What is this? This is crepe!

IMG_0892 (1)I have a personal chef.  He likes to call himself my “boyfriend” but I prefer “low wage worker.”  And by low wage, I mean, zero dollars.  This personal chef is also my French tutor, which I have mentioned before and you are probably like, “Okay we get it.  You aren’t single.”  And then, I’m like, “Seriously check it out because I’m always single but I found someone who actually doesn’t think I’m from Planet Zolars!”  Well, he does kind of think I’m from outer space, but I think he thinks it makes me “fascinating.”

So, my personal chef made crepes the other night and oh garcon! were they good.  When I say “crepes” you say “delicious!”

Crepes!

Delicious!

Crepes!

Delicious!

Now that we’ve fulfilled our hip hop beat boxing stage fantasy, we can continue this conversation.  It should also be noted that I thought that term was “beep boxing” and had to google it.  It should also be noted that anyone who is interested in doing some freestyle beep boxing with me should let me know.  I think that’s a solid career plan.  Beep.  Beep.

Ah! I’m getting off track.  This is the point: if you want to eat a delicious crepe, ask Vincent to make you one.  Or possibly go to this place called “Breaking Eggs” in Amherst, NY.  Both are French options–one France-French and one French-Canadian.  Both are delicious.

IMG_0907The night started out like this, “Oh I’m not that hungry.”  Then Vincent’s like, “I’m making crepes.”  Then I’m like, “Okay but I’ll only have a little.”

The night ended like this: me thinking, “Is it unhealthy to have eaten six crepes full of cheese and nutella (separately)?  No, that’s probably totally healthy.  Doctors probably recommend that to heart patients.  I’ll eat like two or three more.”

Sometimes I find it kind of annoying when people equate eating a lot of food with being “bad” or doing something “wrong” and I am like kind of pushing the limit with myself right now on whether I think I am being annoying, but I’m going to leave that in there because I want to express that I do eat a lot of food but I also try to bike a ton and I eat a lot of yogurt for lunch.  As I little kid, I frequented the phrase “My food! My food!” in restaurants.  My parents thought I was charming.  And they still do!

IMG_0906The next night, I texted old Vincentenille and was like “Dinner?”  And he’s like, “Something in the fridge?” and then I was like, “CREPES!”  with like twelve exclamation points at the end for added emphasis (eleven would only convey moderate desire).

So, the next night we had crepes too and they were so good.  I don’t eat a lot of meat (maybe once every four weeks) but the French chef made bacon and put it in the crepes and it was really good (insert non-interesting food thoughts on meat here where I try to make you believe what I believe but then realize you are a vegan and actually being way better for the planet than me, so than I just say “Man, this snow!” and then we talk about Buffalo weather for a really long time instead).

IMG_0900You will notice that I’ve been putting up a lot of really “flattering” selfies up on this site.  I hope you will especially enjoy this one where I kind of look like a puckered school teacher with this huge glass of wine in her hand.  Hope you’re enjoying that one.  I like to use that photo on my resume so that companies will know I am “reliable” and “definitely not going to steal all the nice flowing ink pens from the supply room.”  It works every time.  I have like a million job offers.

Anyway, the exchange is that Vincent cooks and I do the dishes . . .within the next three to four days.  So far it’s working out great!  Definitely no structural problem with this arrangement and definitely no reason for me to be a little more focused about doing the dishes in a timely manner.

Okay.  That’s enough for today.  Go try making a crepe tonight for the person who floats your boat.  They’ll probably really appreciate it.  Au revoir, mon cherie.

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Looking French is Being French

IMG_0830The most important thing about learning French is looking French.  This is one thousand percent the most important thing.  As you can see by the picture to your left, I have mastered this.  You may say, “No you haven’t” and then I will hold you up by your collar and say, “Yes.  I have.  I never specified what decade you effing has-been” and then you will stop interaction with me because you will feel scared and also wondering why I called you a has-been.  I will also wonder this, but I will not let you know that.  I will instead continue talking, which is the best thing to do whenever it is not clear whether you are right or wrong.  I will say, “I do look French.  I may look like I’m from the 1950s and from a dishwasher detergent commercial shot in France, but still . . .it’s French.”   Then you will say, “I have an appointment that I have to get to” and then I will wonder what appointment but I will just nod and say, in a small voice, “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

IMG_0847Okay.  So, another point is looking French while speaking French. This involves practicing in public places with Vincent when he is definitely not embarrassed that I am speaking nonsensical French things really loudly and using my hands in what I consider a “French” way but really most people would consider “Italian.”  Regardless, they are both cool cultures.  So, I curve my mouth into this rounded, kiss like posture and I say things like “Monsieur Gateau quoi une super beau” and then people who don’t know French think in their heads, “Wow.  What a genius. She must have done really well on her SATs” and then they don’t realize that it took a lot of Saturday mornings in a SAT prep class for me to get an “average” score.  Maybe if the exam had consisted of just blogging about things you want to write about I would have done well.

The other part of learning French is going to French places.  Vincent and I went to this place in Buffalo that was apparently “French.”  I don’t really want to name it because this isn’t a restaurant review blog, but it just wasn’t so great.  I support local businesses.  I think it’s great to have restaurants like this. The thing is I used to love this restaurant, but all I can say, is that when we left, a very French person, who may or may not be Vincent, exclaimed, “This place is not French!”  Yes.  It’s true.  And you know what, I said “Je suis d’accord” (I agree!).  And, by “French enough for us” I mean: it didn’t sweep us away as many French things do (for instance, the online store: Cafe du Cycliste–that place just sweeps me away. It is so neat and French).  I guess we weren’t that happy with how long our food took and I am not one to complain about this because I am seriously one of the worst waitresses in the entire world.  I have the waitress ability of a lost otter.  However, we just got a bad vibe.  Our waitress spilled our coffee on our table and everything was really late and slow and it was just . . .meh.  Meh isn’t always bad except when meh costs $31.95 for two people.  Then meh kind of sucks.

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Okay, so we go to this one French place and we’re like, “This isn’t French” but then, our afternoon changes and we go to this second French place, which I will name because you should go there: Pour L’Amour Du Chocolat and we order the hot chocolate.  I have been there six times for the hot chocolate.  One in two times, the hot chocolate is absolutely amazing.  It’s like tasting Paris in your mouth.  It is like this dream state drink where you drink it and you know your life is going to be okay and good things will happen to you.  However, sometimes, I go and I order it and I get this “other” drink.  It’s water and chocolate and it’s like hockey rink hot chocolate and your toes are freezing and you’re drinking this super sweet, gross hot water and just counting down the moments you can leave because you don’t even really like hockey.  I’m telling you this because this could happen to you, but if you read the next sentence it won’t.  This is what you say: IMG_0850“Hi!  You guys have this hot chocolate drink here that is like made with milk and it’s like real chocolate and it swirls around and it takes five minutes to make and it’s so good. Can you make that?”  Then, if the barista says something like, “Yes.  I know what you’re talking about.  It will take five minutes to make.”  If she says “five minutes” you know it’s right.  That’s what you want.  This time she said, “Yes!  That’s the hot chocolate from the special French hot chocolate maker.”  SPECIAL FRENCH HOT CHOCOLATE MAKER: SIGN ME UP!  Yes.  That’s what I want.

We got it and we drank it and it was like giving our minds a massage and everything was so good for like twenty minutes.  It was like this therapeutic hot chocolate.  Like ambrosia.  Oh moi dieu!  C’est super!

Anyway, I am slowly learning more and more about France and am going in the summer, but unfortunately I can’t go to the Tour de France because my traveling companion “doesn’t want to be a crazy person on the side of the road.”  If however, the Tour de France, let women race, I would definitely go and maybe I can see if someone like Evelyn Stevens is riding her own race and I can see that or something.

As long as I keep drinking this hot chocolate, I know it will work out.  I just know it.