French Thanksgiving

To answer your question, no, Thanksgiving is not a thing in France. They’re totally oblivious to the idea of celebrating the harvest or remembering our European settlers or whatever other probably racially insensitive thing this holiday was created from.

But when you have a Canadian girl with passable culinary skills living with you, Thanksgiving is a thing in France.

My indescribably wonderful host family is really keen on the idea of an exchange of culture, even though I constantly tell them that “Canadian culture” consists of a mix of European and American traditions, covered in a light drizzle of maple syrup and/or cheese curds. Still, they insist on being educated in my Canuck ways, so about a week ago we decided we would host a Canadian Thanksgiving.

On one hand, I was jazzed to get a taste of home. On the other hand, I was terrified as heck because I’d literally never made Thanksgiving dinner, plus I’m a vegetarian so I don’t even know how to make half the dishes?????

But apparently I’m braver/more stupid than I thought, so on Saturday I spent literally the whole day in the kitchen (albeit a little hungover because that’s half the tradition) with my host mom, making stuffing, veggies, potatoes, turkey (which was actually chicken because you can only get turkey at Christmas in the French Riviera), and pumpkin pie to feed 9 adults and 4 children, most of whom were experiencing Thanksgiving for the first time ever.


But it turned out amazing. Like, better than I could have dreamed. They loved the food. I made stuffing for the first time in my life and wow not to boast but it was DELICIOUS. And I made an entire pumpkin pie from scratch in a country that doesn’t sell canned pumpkin purée because they have literally never heard of pumpkin pie nor do they understand that it is a dessert.

I see a French green card in my future because I am totally wife material.

(Okay, chill, I know that was, like, the least feminist thing to say but IT WAS A JOKE OKAY??)

(Not entirely a joke. I’m lowkey looking for a French husband to keep me in the country shhh don’t tell immigration.)

All bragging and joking aside, it may very well have been the best Thanksgiving I have ever had. Maybe it was the champagne (and I’m talking REAL champagne, not sparkling wine) but I almost teared up a few times our of pure thankfulness for my host family. I sound like a Charlie Brown special, but honestly, I really learned the meaning of Thanksgiving this year. I have such an incredible family who are so invested in my life and my culture that they are willing to orchestrate probably the most complicated Canadian holiday, so that they can learn more about me and give me a welcoming French experience. I genuinely feel like the most fortunate human being in the world, and I am trying so hard to not take any of this for granted because holy crap I am really damn lucky.

I still don’t know what I’m going to do after France. Heck, I don’t know if I will ever leave France at this point, if I can swing it (re: wife material). My future is more uncertain than it’s ever been but eff the future because the present is pretty freakin fantastic.

I realize I come from a lot of privilege, so I will not just say, “you, too, can have an amazing life like this!!” because I know that’s a narrow-minded perspective. But what I will say is do not settle for anything. I know I sound like a broken record in all my French blog posts, but seriously, moving to France is probably the scariest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve never wanted something more, and I’ve never been happier. So reach as far as you can, and then go one step further.

Oh and just a heads up I’ll be starting a pastry business if I ever move back to Canada because DAMN I make a good pie.


I am in love

And it’s about time I talk about it.

I don’t know what sparked this desire to openly talk about my love life. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally come to realize my true feelings. Not to say these feelings weren’t there before, because they have definitely been there for a long time now. Certain situations recently have just provoked me into seeing the truth.

Guys, I am deeply, deeply in love.

With food.

(I’ll allow a moment for all of the boys who have a crush on me and are currently lined up outside my door to breathe a sigh of relief and slow their heart rates. Not to worry, boys, I’m still single.)

I am just so in love with food. Food of all kinds. Dessert food. Savoury food. Junk food. Healthy food. Cold food. Hot food. Homemade food. Restaurant food. I just love food. I have a passion for eating, and I would do it all day, every day if I didn’t want to have to worry about buying a new pair of pants every other week.

But this is no easy love. No, sometimes my love for food is a star-crossed love. Sometimes I just don’t have as much time to commit to food as I would like. Or I don’t have the means to enjoy this delicious food. Or sometimes I have to make sacrifices because I just don’t have the dolla dolla bills. It is a tough relationship to keep up, and sometimes I just want to give up and go hungry. But then I remember the wonderful, wonderful feeling I get from a really good meal.

Like I said, food has been the love of my life for really my whole life. But this year I became entirely dependent on myself for the things I consume, so my connection to food has grown even deeper. Boys come and go, but food is forever.

Now if you’ll excuse me, the kitchen calls.