Ass Kebab

As Will.i.am would have to
ask, "What u gon 'do with all
that ass?..."

Up the rue, the middle eastern restaurant Saf Saf's menu abbreviates assiette (plate) as "Ass:" In an admittedly Beavis & Butthead way, I usually mutter "Ass kebab" when I walk by. It's therapeutic. You should try it. And before we leave Angers, I should really stop there, drop 7€, and dig in.

Cleaned up and ready for
a big night, silly wabbit
lays out in front of
cutting-board kitties.

Well, I finally did what Elmer Fudd could never do--killed the wabbit. I tracked it down at Super U, the supermarché near Jack's soccer club. Not that I've been tip-toeing around France with my twusty whyfull but by swiping my debit card at the tri-lingual self-checkout console, I directly participated in Bugs's demise. If "follow the money" means anything, I have bunny blood on my hands. Rabbits (lapin) are in the meat section between Foghorn Leghorn (poulet) and Porky Pig (porc). Like French poultry, the rabbit's head is left on (because otherwise you'd have to suspect the butcher is trying to sell you a large gopher). This did haunt me a little as Jack and I rode home on our bikes with plastic-wrapped rabbit in my backpack. Jack asked what was for dinner. I told him I bought a rabbit. "You mean there's a dead rabbit in your backpack!?" It's all about what you're used to I guess. Even though I bought a whole rabbit, I baked it in parts per the instructions of a very typical French method: butter (duh), onions, dijon, thyme and, towards the end, crème fraiche. It was hoppin' good. More rabbit pictures (warning--head included) here.

Our found object: Boar tusk or
cup-handle trauma survivor? 

Staying on topic (sort of) Jack and I were down by the river last week and found a mammalian jaw bone.  It had a perfectly arced piece of what looked like the handle of a coffee cup fused into its skelecature. I even suggested to Jack that this poor animal must have chewed up a coffee cup at a young age and amazingly healed, incorporating the glassware into its body (did I say I was homeschooling my children?-- what an ass kebab). We took it home and showed it to Kristin who saw the obvious boar tusk. Well sure, that's what it was. Maybe we can make some scrimshaw earrings or an eyebrow stud? But then just today I heard one of Kristin's students saying, "...they're scary and they have orange teeth..." It turned out she was talking about nutria, big rat-like animals that live in swamps near her home in Oregon. But this (thanks Wikipedia) indeed turns out to be our jawbone. Nutria have not only been transplanted to North America from South America by "fur-farmers," but to Europe, too. And here in France, they're called ragondin. And while they're generally considered a destructive invader, the vermin can apparently be converted to pâté.

Likely suspects: Wild boar (mounted at Chateau d Brisac),  ragondin
(mounted at Universite Bordeaux) and Samson, smiting 1,000 men with an
ass's jawbone (the ultimate ass-kebab).

Chartres: Last weekend (a week ago now) we trained northeast to Chartres for a sunny day in another one of these beautiful cities--complete with the archetypal Gothic cathedral, charmingly arrayed cobblestones, canals, and half timbers... you know the drill.  For lunch we met up with Fritz and Marilyn who are living in Lyons for a few months. After our pizzas, salads, and vin, we all hauled our assiettes up the 302 steps to the top o' the cathedral spire. OMG... I just made the connection between the stairway in a spire and the word "spiral." Is this architectural feature the "metaphunctional" origin of the word? One can never find a linguist when one needs one. Chartres pictures (warning, heads included).

Our tour guide demonstrated some
different ways to tend bar. 

Cointreau: Some destinations are far. Some are not. Apparently, I had to travel to Angers, the home of Cointreau, to have my first taste of this extra special elixir. While most of the AHA excursions are about regional culture and texture, this one is more about local flavor. Since you can visit Cointreau's website yourself, I, like a producer of essence-flavored beet alcohol, will boil it down for ya. A long time ago, a guy in Angers was losing money trying to sell cherry liqueur and so switched to orange peels. Around the same time he married someone with a lot of money and started spending most of it on marketing. This worked very well. The tradition continues. Let's drink some. Don't miss the gift shop.

The creepy guy with the white neck
ruffle (a symbol of purity) was the
first to give Cointreau street cred.

Initially considered a digestif, some consider it an aperitif. Today the company just wants you to know that Cointreau is the sophisticated drink of charismatic women -- charismatic women like their new "brand ambassador," Dita von Teese (pictured above). Cointreau is not inexpensive however. But if the price were lower, you might think sluts drank it. A few more Cointreau pictures.

Transportation: Thanks to the kind assistance of people we've met here, Friday night's return from gymnastics is the only weekly gym-trip we still need to make by bus. Kristin or I take the number 1 out there and return with E & I for dinner. As I waited for the 7:39 at the République stop, a woman stopped and asked, "Êtes-vous en attendant le bus?"
I heard "bus" so I said, "Oui." She said something else. I delivered my traditionally convincing apology for having no French to speak of/with. But thankfully she persevered. Apparently, earlier in the day, a bus driver had been roughed up so all the bus drivers stopped working. I've since found out a few more details but, that was the basic message the good samaritan was able to convey with effective hand gestures and carefully selected cognates (though I am pretty sure she said ass-kebab).
It just so happened that we were having some friends over for light fare and Cointreau margaritas, so site-director Sue and Kristin worked two phones, texting and calling contacts at the gym to find Ella and Ivy a ride before all the potential drivers went home. In the nick of time they found a new carpool and our brush with French labor action was mitigated. And so, we commenced with fromage, pain, crudités, and refining our sophisticated charismas.

Bon appétit.