Emily in France 🇫🇷 Awe-Inspiring (If I Do Say So Myself)
Let's live for awesome things.
After fifteen years here, I'm pretty good at a fake French accent. It makes French people laugh when I do it, inserting the euh and ben thinking sounds that replace "like" and "um" in English, mirroring (with love) them back to themselves.
But another skill I've developed is the American accent – at least, the American accent the way that the French hear it. I can uptalk (high rising terminal, for you linguistic nerds out there) and vocal fry with the best of them. (Perhaps because the latter, at least, is a characteristic of my own speech I somehow lose in French.) My specialty is affecting such an accent in French (ask me the next time you see me if you want; it's the only party trick I've got aside from saying the alphabet backwards), but I can also do it in English, tipping my own accent into a near, just-slightly-exaggerated facsimile. And a big part of it isn't just the sound of my voice... it's the words I use.
Americans have a natural positivity to their speech; the French, as I've written for the BBC, tend to interpret such overwrought optimism as somewhere on a spectrum ranging from disingenuousness to idiocy. In a wildly reductive example, if you ask a French person, "How was that new restaurant you went to?" they're far more likely to lead and close with the negative, while an American will "sandwich" the negative with positives. Even if they've had the same experience. A French person, when describing something they kind of liked, will use words that insist upon the "kind of": plutôt, bof, or my eternal enemy, pas mal. Americans tend to use superlatives, like best (I have never met adults with more "best friends" than my fellow American women.) Or there are the ever-popular trio: amazing, great, and awesome.
Awesome is the word I've been thinking about this week, mainly because of this article in the New York Times that delves into its "true" or "original" meaning.
Now let's be clear, I am all for linguistic evolution. (And I have it on good authority that even if I weren't, linguistics would continue to evolve without my say-so.) But I do find it fascinating to explore the ways in which we once used words, like literally (which now literally means both literally and figuratively) or myriad, which once meant 10,000. Awesome, now used as a generic descriptor for anything perceived as being significantly above average, was once used, quite literally (in the, uh, literal sense) to describe "things that inspire awe."
And awe, it turns out, is something we're lacking these days.
Awe, the Times article explains, is not the same as joy or excitement. It's an amazement rooted in something external to ourselves, born of curiosity, interest, and wonder, but not at all in a self-serving sort of way. Research cited by the Times shows that experiencing awe boasts major health benefits, but if you ask me, that's kind of beside the point, which is that awe has no point except to be, well, awesome.
I've been thinking about this story since I read it, considering how I can cultivate more awe in my life, which seems like an excellent way of decentering our world views from a pervasive societal narcissism and ultimately feeling more connected to the universe and one another. Things like catching sunsets (or sunrises), or watching urban wildlife interact with their surroundings, or taking advantage of the majesty of the natural beauty offered by both my native and adopted country... and beyond.
So I'm planning on going looking for itawe and I encourage you (if you wanna...) to do the same. Choose the road less traveled. Do something new or different. Or just simply… look up. Awesome things are around every corner... and I'm not just saying that because I'm an American.
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Cheese of the Week
Bleu de l’Aveyron is a damp, crumbly blue cheese similar to Bleu des Causses, which it itself is similar to Roquefort, all of which are made in the same region of southwestern France not far from the Massif Central. The difference among them boils down to milk type: Bleu de l’Aveyron and bleu des Causses are made with cow’s milk, for a slightly mellower flavor than sheepy Roquefort, albeit with just as much salt and tang. If you like personality-driven blues with character, you’ll love this little gem.
Meanwhile, across the pond, Saval is a washed-rind cow’s milk cheese made on a small family farm in Wales – an umami-rich play on classic Caerphilly.
To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.
What I'm Eating
The last big trip I took before the Great Let’s-Not-Talk-About-It was to Japan with my brother and sister. Unsurprisingly, given the foodie fam from whence we come, we ate a lot of different things. But of all of them – the sushi and street food, the matcha and mochi –, kaiseki was the one I found most dépaysant (a word that belies translation but that I love, in French, and basically describes something that makes you feel out of your element – literally, uncountried – but in a good way). And now you can have that experience in the 15th at Chakaiseki Akiyoshi. More on the blog.
Discover more of my foodie finds via Instagram @emily_in_france and on the blog.
Where I'm Going
1. To le Maquis, where I've previously enjoyed a bistro-inspired lunch, to check out their dinner prix fixe. If the stuff I saw while working on an upcoming episode of Milk Street is anything to go by, I'm expecting stellar stuff.
2. To the Musée Carnavalet, to check out an exhibit on Parisiennes and women's liberation that I've been looking forward to for months.
3. To the Jeu de Paume, a sister building to the Orangerie in the Tuileries gardens, for a photo exhibit focusing on arte povera.
What I'm Writing
1. All about the weird and wonderful history of stretchy, cheesy aligot – aka mashed potatoes with an unholy amount of cheese. This specialty of Aubrac (and Paris' Le Plomb du Cantal) was invented at a mountaintop crossroads, according to legend. For Food52.
2. These superb Middle Eastern wines are prettty much exclusive to this Michelin-starred Chicago restaurant. For InsideHook.
3. You're going to need a lot of napkins when you make Dirty Habit's half-pound burger. For InsideHook.
What I'm Saying
Navigating the French is back! And this week, I'm welcoming Diane de Vignemont, a journalist and historian, to discuss a word that has a unique and solid spot in the romanticized view of French history, whether you're in the U.S. or, indeed, in France: résistance. We explore why this period of time is far from anchored wholly in the past, unpacking the history of the movement, the way its story is told, and the way it's used to mobilize modern politics.
What I'm Reading
1. I am firmly of the belief that everyone has the right to the grammatical structure or perceived mistake hill upon which they will die. I am guilty of a lot of the ones highlighted in this New Yorker story, which nevertheless filled me with much glee. In the New Yorker.
2. This ode to "little beginnings," or scraps of stories, fragments that you can keep around, whether they have a place in your current project or not, in the hopes that they may come to be of some use in the future. In Adjacent Possible.
3. James Patterson's writing process, is (unsurprisingly) is very different to mine, though I loved this bit of advice: "I have certain ways to get past things that block writers. If I'm doing a manuscript and I'm not getting a chapter, I’ll just think, “I'll get it next time.” I'll literally write that: "Next pass." I just move on. That kills writers sometimes: they can't get that chapter, and three months later, they’re still trying to get it. I always say, 'No, go ahead. This will lock in. Get it with your next draft.'" In GQ.
A bientôt !