March 20, 2018 – First Day of Spring

I believe in the adage “Good things come to those who wait” but in this case, the adage should possibly read, “Good things come to those who wait and wait and wait!”  Yesterday, I made a commitment to have my publisher, She Writes Press, who published my first two books, A CUP of REDEMPTION and RECIPES for REDEMPTION, publish the first three books of my new series, SAVORING the OLDE WAYS.  The first book, SEARCHING for FAMILY and TRADITIONS at the FRENCH TABLE – BOOK ONE is a culinary/travel memoir about travels through the Grand-Est of France.  This tour will include the regions of Champagne, Lorraine, Alsace and I’le de Paris and will be coming out in July 2019—yes, a year away!  The next book, SEARCHING for FAMILY and TRADITIONS at the FRENCH TABLE – BOOK TWO, will be the conclusion of the same culinary trip but will head out of Paris and take in Normandy, Brittany, the Loire Valley and ending in the Auvergne.  It will be released in the Fall of 2019 and the third one, SEARCHING FOR FAMILY AND TRADITIONS at the ITALIAN TABLE, will be released in Spring 2020.  Yes, it seems like a long time to wait, but then this has been a journey-of-the-heart of which I began over twenty years ago.  So, I suppose I shouldn’t ‘get my undies in a bunch,’ so-to-speak.

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As a quick peek into the first book, let me entice you with this little tidbit: 

The bitter, sharp April wind howled all around us as my husband, Winston, and I shoved our luggage into the back of Josiane’s car.   Josiane, our French friend from California, and Martine, her cousin’s wife from the nearby Champagne Region, had arrived to pick us up at our hotel in Paris. I noticed the two were dressed in a most chic and colorful manner—typically Parisian, I surmised. My eyes dropped to my own drab slacks and gray top. Six months after 9/11, and I evidently had taken the U.S. State Department’s edict seriously: “Don’t look like an American.”  I sighed.

About a year before, I had retired as a family therapist to go traveling through France and Italy with a culinary arts teacher and chef.  We both were on a search. She searched for traditional recipes and I followed suit by interviewing the families who prepared those recipes.  And, of course, their stories.  It was then I decided to start writing a book about French families, their traditions and favorite foods.

It was purely a fluke that a mutual acquaintance introduced me to Josiane back in my hometown in California. But it was not until she, along with her mother, Marcelle, offered to ‘enlighten’ me about their family’s traditional recipes that I was truly hooked.  From the day they arrived in my kitchen for the first of several interviews, my life was never the same.  Over cups of coffee and wedges of lemon curd tart, we stumbled through our language barriers to form a most incredible bond while sharing our own cultural stories.  One of our first conversations reverberated through my mind:

“So, you are interested in learning how to prepare our French cuisine, n’est ce pas?” Marcelle peered over the top of her coffee cup at me, as she spoke.

“Oui, Madame,” I said, “I would love to learn what makes your cuisine world-famous; your haute-cuisine.”

“Our haute-cuisine?”  Marcelle took a bite of the lemon-curd tart I had so painstakingly baked, hoping this would meet my guests’ approval.  A twinkle flitted through her dark eyes.

“Oui,” I said, in my best French, “but more than ‘haute-cuisine’ I would prefer learning the fine art of traditional French cooking.”

Marcelle carefully dabbed her lips with her napkin.  “Well, Madame, our traditional cooking is rarely considered fine, but we certainly keep a respectable ‘cuisine pauvre.’”

I was brought up short with this French term and quickly turned toward Josiane for an explanation.

“Carole, ‘cuisine pauvre’ means ‘poor kitchen’ and refers to the traditional-type of peasant cooking.  These are the recipes that have been handed down through the many, many generations in our own family and are the type of cooking Maman has taught me.”

Well, that certainly caught my attention.  But, it was when I asked Marcelle what foods she served as a young wife in France, that I was fully caught off guard.  This 83-year-old woman threw her head back, laughed, and then said, “Well, we never had to diet.  That’s for sure!”  She took a sip of coffee and continued. “It was during World War II, you know.  My husband was part of the French Resistance—a Maquis—and we were all in hiding from the Germans.  We were lucky to have even one small potato to share between us, but we managed.  We were family.”

It was at that pronouncement, my life changed.  There was no way back.  Following these talks, with a few cooking classes tossed in for good measure, Josiane offered to continue my ‘education’ by guiding me through France—on a culinary tour with her mother. What could be more enjoyable? The idea of traveling with these two delightful women, while searching for traditional family recipes and learning more about their history sounded like a dream. I couldn’t wait!

But, we were forced to wait.  When the tragedy of 9/11 occurred, our original tour was cancelled, and a month later, dear Marcelle passed away.  The news was devastating on all fronts and I assumed all would be cast aside.  But Josiane informed me she still wanted to take me to France.  “In fact,” she said, “it would be our tribute to my Maman.” I couldn’t refuse.

Shaking the reverie from my mind, I wrapped a purple scarf about my neck, jumped into the backseat of Josiane’s car and strapped myself in beside my husband. This was, after all, the first day of my long-awaited culinary tour!