My Garden of Edam

One of these things is not like the other...

     Bonjour, my lovely readers. I hope you have missed me terribly. I hope you have checked this blog every day only to be disappointed to see the same post load time and time again. I hope you will forgive me. Most of all, I hope you are ready for some fresh thoughts and cultural sophistication.

With all that said, it's time to talk about cheese.

Reflections Of An American Cheese-Lover Post-France

     To start things off, I must describe the long history of my love for cheese. Somewhere in my house there is an old home video of me, three years old with a bow on my head, being walked on stage by my mother in a beauty pageant. It was the first time I had ever participated in a pageant and it would be the absolute last time I would ever participate in a pageant. My debut as a star was curtailed, though I am not quite sure if it was my determination to spend the least amount of time on my feet out of all the contestants or my utter lack of interest in leaving the stage, eventually resulting in me being dragged off by my mother, which did me in.

     One part of my chaotic parade that did go reasonably well was the naming off of my favorites by the announcer. My favorite TV show: Sesame Street. My favorite cartoon character: Elmo. My favorite food: cheese. What cheese? Any and all cheeses in every form imaginable to my three-year-old self. Cheese toast. Grilled cheese. Grits with cheese. Cheetos. Cheez-Its (NEVER Cheese Nips). Cheddar cheese. Macaroni and cheese. String cheese. Cheese pizzas. Just plain ol' slices of American cheese fresh in their plastic wrappers.

     As I got older, I discovered more sophisticated ways of integrating cheese into my diet. I figured out I could put cheese on things that previously had none. All of a sudden there were brand new foods. It was like I had a hole in my life that I never knew was there until I was able to remedy it, with cheese. Nachos and cheese. Cheeseburgers. Cheese balls. Cheese fries. Queso dip. Cream cheese on bagels. Cheese on rice. Cheese 'n' Eggs. EZ Cheese and Ritz crackers. Broccoli sure got a whole lot better, and I even had specialty cheese biscuits I demanded whenever Dad made breakfast on weekend mornings.

     A few more years and I still found more cheeses at my fingertips. Cottage cheese. Cheese fondue. Smoked cheese. Swiss cheese. Ricotta cheese. Fresh mozzarella. Brie.  Asiago cheese. Blue Cheese. And so on, and so forth. While I am on the subject, I must interject here my conclusion that Alfredo pasta is just Mac & Cheese for adults.

     You can only imagine the wonder and amazement I experienced when I wandered into the French grocery, called Casino, for the first time on my study abroad trip. There were the stands dedicated to fruit and fish and fresh bread. There were aisles of pastas. There were hundreds of wines to choose from... and then I found the cheese aisle.

     It was all there. All the cheese I had ever desired in my lifetime. Cheddar, Brie, Bleu, Edam, Gorgonzola, Mozzarella, Gruyere, Roquefort, Chevres, Cream Havarti, Feta, Parmesan, Reblochon, Swiss, Lancashire... the mirrors lining the shelves and display cases might as well have been the mirrors of fun houses for young children. In them I saw real cheeses in real cheese wheels. Real cheeses in real cheese boxes. Real cheeses in real pre-shredding shapes and sizes.

     I had to touch them all. I picked up each cheese and smelled it. I held it. I squeezed it and turned it. I would have tasted it had there not been the obligatory plastic wrapping to stop me from entering my very own Garden of Edam.

     Though all I left with was an eighth of a wheel of Brie and a bar of soap, my first trip to the grocery lasted at least a full hour, if not more, with most of my time being spent in the cheese. Of our weekly stipend of 100 euros, I would estimate that ten to twelve percent of it went directly to French cheese each Monday. 

     The trip was always the same too. I would wander the store, teasing myself by not directly darting to the cheese aisle, leaving the best part for last and building the anticipation. I'd browse the breads and maybe check out the cereal selection, all the while creeping closer to my friends Monterey and Jack. Eventually, I'd find myself suddenly surrounded by Colby and Ricotta and I would disappear for a good half hour before emerging victorious with what was sure to be a delicious meal all on its own.

__________

     I went to the store the other day with my mother after I returned from France to look for healthy foods to take up residence in our fridge and pantry. The usual dance ensued. Step, two, three. Step, two, three. Hold. Ahh, peanut butter. Waltz and waltz and waltz and turn. Why, tuna, hello! Switch buggies. Do-si-do and a kick and a jump. Chicken breast, how nice to see you. Twirl, twirl and dip... cheese aisle, we meet again.

    Except this time it was different. American slices stacked up to my shoulders greeted me with an awkward familiarity; it was like meeting an old friend from elementary school for the first time in a few years. I glanced around and found one row of Feta and one grouping of miniature cheese boxes containing the blessed Brie. A sea of thin square clones pressed together like sardines met me head on, only differentiated by a slight change in color or branding. There was nothing to feel, nothing to smell, nothing to hold that wasn't layered in stiff packaging.

     I found myself stuck with a question and a dilemma, neither of which I particularly felt like addressing. The question: Have I become a cheese snob? Cheese enthusiast that I have been my entire life, I have never found an aversion to eating whatever cheese is in front of me. Now that I have experienced the life of fine cheese, what do I do with myself? The question leads, then, into the dilemma: Do I buy the cheese available to me or go without it altogether until I can find better cheese? Is all cheese good cheese? Do I make do with what I am given, or do I work to promote a higher value of cheese? Do I dishonor and do cheese a disservice by endorsing Kraft singles with my purchasing power? 

     My temporary solution: Cottage cheese. Cottage cheese is pretty much the same wherever you go. It's always either completely loved or completely hated, and it can't come in anything but a plastic bucket. No one really wants to hold cottage cheese and the smell, I would hazard to say, is always the same. I avoided the decision-making by leaving with a container of it to hold me over until I am forced to return to the grocery and determine a course of action that sets the tone for the rest of my cheese-loving life.

Five French Hens

I have a desperate need to change up my blogging style. I'll catch up eventually, but as it stands I'm already three days behind and I don't have enough time with the internet cutting out every five minutes to make long posts only to have them not save. So, instead of talking about movies, I'm going to tell you some things about France. I will tell you five things about France.

#1 - Master Burger
First off, Master Burger is amazing. They have sandwiches of all kinds and fries and kebabs and sometimes they even give us some of those things for free if we go in big groups. The best thing about Master Burger is that they have a sandwich called an "American" which is on a long baguette and consists of two hamburger patties, cheese, ketchup, mayonnaise, and fries. Yes, in the sandwich. I will take a picture (not that I can upload it soon though) to show you later, but just trust me, it's the most delicious thing ever. Also, it smells like America, which is alternately fascinating and disturbing. You take a whiff and it's like, "ZOMG. This is really an American." Sometimes though, when people are talking in a large group and you can't exactly hear all of the words they say and they're talking about Master Burger all you hear is "Master Bu..." and you can only imagine the level of startlement and head turning that gets.

#2 - Crepes
I think they drug the crepe batter to keep you coming back for more. I've only been here for about a week and a half and I'm already addicted. I feel like a pigeon whenever I see a sign for a Creperie. I get very alert and excited and my head pops up and I start walking around all jumpy-like. You can get them with Nutella if you want a delicious treat, or you can get them with ham and eggs and cheese for breakfast. You can get them with sugar and you can get them with fruit or confiture (jelly). You literally can eat them in a box and you could figuratively eat them with a fox, or literally if you could find one near the beach that is.

#3 - Four Things The French Do Really Well
A. Design beautiful towns and cities. Everything looks like they put time into thinking, "Will this look good if I put it here?" before going through with any construction. Also, lots of palm trees helps probably.
B. Drive through traffic. Especially in regard to taxi drivers, who weave in and out of cars like it's nobody's business and never look back.
C. Make baked goods. The pain au chocolate (this flaky bread pastry thing that has chocolate on the inside) and croissant amande (no idea, but it's delicious) are heavenly.
D. Roundabouts. America should have more of them. From the airport in Nice to the hotel in Juan les Pins, I don't believe we passed through any traffic lights just because there were so many roundabouts. Everything went a lot faster and traffic was much less of a problem.

#4 - Four Things The French Don't Do Very Well
A. Clean up after their dogs. There is dog poop everywhere on the streets in JLP and Cannes. People just can't be bothered or they are taken by surprise I suppose, though I find it hard to believe that after having a dog for so long you could be surprised when they start pooping on the streets. They even have these fancy boxes for you to deposit the whole mess in, but no one uses them.
B. Trash cans. I find that there are a lack of trash cans when I need them most. All the time I'm trying to throw stuff away and there's nowhere to put it. On a related note, recycling. Except in a central part of Cannes, I haven't seen anyone recycle at all. It's a bit bothersome.
C. Internet Access. It makes me very irritated to think about it right now, but let's just say the intertubes here act like they are just little dial up lines. Only worse because they disconnect me and I can't even eavesdrop on people's conversations.
D. Schedules. I'm not quite sure this is a con, but it can be frustrating at times. You never know when stuff is going to be open or closed. You could try to go to the post office three times a day and it will never be open. Same with food stands. You may want a crepe, but you sure aren't going to get one if you go at noon. Or at five. Or at nine. Or ever. Or on Sundays. Or on Monday evenings from six to ten.

#5 - One Thing Cannes Has That No One Else Does
Thuesday. Yesterday was Thuesday according to the official Cannes Film Festival Pocket Guide. Thuesday was a pretty good day, all things considered, and even if it wasn't it was still Thuesday, so there you go. "Can't complain, it's Thuesday today guys." I think I may celebrate it every year.

T-Minus 43 Days: A Bit on Passports

Hello readers!

I've started my first in a series (hopefully) of travel blogs since I'll be kicking it to France this May for the Cannes Film Festival through Grady's Study Abroad program at the University of Georgia. That was a lot of proper nouns, I know.

Since I have begun my serious preparation for departure on May 7th, I thought it would be appropriate to get warmed up for the trip by pre-blogging with travel tips and other general things of interest that I come across in the process.

things to know about... PASSPORTS

1. I know everybody says it but, if you are going to need a passport and you don't have one already, GO TO THE POST OFFICE NOW. Especially if you need it within a few months. Trust me. Don't assume that because the predicted time of your passport's delivery is 4-6 weeks, you can afford to wait until 6 weeks before your flight to go apply. It's not worth the stress of worrying whether or not you're going to get it in the mail on time. Same philosophy applies to renewals.

2. If you were under the age of 16 when your passport was issued to you, you are going to have to reapply for a passport (Form DS-11) instead of applying for a renewal (Form DS-82).

3. Cost of obtaining a brand new passport - $75, plus a $25 execution fee

    Cost of obtaining a renewed passport - $75

    Cost of getting your passport pictures made at the office - $15

4. Expediting your passport generally gets it back to you in about 2 weeks and costs $60 in most cases.

5. You can expedite an already-applied-for passport by calling the regional office and making an appointment or calling the National Passport Information Center (1-877-487-2778) for more information.

6. You need a passport number to reserve a ticket for international flights with some airlines (but not with Delta, I have found). If you are going to need to reserve your tickets anywhere in the immediate future, but you also need your passport renewed, it's difficult to change the passport number on your ticket reservations without having to pay a fee or re-reserve your tickets, which may also bump you to the bottom of the waiting list. So be careful and get your ducks in a row with the passport first if you aren't flying Delta or another airline that doesn't require a passport number for international flights.

Don't try this at home... or anywhere else:

Remember those bizarre beauty tips you used to read in magazines when you were still playing with Barbies and My Little Pony, like pressing your lips together to bring blood into them so they are nice and cherry red for your passport picture instead of pale, ghost lips like your mother frequently mentions you have? Well, it not only gets you awkward looks, but will also prompt the post office worker to ask you to stop so she can take your photo. Just bring chapstick. 

Fun Fact:

The Cannes Film Festival was forced to close in 1968 during the French Revolution when most major French directors withdrew their films from the competition and the jury resigned.