Saturday was Mr. Cheeseland’s big 30th birthday- a milestone that deserved to be celebrated in style, complete with a four-course feast, gifts and plenty of old-age teasing. We spent the afternoon at my in-laws in the Paris suburbs where a crisp layer of white snow covered the grounds and dainty flurries steadily dropped as we drank and dined. A snowball fight helped to digest the salmon & spinach terrine, roast beef, potatoes, cheese, bread, champagne, 3-chocolate cake AND lemon meringue pie which was a gift from Cat of Sugar Daze (I can really only take credit for the baking conversation and meringue piping!). 

The afternoon was also an opportunity to see my in-laws before I take off for Philadelphia on Tuesday. This year, I’m going alone and will make up for a lot of lost time. It has been an entire year since I’ve stepped foot on American soil and felt that oddly potent wave of awkwardness – that desire to speak French to everyone I encounter, the uncertainty of how much smiling I really need to do to fit back in, and the sensation of being home without really being “home”. This is the longest I have gone without seeing family (off-screen) and I’m ecstatic to reconnect. The separation gets easier over time but it doesn’t change how much I miss them. 

But no holiday season would be complete for me without a meal with my French family. An all-day affair, I usually leave swearing off starches and sugar after having to unbutton my jeans to make room for the 3rd, 4th and sometimes 5th course. I never succeed but it’s a good thing these meals aren’t more frequent. We talk politics, movies, work, life and how adorable it is that my 8 year old niece is learning Beatles songs in English class. They welcomed me into their nest from the very beginning and I’m grateful for their consistent warmth. I don’t know if I would have been able to manage the long separations from family without them. Plus, I know that everytime we get together there is good food involved. What could be better?

 

I used to complain that the French didn’t know how to make birthday cakes. What child wants an elegant 3-tiered dark chocolate mousse cake that looks too beautiful to eat? Where are the Disney character toppers and icing-rich flowers to fight over? I’ve come to realize that the French interpretation of cake is far greater and turns little children into refined dessert connoisseurs. While this may raise the bar a bit too high a bit too young, they quickly understand what treats are worth the indulgence and I think that’s a very important skill to have. No baguette is created equal and neither is chocolate cake. 

From one festivity I fly to another. I hope I  return to Paris recharged and ready to tackle a prosperous, successful, enriching and satisfying new year full of chocolate, cheese and champagne. A girl can dream, right?