I have a confession: I love all things French. Okay, maybe not all things. I’m not so crazy about their politics or their reputation for rudeness. But I love the culture, the language, the beauty.
Ever since I was a little girl I have felt this affinity. It was nurtured when my mom would teach me French words like “bonjour” and “fleur” or when my neighbor traveled there and brought back a poster of the Tour Eiffel.
It was even more special to me because it was personal. Having been adopted as an infant, I knew nothing about my heritage or family history. Nothing… except that my birth mother had a French last name. (Yes, I illegally knew the last name of my birth mother. How crazy is that? That I knew it. And that it was illegal.) And so I loved Frenchness all the more because it was part of me in some unknown way.
Over the years I have studied the French language and visited French-speaking countries, although I have not managed to visit France itself. (That is definitely a bucket list trip that I hope to take!) I play French music in our home, and relish the fact that my kids love to dance to it. I have not eaten much French food, though, which brings me to my point for today.
There is a coupon for a local French restaurant. Curious, I pulled up the menu online to see what exactly I might eat there. To my great disappointment, I am less than thrilled by the menu options. Apparently, based on this particular menu, the French eat lots of seafood (which I’m not too crazy about, except for shrimp) and there are the more exotic items like foie gras, which mentally I find entirely disgusting (and a large part of enjoying food is definitely mental). So I don’t feel as though I can wholeheartedly embrace this French cuisine, which is a bit disappointing. However, there is chicken! And I do like chicken, so perhaps we shall go see what the French can do with le poulet. Wish me bon appetit! A bientot!