There quite a few differences between Americans and the French, but the one I have been enjoying the most this past week has been their approach to food. In the States, we tend to view ourselves as machines, or animals that must be supplied with fuel and energy in order to operate. We try to eat balanced meals, with the right amount of every food group, each decision made based on function, and less on form.
Today, I learned what food it. I was invited to join my host family for a holiday luncheon at our house, where their children joined us. I was looking forward to it, but was slightly nervous as I inevitably am at all formal gatherings as I tend to miss many social cues and am deplorable on decorum. But this meal was an experience. We began with a beautiful crisp champagne, toasting one anothers health and to the holidays that are fast approaching. My impending move to Cameroon became the topic of conversation over an apparatif of delicate froie gras, neatly sliced and served on little brucetta toasts, lightly salted and with fresh ground pepper, grilled razor clams seeped in olive oil and garlic eaten right out of the shell complimented by green olives, flavored with more garlic. We moved to the table, where the deacedence, that never became oppulence, continued. We opened a heavy, dry Bordeaux, and passed around a plate of caviar. I have never tasted caviar before, and was not even sure how to serve myself, so I snuck peaks at my neighbors behind my wine glass to see what they were doing. Steaming little blinis slathered with a rich crème fraiche topped with a dollup of caviar was heaven. The blini created a solid and clean base that supported the soft, salty, breathtaking mix of the slightly chewy caviar and the smoothe crème. It was the most amazing thing I have ever tasted. We cleared our plates, continued to enjoy our wine, and I could feel my cheeks warming as the 5 frenchmen battered each other with stories about mutal friends, family members, jobs and vacations. The converstation wandered from the inheretence of the three children to what kind coffin the parents would want, then quickly moved on to reitrement before the meal could become macabre. Nicolas, our chef for the afternoon swept back into the room bearing plates crowned with the masterpiece for the night; a cheesy risotto sandwitched between two slices of clam and topped with shaved truffles. Each bite was more amazing than the previous and we were all silent for about 10 seconds as everyone savored it. Any one part of that dish could not have stood on its own, but together...it was music. The cold fishy taste balanced the richness of the risotto and the truffles...well, they were truffles. We were practically singing as we finished the wine, but it was far from over. We waved off salad in lieu of homemade "orangcello," a thick citris liquor that made you think of woodburning stoves and lemonade on a hot summer's day in the same moment. We finished off in a flourish with macademia nutt ice cream with the last of the truffles on top.
