Santa's Goose & Other Wild Animals

As you probably know, my mom, the Grand-mère, is here. The other day we took the Littlest to the LeClerc shopping center where they have the most adorable Christmas displays with animated wilderness animals. There's a deer family with a spotted baby deer who lifts his tiny bottom as if attempting his first steps and then lets it fall again, content to stay under the watchful gaze of his mother. There are raccoons sitting on a bench, twisting and turning to some unheard raccoon music and my favorite; the cutest little red fox sniffing the shopping air across from the fancy lingerie boutique.

isn't that so sweet?

The Grand-mère noticed how so many of the small children like our Littlest were accompanied by grandparents; elderly Frenchmen with trimmed moustaches, pressed jeans and loafers, holding the small hands of their petite filles.

bunny family

'Daddy reindeer'

And in the middle of this winter scene sat the tiniest Santa I've ever seen. His stature was much slighter than the American and Irish Santas of Christmases past but then again, isn't Santa an elf? Who fits down a chimney? So maybe his smaller French version makes the most sense.
He was jolly, waving from behind his white picket fencing, his tiny face peeking out from an enormous white curly beard. As we got closer the Littlest pointed out that he had no mouth, it being entirely concealed by the snowy beard. I think this fact made the Littlest even less trusting. 'Where is his mouth, Mommy?' Hmmmmm....

French Santa was kind and patient and knew just what to do to make the Littlest feel at ease. He even spoke a bit of English as he explained what I should do: touch his finger with mine ET style and encourage the Littlest to do the same, sit on the arm of  his Big Chair and hold the Littlest on my lap, gently ease him closer to Santa and carefully leeeeaaaaan out to the side so I couldn't be seen in the photo.
And it worked. We got a few shots of the Littlest looking very skeptical as Santa smiled and waved and chuckled and all you can see of me is my stylish grey fingernails holding tightly and reassuringly to his tummy.

Next came Grand-mère's turn on Santa's Big Chair. She and her best friend have a little Santa photo tradition and so she was obliged to climb on up and wave and smile. The young woman taking the photos laughed and showed us an example photo of a French Grand-mere smiling happily from Santa's tiny lap. Did you see that? It was not a typo. I meant to write 'lap' and not 'Big Chair'.

keep wavin' Santa, let me see those hands

French Santa likes to have the Mamis sit on his lap. He waves and smiles and chuckles. And squeezes.

The look of surprise on my mother's face was priceless. I thought she was just embarrassed by being in the middle of a French shopping center while other Frenchies watched her sitting on tiny Santa's lap and getting her photo taken. Turns out her wide-eyed look was in response to the placement of Santa's white-gloved hands. Up, up and away went the right hand and scoochy, scoochy slide went the left. Oooolala Père Noël! Those rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes belonged to a frisky Papa Christmas!


Merry Christmas from the South of France, where even Santa is plein de verve.

Christmas Triple Delight

One of our favorite things happened this morning.
If you live abroad it's probably one of your favorite things too.
We got packages from home! Three packages to be exact. All stuffed full of beautifully wrapped Christmas presents and American junk food direct from the Grandparents in Texas.
My Beau-Parents send each child their very own BIG box.You can imagine how much they love this. They send a pack each of favorite 'sometimes' food that we can't find here in France. But even if we could it wouldn't be the same as coming all the way from Texas in a box marked specially for you.

Each child got the following: a jumbo pack of Fruit Roll-ups, a packet of Goldfish crackers, movie size packs of Reese's Pieces, M&Ms and Milk Duds, Cheetos and a box of Froot Loops, Cap'N Crunch and Lucky Charms to share.

The Littlest kept gasping and saying, 'oh. my. goodness.' and 'this is really my favorite.' When he put his presents under the tree he said, 'this is from Grams & Gramps, this is from Grams &Gramps..' on each trip.

there's a little boy behind those Milk Duds

The Middlest took the opening of his package very seriously. He had to get his gloves out and carefully maul the box with a pair of scissors. This took awhile. And therefore he was the last to finish opening and gasping. Which is his way. He's great on Christmas morning and birthdays because he takes it all very seriously, opening carefully and paying attention to each new item.

note the gloves

Ma Fille was equally thrilled but made quick work of getting into her package with the big red kitchen scissors and then started marking names on everything so no one would confuse any of her loot with theirs. She's a bit bummed that she can't eat the Milk Duds because of her new braces but she's put them into her 'eat in a year' box.

oh. my. goodness.

Plus, I got a little something to spice things up--two Wal-Mart sized chile powders with a red bow.
We're having chili this weekend.

these are mine, all mine

Merci so much. We wish you were here to celebrate but you are always here in spirit.

Seasonal Sunday--Egg Nog or Lait de Poule

At the school pick-up the other day a friend of mine asked me to explain something she'd seen while watching soap operas. The soap opera in question was 'Le Feu d'Amour'. Turns out that's French for The Young and the Restless. Sounds sexier in French, non? Most things do.

And then some things don't.
The thing in question is an example of when translations go bad.
There ain't nothing sexy about this.

That day on Le Feu d'Amour the beautifully troubled soap opera people were celebrating the holidays by drinking a special drink. 'What is lait de poule'?, asked my perplexed friend. Chicken milk?!, thought I. What the heck is she talking about? There's no such thing as chicken milk. This quickly became a song that the big kids and I sang all the way home....'there's no such thing as chicken milk, chicken milk, chicken milk'. You get the idea.

But when I got to thinking about it the answer came to me. The only thing it could be is obvious. A drink specific to the holiday season that comes from a chicken can only be one thing.

Egg nog.

And so, my friends. Grab your mixer, a bottle of whiskey, some eggs and cream and get busy. Today's your lucky Chicken Milk day!

The recipe above is my Grandmother's. We made it on Wednesday night while decorating our tree and it was delicious. So that the kids could have some too, we made the recipe minus the whiskey and then divided it into two parts. Then we spiked the grown-up one. Believe me, you need the shot of whiskey to cut the heavy richness. Chicken milk is some rich stuff.

Egg Nog (Lait de Poule)

6 eggs, separated
1 1/2 or 3 oz. whiskey
6 tablespoons sugar
1 pint whipping cream or crème entière if you're here in France
Beat egg yolks and mix with sugar.
Whip cream separately and fold into egg yolks and sugar.
Beat egg whites until stiff and then fold into the above mixture.
Top with nutmeg and blend.
Separate mixture into two parts, one virgin and one to be spiked.
Add in 1 1/2 oz whiskey to the grown up pitcher.

OR if you're making it only for the grownups, add the 3 oz of whiskey to the entire mixture and serve. No need to separate or cut down on the booze.