Apples ‘à la Français’ (in the French style)

My host family has been great about making sure that I am aware of cultural customs. Things like putting the bread on the table, not on the plate, putting your water glass directly above the plate instead of to the upper right, and most importantly- teaching me how to eat food in the French way.

There are a few basic things to know: you never cut salad, if you cut a bite you must eat it right after, it’s rude to cut bites in advance and let them sit on your plate. But the most important thing that I have learned in terms of eating involves apples.

I remember the second day that I was here- I was starving, I had just gone to the grocery, and I devoured an apple. I put the core in the trash pile- assuming that would be the end of it.

But, of course, it was not.

The next day, presumably after seeing the core in the trash, my host mother ate an apple after dinner. She ate it very elegantly, cutting it into fourths, and then only taking out a very small part of the fruit around the seeds. But the most fascinating part of this adventure was the skin. She peeled the entire apple using her knife. Not medieval style- where you just use your left hand and a paring knife. No, this was more elegant. She used both a fork and knife. As she deftly peeled the skin away, and ate about 90% of the apple, her message was clear: this is how to eat an apple in France.

I tired several times, mostly to no avail. I would get frustrated trying to cut it into fourths, or only end up peeling a tiny part before the fork, which was holding the apple in place, would slip. But tonight (October 7th, a fateful day), I decided to get over it, and learn how to peel an apple the French way.

I had a perfect window of opportunity as I was planning my meal- no one else was in the apartment. I made my pasta with no trouble, and just as I was sitting down to eat, my host mother came in the door. She came to say hi, and there was no going back- she saw the apple on the table. It was clear that I planned to eat it after dinner. I couldn’t back out without her realizing that she had intimidated me out of eating the apple.

She nicely left the kitchen, and left me to my project. I cut it into fourths- that was okay. Then things started getting tough- some of the seeds when flying, deflected by the water pitcher on the table, others went to the floor and were immediately eaten by Poker, our Jack Russell terrier and my constant dining companion. I finally got it cut in fourths, and got all of the seeds out. Then I had to peel it. There was a lot of slipping, and mess ups, and many loud clangings of the knife on my plate, or my fork on the table. But I grit my teeth and got through it. It was extremely delicious- the apple à la français. As I got to the final quarter, I had the hang of the peeling. It was practically second nature! Then disaster struck- I lost my grip, and the final piece of apple went flying through the air. I frantically held off Poker, who thought that Christmas had come early in the form of ¼ of a Norman apple, and tried to catch it. But I didn’t make it, and it went skidding off the floor. I had come so far, only to suffer defeat at the very end. I wasn’t going to let that apple get the best of me. I picked it directly off the floor and ate it- and I’m praying that the 5-second rule works across continents.

(Sorry Mom, I know you’ll be disappointed that I ate it off the floor. But I had worked too hard for it to go to Poker).

Anyway, I miss you all. Things here are settling into a rhythm, or at least are calming down somewhat. Which is definitely a good thing. I love getting mail- so please send it! And let me know about what’s going on in your life.

Gros Bisous,

Margarette