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When I was growing up, I was never the one who was all that into romance movies. Most of my best friends were guys or girls who were also mostly friends with guys; I spent a lot of time making fun of my sisters for watching silly chick flicks and going to four-dollar Tuesday showings of movies where a lot of things exploded.
That being said, there were a few romances that I had a soft spot for; I was convinced it was because they were the ones that seemed realistic. Imperfect, but perfect in their imperfection. Then again, I’ve always been more interested in scars.
Through a series of unfortunate events that those of you who live in France may empathize with and those of you who don’t will not believe, I can’t go home for Christmas this year. It will be the first Christmas I’m spending away from my family, which is slightly daunting, considering that, even now, when my youngest sister is eighteen, our Christmas traditions — sleeping in the same room on Christmas Eve, watching Christmas movies and creeping down the stairs early on Christmas morning — have held strong.
At first, it made me feel powerless. Then sad. Then angry. Now I think I’m resigned to it, and I’m making plans for my own Christmas here in Paris… but that’s not what I want to talk about today. What I want to talk about is love, but perhaps not in the way you might imagine; now, more than ever, I’m in love with France.
It might seem a strange way to react, but it makes sense, at least to me. In the face of the problems I’ve had with a slew of government agencies and paperwork, most people’s first reaction when I tell them about the change in plans is to blame it on France. The Country Boy feels personally guilty; American friends want to know why I still want to live here. But what they don’t realize is the fact that the more they enumerate all of France’s faults, the more I’m blind to them. The more I realize I’m supposed to feel fed up and ready to go back to America, where things like getting a job or going to the Post Office are easy and don’t require stacks of paperwork proving who I am, what I do, how much I’m worth and the fact that I can speak French… I don’t want to.
My father asked me time and time again when I was young why I deliberately make things difficult for myself. I argued it at first, but I realize now that maybe it’s true. After spending so much time learning that taking the easy way out was for the weak, I can never bring myself to do it, even when it makes sense… as it may seem to here. In America, I could have a job making twice as much as I make here, in a country that doesn’t frown at me every time I cross the border into it. I could wake up, live my life and go to bed in the language I’ve been speaking since I was born, instead of making faux pas in one that I learned less than ten years ago. I could… if I wanted to.
Maybe it’s not a bad thing that people keep trash-talking the country I’ve come to love… because with every bad thing they say, I think of two more qualities to replace it. The bank is closed for an hour at lunch? Yes… but everyone else gets an hour off at lunch as well. The SNCF is on strike for the entire month of December? Yes… but have you ever ridden Amtrak? The people at the préfecture are jerks?
Yes, they are. And no, I don’t have a counter.
But I do have Paris.
And beef bourguignon.
Beef Bourguignon
Note: This is not quite traditional, but I don’t really mind. It’s delicious, and that’s what counts.)
100 g. (a scant quarter pound) lardons or bacon cut into dice
1 tbsp. vegetable oil
1/2 cup flour
1 tsp. salt
1 kilo (2.2 pounds) uncooked beef chuck, cubed
1 large onion, thinly sliced
2 large carrots, halved and cut into inch-long pieces
500 cl. red wine
2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce (What TCB doesn’t know won’t kill him…)
Heat a large, heavy-bottomed Dutch oven over high heat. Cook the lardons or bacon, stirring occasionally, until crisped. Remove to a separate dish, leaving whatever grease runs off in the bottom of the pot. Add the vegetable oil.
Combine the flour and salt in a wide bowl or plate. Toss the chunks of beef in the flour mixture just to lightly coat, and then add to the stock pot. Brown on all sides in batches; be sure not to crowd the pan. Keep the beef warm in a dish until all of the beef pieces have been browned.
Add the onion to the pan and cook, stirring frequently, until softened and browned in places. Add the carrots and red wine.
Bring the wine to a light simmer, then add the beef to the pot, along with the Worcestershire sauce. Reduce the heat to low and cover. Cook for several hours (at least 2), stirring occasionally.
When ready to serve, add the lardons to the stew. Serve over mashed potatoes. This is best served the next day and will keep a week in the fridge.
