Here is a very dramatic photo of Joe carving his first turkey. I didn’t partake, but I hear it was lovely. Thanksgiving was a brilliant success. There was even a moment in the middle of the day when the delicious smell emanating from our kitchen overpowered the stale, acrid funk of Creepy Neighbor* that pollutes the stairwell. Sweet triumph.

So after a week of teaching enormously oversimplified lessons about the history of Thanksgiving, it was a relief just to eat mashed potatoes and cornbread dressing and not have to ask everyone in the room to supply the French translation for every vegetable I named. (”What’s corn?” I would say to my students. “Euh…”) Luckily, when you have a dish in front of you, people don’t usually need an explanation of what it tastes like.

I did bring my favorite class pecan pie. They were very generous–even though I had accidentally broiled it, due to a misunderstanding with our oven–and they said “Oh la vache, c’est bon!”

*There is a post forthcoming, all about Creepy Neighbor, AKA Pissy McCoughsalot, the fountain of phlegm. And stink.

Posted in France, Joe, food, photos by rachel