They called from France this morning while I was engrossed in the big matchup between Milan and Napoli (Milan 1, Napoli 0) and didn't even hear the phone. I have saved their voicemail message spoken in both French and English.
How is it possible to love - and now miss - two people so much, whom I had never met in my life? Their son, my homemate for the duration, has apparently rocked my world more than one might think. Or understand.
These two lovely people with such French names, Pierre and Marinette, first came into my view on the morning of my birthday about 2 weeks ago. Antoine had brought them from their hotel to meet me so we could all go to breakfast together. I was walking down the steps of my building, and I started to cry. His mother hugged me and neither of us wanted to let go. When we pulled away, both sets of eyes had tears in them.
Well aware of the quality of food they are used to, what with life at their farmhouse chateau near the sea in southwest France (that is also a bed&breakfast) and all, we took them to my favorite Euro cafe. Of course. They loved it. I learned where Antoine's passion for lots of butter on his bread came from (his father). They were curious about the self-serve coffee in airpots, but at least it was Alessandro brand, and Alessandro is from Italy.
They spoke their very best English, Antoine translated, and we all laughed a lot. I loved starting my birthday this way. They had brought me fabulous French bath products, and chocolate bars, for gifts. Their company = my favorite gift that morning.
The next night we hosted them for dinner. Have I ever wished more, that our home was classier than I did that night? Maybe, but I'm not sure. I did tell them what I absolutely believe to be true - and Antoine translated this into French for them, so that I knew they understood what I meant, for certain: My home isn't that spectacular re: design/decor but, the food and hospitality are really good and, somehow once people are there, they are never in a hurry to leave. They understood. Their son has lived here almost 2 years. But I was referring to dinner guests, as well, and they knew that.
I loved that they loved our meal, enough to ask me to come and be their chef at their Le Petit Puy Loup! (They are serious.)
They loved the antipasti I set out, the first-course creamy butternut-onion-apple soup with caramelized walnuts, the fish and vegetables en papillote (parchment paper), mashed potatoes which they were too full to eat!, handmade roasted garlic-rosemary focaccia, and ahhhhh, the best tarte tatin (apple tart) I think I have ever made in my life, with fresh spiced whipped cream. Marinette and I had a lively conversation - with Antoine translating + some sign language + even a little of Italian on my part since some words are similar in French - about the extolled virtues of freshly grated nutmeg, which I had used in the apple tart. I promised to buy her some whole nutmeg from Penzey's (where I buy mine) before she went back to France.
The next day they all enjoyed Santa Barbara. I recovered from entertaining and had other work to do. They were gone, traveling throughout Arizona, Utah, Nevada, and northern California for the next 10 days. They loved our national parks, San Francisco, and Las Vegas -- not so much but, the Paris hotel was OK with them. They did OK with dining out too, short of a small pizza in Fresno that appeared to Pierre to equal the size of California. The super-sized American thing will always appear curious to Europeans.
I so belong in Europe.
Anyway, I only had the pleasure of their company briefly again, this last Friday, on Halloween. Which they said is not a big deal in France. Or in Italy, I told them, which is why I am usually in Italy at this hour...
Here was more presents-exchanging before they prepared for their flight home - they are very big on See's candy, which I had to send home with them and I hope they didn't eat it all on the plane...I had to send Charles, their other son who visited in August, some homemade cookies because I adore him and he has an October birthday too...I had to send their daughter Elys my Dodgers NLCS rally towel, and my pink LA Dodgers cap went to Marinette because Pierre had bought himself a new blue one...and there was of course the nutmeg, and homemade banana-raspberry-walnut bread, and cookies for the plane, since none of us are big on airline food.
They gave me more French bath products. Yum. I can never have too many of those.
We had our last meal together at Farm Stand, one of my current favorite places on the planet. How well does my life work: We were supposed to eat there on Thursday night but (long story) but we rescheduled for Friday night. Laurent, our host, was not there Thursday but was there Friday, and he speaks French. My beautiful guests had an even more incredibly delightful time because of Laurent being able to visit in French with them, and what can I say...the food there was spectacular as usual, we laughed hysterically about some slip from Antoine about "37 years of ketchup", and now we love each other all the more from having had another magical experience together around the table.
The piece de resistance- I agreed to sign in writing, that I would visit them in France in 2009. For the record, we both have a signed copy of that contract.
How much did I not want to say au revoir ?? I just love them. I wish we had had more time together but, there is that fulfillment of my contract for next year to look forward to. And then there was that brief discussion of their b&b needing my services as chef...Can you guess how much I cannot wait to explore all this further?
The little Figaro experience in the last post? I know it all gave way to this. My heart about swells each time I think of how blessed I am to have this family to love in France.
And Antoine? He's still here for a while.
We're both pretty happy about that.
