Welcome to Summer

The weather here has been amazing hasn't it? Though it is not a Belgian tradition, this story is still funny and I thought I'd share it in honor of the arrival (and hopeful endurance) of summer here in Brussels.

Be it in honor of the harvest or the ancient traditions of the Occitan language, there is always a reason to celebrate in the Dordogne. When you live in a fairy tale, why not?!

On June 24, La Fete de St Jean heralds the arrival of Summer and one of the sweetest traditions of the Perigord is the making of crosses out of wild flowers that are then placed above entry door or on the barn door (to protect the livestock it is said).
This photo was taken by my friend Roland Manouvrier who made his own cross out of wild flowers. He was a bit miffed at his fellow St Leon neighbors who had not taken such care as he had. "Many of them just made the crosses from their garden flowers" he complained.

I asked him if it really mattered what kind of flowers one used. Wasn't the sentiment the same? Maybe people don't have time these days to search for wildflowers, I offered.

"NO!" was his response. "You must frolic in the hills and appreciate the liberty and freedom of finding the wild flowers".

Ah, life in a fairy tale.

Happy Summer! May you all frolic in fields of wildflowers and find your liberty.

To read more about the Dordogne, and our upcoming book, go to www.dordognestories.blogspot.com

Macaroon Mania & Licking Windows

Taking in the window displays of various pastry shops in Paris is one sure way to gain a few kilos, and one sure way to fall in love with Paris' most delicious souvenir, a ubiquitous confection that has locals and visitors alike whipped into a meringue-like frenzy… the macaron.

NOTE: Americans should not confuse the French macarons---two delicate dome-shaped meringue cookies with a flavor-infused cream or ganache in between---with the American macaroon (double o) ---a dense glop of a cookie made with coconut or almond paste. If I didn’t know better, I could be comparing more than just cookies, but I digress.

Parisians are fou about macarons, and shops selling the almond-based, flavor-filled, cute-as-a-button delicacies are as much a part of the Parisian pastry scene as tarte tatin and croissants. From the individual boutiques of world-renowned pastry picassos to the classic Ladurée (who recently added a shop at Charles de Gaulle in case you were craving one last crunch), Paris' macaron meccas are a gourmet gallery walk for sugar seekers. No matter how small or large, the boutiques teem with people, all clamoring to take home the most edible of Paris souvenirs, with some folks waiting up to an hour! (Would you like NUTS with your cookies madame?)

One of my favorite French expressions is: Lécher les Vitrines, which means to window shop, but literally translates: to lick the windows. This expression takes on a whole new meaning while perusing the patisseries of Paris, especially when macarons are on display. I love admiring the little round macarons, wearing their proud colors and lined up like obedient school children. Or stacked into pyramids and Christmas trees that would make the most delicious table centerpieces or even wedding cakes. The windows are the macaron's theater, and I was only chased away once for licking the glass! Ladurée, the famed house of, and claimed inventor of, the modern day macaron, has gorgeous budoir-esque windows at each of the four Parisian locations, with a color palette of cookies that glimmer like jewels against the signature pale green boxes. Behind the main Ladurée shop on the Champs-Elysees is even a bar with a menu of macaron inspired drinks with similar colors and flavors. I had the violette-cassis cocktail, which was divine and topped with a purple macaron. My friend had the rose drink, which she didn’t like. Apparently it tasted too much like...a rose. Imagine? The cookie cocktails are, admittedly, an acquired taste and can be a little like boozy bubble bath but hey...that’s how the cookie crumbles. (Sorry, I just had to pun).

One of the reasons I love France is for its passion for food. How can you not love a country that refers to a religious holiday, Cadlemas or La Chandeleur on February 2, as Crêpe Day?! And the macaron obsessed French have not disappointed me yet when it comes to fêting their food. Yep, you guessed it. March 20, all over France, is Macaron Day. Vive La France!!

While Ladurée is the most well-known and the cookies are certainly delicious, it often takes a Herculean effort (not a far off description of me given all the macarons I have been eating lately) to get into the shops since tour busses literally pull up in droves. The Champs-Elysees store is open on Sunday at 8:30 a.m., which is a manageable time to go if you happen to be awake and caffeinated by then. Luckily Paris is full of other outposts equally worthy of a taste. Pierre Hermé (pierreherme.com), Dalloyau (dalloyau.fr), Carette (carette-paris.com), and Sadaharu Aoki (sadaharuaoki.com) are amongst my favorite window-licking (and macaron eating) destinations.

I decided to take my macaron obsession to new levels (am I turning Parisian?). Through the lovely Paule Caillat at her home in the Marais, and with her delicious gourmet tour company, Promenades Gourmandes (promenadesgourmandes.com), I learned (attempted) to make the cookies myself. This is no easy task and requires a lot of time and a PhD. in pastry bag manipulation. But Paule's friend and master pastry chef Joel Morgeat was kind and patient, and possesses a bizarre, almost circus-freak-show like skill for handling boiling sugar with his fingertips. I don't recommend trying this at home, nor after a few glasses of vin rouge! I left Paule's house with a recipe in hand, a couple of burnt fingertips, a canon of cookie vocabulary to fool guests, and memories of a great afternoon in a laughter-filled kitchen.

But even if I could make them at home (not likely), I'll still go back to Paris for my macarons. They simply taste better when coming from one of my favorite places on earth, and after licking a few windows.

Cultural Differences Make Us Similar

I recently had the pleasure of dining with Anne Randerson, Ph.d. of Cross Cultural Horizons here in Brussels. Her company helps families and executives transition easily into new cultures, and she specializes in Europe and Asia where she has lived over the last 20 years. I was interviewing her for a piece about doing business in Brussels that will appear in Executive Travel Magazine this fall and though my questions were few, we spent a couple of entertaining hours chatting about stereo types and nuances in cultures (and perception) that can make or break relationships. As an American living abroad, I am all too familiar with preconceived stereotypes that may be, at times, accurate, but are most often false.

Like in the US, or in any country, there is a unique history that has formed current attitude toward work ethic, politics, human rights, etc. We can't (shouldn't) impress our own values and beliefs on others because our history and foundations are significantly different. Not wrong. Not superior. Just different. Just as we can't assume that Europeans will ever understand our American obsession with work, big cars, big macs and guns, Americans may never understand why Muslims prey five times a day, or why women cover their heads. In reality, we don't need to agree with it, or practice it, we just need to understand these mosaics of cultures exist, and respect them. Just as we ask, often demand, the same in return.

Eric at Berlitz Cultural Consulting told me, after I jokingly prodded him for being 15 minutes late for our meeting, and despite the fact I saw him sitting in his office and he saw me waiting, that this is referred to as the 'academic quarter'. At universities , professors leave the doors open 15 minutes after the official start time of class, then the doors are locked. This translates into business too and unless everyone is present, people will wait 15 minutes before commencing a meeting. So, tardiness is not personal, as was my perception when I first arrived. I still hate it, but at least I don't take it as a personal slam. I could have also chosen to arrive at 2:10 instead of 2 on the dot and that would have been ok. I just didn't know. Now I understand. I still hate it, and I'll still show up at deux heure pile, but I won't be miffed when I wait and thus, I won't curse the bloody bloke who had no regard for my time because that was not the case at all. See how the game works?!

Point being (I have one) says Anne, the world is full of people with different histories, different motivations and different raisons d'etre. For me, that's the beauty of living somewhere different. Where our histories and values meet makes for interesting coffee chatter and forges great friendships. I have learned to appreciate the values taught to me as a young American, but I have also learned to accept, appreciate and admire other value systems I have found while living here in Belgium.

"In the end, we are all similar," said Anne. "Take the politics and language away and we are humans looking to be fulfilled, be respected, and enjoy a quality life. Understanding the differences is the key."

I have to agree with her( though it might help that she speaks six languages). We may look different at times, or prey or eat or dress differently, but we are all similar in our desire to be individually respected, uphold our personal dignity, and be valued as a human being. No headscarf or gun law changes that individual desire.

It was one of the most enlightening lunches I have had recently and I encourage you all to look differently at other cultures through eyes of a human, rather than those of a certain nationality. Or, call Anne...her stories of life as a professional woman in Japan and as a cultural coach in Europe are humorous, and you'll leave feeling inspired and delighted to be a stranger in a strange land.