Smokin ban anniversary

I forgot there was something to celebrate today. I am refering of course to the UK smoking ban. A year ago, I could finally enjoy a drink in a smoke free environment. I didn't have a hangover since. Not a serious one anyway.

Marque-page

Il y a quelques jours, ma femme m'a acheté en cadeau ce marque-page que vous pouvez voir sur la photo de droite. Mignon, n'est-ce pas? Sur l'image en haut du signet, on peut y voir un chat cherchant à attraper un poisson rouge dans un bocal. Irrésistible. Si mignon et si impitoyable.

Premier jour de juillet

C'est le premier jour de juillet, il est très tôt car j'ai accompagné ma femme à la gare parce qu'elle doit passer la journée à l'exétrieur dans le cadre de son travail. Je n'ai pas assez dormi, je crois. cela dit, il fait un soleil splendide. Premier juillet veut aussi dire Canada Day. Je ne fêterai pas. Parce que ce n'est pas mon pays, parce que la fête a été choisie de manière arbitraire et donc pour moi c'est un non-évènement.

Quantum of Solace trailer

It has been released today, the teaser trailer of Quantum of Solace:




I think it's going to be good. I can't wait.

Little tiger in Cambridge

My wife and I spent this weekend in Cambridge to see the brother-in-law and family (his wife and our niece), and I made myself a new feline friend: their house cat. I knew him from before, but he got really friendly this time. Not only with me though: Frankie (that's his name) is almost as affectionate as a dog (it's because he is a Burmese cat, said my brother-in-law). Anyway, he is such a beautiful cat, he moves like a tiger and his fur is almost the colour of a tiger. I once made the comparison to my niece (who wasn't my niece then), and she said "He is a little tiger really". Smart child. She is right too: Frankie is a hunter and often brings dead birds he caught. He is friendly with kittens but does not accept any competition in the house. he scared one of his little friends like this on Sunday morning: he was playing gently outside with him, but the kitten (a black furry cat) got in the house and tried to be friendly with us. Frankie made him go away and chased him down by the cars, keeping the kitten at a distance. Then he rubbed against my wife and I, as if he was saying "those humans are my property". I love cats.

Anyway, we had a nice time with the family anyway. It was a weekend of eating excesses: lasagna for dinner (the best lasagna I ever had, bare none, I will try it here and give the recipe on this very blog), gulped down with delicious red wine, salad to have something green and healthy with it (and lots of vinaigrette to make it not so healthy), apple and lemon pies for dessert, then next morning breakfast with croissants (I had three, including two chocolatines, because I love being excessive during weekends, especially when we are away). I love croissants, and I suspect somebody tipped them about my breakfast preferences. Then we went to town and we book hunt for most of the morning. I got a new Calvin & Hobbes (will write more about it) and my wife got the usual cookey books (she will not use them much I suspect, but we bought them in a second-hand bookstore so they were cheap). Cambridge has a great Borders with lots of choice, I was like a kid in a candy store. So was the niece, but she was more interested about the teddy bears. I tried to get her interested about Calvin and Hobbes, to no avail. (I am always on the lookout for future gifts, it makes my life easier on birthdays). Anyway, who needs teddy bears (and she has plenty) when she has a beautiful cat? Especially a cat as cuddly as he is.

Well, all this to say that we had a lovely weekend in Cambridge. And that cats are sometimes little tigers.

Citation du soir

Je suis de retour de Cambridge, je vais essayer d'écrire plus sur notre séjour ce soir ou demain (en anglais et en français). En attendant je cite Félix Leclerc, je voulais mettre cette citation sur le blogue depuis un bout de temps et pourquoi pas aujourd'hui. C'est tiré de Rêves à vendre:

"Ecrire est un métier pénible, avec ou sans génie. Avec c'est encombrant. Sans, c'est frustrant."

Poutine and identity

I don't know why I am writing this entry in English. Maybe because it sort of follows up this entry. Anyway, it seems that I am not the only Quebec expat who misses poutine. Ironic, since I talked about it recently. Anyway, Miss Paquin like me is dreaming of home (she will see it, lucky her) and, more importantly, associates this with poutine! Just like I have written recently: food is an important part of our identity. What makes poutine so important for Quebeckers like me? It's a recently recent addition to our gastronomy, it was non -existant before the 50s and I don't remember eating it until I was a preteen (and probably thank God for that). However, it fits our tradition of heavy food, generous in potatoes and gravy. The Brits and Americans have their share of disgusting yet delicious junkfood, but this one we can call our own. It has cheese curds, something we rarely see outside Québec nowadays and well the mix cheese-chips-gravy really makes it stand out. It is a waistline's nightmare, then again it's delicious, it works wonders if one's recovering from hangover or wants to avoid one in the morning. It's Quebecker all right.

Allons tous à Jérusalem...

...qui connaît la suite? Lors de mon dernier billet, je disais que la chanson Allons tous à Jérusalem était introuvable. Faux. On peut la trouver ici, sur un site qui date un peu, mais l'essentiel est qu'on peut trouver la chanson introuvable.

Télé nostalgie: La fin du monde est à 7 heures

On retrouve sur youtube des extraits de La fin du monde est à 7 heures, l'émission d'humour qui sévissait pour le plus grand plaisir des Québécois de ma génération de 1997 à 2000 (je crois). Pourquoi les meilleures choses dans la vie sont-elles si courtes? Enfin bref, les extraits sur youtube sont souvent dans un état épouvantable, mais il y en a quelques uns qui sont pas mal. Je ne retrouve malheureusement pas la chanson Allons tous à Jérusalem, chef d'oeuvre de sous-entendus, mais j'ai retrouvé l'inimitable imitation que Bruno Blanchet fait de Lynda Lemay, chanteuse que je n'arrive pas à blairer. Suis-je le seul à penser que Bruno Blanchet n'a jamais été aussi drôle qu'en équipe avec Marc Labrèche? Enfin, un classique de méchanceté à apprécier:

Another day in Windsor

I spent another day in Windsor. It's lovely to be there, not so difficult to get there, but it's a Hell of a journey back. My legs are killing me and I'm exhausted. I'll try to write a long blog entry another day. I'll just give my impressions of Windsor to posterity. It's lovely, as you know, there is a huge gigantic castle that dates back to William the Conqueror. For a medievalist like me, it's happytown. It has lots of nice restaurants (including a burger place I want to visit), at least one Wetherspoon that does not look too bland, and this is a boost for me as it means I can have access to real ales at a decent price. There is a Waterstone, but sadly it does not have as much choice as many other Waterstones I have been to. I even think the one in Maidenhead is better furnished. There is one real downside to Windsor: it's so full of tourists. Yes, you know that already, I just can't stand them. I never felt like Liverpool was invaded, and it probably was, but Windsor is so small you can't miss them.

La carte beauceronne de Maxime Bernier

Maxime Bernier a donné sa version des faits quant à sa relation avec Julie Couillard. Un commentaire de Richard Martineau ici. Une fois n'est pas coutume, mais je suis assez d'accord avec Martineau: l'ex-ministre aurait semblé plus sincère si, au lieu de s'enfermer dans son mutisme, il avait fait preuve de transparence et avait parlé plus tôt. Maxime Bernier a ressorti, de même que son entourage et ses électeurs, la carte beauceronne. Je ne suis pas le seul à le remarquer, Patrick Lagacé a écrit un billet là-dessus. Et la cart beauceronne, elle commence à me purger sérieusement. Chaque village a son idiot, mais d'habitude il ne devient pas député, encore moins ministre!

Cracker with Robbie Coltrane

Another litttle treasure I found on youtube, the introduction scene of the very first episode of Cracker. It was great police drama, written by Jimmy McGovern. It made me discover Christopher Eccleston and rediscover Robbie Coltrane (I knew him from his small roles in Goldeneye and Henry V). The main character, Dr. Edmond "Fitz" Fitzgerald, was a psychologist assisting the police to solve crime, while trying to save his marriage, on the verge of destruction because of his alcoholism, compulsive gambling and overall unpleasantness. It was great stuff, crime drama set in the North of England (in glorious Manchester), it had a perfect blend of violence (never gratuitious, violence in Cracker was a fatality), Catholic guilt (Fitz was a lapsed Catholic) and social pessimism. Anyway, here's the proof that Robbie Coltrane can play something else than Hagrid. The scene is cut and not very well, but it gives you an idea:

Marjane Satrapi et Stephen Colbert

Hey, Marjane Satrapi s'est fait interviewer par Stephen Colbert. Les merveilles qu'on trouve sur youtube:

(D0 I need to translate?)

Food and civilisation

Yesterday I ate too much, I drank too much, it was a day of excesses and I never had so much fun all by myself. I noticed something about the 24 of June posts: even though it was my national day, I talked about food (and half the time in English). It was either that or music. So it made me reflect on the relation between national identity and food and the re. What I miss most about Québec is the food, the heavy stuff that got us through our many cold winters. Traditional food in my country is heavy, inspired by British and Irish gastronomy rather than French one. Our pâté chinois, which has nothing of Chinese, is closer to a shepperd's pie (its name is a mistranslation of said pie) than a hachis parmentier. British food got an unfair reputation: it is supposed to be bland at best, disgusting at worst (and speaking from experience, it is difficult to convince people that you can eat well in England), while the French are praised to have a great, varied national gastronomy. I think said reputations reside in the attitude of each people towards eating. The French take it as a pleasure, while the Brits often consider it a purely functional act ("it's only food" my wife often says, which when I was a child is what my babysitters used to say to force me to eat something I hated, incidentally). I think French cuisine certainly looks more appealing, probably is more varied (but then again, maybe it is an idée reçue with no ground in relity), they managed to sell their brand better. I think we adopted the food of the Brits because it was more suitable for a life under the very harsh Québec weather. We rediscovered our French roots relatively late, and while it is all very good I think our country is naturally more suited for a British type of cuisine.

Anyway, all this to say that I think we can discover a lot about a culture though its gastronomy and that we make an instinctive association between food and identity.

Bagels pour la Saint-Jean

J'ai décidé d'avoir des bagels pour mon souper de la Saint-Jean, comme j'avais déjà mangé de la poutine pour dîner. C'est moins pittoresque, mais c'est délicieux, santé et Montréal a après tout la réputation de faire des bagels meilleurs que ceux de New York. Hélas, je n'avais pas de bagels montréalais. Et il me manquait des câpres.

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I had bagels and smoked salmons for dinner, as I had the poutine earlier. Bagels aren't as typical for a National Day, but they are delicious and healthier. And somewhat typical of Montreal. Sadly, the bagels I have are not from Montreal. And the capers were missing. So here's the perfect recipe for a great bagel: bagel (duh!), soft cheese, fresh tomato slices, fresh red onions, smoked salmon and capers. Tonight's meal was almost perfect.

La danse à Saint-Dilon

Hey, j'ai trouvé un autre classique sur internet, un classique uber-québécois. J'avais même pensé l'inclure à mon mariage.

Discover Gilles Vigneault!

Poutine

J'ai mangé une poutine comme dîner/snack, avec du fromage râpé plutôt qu'en grainsm et du gravy anglais. Le résultat sur la photo à gauche. Pas la meilleure poutine que j'ai mangée de ma vie, mais pas mal. Je ne me sens pas trop plein et je crois que je vais pouvoir prendre une bière ou deux. Étrange, je mange de la poutine une fois par année, lors de la Saint-Jean, et c'est toujours en Angleterre.

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On the picture on the left, you can see the poutine I made for lunch/snack, with cheddar cheese instead of cheese curds and chicken gravy. Ironically, I eat poutine once a year now, each time in England for the Fête nationale. Don't let yourself fool by the look, it is absolutely delicious. A meal to die for. Which probably happens sometimes, but at least if you die of a poutine indigestion, you die happy.

L'escalier

Comme je ne peux pas regarder le spectacle de la Saint-Jean à la tv, encore moins y assister, j'écoute des tounes québécoises. L'avantage c'est que je n'ai pas à endurer les artistes que je ne peux pas blairer. Je vous offre un classique de Paul Piché:

Bonne Fête nationale

Nous sommes le matin du 24 juin, c'est la Saint-Jean-Baptiste. Bonne Fête nationale. Je ne sais pas quel temps il fait au Québec, mais ici c'est une journée splendide.

Et un jour de Saint-Jean-Baptiste, cette chanson s'impose d'elle-même:

Discover Gilles Vigneault!

The life of a gummy bear

This is a totally random blog entry, as I don't feel inspired much and tomorrow I might not blog in English much (if at all). We received two gummy bears as a gift from my sister-in-law, two after-Christmas gifts. I managed to eat one, but felt terribly guilty, because they look really cute. The other one, pictured left, has remained intact for the last six months. Neither me nor my wife can force ourselves to eat something so cute., therefore until a change of mind it will remain on the kitchen table. We are silly I know, but it looks like a real teddy bear.

Anyway, I have just written a blog entry about a glorified jelly bean. I promise, I will write something deeper this week, something about the state of Quebec's national identity or the absurdity of life and the contingency of human existence.