Host Family Dinner

As part of the living arrangement, my host family has to serve me at least one meal a week. I know. This seems strange in the United States where you might shower a foreign student with mountains of (processed and reprocessed) food, let them use your washing machine, and talk to them until their ears fell off. The French are a little subtler than that. Some may call them frugal and others cheap. Some may call them cold and others “Jack Frost.” (From my perspective at the time of posting, even the Russians would find them cold, but that is a blog to come). Indeed, the French are only a little bit nice, but they operate on a different scale then we do. It is one of those cultural barriers we all need to get over.

I digress. This post is not a dissertation on “The subtle cultural differences and oddities as expressed by the French, specifically concerning those in Angers, France” (again, a blog to come). Rather, it is about the dinner we shared on Monday. Crepes.

The dinner started with Madame (Mme.) and I in the kitchen. We usually eat in the dining room, but the crepes are made to order so that would just be crazy. Monsieur (M.) was on the phone with one of his daughters. He was speaking so quickly, I don’t even think she knew what he was saying. That is not important. The crepes are important.

But the crepes have to wait. The first course in this meal of meals was the galette. Galette? I want a crepe, lady. But the galettes were actually delicious. Traditionally, galettes (here, Breton galettes – i.e. galettes from Brittany) are essentially crepes but they are made with buckwheat flower, a “very French” flour Mme. assured me. They are almost always savory. She asked if I wanted cheese, ham, or egg. All three? Yeah, duh. She cooked the galette and then added the cheese to melt, the ham to warm, and the egg to cook (sunny side up style). It was fine. It was even better than fine. Runny egg yoke, gooey cheese, and ham all stuffed in a (who are we kidding) brown crepe? It was good. (For those of you keeping score, M. has arrived to the dinner party and is now enjoying a galette he insisted on preparing himself.)

After the galette, Mme. served some salad (lettuce only) with a simple vinaigrette. Clearly this was not the star of the dinner. But why would the salad even try when there are crepes involved?

And then she asked what kind of crepe I wanted (I have been waiting days for this moment). For the first one, I asked for her favorite. Let me ask you a question: Have you ever eaten something that blows your mind? I have. It was a crepe with butter, sugar, and lemon. Probably the best crepe I have ever had. Definitely. Forget the chocolate or Nutella (although I did have a Nutella crepe as my second and it was delicious) or fruit jams or whatever. When I put this one in my mouth, the sweet/sour flavors made me want to yell. They made me actually want to open my mouth and sing. It took all my might not to. But really. When I ate this crepe, my mouth sort of tingled. It was an experience.

Both Mme. and M. had a crepe with some of that Sander’s hot fudge sauce I gave them. They both loved it. The hot fudge seemed to remind them of a chocolate/caramel candy (bonbon) that is a French staple (score one for me!). I am going to seek this bonbon out, and I’ll let you know my feelings on the matter.

And that was dinner. We still have so many more to go. Mme. has a lot to live up to next week, but I’m sure she will pull through. She is French after all.