Christmas and kisses...

(It snowed on the morning of the 26th...big fat fluffly flakes, but was gone by the afternoon - the view of the snow - not in all its glory from our window)

 

So it came and went. P and I spent a quiet, but gastronomically indulgent christmas season.  2 versions of a christmas meal, a french one on christmas eve involving oysters, scallops, duck, creamed chard and other coronary damaging foods and a more familiar dinner of turkey and the associated trimmings for Christmas dinner.  I should also say that I've been doing a lot of "experimental" baking in our toaster oven and we now have a (tiny) freezer full of christmas baking to last us through to the new year.  

Our Christmas night was made a little more exciting by a sudden power outage in our apartment (we were cooking) - everything in the fusebox looked right and the lights in the apartment building on our floor were on...so we had no choice but to knock on Monsieur Boudon's door and ask for help.  M. Boudon lives on the 1st floor of our building and is something of an informal "keeper" of the building.  We were introduced when we first moved in and were told to go to him if we ever needed anything.  M. boudon has a clear, booming french voice (only french) and is an amalgamation of a Hans Moleman in his "youth" and a  character from the "Guess Who" boardgame.  Does your person have small eyes?  Does your person have a big nose?  Is your person impossibly french and exactly the type of short and slightly pudgy person to run your french apartment building?  Is it M. Boudon?!  When we told him that our electricity had cut out, he shuddered at the thought of going up the stairs to the fourth floor, but nevertheless, put on some shoes and brought along a flashlight.  It was a quick fix after all.  Nothing to do with the breakers, but rather a giant button that was apparently linked to the main generator.  It wasn't the first time M. Boudon saved us, so in a panic, I looked around the cupboards for a "thanks/merry christmas" kind of treat.  (Un)fortunately, all we had were some chocolates that we had picked out for christmas from a nice shop...we shyly presented it to him and he refused, but we said that it was a little gift for christmas...he couldn't really refuse.  I got some christmas kisses from him and with a handshake for Paul, he went back to his flat.  Not that we were in need of sweets for christmas or anything and we were more than happy to give them to him...but we kinda missed those chocolates - I'd handpicked each one.

We've made some friends here (through someone from Paris we had met in Berlin) and have since gone out a couple times with them.  Yay for friends!  I was scolded on the first night we'd met because I put out my hand for a handshake and they said, "put that away, you're in France and a girl - you kiss".  Alas, I've been initiated into the world of bisous.  From that point on, it was kisses.  You know, I was wondering about that, if I was going to do them and how it was all going to go down, but it was all good.  I feel 10% frencher.  We went out for drinks the other night with 2 guys and by the end of the evening even P was being kissed goodbye.    

Produce from the market on the morning of Christmas eve.  We went to the madhouse that is Christmas Eve at Les Halles Victor Hugo for the seafood and duck.  Imagine a covered market with stalls of seafood, butcher counters, cheese stands and bakers..and then imagine it packed with frenetic french people clamouring for their christmas food.  Oysters were being sold like chocolates in the shops, each displayed in their own wooden crates ranging from 6 to 20 euro/dozen.  

Pain d'epice (spice cake) from the Christmas market.  This is to die for as it is, and transcendent in a trifle with port and prunes (we had enough trifle to last 4 days - no complaints).  A sexier dessert, I cannot think of.  It's hard to say why this is so mindblowingly delicious - maybe it's the dense texture, or the spicy and at times licorice-y tones...whatever it is, i am sad that no one at home can have a taste and confirm that I'm not crazy for being so seduced by this cake.  There is no shame in being hot and bothered by this cake.  NO SHAME.

This was our Canadian christmas for 2.  We did herbed turkey breast wrapped in bacon accompanied by its groupies.  Christmas in France was a little surreal, and it wasn't until we sat down at this meal that we felt it was Christmas.  Didn't take any pictures of the fancy french dinner - which was a little hairy during the plating and preparation, what with the oysters being shucked and having to deal with all that hot, rendered fat from the duck.