30 pounds of France in my suitcase

There comes an age in life when the old begin to disappear. Six years ago, I was catapulted into this phase through the tragic death of my Mother. My father-in-law followed her three years later. In 2012, it was my Papa.

Two weeks ago, I received a terse message: a close friend, so close that my children considered him as a grandfather, was in a coma. I had to wait for my husband to return from a trip on the other side of the world. Then I packed up my things to go say goodbye.

As sad as it was, the shocking sight of this man, once a rock, lying in a hospital bed, life goes on. I walked around to visit my dead. French cemeteries on All Saints Day are not sinister anymore; they’re bright and colorful from all the mums adorning the graves. I placed mine, two for Mother, who has a very big grave, and another for Papa, who was cremated.

And probably to find some comfort, I raided the local Auchan for 30 pounds of small pleasures for our family’s taste buds. This included some potted meat (rillettes) in a glass jar that would pass through US Customs and its dogs quite smoothly. Some Mousseline (powdered potatoes) to substitute for American purées, which although are made with a lot of butter, milk and love, are still sticky and too filling. I got some Ricoré (a popular brand of instant coffee in France) for my husband, always in a hurry in the morning. Carambars (a brand of sweet candy) for the children. My oldest one claimed them; the little ones will learn to love them.

A jar of Bonne-Maman apricot-mango jam. Bonne-Maman, that’s the exception – a French product that can be found in American supermarkets. I can find Bonne-Maman anywhere. It comes in the same glass jars, with the same slanted writing on the labels, with the same, almost iconic red-and-white checkered tablecloth cover. But I have never seen the apricot-mango flavor before…

What else did I buy again? Oh right! A huge package of Madeleines (small cakes). Even though I now make them myself, I find that the store-bought ones are much better than mine despite them being “homemade”.

A package of Pelletier toast because it’s delicious with the potted meat. A brick of custard because it saves time. Some Teisseire lime syrup to make drinks for the children. Chocolate chip brioches for snacks.

What else still? Some herbal teas because there is little variety in the supermarkets here, and especially because they are a taste of nostalgia. Linden and verbena remind me of my grandmother and her nightly infusions.

A miniature jar of Maille mustard. Because it is good and because this little jar caught my eye. What a great idea to promote new flavors! At first, I couldn’t decide between Dried Tomato & Espelette Chili or Lemon Garlic. Yet Hazel & Nutmeg, and Prune & Armagnac also looked good. In the end, Lemon Garlic won out.

Besides food, I stocked up Caudalie day cream because it costs twice as much in the United States, and I’ve only seen it at Sephora and Bloomingdales; places that don’t necessarily always have what I’m looking for.

Then, a little stop at the drugstore and to finish, some clothing for the children: Petit Bateau underwear, and small outfits for my 4-year old Pauline. It’s about dressing like a “little French girl” like my eldest used to say…when she was small!

30 pounds of France in my suitcase

My suitcase is heavy. I just arrived at the hotel where I will sleep tonight before leaving for Washington tomorrow. It is also heavy because of those I have left behind. But I know that tomorrow, there will be a party in the Rochereul-Portier residence when I unpack. And as sad as the circumstances are that brought me here, they have also given me moments of great happiness, like being a “little sister” again.