I got notice of the coming holiday earlier this week -- no, I'm not talking Easter, I'm talking Easter Monday.
So I checked with the local grocery and the local bakery. Would they be open on Sunday? I figured they would be closed Easter morning, but I was wrong.
|The wisteria is in bloom here.|
I stopped at the butcher who always greets everyone with a booming "bonjour!" I ordered 600 grams of steak haché (ground beef), planning to make meatloaf tomorrow when some friends come over. He told me three additional ways that I could say steak haché in French. We then had a conversation about how difficult French can be because there are so many different ways to say things. I declared that it was easier to make oneself understood, but harder to understand, and he agreed then complimented me on my French. This point, by the way, may be only true for me as someone who can say more than I can understand when others are speaking French.
Next I went to the Spar, the local grocery store across from the butcher. The produce was very sparse (this is the same store that only carries produce that's in season) but I found some potatoes to make garlic potatoes to go with my meatloaf. I also scooped up a bottle of red wine and a bottle of blanquette (sparkling wine, allegedly a precursor to Champagne). The blanquette is a gift for some friends who are having me over today after I finish teaching. They had invited me for Easter lunch but I couldn't go, so they said to come for a drink.
When I scheduled classes a month ago, I forgot all about Easter, so my Sunday is booked up.
After finishing at the grocery, I went to the bakery. Again, I had checked with the bakers. Yes, they would be open on Sunday morning, and on Monday morning.
I think that a bakery has to be open in town, so they must negotiate among each other. My favorite bakery will close on Thursday instead.
As I was leaving the bakery, I noticed that a little bar/cafe that is rarely open had people sitting at outdoor tables. How strange that they would be open today, I thought as I made my way back to our rental apartment.
But for Sunday and Monday, my larder is stocked.
Well, I might go to the bakery again Monday morning to pick out a little dessert to serve my friends.
"Don't you Americans bake all the time?" my Irish friend Derrick asked.
Well, yes, we do. And at home, I was one of the baking-est Moms around. But does it make sense to bake in France when there are so many fabulous bakeries displaying their wares?
So far, not to me.
This Easter is a big contrast to last Easter when we were in Aix en Provence. Earl and I went to Mass where the incense set off the smoke alarms. Then we enjoyed a sunny lunch in the square. I was in a sleeveless dress and the sun drenched us. It was marvelous.
But my absent husband did make sure I'd have an Easter surprise. He had a friend deliver a chocolate rabbit to me. So thoughtful.
Maybe I should just break up the bunny for dessert tomorrow.
Hope you're all having a lovely Sunday.