....ice cream in Périgueux....
One of the rituals of our daily life here is the recitation of the school lunch menu. On the walk home from school, or at the dinner table, Nellie and Julian tell us the details of their three- or four-course lunches, enjoyed for a leisurely hour with another half-hour to play outside and digest before returning to class.
At both schools the entire school eats together in a separate building, so they have a short walk to get to the lunchroom. In Issac, at Nellie's school, the children sit at assigned tables and are served by the lunch ladies. In Villamblard, they have a semi-cafeteria system, with the kids moving through a line with trays, and seconds and sometimes dessert is served to the tables later. They are expected to eat the main course, no exceptions. Nellie, a reasonably adventurous eater as long as you skip the mushrooms, has taken to the French system with enthusiasm, and now sometimes wonders aloud during weekend lunches at home where the cheese course is. Julian, forever picky and given to long food fads, is happily eating whatever is served. He now even likes sauces.
Today, Nellie will be having salade composée, ravioli, and an apple. On Friday, salade mimosa, oeufs à la béchamel (eggs in cream sauce), and tarte au chocolat. Next Thursday she's having oeufs vinaigrette, blanquette de veau, rice, cheese, and an apple. You can see how a weekend lunch of a sandwich while standing in the kitchen is not quite up to her standards.
The last lunch before a vacation is usually an extra-special meal, and I see this month is no exception: salade piémontese, rôti de porc (roast pork) and champignons à la persillade (mushrooms with parsley). Uh oh. Will Nellie eat what she calls "brown rubber"? Will the mushrooms be chopped so she won't recognize them? I await the report with amusement -- because along with spending a lot of time eating and planning our next meals, we also spend much of the day talking about them as well.
My stomach is growling. Time for a morning petit goût, a little taste, as they call morning snack at Nellie's school. Since I'm once again gluten-free, I won't be having the pain au raisin the kids were gobbling for breakfast. I suppose I'll have to content myself with a dried fig smeared with foie gras. Or some fresh chevre and a handful of prunes. Poor me.
