"Petit Mains"

Petit Mains, they call me. Small hands. This is the beginning of my apprenticeship for Corine's Cous-Cous. For the next 6 hours food breaks all boundaries of language and it is just us, our bellies and some good company. The Cous-Cous dish was delicious, but not quite what I had expected (though really, I knew very little of "French/African" dishes so my expectations were vague to begin with!). Not wanting to give away any family secrets, I will be breif in its methods. A simple vegetable stock cooks a variety of large root veggies while cous cous steams away in the top of the double boiler, being infused with the spices from the lower deck. Yum Yum, it was GOOOOD. The impromptu lesson turned into more of a dinner party, with 6 of us being seated in the living room, sipping some bubbly and eating delicious appetizers (my kind of party!!). As we sat for an hour or so listening to a debate about Israeli Avocadoes, we realized the more champagne you drink, the more you understand french. But really, I only knew half of what was being passed back and forth across the table. I heard words, Israeli, Boycott, Avocadoes, Palestine, Stupid, One in Ten... and I made my own assumptions about the conversation. After the champagne and the appetizers we sat down for the main event. I was stuffed. But of course, that was not the end of this feast. What do French people love more than baguettes? CHEESE! And after every meal, they top it off with a variety pack of cheese. Some brie, some chevre... you know all the good stuff. Then at last, the fourth and final course: the Charlotte. A dessert made from cream, eggs and lady fingers, topped with hazelnuts. Delicious. We are far too spoiled. Post-dinner we had a bit of a "computer-fixing" party, wherein Tarek and Nick attend to the malfunctions on Corine's computer and I supervised. With the computer in tip top shape we at last make our way home and climb into bed with our full bellies gurgling into the night time.