"Benito Berlusconi" a écrit dans le message de
news:3e8b16ee-eec1-44af-8531-e02ec1e4df0e@z34g2000vbl.googlegroups.com...
On Oct 26, 3:48 am, "Gregory Morrow"
wrote:
> http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/25/opinion/25mayle.html?_r=1
>
> October 25, 2009
> Op-Ed Contributor
>
> Pumpkin Eaters
>
> By PETER MAYLE
>
> "Aix-en-Provence, France - THERE is a tendency among the French to welcome
> certain aspects of American life with immediate and uncritical enthusiasm:
> hamburgers, Jerry Lewis, baseball caps, elderly television series
> ("Starsky
> & Hutch" is still running on French TV), Westerns, Marlboro Lights,
> button-down shirts - these and much more besides have crossed the Atlantic
> to become firmly embedded in le lifestyle français.
>
> The Celtic-by-way-of-America celebration of Halloween is one more example
> that has always stuck in my mind because it arrived in France about the
> same
> time that I did, 20 years ago.
>
> I remember the moment well. I was passing the window of a shop that
> specialized in avant-garde underwear when my eye was caught by a small
> pumpkin, half-concealed behind the lacy thickets of a black brassiere. A
> hand-lettered sign tucked into the bra read, "N'oubliez pas l'alowine!" -
> as
> if one could ever forget Halloween when reminded of it in such an exotic
> fashion.
>
> But there was a problem. In those unenlightened days, hardly anyone in
> France had the faintest idea of what alowine was. An informal survey among
> friends produced nothing at first but shrugs and incomprehension. I gave
> my
> respondents a clue in the form of a pumpkin. Ah, they said, soup. I tried
> again, this time with the date, Oct. 31, the eve of All Saints' Day. Of
> course, they said, Toussaint, but this is not a day of pumpkins. Toussaint
> is marked here in France by the chrysanthemum. But how would you know
> that,
> being English? I retired hurt.
>
> The years passed, and alowine scored one or two minor victories. I noticed
> a
> modest selection of cards, a sprinkling of pumpkins and the odd witch's
> hat.
> But there was nothing to indicate that Halloween was having much of an
> impact locally until I happened to bump into M. Farigoule in the village
> cafe. (Here I should explain that M. Farigoule is my mentor -
> self-appointed - on all matters that have to do with correct behavior for
> a
> foreigner living in France, from table manners to income tax. He is an
> unrepentant chauvinist, a fund of misinformation and a prodigious consumer
> of rosé. I'm rather fond of him.)
>
> It was the first morning of November, and M. Farigoule was seething with
> indignation. The previous evening, just as he was settling down in front
> of
> the television to disagree with the evening news, he had been disturbed by
> a
> thunderous clattering on his front door. On his doorstep, he found a gang
> of
> sooty-faced infants. One of them, holding up a hollowed-out pumpkin with a
> guttering candle inside, demanded bonbons. Why should I give you bonbons?
> asked M. Farigoule. Because it is alowine, was the reply.
>
> M. Farigoule looked at me and shrugged, his expression a question mark. It
> was clear that he was not familiar with Halloween and its customs. At last
> it was my chance to teach him something. He listened while I described the
> cast of characters - the witches and hobgoblins, the skeletons and spirits
> of the dead, the Grim Reaper and his attendant vultures - and he seemed to
> understand the basic principles of trick-or-treating. It was when I was
> trying to explain the historical significance and traditional use of the
> pumpkin that I saw, from his elevated eyebrows and pursed lips, that I had
> touched a nerve.
>
> "Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that pumpkins all over America are
> massacred, with all that good honest flesh tossed away, simply to provide
> a
> primitive decoration?" He took a deep swig of rosé and shook his head. "Do
> our American friends know what treasures they're missing? Pumpkin
> fritters!
> Pumpkin and apple sauce - so delightful with sausages! Then, bien sûr,
> there
> is Toulouse-Lautrec's sublime gratin of pumpkin.
>
> "And it must be said that Mme. Farigoule" - he raised his glass to the
> ceiling in a silent salute - "makes, during the season, a most exquisite
> pumpkin risotto." He shook his head again. "No - to sacrifice a pumpkin
> for
> such a frivolous purpose as alowine is a waste, a terrible waste. Whatever
> next?" He allowed me to refill his glass while he recovered his composure,
> and our conversation moved on to the less sensitive topic of village
> politics.
>
> Another, more official blow to Halloween's standing in France was the
> reaction of a local authority, the school attended by my friend's young
> children. One year, for reasons that continue to elude me, it was decreed
> that the pupils should celebrate Halloween by coming to school dressed in
> appropriately spine-chilling outfits: witches, of course, but also
> bloodstained ghouls, vampires, a variety of evil spirits and even a small,
> very hot human pumpkin swathed from head to toe in layers of orange
> toweling.
>
> The following year saw a change in the school's management. Alas for
> Halloween, the new principal was someone with more traditional views, and
> she was not sympathetic to the idea of fancy dress in the classroom,
> particularly when inspired by some ridiculous foreign novelty. When asked
> to
> explain why she had canceled Halloween, her reply was brief and to the
> point.
>
> "It has nothing to do with us," she said. "We're French."
>
> The Pumpkin Risotto of Mme. Farigoule
>
> The secret is in the preparation of the pumpkin. After removing seeds and
> fiber, cut the flesh into chunks, leaving the skin still attached. With
> your
> hands, mix the chunks in a bowl with 2 or 3 tablespoons of the best olive
> oil, salt and pepper, a tablespoon of fresh marjoram and a teaspoon of
> dried
> oregano. Lay the chunks on a baking tray, skin side down, and put them in
> the oven, which you have preheated to 425°F. When the chunks of pumpkin
> are
> soft and the edges are tinged with brown, remove from the oven and allow
> to
> cool, sc. the flesh from the skin and shred with a fork. Prepare your
> risotto in the usual way and once the rice is ready, stir in the pumpkin,
> along with freshly grated Parmesan and butter. (Mme. Farigoule's tip is to
> be extra-generous with both cheese and butter.) Add a sage leaf for
> decoration, and a sprinkling of Parmesan, et voilà..."
>
> Peter Mayle is the author of "A Year in Provence" and the forthcoming
> novel
> "The Vintage Caper."
>
>
grunged celebrates 'aloweeny'
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