color, trees display their first tentative buds. The days quietly stretch out, waking from winter slumber.
The world feels full of possibilities, hope, renewal. The city might burst into song like a musical. Nevertheless, the 6 pm curfew still stands, as do the tired limitations: no places to gather. Nowhere to go for coffee or cocktails or a meal. We’ve had little in the way of updates about what’s to come. We joke that they (the powers that be) have simply forgotten about us. Jean-Michel, you did tell them the curfew ended two weeks ago? Euh…
The bright side of all this is the renaissance it encourages, that of good old-fashioned hospitality. Coffee and cake in a cozy living room instead of the middle of town. An all-evening apéro with the next-door neighbors. And picnics, a joyous mess for the toddler and parent alike. Eat with your hands: chocolate cupcakes with sprinkles and foil-wrapped focaccia sandwiches still warm from the oven. Crumbs tossed to ducks.
This was our weekend, and it was perfect.
Otherwise this month we’ve gotten outside as much as possible, even on the really chilly days. We’ve hiked in forests and on paths I don’t know the names of. We just jumped in the car and drove into the hills of the Beaujolais, stopping at trailheads and when we saw cows close up. We have an old-school running stroller given to us by Victor’s parents. It can handle anything. (Though Clara is wanting to walk by herself these days.)
To warm up back at home, we would bake. My mom said it was the right time to let Clara help, and she was right. She can stir with a whisk or wooden spoon, pour pre-measured ingredients, and test the batter. In addition to huge, floury messes, we made: pear muffins, banana muffins, a Dutch baby, Trader Joe’s pumpkin cookies from a mix I brought back in my suitcase, and Alison Roman’s Tiny Salty Chocolaty Cookies (the stuff of dreams).
I hope all this activity will help inspire in Clara an appreciation of food and the art of getting it on the table. I think it’s working, because already I’ve noticed things disappearing from my kitchen and popping up in hers (a bag of Korean chili flakes, an orange, an onion, the spoon that goes with the rice). The other day I noticed her trying to hack into a real apple with the wooden play knife that came with her “pink retro kitchen set.”
In other news, I completed what should be my last administrative task (as relates to living in France) for a long, long while. It was simple–a change of address on my carte de séjour, but still required a trip to the préfecture in Lyon and an hour-long wait in a packed room. After that, we couldn’t do much in the city for fear of curfew issues, but we did manage to visit Supermarché Asie in Lyon and stock up on things like tamarind paste, Shaoxing wine, fish sauce, and many kinds of noodles. I found everything I need to make several restaurant favorites at home. I’m loving the blog Woks of Life and in particular, the recipes for Pad thai, bibimbap, drunken noodles, and sesame chicken. They also have a great article on how to stock your pantry specifically for Chinese cooking.
Our renovation project is coming along. It helped to have two weeks of professional help with the floors. There were a few days where seven guys worked together on the project, which seemed so extreme we joked the Seven Dwarfs were doing our renovation. I can’t wait to keep showing this place some badly-needed love and see what it turns into. Here are Victor and Clara at a flooring store, negotiating parquet prices. You can see she’s really part of it. She leaned forward on her papa’s lap, hands clasped, and occasionally shouted no! or au revoir! at the employee. A tough customer.
Better go chase some daffodils. Until next time!