Since I have such a bad time grocery shopping on the bike I haven't done any american dinners for my host family yet. I found a recipe for the not very pretty but super yummy Memphis barbecue brisket junkyard beans and coleslaw sandwich. (The "Po' Boy"; you can get it during happy hour from the Lazy Dog on Pearl Street). Moreover now that I think of it I'm willing to bet that the concept of Sports Bars is one hundred percent American. So in the morning I asked my host mom to buy some ingredients for me. I used google to translate all the ingredients into french but I had a hard time explaining the right type of beans that were necessary. Cooh-boy beans, yes? We'll try haricots rouges.
After two months in France, the day just before my depart I finally made it to the post office to send some words back to the states. The postman was super nice, an older gentleman and self-proclaimed autodidact, I think I have to go back tomorrow to mail a box of sweaters to myself I dearly hope I'll see him there again. Me: "Excusez-moi Monsieur, je parle pas très bien le français et j'ai besion de deux petite boîtes pour envoyer des affaires chez moi aux Etats-Unis". Postman: "Mais non vous parlez mieux que moi! Je viens de m'apprendre à parler français...."
After class I bought a tea tin and a cornet of macarons for my host family and rushed home to beat the rain. It's such a funny feeling when you hop off after a really strenuous bit of biking and it's as if you no longer have any legs, or they walk all by themselves. My 9-year old host sister was watching Aladdin and I learned the french words malfrat "crook", canaille "riff-raff" and funeste "deathly; disasterous". I dumped my sock drawer and some books in my suitcase and then I went downstairs to start dinner.
My host mom didn't know what barbecue sauce was, but she assured me that curry would make a good substitute, haha. It was raining so we cooked the brisket in a wok, and furthermore the teaspoon and the tablespoon say nothing at all to a french kitchen, so we improvised the whole way through. In the end it was fit for consumption.
I will go to Geneva tomorrow afternoon, and tonight I sniffle stuffing gingerly french treasures into my luggage.
