Saturday, January 23, 2010

The Gaul of That Kid

Big Fry had his first sleep over last weekend. His friend, Pierre-Louis, was invited over for an American-style sleep over meaning pizza for dinner and ice cream sundaes for dessert. Pierre-Louis is French-American like my French Fries. His dad is a French restaurant critic and his mom is an American personal fitness trainer. When she's not jogging at the Parc Monceau, you can find her jogging at the Bois de Boulogne or back in the US running a marathon.

When he arrived at our place I thought little Pierre-Louis was quite possibly one of the most refined 4 years olds I had ever met. Impeccable manners and taste. I overheard him telling Big Cheese about the fabulous restaurants he’s eaten at and what famous chef worked where. He knew his stuff.

And that's the grand difference between Pierre-Louis and Big Fry. Big Fry educates me on who the well-known French cartoon characters are (Lucky Luke, Asterix & Obelix, Franklin) while pint-sized Pierre-Louis tells us where to go for the best foie gras in town.

By breakfast the next morning, I was definitely annoyed with the Gaul of our petit guest.

Here’s a sampling of the comments Pierre-Louis made over a 15 hour timeframe. Can you guess which part of his French-American DNA was speaking?

La Mom: à table, the pizza’s here!
PL: We’re having pizza for dinner? Pizza is for provincials. We never eat pizza at home.
DNA==>?? This one’s a toss-up. The American DNA may be responsible for such a comment (cheese = fat) but I’m going to hold the French DNA liable (true Frenchies would never eat pizza when they could eat emincé de volaille sauce roquefort et pommes de terre sautées.)

Oh, and that "provinical" comment? I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't heard it with my own ears.

La Mom: Come make your sundaes and choose your macarons, kids!
PL: (Takes a look at the plate of macarons) They don’t look like macarons from Ladurée.
DNA ==> French. Only a French kid whose father is a food buff would be able to recognize a macaron from Ladurée or not (by the way, mine were the frozen ones from Picard. I know - shameful!)

La Mom: Drink your milk, guys.
PL: (Takes a sip and makes a face) This milk tastes too creamy. My taste buds aren’t used to so much cream.
DNA ==>American. There’s no way the French would complain about too much cream in anything!

La Mom: Would you like jam or honey on your toast?
PL: Is that industrial bread? I want fresh baguette.
Big Fry: Baaaaaa oui. Me too, Mommy, where’s the fresh baked traditional baguette?
La Mom: Hey Big Cheeeese, get out of the shower! You need to make a baguette run pronto!
DNA ==>French. Only French kids know the difference between industrial bread and baguette. Not to mention the different baguette variations.

Small Fry: I want Frosties for breakfast.
La Mom: Here you go, ma puce.
PL: Are there trans-fats in that cereal?
DNA==> American all the way!

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