avril

It is April. The first of April. I have high hopes for this turn of the calendar. We have to start getting a lot of our life in order so that we can come back to the States. That's right. Still haven't purchase plane tickets. Or confirmed graduate school attendance.

And it's raining. I guess that makes sense for April, but in my mind I skipped to the part where everything is growing & animals are all cute & everyone is happy. Forgot we have a lot of rain to get through before the sun really sticks around.

There are 15 hours left for France to go around telling people stupid things. In France, April Fool's Day is changed to the "Poisson d'Avril". The "Fish of April," which often comes in the form of a paper fish that is taped to an unknowing person's back. Or, if you're lucky, you could get one of these awesome Fish of April postcards. Who doesn't want that?

I have no idea where April Fool's Day came from, but I can tell you a bit about the Fish of April. According to legend (and French Wikipedia), in 1564 Charles IX signed the Édit de Roussillon, making the new year begin on January 1st. Until this édit, the French kingdom had had several different starting points for their years. Charlie (rawr) decided it was time to get everyone on the same page.

The other options for dates hovered around Christmas, Easter and the Annunciation. Instead of marking the beginning of spring or the arrival of Christ, he opted for picking a start date that aligned more with sunlight–when we start having more hours minutes (growing slowly until spring) of sunlight in each day.

So why are we giving each other a fish? Well, the other dates were based on the Catholic calendar. Similarly, the fish comes from Catholic practice. April Fool's Day usually falls in, or just after, "carême", the French for Lent. In the 16th century, Catholics were still abstaining from meat for the entirety of Lent. At the end, they gave each other gifts of food... Hopefully no fish, since it's all they were eating for Lent.

While giving gifts, they thought it was funny to slap the paper fish on someone–a sort of "You ate so much fish during Lent this year that you look like a fish!" Haha. Ha. Hmm.

Struggling for an April Fool's Day joke? Now you've got one that your whole neighborhood will think is original (if a little bizarre). Cut out a paper fish & slap it onto the next unsuspecting person you see. Or start a fish fight at work! Cut out a million paper fish & see how many people you can tape it to before people start getting really upset & sending you to the office therapist.


Enjoy what you're reading? I'd love to know that we're on track. Click Follow on the right side of the screen to stick with us.

history & a snack

Qui s'y frotte s'y pique.

Upon our arrival in Nancy, Joe & I went to grab postcards for family members. We were sifting through the turning displays of them at a small gift shop when we noticed this adage. We were intrigued, and we started researching.

The translation is something like, "If you mess with it, it will sting you." The French version & the less literal meaning behind it make the phrase much cooler. The phrase was used by Duc d'Orléans and Louis XII (very attractive, joyous-seeming man) before taking up residence in the Lorraine region.

In 1477, Duke Charles of Burgundy was still terrorizing France (and surrounding countries). Duke René II of Lorraine, along with a portion of the Swiss army, decided to take on Burgundy & "Charles the Bold." They had to defend Nancy, capital of Lorraine. The battle is explained, quite efficiently, here.

It was this battle that brought the phrase to the region, though it was altered slightly:

Ne me touche pas, je pique.

The meaning remains similar: Attack knowing that we'll fight back. And they fought back hard, saving their own lives & their French nationality. They also now have this great device honoring the battle and the Lorraine chardon that make it perfect for the region. This sticky flower remains a symbol of the Lorraine.

René II went on to do pretty well for himself. To briefly summarize from Wikipedia (making the briefer, brieferer), he claimed the kingdom of Naples and the county of Provence before becoming King of Naples and Jerusalem. I could go on.

While I'm no historian, I am a sucker for the culture of a town–the nuances that make generations feel connected to each other. Lorraine is teeming with centuries upon centuries of this changing Northern culture (though it official settled in its current shape only a half century before the States became their own country*). This is all to say that come Christmas, Megan is buying herself a Lorraine history book & cookbook. It will be the first history book I've willingly read–and important step if I want to be a well-rounded writer of nonfiction.

One thing that I will not be messing with in any cookbook: andouillette. Not to be confused with the equally frightening andouille. I won't say that I hated it, but as a long time skeptic of the safety of the meat industry and as a massive advocate of sustainable farming I can say it's honestly something I never imagined I would consume. This is how it ended up in my stomach:

Joe & I had been out running around town, & we were hungry. There were plans coming up soon; we didn't have time to mess with dinner. We stopped into Made in France, an almost Subway of sorts where the choices are definitely "classic" French. We weren't sure what a few of the things were. We just knew we wanted sauce blanche on it. I saw the word "artisinal" & went with it. It turned out to be artisinal andouillette all chopped up and covered with vegetables.

Andouillettes are small andouille sausages–a pork dish made with the ENTIRE gastrointestinal system of the pig. It's, needless to say, an acquired taste. While I'd never let an aspic in the same room with me, here's a picture (from their Wikipedia page) to give you an idea of what they looked like when we walked into the grocery store & passed a jar of andouilles floating in their juices. This is how I realized what I'd eaten.

The andouillette was all chopped up, but I definitely had the feeling I was eating something with a sharp, earthy flavor. I don't want to think about that now. I'm certain my parents will find this to be some sort of cosmic justice for all the smoked sausage, brauts & hot dogs I refused to eat for fear of what they were made of or wrapped in. I have an adventurous palate, but I don't know if I can handle something occasionally translated as "French pig-colon sausage."