Best line I've I read on food and just about everything else I've read recently: "Andouillette are pork intestines stuffed with what smells like what pork intestines are usually stuffed with while still being used by the pork."
You nailed every single one of my unspoken hatreds. Although now that I wrote that, my busy little mind is searching under the cobblestones for more things.
Maybe not so oddly, some of your examples did, surprisingly, bring up a "yeah but" for me. Like the victorious pleasure I get putting on the first bra in my life that has ever fit perfectly. The victory is set up in the overcoming the dread, don't you think?
Not all of these examples, well not many of them, actually, are even vaguely surmountable, (I am definitely not talking about learning to love pork or dog poop here) but that one caring, well trained, experienced, did I say caring? corsetière, healed years of body shame. Was it worth the 100€? Absolutely. a. I can quit therapy b. I now can see if Monoprix had my weird size.
Another victory was realizing that most of the shops that I have found intimidating (I'm not in Paris or Nice) are actually full of inexpensive stuff beautifully displayed to look amazing. That has helped me a lot. Therés nothing for anyone to get all snobby about. (Although I do remember a saleswoman in Bon Marche 30 years ago coldly saying as she walked away, "Je ne connais personne comme vous."
Kinda killed the joy.
Nowadays, these poor souls aren't around much and I have found their replacements beyond helpful and sweet.
Thank you so much for a terrific piece. It's a real winner!
Absolutely! Someone could do a course on it! Any woman would relate. Every issue you've ever been plagued by: shame, sin, worthlessness, aging, etc etc can be found in this one task.
The bra fitting is absolutely worth it! Though I confess I experienced it first at the hands of a woman from Cape Town selling bras from Germany in a tiny boutique in Laurel Park, North Carolina. Once you screw your courage to that sticking point you can face down almost any fear. Possibly because you are no longer being distracted by ill-fitting undergarments🤣
If I can conquer the mammogram and breast ultrasound in France (going between those two rooms can sometimes be, um, a challenge without a handy gown), I might be able to handle the bra fitting.
Yes, I've gotten pretty skilled at IDing the human kind, mostly because of the positioning. We do have our share of large breeds here. (Identified by their presence, not their poop.)
Just FYI - at several of the cafés in Paris that translate their menus into English for the tourists, andouillette is translated as "chitlin sausage." (OK, officially the term is "chitterlings.") The first time I saw that, I got a good giggle out of it as I do know exactly what chitlins are. Bon appetit!
trust me, as someone who grew up near you with our palates, you would not like Chitlins (ugh!). Spot on about the Scrapple---oh how I miss it. I am tempted to bring a recipe to a butcher and see if they will make some for me :) or Sweet Lebanon bologna...
I literally made a career out of not being afraid of things, won prizes for it, but I have to admit you hit the proverbial nail on the head with this list, with one or two exceptions. My Paris neighborhood has no dog shit anymore but it has loads of pricey boutiques (my across the street neighbor is the flagship store of Christian Louboutin) and the clerks couldn't be nicer. I have nightmares about having my CDS revoked and being berated for not paying my taxe fonicaire at the prefecture in my ill-fitting French thong after a lunch of andouillette that I vomit on the wet cobblestones. Zut, the life of an expat is fillled with such horrors. Still, I am visiting America right now and my greatest fear is ever having to live here again. I went to pick up an antibiotic RX and the copay was $1015. I want to go home. To France. Now.
Over 50 years in Europe, Africa, and Asia, I've become used to most of these. I grew up on a farm so learned early to watch where I was stepping. I thought I'd seen it all until I went to use my first toilet in the Morocco in the mid-70s. And I made sausage at butcher time on the farm with my German grandfather, who learned the art of sausage making in Lower Saxony, though Andouillettes are not on the top of my list. Too crunchy.
Scooters are a noisy nuisance, but I've been riding motorized two-wheel conveyances since I was 7 years old until just a few years ago, so I do admire the skill and coordination of som, unless they're also texting on their phones. And the Prefecture. Bof. I worked for US federal government for 30 years - les fonctionnaires français de bas niveau don't scare me. Well, maybe a little...d.
But the telephone, aye, there's the rub. I just don't answer calls unless I recognize the number because it will go downhill from the first allo. That said, I did manage to make an appointment over the phone with a doctor last week. It took me half a day to recover.
Too funny! I remember when i was in college and studied in Nevers in ‘84. I wrote a diatribe to my folks back in MN about ALL the dog poo on the streets of EVERYWHERE in France!!!
It makes me laugh now but it definitely was a serious problem then and its kinda funny that even now it still is an issue!! ✨🥰
The Préfecture called me last week to announce that my appointment to go for my next card was on a date in June.
I already had had notice that it was for next week, still in May.
It turned out that the Préfecture had used an old email address (which only the central gov had used for an original application some years ago) and not, of course the email address I had used to make my application - I foolishly expected to be notified on the aforementioned address. One email using my current address had, to be fair, contained a link to next week's appointment which I printed out in colour and blue tacked onto the wall above the computer, after highlighting what to take in orange and thereafter looking at it every day.
So when the call came to say that it would be in June I was fairly shocked - mostly shocked because:
a) I had managed to work out that it was the Préfecture on the phone and not a scammer, and had not termintated the call with a 'non'.
b) I also managed to plead with them when they told me which email address they had used: after about eight minutes they reinstated my original date.
After going into the archives of my brain for passwords we managed to get into the old account they had quoted on the phone and found: meeting set, meeting cancelled, meeting reset for June, and meeting reinstated for next week. All copied to my current email address this time.
I love them when they are human.
I am taking print outs of all the emails, in date order.
Oh, this afternoon I got another confirmation that the convocation is for next week, the original date, on the old email address, of course ......
Phew!! How confusing. You handled it so well. Bravo! I hope you are doing well. Stay cool during this heatwave. Let us know when you are in town again. Maybe we can catch up for coffee.
What a delightful read!!! Oh andouilliette…my first one was at a Flunch. I didn’t know what I was ordering. I was starved and it was 1:30. It was served with a mustard sauce. Now I love questionable meats. I don’t even know what was inside, it was squishy, a bit rubbery. I loved it. So I thought I loved all of them. Wrong. The next one I had was very stinky. I’ve never had it again. But I LOVE scrapple!
Thanks for the heads up on the telephone French course! I need that desperately. At a job in Toronto several years ago, I frequently had to call people in Québec and attempt to communicate with them in French. It was terrifying!
In the town we lived in in MI. He was the municipal judge, later renamed district judge. Everyone in town still called him “judge” for years after he left the post.
Since we became your closer neighbors I have to agree with the delivery chaos. The other day I got a text saying my very small package was out for delivery. And then an hour later it wouldn’t be possible. Then an incomprehensible phone call from the delivery guy 45 minutes later asking if anyone was home because he was going to drop off the package. Which he did. An hour and a half later.
Best line I've I read on food and just about everything else I've read recently: "Andouillette are pork intestines stuffed with what smells like what pork intestines are usually stuffed with while still being used by the pork."
Oh Theresa,
You nailed every single one of my unspoken hatreds. Although now that I wrote that, my busy little mind is searching under the cobblestones for more things.
Maybe not so oddly, some of your examples did, surprisingly, bring up a "yeah but" for me. Like the victorious pleasure I get putting on the first bra in my life that has ever fit perfectly. The victory is set up in the overcoming the dread, don't you think?
Not all of these examples, well not many of them, actually, are even vaguely surmountable, (I am definitely not talking about learning to love pork or dog poop here) but that one caring, well trained, experienced, did I say caring? corsetière, healed years of body shame. Was it worth the 100€? Absolutely. a. I can quit therapy b. I now can see if Monoprix had my weird size.
Another victory was realizing that most of the shops that I have found intimidating (I'm not in Paris or Nice) are actually full of inexpensive stuff beautifully displayed to look amazing. That has helped me a lot. Therés nothing for anyone to get all snobby about. (Although I do remember a saleswoman in Bon Marche 30 years ago coldly saying as she walked away, "Je ne connais personne comme vous."
Kinda killed the joy.
Nowadays, these poor souls aren't around much and I have found their replacements beyond helpful and sweet.
Thank you so much for a terrific piece. It's a real winner!
Thanks Ahulani. So you think a pro bra fitting might be therapeutic ?
Absolutely! Someone could do a course on it! Any woman would relate. Every issue you've ever been plagued by: shame, sin, worthlessness, aging, etc etc can be found in this one task.
The bra fitting is absolutely worth it! Though I confess I experienced it first at the hands of a woman from Cape Town selling bras from Germany in a tiny boutique in Laurel Park, North Carolina. Once you screw your courage to that sticking point you can face down almost any fear. Possibly because you are no longer being distracted by ill-fitting undergarments🤣
If I can conquer the mammogram and breast ultrasound in France (going between those two rooms can sometimes be, um, a challenge without a handy gown), I might be able to handle the bra fitting.
Sentence 2 is a novel waiting to be written! Barbara?
Brava! Loved this. The Dog 💩 problem…ah, it never ends, does it? Hopefully there are mostly les petits and their 💩 is like a cigar.
We’ve got some BIG dogs here!!
Some of it is human waste, which accounts for the size - and sometimes for the deliberately malignant positioning.
Yes, I've gotten pretty skilled at IDing the human kind, mostly because of the positioning. We do have our share of large breeds here. (Identified by their presence, not their poop.)
Yikes!
Love this post! I once ordered andouillette at a cafe in Paris thinking it was a version of andouille. Wrong. SO VERY wrong.
Such an easy mistake to make.
Just FYI - at several of the cafés in Paris that translate their menus into English for the tourists, andouillette is translated as "chitlin sausage." (OK, officially the term is "chitterlings.") The first time I saw that, I got a good giggle out of it as I do know exactly what chitlins are. Bon appetit!
Hmmm. I’m stumped.
Wikipedia has a thorough article on chitterlings for your reading pleasure.,😃😁
Merci
trust me, as someone who grew up near you with our palates, you would not like Chitlins (ugh!). Spot on about the Scrapple---oh how I miss it. I am tempted to bring a recipe to a butcher and see if they will make some for me :) or Sweet Lebanon bologna...
I literally made a career out of not being afraid of things, won prizes for it, but I have to admit you hit the proverbial nail on the head with this list, with one or two exceptions. My Paris neighborhood has no dog shit anymore but it has loads of pricey boutiques (my across the street neighbor is the flagship store of Christian Louboutin) and the clerks couldn't be nicer. I have nightmares about having my CDS revoked and being berated for not paying my taxe fonicaire at the prefecture in my ill-fitting French thong after a lunch of andouillette that I vomit on the wet cobblestones. Zut, the life of an expat is fillled with such horrors. Still, I am visiting America right now and my greatest fear is ever having to live here again. I went to pick up an antibiotic RX and the copay was $1015. I want to go home. To France. Now.
Oh, returning truly is the biggest fear!! I was quite uncomfortable during my last visit.
Will keep my fingers crossed & the blessed mother statue in the window for your continued permission to live in France.🙏💕
Over 50 years in Europe, Africa, and Asia, I've become used to most of these. I grew up on a farm so learned early to watch where I was stepping. I thought I'd seen it all until I went to use my first toilet in the Morocco in the mid-70s. And I made sausage at butcher time on the farm with my German grandfather, who learned the art of sausage making in Lower Saxony, though Andouillettes are not on the top of my list. Too crunchy.
Scooters are a noisy nuisance, but I've been riding motorized two-wheel conveyances since I was 7 years old until just a few years ago, so I do admire the skill and coordination of som, unless they're also texting on their phones. And the Prefecture. Bof. I worked for US federal government for 30 years - les fonctionnaires français de bas niveau don't scare me. Well, maybe a little...d.
But the telephone, aye, there's the rub. I just don't answer calls unless I recognize the number because it will go downhill from the first allo. That said, I did manage to make an appointment over the phone with a doctor last week. It took me half a day to recover.
Too funny! I remember when i was in college and studied in Nevers in ‘84. I wrote a diatribe to my folks back in MN about ALL the dog poo on the streets of EVERYWHERE in France!!!
It makes me laugh now but it definitely was a serious problem then and its kinda funny that even now it still is an issue!! ✨🥰
Paris is much less poo covered than years ago. Some cities, less so. I’m
Hoping they all work on it.
Yes - the fear of being expelled is huge.
And the fear of phone calls - is it another scam?
The Préfecture called me last week to announce that my appointment to go for my next card was on a date in June.
I already had had notice that it was for next week, still in May.
It turned out that the Préfecture had used an old email address (which only the central gov had used for an original application some years ago) and not, of course the email address I had used to make my application - I foolishly expected to be notified on the aforementioned address. One email using my current address had, to be fair, contained a link to next week's appointment which I printed out in colour and blue tacked onto the wall above the computer, after highlighting what to take in orange and thereafter looking at it every day.
So when the call came to say that it would be in June I was fairly shocked - mostly shocked because:
a) I had managed to work out that it was the Préfecture on the phone and not a scammer, and had not termintated the call with a 'non'.
b) I also managed to plead with them when they told me which email address they had used: after about eight minutes they reinstated my original date.
After going into the archives of my brain for passwords we managed to get into the old account they had quoted on the phone and found: meeting set, meeting cancelled, meeting reset for June, and meeting reinstated for next week. All copied to my current email address this time.
I love them when they are human.
I am taking print outs of all the emails, in date order.
Oh, this afternoon I got another confirmation that the convocation is for next week, the original date, on the old email address, of course ......
Phew!! How confusing. You handled it so well. Bravo! I hope you are doing well. Stay cool during this heatwave. Let us know when you are in town again. Maybe we can catch up for coffee.
What a delightful read!!! Oh andouilliette…my first one was at a Flunch. I didn’t know what I was ordering. I was starved and it was 1:30. It was served with a mustard sauce. Now I love questionable meats. I don’t even know what was inside, it was squishy, a bit rubbery. I loved it. So I thought I loved all of them. Wrong. The next one I had was very stinky. I’ve never had it again. But I LOVE scrapple!
Scrapple rules! It's one of the things I have missed since giving up most meat.
Charming, humorous, entertaining.
Thank you
I buy most of my underwear at Action. I love that they have bamboo options that are comfy and inexpensive.
I haven't been there but see that there is one a bus ride away. Thanks for the tip.
Action is also great for cleaning products, lined (not graph paper) notebooks, and art supplies.
LINED NOTEBOOKS !!
I will die on Scrapple Hill!
It's worth dying on.
Thanks for the heads up on the telephone French course! I need that desperately. At a job in Toronto several years ago, I frequently had to call people in Québec and attempt to communicate with them in French. It was terrifying!
(By the way, I’m also a judge’s daughter . . . )
We should start a judge's daughter club! Where was your dad a judge?
In the town we lived in in MI. He was the municipal judge, later renamed district judge. Everyone in town still called him “judge” for years after he left the post.
My dad also was a Municipal Court Judge, in Philly.
Since we became your closer neighbors I have to agree with the delivery chaos. The other day I got a text saying my very small package was out for delivery. And then an hour later it wouldn’t be possible. Then an incomprehensible phone call from the delivery guy 45 minutes later asking if anyone was home because he was going to drop off the package. Which he did. An hour and a half later.
I got a message yesterday that described the reason for rescheduling as un événement.