character if they read a lot,” Giselle said. “Jean reads all the time,” she said as she passed around a dish with a strange looking melon cut in half that smelled sweet.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Acorn squash with butter and brown sugar,” Giselle said.
“Acorn squash?” I asked.
“Here, watch,” Giselle said as she put one on her plate, scraped the stringy contents around with her fork and dipped it in the buttery sauce. “See?” she said. “Go on, Etoile. Be a brave Frenchwoman and try it.”
I did as she had and scraped out some of the spaghetti-like pulp and dipped it in the pool of melted butter and brown sugar. I had never tasted anything so delicious before and without realizing it, closed my eyes. Giselle laughed and nudged Jean on the sleeve.
“See? She even eats like me. Savor every bite of it, Etoile,” Giselle said.
Jean pushed herself back from the table a bit and I thought that the meal was over, which was a relief because my stomach was still feeling a little strange. Giselle got up and began to take dishes away. I picked up my own plate to carry it to the sink, but she stopped me.
“ Non, Cherie ,” she said smiling, “we have not even had the main course yet, but you can help me put these other things away, okay?”
We cleared many of the dishes from the table while Jean refilled their wineglasses and poured me more milk.
When everything was tucked away, Giselle brought over a large pan from the oven. I looked at the strange contents.
“What is that?”
“ Saumon en Marinade de Vodka. Salmon in Vodka Marinade,” Giselle announced.
Jean patted her stomach. “It’s a good thing I ride my bicycle to and from the University everyday,” she said as Giselle took a piece of salmon and carefully set it down on Jean’s plate then dribbled cream sauce over it. She did the same for me, then for herself before sitting down and carefully placing her napkin back on her lap. I watched as Jean ripped a small piece of bread off and dipped it into the sauce before popping it in her mouth. She nodded satisfactorily to Giselle.
I stared at my plate for several seconds, remembering what Giselle had said about not having to try everything, but it looked so good with the cream sauce resting on top. I did want to be a brave Frenchwoman, so I used my fork to break away a small piece of the tender salmon, dipped it into the cream sauce and brought it to my lips.
I had never tasted anything so rich before. The salmon slipped down the back of my throat before the taste of the peppercorns hit and I felt warmth rising in the back of my throat. I opened my eyes to see them both watching me, Giselle smiling.
“You like?” Giselle asked.
“ Oui ,” I said as I took another forkful and shoved it in.
“ Ralentissement . Slow down,” Giselle said. “It is very rich.”
But I could not. I had never tasted anything so unusual before.
I finished long before Giselle or Jean and watched as Giselle took a bite, chewed it very slowly sometimes shutting her eyes, sat back and sipped some wine before taking another bite. I had never seen anyone eat so slowly. The children in the cafeteria shoved the food into their mouths as fast as they could to either go back for seconds or to be the first ones out on the playground. Even Anais and I ate very quickly when it was the two of us because we never knew when Maman would wake up.
Jean pushed her plate away though it still had some of the salmon on it and stretched her long legs out.
“Enough?” Giselle asked.
“Enough,” Jean said, “but delicious, as always.”
My stomach began to feel very strange again, as if it were about to burst.
Giselle finally finished, stood up and began to clear the plates. This time, Jean got up with her. I picked up my plate, but Giselle stopped me again. I could not imagine there was more food coming.
“Tonight, you get to sit and enjoy,” she said taking the plate from my hands.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Acorn squash with butter and brown sugar,” Giselle said.
“Acorn squash?” I asked.
“Here, watch,” Giselle said as she put one on her plate, scraped the stringy contents around with her fork and dipped it in the buttery sauce. “See?” she said. “Go on, Etoile. Be a brave Frenchwoman and try it.”
I did as she had and scraped out some of the spaghetti-like pulp and dipped it in the pool of melted butter and brown sugar. I had never tasted anything so delicious before and without realizing it, closed my eyes. Giselle laughed and nudged Jean on the sleeve.
“See? She even eats like me. Savor every bite of it, Etoile,” Giselle said.
Jean pushed herself back from the table a bit and I thought that the meal was over, which was a relief because my stomach was still feeling a little strange. Giselle got up and began to take dishes away. I picked up my own plate to carry it to the sink, but she stopped me.
“ Non, Cherie ,” she said smiling, “we have not even had the main course yet, but you can help me put these other things away, okay?”
We cleared many of the dishes from the table while Jean refilled their wineglasses and poured me more milk.
When everything was tucked away, Giselle brought over a large pan from the oven. I looked at the strange contents.
“What is that?”
“ Saumon en Marinade de Vodka. Salmon in Vodka Marinade,” Giselle announced.
Jean patted her stomach. “It’s a good thing I ride my bicycle to and from the University everyday,” she said as Giselle took a piece of salmon and carefully set it down on Jean’s plate then dribbled cream sauce over it. She did the same for me, then for herself before sitting down and carefully placing her napkin back on her lap. I watched as Jean ripped a small piece of bread off and dipped it into the sauce before popping it in her mouth. She nodded satisfactorily to Giselle.
I stared at my plate for several seconds, remembering what Giselle had said about not having to try everything, but it looked so good with the cream sauce resting on top. I did want to be a brave Frenchwoman, so I used my fork to break away a small piece of the tender salmon, dipped it into the cream sauce and brought it to my lips.
I had never tasted anything so rich before. The salmon slipped down the back of my throat before the taste of the peppercorns hit and I felt warmth rising in the back of my throat. I opened my eyes to see them both watching me, Giselle smiling.
“You like?” Giselle asked.
“ Oui ,” I said as I took another forkful and shoved it in.
“ Ralentissement . Slow down,” Giselle said. “It is very rich.”
But I could not. I had never tasted anything so unusual before.
I finished long before Giselle or Jean and watched as Giselle took a bite, chewed it very slowly sometimes shutting her eyes, sat back and sipped some wine before taking another bite. I had never seen anyone eat so slowly. The children in the cafeteria shoved the food into their mouths as fast as they could to either go back for seconds or to be the first ones out on the playground. Even Anais and I ate very quickly when it was the two of us because we never knew when Maman would wake up.
Jean pushed her plate away though it still had some of the salmon on it and stretched her long legs out.
“Enough?” Giselle asked.
“Enough,” Jean said, “but delicious, as always.”
My stomach began to feel very strange again, as if it were about to burst.
Giselle finally finished, stood up and began to clear the plates. This time, Jean got up with her. I picked up my plate, but Giselle stopped me again. I could not imagine there was more food coming.
“Tonight, you get to sit and enjoy,” she said taking the plate from my hands.
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