No different in Cornwall I would say and there are not many French here
And keep talking so you can use the knife and fork to add to the force of your argument
That was the stuff, Stork ! Argh, foul petroleum-derived product. These days I do prefer brown or black bread, but now and again a hankering for a thick-sliced bacon butty does impinge, but round here I cen get neither the bread nor the filling, so I have something else, like your Cantal and apple, and that will do my lunch too :) Except when with the Lyonnais in-laws, who spend the day preparing full menus for two mountainous multi-course meals... off again tomorrow for the Toussaint !
Yes, but the back door on our car slides!
This is a fine, illustrated discussion. One doesn't need Youtube to see the film :)
I like the notion of making the French seem "rather reserved". An evening of apéros at the Morgiou Calanque one year certainly showed me how expansive gestures are essential to communication at Marseille, anyroad :)
My father was a sapper, explosives recovery and disposal but not the removing detonator/defusing bit (boom, boom!) and we lived in the centre of Cologne, but in civvy street from '48 when I was hatched on. We kids were forever finding ordnance of some kind and the disposal squad would come out. If a building went missing we would look round the neighbourhood to find out if one of our mates was missing.
But we had butter. My mother was NAAFI manager and got all manner of things at cost price from the store. We began to have Stork and the like when we got (back) to the UK in the mid-50s. I have been averse to the foul, horrible stuff since.
Anyway, living amongst the Kölsch of that generation, I learned all the Frankish rather than typical German ways. They ate something like baguette in those days, but full of chalk because of the flour shortages. I have been averse to white bread ever since. Even the 'nicest' baguette does nothing for me and I still have a preference for 'black' and 'grey' bread. Having been with a minder and only local little ones until pre-school age, but then again in holidays, I began life with food and a lot of habits like the French, what with the Franks being the original French anyway that is not surprising. So when I married somebody nominally French (Corsican) back in 1970 people thought she had made me so foreign using my hands when I talk, looking people in the eyes and so on. When we lived in Swansea for a few years, we had a friend who is a chef trained here in France who more than once asked if I had a French mother!
There are things I probably do not adapt to here but then I have globe trotted for so long I seem to have forgot what is 'proper' anywhere. Because people who know me are aware of that they just treat me as influenced by foreign things but really cannot understand my reluctance to eat white bread, andouillette although I happily eat insects in other countries, how I eat an entire apple bar only the stalk, ditto pears and also am happy to take a chunk of cheese, something like Cantal, and an apple for lunch rather than bloat myself with a mountain of food then eat again in the evening!
I tried that when I was pregnant (between two car doors) and every passing car slowed down and peered at me to see what I was doing!
Think the French are bad! My OH is Swiss-Italian, same as the latter half, and for some reason always seems to have things near the edge of the table, such as the wine glass after a sip. The flailing arms make the French seem rather reserved. The amount of glass cleared from our floor in a year would glaze the average skyscraper ;-)
Well I do miss butter with bread so I don't usually eat the bread. Too many calories at my age. I have convinced my OH to eat dessert with a dessert spoon not a teaspoon. This is essential when trying to eat a pavlova.
For those ladies who want to know how to pee on the roadside, discretely, when it's an emergency and you just gotta go ... my French boyfriend recommended opening both doors on the passenger side (next to the side of the road). You squat between the two. Cars coming in either direction can't see clearly what you are doing. Courage, worked for me in the middle of the Morbihan.
Maybe it's my culture but I find I have less adherence to 'form' now, even though how things were done was somewhat British when I was young. While cognisant of the fact I have to fit in, such as eating so late, I tend to just do my own thing at my age - they can label me as exotic or eccentric if they like, I don't mind.
There are some things I can't adopt, like keeping my thoughts to myself, not contributing to classroom activities, and being ridiculously politically correct where so many important topics cannot be discussed without being accused of racism or some other ism. I'll question anything and ask why.
I function quite well here as I am, being respectful (yes, it can happen), polite, enthousiastic (see, I've integrated) and myself. Thank you for reminding me I must make a special effort to organise a chip buttie lesson for my OH. Haven't had one of those culinary delights in 4 years but I'll have to buy hard crusty bread for him as he hates the mie. Me, I'm the opposite - white processed slices - yum, with or without crust.
Heh, the steel works in Cardiff where I used to work didn't get bombed, it felt like working in an Alexander Cordell story :) All long gone now, of course, been replaced by a "marina" and a Harry whatsit chip shop.
Well I was born in '54 and my area around Great Yarmouth was one of the first bombed in both WWs. I stil recall war damaged streets at the back of our terraced houses in the mid '60s.
Rumour has it Ian that one particular Luftwaffe bombing raid in Liverpool caused 50 million pounds of IMPROVEMENTS !!!
Errh, the old ones are the best apparently !
Boney's War, obviously Peter !
Was born in 1950 and my granny spoke of Hitler's War as if it was only yesterday - which it was to her, I suppose. A stray Luftwaffe who'd missed Liverpool put a huge bomb in the mill lodge two streets away, all the windows in the area were blown out. That story was retold over and over for years. All the spaces where bulidings had been that had been bombed, that we used to play on, were called "bombies".
Which war are we talking about Ian ?
Oh, and the insistance on butter does come from way way back ; when I was a young lad we never had any, only that foul post-war margarine, New Zealand or Danish butter was too dear. While I can insist on butter I can say that my living standards have improved :)
Agreed. I'm the only one at the family table who insists on butter with my bread, I have to ostensibly get up and fetch it from the kitchen.
I'm also the only one who makes and enjoys chip butties while the in-laws stare aghast and make sardonic comments about "rosbifs". I challenge them to sample, but thus far no takers. I have however converted half of them into Christmas pud and custard fans :)
Most french can't imagine a meal without a carafe d'eau. Many brits still don't drink water with their meals - not a criticism just an observation.
I still miss not having butter on the table to go with the bread. Brekkie is still the only meal where butter will be automatically offered. Can you imagine a chip buttie without butter ?
I'm glad someone else noted the boules handling, I was worried I might have to step up :)
Very funny Doreen "handling their own boules" :) As for using same knife, aren't we supposed to wipe the knife clean on a piece of baguette before posing on the table? That is what the OH Does anyway :)
However, some French people are very precise with their eating habits, ie eating a pear with a knife and fork. English people are supposed to break their bread on their bread plate, with their left hand. If they use butter, the butter should be taken from the dish and put on the side of the plate before being spread on the bread. This applies to jam or marmalade too, it should never be spread directly from the butter dish or jam pot onto the bread.
I had a very pleasant surprise a couple of days back. I was showing a couple with five young kids (between 15 months - 11 years of age) around my house. Ater an initial tour the parents asked if they could re visit the property themselves along with the baby. They asked if they could leave the four other children to play quietly on a mat in the hallway. I gave the kids a stock of cakes & soft drinks and I have to say quite honestly I didn't hear a peep from them. Talk about impeccably behaved ? I don't know if this is the norm nowadays ?
They loved the house by the way and made an offer there and then. Unfortunately they also have a house to seel before being able to but so i'm not holding my breath...