A French Girl's Move to the US

Bonjour a tous!

Here I am, doing what I wanted to for a long time: writing on my blog.

Baking is one of my passions but writing is another great one. Just have to find the time for it, or make the time for it, and I have decided that today is THE day!

Before we talk about pastries, let’s talk a little about life. Mine, yours and theirs…what a weird year is unfolding right in front of our eyes, life has thrown at us some great challenges, things that we never thought we would live in real life, right! We watch movies where people have to fight a virus, go through a pandemic, but never we thought this would become our reality!

In our house, since March, life has been way different, as I am sure in many other families.

The first reaction we have as human beings is to protect our loved ones and make sure we are all safe and healthy. Naturally we all locked ourselves, waited patiently and stayed safe within our homes. What could we do with all the extra time together? Cooking, baking , and eating of course. Or at least that’s what happens in our home, not that there was none of that before, food is a huge part of our lives, as we come from cultures that put a lot of emphasis on food. For French and Italian, Food is not only a need, it’s a pleasure, a social event, a time to stop and enjoy.

For those who don’t know me, I am Gigi. I am French, married an Italian, we have two daughters, and we’ve lived in America for about 20 years now.

I have so many stories I can share with you, and I will. Stories about that young French girl coming to the US for the first time 20 years ago, not speaking a word of English, and making her way through life to this day, writing a blog. So many fun stories about culture differences that have made my life rich and never boring.

Coming to America was a dream of my then boyfriend, my now husband. Was it a dream of mine? No! It had never crossed my mind that I could be living far away from my family, my friends and everything that had made me, the very French girl!

But love came one day when I was 20, swept me off my feet, and blew me thousands miles away from everything I ever knew since I was born.

Scared? No I wasn’t! I was in love and ready to go around the world if I had to.

America. What did I know about America? Well, everything I knew came from TV. I know, very reliable information and probably very accurate, Right!

My idea of America was based on TV shows we were all watching at the time. To give you an idea, Prince of bel air was one of them, Baywatch was another. Other soap operas I used to watch with my mom such as Dallas or Days of our lives, the Young and the Restless and many others.

I hear you giggle and make a little fun of me, go ahead, I am not ashamed, I cherish all these times spent with my mom talking about whether Ashley would cheat on Brad or if Victor would dump his fifth wife again. I say I was educating myself on how life was abroad, and preparing myself without even knowing that one day, I would be living in the land of hamburgers, cowboys and Movie stars!

Oh boy, was I far from reality!

When I arrived on a very hot humid day in August in Jackson Mississippi, yeah I know why Mississippi, ( you can giggle again) that’s another story, stay tuned! I knew nothing about what real America was. I was on for an interesting and bumpy ride!

That very hot summer day, I realised quickly: TV is not reality!

Looking back now, of course, I don’t regret at all our years in Mississippi. We have met amazing people who became family. But back then, I was like: where are the beautiful mansions, the movie stars, those huge buildings, those women in bikini roller skating on the side of the road? Well they were certainly not in Mississippi!

The funny story is that we were supposed to be in California! But ended up in Mississippi. How did that happen? Well, My then boyfriend, who was studying international business in a French school in South of France, had to do a semester in a school, in a foreign country. He picked the United states, because it was his dream since he was a young boy. Being on top of his class he could pick any destination he liked and naturally chose California. Because what 20 year old doesn't dream of going to a college in California? It is just a dream come true for a French Italian immigrant!

It was all set! He asked me if I wanted to come with him! It is just for a semester he said( yeah right!). We knew each other for about a year, and we already knew we were on for the long ride, marriage, kids and the all picture perfect life! I did not hesitate for a second. I never had been on a plane before, and never had been out of the country either. A true French girl never been outside of our beautiful France. I was ready for the adventure...of a lifetime.

3 weeks before leaving, he received a call, telling him the program in California was cancelled. What? Like, how did that happen? We were all set, all excited, all ready for this adventure.

He called his mentor at school to let him know of the situation. Being top of his class gave him the chance to choose before everybody else but now, well they all picked “the cool places”. He said to us: Wait! There is one spot left in the US, Clinton Mississippi at Mississippi college! If we wanted to go to America, we were left with…Mississippi.

Mississippi? Where was that? We looked at each other for two seconds: let’s do it! We said at the same time.

Marco had to go for the summer to work in an amusement park in Tennessee to improve his English before getting to Mississippi college. I was to join him in September as I had to work all summer in France.

My first time on a plane, alone, going to a foreign country, not speaking a word of english! That’s what we call “love can move mountains”.

Here I am in that plane, or those planes, I had to take 3 to get to Jackson Mississippi. I can’t wait to get there, to see my boy again after two months apart. As a present( beside me) :), I got him 3 nice saucissons ( sausages) the kind we eat a lot in France, with a nice fresh baguettes, some butter and cornichons ( pickles), our pickles are way different than the American ones, in size and taste, small and really vinegary, not sweet at all.

The line grows smaller and it is almost my turn, an officer is there checking my passport, asking questions. Why am I here, for how long, where am I going to stay, and how am I going to take care of myself financially. I answer those questions, the best I can, with the few words I knew. After going through the passport check point, I picked up my luggages. I see the door that

separates me from him, a few more minutes and I will be in his arms, a few more steps and I will see his beautiful smiling face that I love so much…a few more seconds, and a security officer is stopping me.

Baggage check! They are asking me questions again, I don’t know what they want, they are taking my suitcases, opening them, looking in it frantically, obviously looking for something very specific, they put everything on the side, including, my little panties, and bras, exposing my very private life to the world around us. I get very uncomfortable, they are not very nice, and violating my privacy, I feel like I am ripped off of my clothes, and my dignity.

All of a sudden, one of them, his hand way down in my suitcase, gets some kind of a satisfactory smile on his face, like he is finally at the end of an amazing treasure hunt, takes his hand out holding a long thin wrapped package. He looks at me, like a teacher looks at a misbehaved student, like a father at a disappointed child. Or in my case, like a traveler who is trying to go through security with drugs. Where are we? In Thailand or what? Am I going to end up in a jail full of tiny women, singing “ like a virgin”, hey after all, my first name is Bridgett, right?

I am not dating Hugh Grant, who, between you and I , I have a huge crush on…and Mark Darcy won’t be coming to my rescue either, who, between you and me, I also have a big crush on. I have seen that movie at least ten times, in my lowest moments in my life, when I needed a pick me up kind of comedy, to get me out of my deep and darkest thoughts, and it always worked.

Back to my real life, they want my “Saucissons” . For those who don’t know what saucisson is, let me explain. It is what hamburger is to Americans…it is what pasta is to Italian…what tacos are to Mexican. Saucisson is the symbol of France, along with the baguette, the camembert, and red wine. That thin, long dry salami that we eat whenever but especially for “apero” . You don’t know apero time? We, French, are born on “apero” time. We try the saucisson as soon as we give up the bottle….of milk that is, because we get quickly on to another kind of bottle, that accompanies “apero time”.

The security officer is so proud of himself to have catched yet another French with its saucisson. He gives me a lecture, or I think he does based on his tone of voice, because I honestly don’t understand a word, thing that will happen from now on for the next few months, as people will be talking to me and I will be smiling, completely clueless about what they are saying. Most people will talk to me as if I was deaf. Talking louder doesn't make me understand better, but I appreciate them trying.

After being schooled about not bringing Saucisson on the hamburger land I am finally free to walk away feeling a little shaken by so much unkindness about only a little piece of dry meat. I will learn later on during my many trips between Europe and the US that, it was just an introduction to how security at airports are definitely abusing their uniforms and have absolutely zero sense of humor, hard stuff for a french girl, who, as we are born, we learn to have, beside the British, the best sarcastic sense of humor.

But I made it! I am in America!

And that is just the beginning of years of adventures, learning experiences, discovering a new culture and different people. Many funny stories, scary stories, amazing stories.

But back to food, I will tell you what happens next week.

Being married to an Italian guy, I have been embracing Italian cooking. I love Italian food as much as the French one. When we go back to France, we always stop in our Italian family who lives in Belgium for the most part. My husband’s family immigrated from Sicily to France and Belgium, in the 60’s and 70’s, looking for jobs, and never left.

Every time we pay them a visit, we are on for an amazing journey of good meals shared all together. It’s like Christmas all over again. The whole family gets together, and we end up being about 30 or 40 around the table. And the food...is so good!

As I am always looking for new recipes, I am in the right place, and they always share their secret with pleasure. That’s how I learned how to make fresh pasta. Until you have tried homemade fresh pasta, you don’t know what real pasta is. Same thing with Tiramisu, pizza...

Today I am going to share with you a very easy recipe: Ricotta.

Do you know what Ricotta is?

It is simply an Italian cheese made with either goats, cows, or sheep milk. It has this white creamy texture. Italians eat it on top of their pasta or with a simple piece of bread.

I personally like it warm on a piece of fresh bread with a drizzle of honey. You have to try it.

This recipe is easy and takes only about twenty minutes to make. It was nicely given to me by Luigi, a Sicilian friend from Sciacca.

Ricotta:

Ingredients:

4 liters of milk ( about one gallon)

1 liter of heavy cream ( about 4 cups)

½ cup of white vinegar

1 Tbsp of salt

1. In a large pan over medium heat, mix the milk, the cream and the salt.

2. Stir regularly, until it reaches 190 degree F/90 degree C.

3. At that point, add the vinegar, mix just a little bit, and let the magic happen.

4. When you see that it starts boiling in some areas, pour a little of water to stop the boiling process.

5. After about 4 to 5 minutes, you can stop the heat and start to scoop up the cheese.

6. Pour it into your drainer cover with the clothes.

7. Let it cool for about half an hour.

8. It will be warm, that’s when I like to eat it! You can put it in any container you like and place it in the fridge.

You can keep your Ricotta in the fridge for about a week. It never stays that long in mine!

It is also good and fun to mix anything you like with the Ricotta. I sometimes put onions, garlic, walnuts or any herbs I have handy or in my garden.

I will be posting a video of that Ricotta on my website really soon: www.sweetbygigi.com

Enjoy and talk to you next week for other adventures of the Frenchies in America, and a new recipe! Feel free to ask any questions or make any comments.

Quote of the day:

La cuisine est une mélodie que l’on déguste avec la bouche. G.Rossini

Merci!

A bientot!