Roll up for the Mystery Tour

Although it wasn’t a normal dinner, it wasn’t far off, only stretched out a bit by the presence of the port and wine. We sat down just before 8pm, which can be early for dinner in France. There were six of us there and the conversation was quick and light-hearted. I didn’t understand everything, but most of it. My father-in-law offered the port and we started the meal with this thick apertif.

Since being with Mrs. International, I have learned patience at the table, and that learning has only increased since I arrived in France. A normal lunch will see us at the table for at least an hour and a half and I’ve built up a tolerance for sitting in a rigid wooden chair for so long. During the 4 hour Christmas ordeal, I had cabin fever before the main dish was served.

The sweet liqour wet our lips and the words came out faster, to my dismay. Although I’ve learned loads since being here, my French is still not fluent. Along with the apertif, we munched on crackers and chips. When are glasses were empty and the plate along with it, there was a brief pause as the salad was brought out—beautiful greens with chunks of smoked salmon and a side of guacamole. Delicious.

As customary at the table, we sat with the full plates in front of us, nobody daring to attack theirs until someone moved first.  Mrs. International looked at the others, picked up a piece of bread in an effort to signal the others that it was time to eat.  When no one answered her call, she began to eat and the rest of us followed, happy that someone had broken the spell.  I usually finish my plate first, not only because I’m a fast eater, but also because I have the least to say.

When everyone was done, we let the food settle before the main course came out—Guinea fowl with succulent potatoes and salsifi. The plates went out around a couple of times, the hostess trying to convince us to finish it. Empty plates are much preferred to leftovers in France, more so for the compliments than the nutrition. The willing filled their glasses with wine, we took a few deep breaths and then the cheese came out. In France, cheese is a separate course—that night we had a sheep cheese, a goat cheese, and a camembere—with homemade bread. After another ‘coup de vin,’ the desert came out a berry tiramisu–crumble, chocolate, rasperrys, and cream.  Beautiful and delicious.

I think we were all relieved when we finished the desert, happy to have survived another stuffing.  For the last round some of us had coffee and some of us had tea…served, of course, with orange cake!!

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