Le Franco Phoney

Small French farming villages — that just happen to be rich ski resorts in winter — are often very closed to outsiders. La Clusaz is no exception, and even the kids who were born here with parents from elsewhere aren’t considered local. Being an ‘etranger’ from Australia, I have no chance of ever being considered local, and that doesn’t bother me: my heritage as a bit of a novelty for the locals, which sometimes works in my favour. Last night, for example, I recorded some jingles for the local radio station, RadioMeuh (that’s French for ‘moo’). I don’t know if they will use many of the nine jingles I recorded, but it was nice to be amongst the Frenchies. I even managed to explain the plot of my novel in French to one girl who was patient enough to listen to my broken sentences and mixed tenses.

This weekend marked the annual Fete de la Musique — a national day of music in France. I headed down to Annecy with my camera, ready to snap some of the lovely ambiance that’s so much easier to describe with pictures than of words. Alas, my camera battery had run out because I had been taking photos of the moon the night before (pictured – spooky!).

So, here’s a description in words instead. Annecy was packed with locals, tourists, and even a few hens’ nights (complete with sparkly hats/bunnies ears/t-shirts with names on them), and as the sun went down, the party atmosphere increased. There were 22 stages and some wandering minstrels. It was a hot night. I think the ice cream shops were busier than the pubs. My friend and I watched Spanish flamenco dancers dance to a band that really didn’t sound Spanish to me. We saw a teenage group that consisted of:

• a singer/guitarist who had the facial blankness of Marilyn Manson, the hairstyle of Russell Brand and a fair bit of talent on lead guitar and vocals;
• a girl bassist with an amazing voice and no specific ‘look’ apart from slightly nerdy in a bad way;
• a guitarist who wanted to be in a metal band but was not; and,
• the singer’s dad on keyboards — their drum machine.

Despite not having a real drummer and being forced to play music from the dad’s teenage years (‘Stairway to Heaven’ era, apparently), they sounded professional. In fact, they sounded better than the metal band we saw on another stage.  They were alright, but the singer wanted to sing death metal while the others wanted to play hair metal. Not all was lost: four little girls — all under 10 years old — were standing at the side of the stage like groupies, watching the rather cute singer, and two of the girls had a go at headbanging. It was glorious! In fact, they seemed better at headbanging than one of the band members, who recovered his coolness by taking off his t-shirt to appease screaming teenagers in the mosh pit. The fact that a mosh pit was happening in the centre of Annecy was pretty surprising in itself, but hearing girls scream at the sight of a six-pack-hiding-underneath-the-layer-of-flab chest just topped it off.

The only football I really understand — and like — is Australian Rules football. However, the rules of ‘real football’ (ie, soccer) was explained to me by various football-loving friends in the UK during my years of living there. The off-side rule was explained over a fry-up, with the help of the condiments shuffling around like players. I understand the off-side rule, but I don’t understand the hype about a game that is so low-scoring. So, imagine my surprise when, last Friday night, I was roped into seeing the France vs. Netherlands match at a pub instead of watching some lovely animated films during the Annecy Animation Festival. I was there with one French man and nine Dutch. To alleviate the boredom I decided to play with my camera.

First up, here’s a photo of what happened when the Dutch team scored a goal:

Notice the unhappy Frenchies and the lack of movement on that side of the room.

No worries. The French team also scored a goal. Can you tell?

Sadly for the French, the game ended in a 4-1 victory to the Netherlands in what turned out to be one of the highest-scoring games I’ve ever avoided watching!

Alas, I did not have my camera with me last night when a friend who had been away for a month asked me out for dinner, followed by the football. Eager to catch up with her, I agreed, and watching the football with her was actually quite entertaining. We sat in a pub, surrounded mostly by men — and one girl who spent the entire match playing on her PSP until her boyfriend, annoyed at France’s inability during the match, told her they were leaving five minutes before the game ended and she obediently packed her game away. Men like to watch. Men like to yell abuse when their team isn’t winning. Men do not like hearing women, like my friend, saying things like: “The Italian player didn’t even touch him” while a French player is writhing on the ground faining agony, or: “France are hopeless”, even if she was right on both accounts. If the French men around her weren’t already annoyed that France were losing the game, she got them there with her comments. What really topped it off was when Italy had some sort of penalty shot at the goal (hey, it’s not Aussie Rules, okay? But I can tell you all about marking and shepharding if I was talking about Aussie Rules), and the Italian player, who had kicked the ball wide of the goal area, managed to score a goal when a French player (possibly Thierry Henry) attempted to divert the ball anyway, and instead, it ricocheted off his head and into the goal, securing Italy’s victory. Had I taken a photo of the French men around me, their faces would have shown the look of unsurprised defeat. Allez les bleus!

Years after moving to France, I still find French roundabouts intriguing. Why? Because of the crazy drivers? No. The way that two lanes usually go into a single-lane roundabout? No. It’s the style of French roundabouts that I love: they’re often ornate, or at least interesting in some way. The town of Bonneville (not so bonne despite its name) has hedges shaped like pyramids, while grapes adorn roundabouts in some wine regions, and I once saw a series of cows on bikes on roundabouts in a town that the Tour de France bike race was heading towards.

So it makes me happy that the roundabout in St. Jean de Sixt (pictured), down the road from my house, is back to having mannequins dumped on it. It’s been void of activity for around three months, and I had feared the mannequins may never return to their usual familial scenes, such as Father Christmas on the roof of the hut at Christmas time, an egg hunt scene at Easter time, and a party on the roundabout, involving ring-in mannequins, empty bottles of wine, fake cheese, and wine glasses, during local festivals. Look: there’s even a little baby hiding in the picture.

This is the cover of a catalogue I received in the mail a while ago. It was one of four catalogues advertising gardening equipment, such as ride-on mowers and other goodies for people with big backyards.

The man says: “They reimburse the difference if you find the same thing cheaper!”

The woman replies: “And the goods are ready to be used!”

Now, maybe it’s just me again, but isn’t it a bit odd that a woman in a bikini (with a bit more on display than the ‘up for it’ girl also in a bikini, illustrated on the pizza box my previous blog entry) is relaxing right next to an old man using his gardening equipment in a field by a big shop? Apart from the noise he’d be making, isn’t it just a bit dangerous for her?

So, I asked a French friend about the conversation the two are having. I asked her, before showing her the picture, if you could say something like ‘pret a l’emploi’ (‘ready to use’) as a way of saying ‘how about it?’. She said she didn’t think so because it’s how you’d refer to a toy. Then I showed her the picture and she said “ooh la la” (she really did!), and agreed it had been used to infer that the woman is indeed up for it. One of the other lawnmower catalogues featured women in bikinis mowing lawns with big smiles on their tanned faces. So, French gardening catalogues: possibly the only gardening catalogues in the world who feature bikini-clad women who are up for it to entice buyers.

I bought a pizza the other night and the box looked like this:

So, what’s wrong with this picture? Actually, what’s right about it!

1. I’m in a ski resort: where is the seaside and the boat?
2. The girl in the background, still young enough to need a floaty, seems to have cleavage.
3. The girl is also looking a bit ‘up for it’ despite her interest in sand castle building (bucket in hand) and floaty dependency.
4. The pizza man is grinning just a little too happily: I’m guessing he’s just seen the ‘up for it’ girl.
5. Is his pizza stick not just a bit phallic? Especially the way it’s pointing through a gaping hole and towards the girl?

Maybe it is actually a wholesome illustration that some Italian created to truly reflect the happiness of the pizza-maker charged with making my pizza, or to reflect how imaginative a pizza can be or something. Actually, it probably is: a friend showed me a drawing that a little boy did at her work. It had KKK written on it, a man in a white pointy hat, and a green man with wings who was crying. It turns out that the five year-old is not actually up on the Klu Klux Klan: his name is Karl but he can only write the K so far, and my friend had painted his friend’s face green.

This is one of my favourite recipes that works at everything from BBQs to cocktail parties. Everyone loves it and you can make it well in advance (handy as I’m never organised on the day).

400 g capsicums (red peppers) seeded and cut into slices as if for thick marmalade
200 g sugar
100 g red wine vinegar (or any other)
50 g water
1 round of Camembert cheese

Throw the lot into a saucepan and bring to the boil, stirring regularly. Let the pot simmer for around 45 minutes. Additional water may be needed for added goo. Remove from heat and let the jam cool fully before using. Bring the Camembert to room temperature, then cover the top of the cheese with the jam, and serve with biscuits and a cheese knife.

This recipe makes enough for at least five small gingerbread houses, plus lots left over for festive shapes . Before you start baking, make sure you have:

- a very large bowl
- a decent rolling pin
- a piping bag/cylinder and nozzles
- baking paper
- sweets (jelly tots, Smarties, licquorice etc.)
- extra icing sugar, in case you run out
- cardboard for the templates (see below)

Gingerbread

500 grams butter
750 grams (2 cups) golden syrup/treacle
500 grams (2 cups) sugar
2 eggs
4 tablespoons white vinegar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
3 teaspoons bi-carb soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons ginger
1.25 kilograms (10 cups) plain flour

Icing

2 egg whites
800 grams (about 4.5 cups) pure icing sugar
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice

Method

Place butter, treacle & sugar in a heavy-based pan and stir slowly over a low heat until butter has melted and sugar has dissolved. Cool for at least 10 minutes, then transfer the mix to a large mixing bowl.

In a separate bowl, sift all the dry ingredients together.

In another separate bowl, whisk the eggs and vinegar until just combined. Add this mix to the cooled butter mix and beat well with a wooden spoon until smooth.

Add all the sifted dry ingredients gradually to the butter mix. The gingerbread should now be thick enough to form a soft ball. Leave mix in the fridge for at least an hour, preferably overnight, before rolling. The cooler the mix is, the softer the gingerbread will bake. For crispy gingerbread, roll straight away.

On a well-floured surface, take a chunk of gingerbread and roll it into a ball. If a little soft, knead the gingerbread with extra flour until it’s thick enough to roll. Roll the gingerbread to a thickness of approximately 1/2 centimetre. Take your cardboard templates (see measurements below) and use a non-serrated knife to cut around the templates. If the surface isn’t well floured, the gingerbread may stick, causing stretched shapes.

Place the shapes onto a baking tray lined with baking paper and cook in a moderate oven (180 degrees Celsius) for approximately 12-15 minutes. Check during cooking because if the oven heat isn’t even, the shapes will burn.

Once baked, remove from oven and leave the gingerbread on the tray for five minutes. Take the pieces off the tray and place on a cooling rack. Allow to cool fully before icing.

Icing method

Beat the egg whites until combined. Add the sifted icing sugar until the mix is quite firm. Add the lemon juice (this will give the icing a slight shine).

House Template

Cut your own using the following measurements:
Roof: 10cm x 11.5cm
Sides: 9.5cm x 5cm
Front & back: 10cm x 4.5cm x 9.5cm (the diagonal)
Chimney pieces: 1.5cm x 5cm, 1.5cm x 3cm, then two more with a diagonal cut (see diagram)

…0r just download the PDF version here or JPG version shown here. UPDATE: This template gets downloaded thousands of times per year, but nobody has ever let me know how the recipe/template worked for them. Please do leave a message below!

House Construction

Cover a large plate with foil. Spoon a small amount of icing onto the plate in the shape of the gingerbread house foundations (a rectangle). Using a piping bag, pipe some icing on the short ends of the two house sides (the small, rectangular pieces). Place the un-piped sides on the plate, parallel to each other but far enough apart for the house front and back edges to rest on the piped sides. You should now have a rectangle base for the roof to attach to. Give the structure a few minutes to “glue” together. You can add the door to the front of the house and start working on the chimney (fiddly) while you’re waiting.

Pipe down the edges of the front and back sections from the top tip to where they meet the sides. Take each roof panel and place on each side – simultaneously if possible – so that they meet at the top.

Decorate with sweets and icing. Allow a few hours for the icing to harden before wrapping in cellephane or covering.

This is THE tastiest cheesecake recipe ever. Simple, vegie-friendly, and quick to make!

Ingredients
1 can condensed milk
550 grams cream cheese (fromage tartine such as St Moret in France)
140 ml lemon juice
2 drops vanilla essence
biscuit base (150 gram butter biscuits, plus 50 grams butter, melted)

Method

1. Crush biscuits in bag with rolling pin and empty into bowl
2. Mix in melted butter, then place in base of pie dish and press down firmly with a flat spoon
3. Put all other ingredients into a blender and blitz until the mix is smooth and creamy (it took me about 4-5 minutes with a hand mixer)
4. Pour onto biscuit base and chill for at least 4 hours or overnight, if possible
5. Place your toping of choice or leave as is!

That’s it. Easy as.

1 large, round, unsliced loaf of white bread (a cobb loaf or similar)
1 200gram tub (or closest in size) of Philadelphia cream cheese (low-fat works just as well)
1 200ml tub (or closest in size) of sour cream
200 grams grated cheddar cheese
2 dessert spoons of powdered French onion soup mix (if catering for vegetarians, check the label for chicken stock)

You need to make the mix up well ahead of time; if possible, the night before, but at least an hour before it goes in the oven so the flavours mix up a bit. Remember, it takes an hour in the oven, so prepare in advance!

1. Place the cream cheese, sour cream, grated cheese and powdered soup mix in a bowl and mix with a large spoon until alll ingredients are mixed in.
2. Cover bowl with cling film/lid and place in fridge for at least an hour.
3. An hour before you want to serve the dip, cut a “lid” off the bread (like a halloween pumpkin), and dig out the bread, leaving roughly a 1cm thick bread crust inside.
4. Break up the bread into bite-sized pieces and place on a baking tray. Put to the side.
5. Scoop the cheese mix into the hollowed-out bread, then place the lid back on the bread.
6. Cook in a moderate oven (180 degrees) for 1 hour.
7. Five minutes before the dip is ready, place the tray of bite-sized bread pieces in the oven to crisp them up.
8. Once cooked, place cheesy loaf in large tea-towel-covered basket, and add bite-sized bread pieces around the loaf.
9. Take the lid off or nobody will know what to do.
10. Eat it – all of it, including the lid and the sides and the base.