Hi all. Sorry for the long silence once again. The truth is there hasn’t been too much activity around here. Well I suppose that’s note exactly fair, but frankly I thought I would spare you guys the minutia involving the various French administrative offices. That being said, I suppose an update is in order.

The biggest news is that we’re supposed to get the DSL installed today! Finally! I’m not going to get too excited though until it’s up and running. For a while there I was contemplating imposing a strict procedure of checks for telecom usage to avoid conflicts like getting bumped off the line while connected to the net when someone wanted to make a phone call. In the end, I decided such a measure might not be well received and I decided to resort to a more surreptitious tactic. I would simply bring the phone upstairs with me whenever logging on, thus forcing the would-be telephone user into a verbal request for access. What ensued was a low-intensity warfare that was threatening to degenerate at any moment and destabilize the established order.

Like I said things here have been pretty quiet. We’ve been checking out some stuff in the region and in town. This week is the kick-off of a two week long festival of African music, literature, and other cultural/artistic events. Most of this will come from Mali due to Bamako being one of Angers’ sister cities around the globe. We’re looking forward to it as one of the main draws this year will be Habib Koïté, a favorite among afropop circles. I must say that if this part of the world is lacking in latin music, it makes up for it with a stunning variety of that from the African continent. One of the places we’ve developed a fondness for is a tiny Senegalese club that is always packed with an awesome mix of friendly people and damn good music from Zouk to Soukous.

Also worth mentioning are several of the student hangouts. The crowds there are a bit more energetic and perhaps even a bit unstable. However, despite the often volatile mixture of raging hormones and copious amounts of booze, I’ve yet to spot any incidents of the type that were a nightly fixture at the student hangouts with cheap booze we went to when I was in school (read: Sports, The Tiger, et al). Not to say that there aren’t any incidents, I’m just saying that I haven’t seen any and I doubt many of these kids are going to power-drink themselves to death any time soon. Geaux Tigers!

On the home front, I’ve been studying the art of French deserts and passing on some of my own culinary savoir-faire. I discovered I have a particular interest in recipes that start with words like: “Melt 200 grams of chocolate”. It’s hard to screw up after that. As a general rule, I’m of the opinion that bumping up the called-for quantity by 50g never hurt anyone. Also, any recipes that call for similar quantities of heavy cream will get special attention from me.

As for my contribution, I’ve embarked on a campaign to bring spice and color to the French dinner table. I started with what was in my opinion a very mild curry. Judging from the speed with which the water was guzzled down I deduced that mine was the minority opinion. Without missing a step or giving any time to repose I moved directly onto what I now call Tex Frazier’s Eight Alarm Chili. I have to admit that on that occasion I did get a little carried away and kicked it up a few notches too many. After that I decided to take it easy and made a Gumbo that was just right. The dishes were very well received and now the pressure’s on to follow up with new and exiting stuff.

While we’re on food, I think I should like to pass an amusing little anecdote. The other day at dinner there was a serious funk coming from somewhere and I couldn’t figure out where. I tried as discretely as I could to smell my clothes (and myself) just to make sure it wasn’t me. This should always be step one; I had an unpleasant incident involving a plane ride and a chimichuri sauce (heavily laden with garlic, no less) in my carry-on a few years ago. Anyway, I had totally lost track of the conversation as I kept looking around me for some clues. Was I the only one who noticed it? Had they all noticed it too but thought it was me? Were they being gracious and polite? I was about to crack and holler out what the hell was that smell, when I located the source: a little gem known as Saint-Marcellin. This is a tiny inoffensive looking cheese from Daupniné in southeastern France. If you know me I’m sure you can imagine what happened next: I couldn’t get enough of the stuff and barely left enough for the others.

I know everyone knows that this country is known for its cheeses, but it’s hard to grasp the scope of it until you stroll down the cheese isle. According to one book I’ve been consulting, there are over 350 varieties! There’s one I was reading about that is produced by a single one-woman farm in the Alps from no more than nine cows! It should also come as no surprise that the rules and regulations governing naming rights and production techniques are strictly enforced. Serious business.
Anyway, I’m still waiting for my absentee ballot and I’m starting to get a little nervous. I’ll probably send the lovely folks at the registration office an email when I’m done here to find out just how nervous I need to be. I can almost guarantee that the system will have miraculously acquired remarkable efficiency come tax time. Anyway that’s it for now, but there’ll be more to come.