Bringing home the bacon

This week I finally decided to put my cooking skills on display, and at the same time create an activity for E on her schooless wednesday (Worst invention ever. well, ok, maybe not. It does mean I get a day that I'm not tied to the school pick up schedule. there are also lots of activities around paris for children on Wednesdays. I would like to have a trip to the doll museum planned for one wednesday soon, with a special storytelling activity. Such a shame the Barbie exhibit has just closed....)

I had tried to do all the necessary grocery shopping on the Tuesday, to avoid the joyous experience of taking E, her trotinette, and Little J in his stroller for the hour long round trip it takes to get to 'the' green grocer, followed by a supermarket stop off. But alas, I forgot the green salad ingredients, the onion, the bacon and the cheese. All of these things were annoyingly crucial to la recette. (Luckily my quiche recette is pastryless and very forgiving.)

Finding bacon proved to be my biggest challenge, having neglected to learn the french word before hand. I cruised around one butcher, trying to see it in the rows of pink flesh, but i just couldnt see it, or anything that looked like any form of bacon i had ever seen. streaky bacon, rindless bacon, long rashers, short rashers....none. So i marched my troupe off to the nice looking meat and meal providors to have a discussion with the commercants (shop keepers). In French, my description of bacon went something like this:

"I have a little problem, perhaps you can help me. im looking for a pork product, but not ham. In english the word is bacon (with my australian accent on bacon). Unfortunately i dont know the french word for it."

"So you're looking for ham?"

"Ah, no, I dont think im looking for ham, unless you call bacon ham, in which case yes im looking for ham." This comment puzzles him immensly, and that's not really surprising. I only said it because I'm aware the European definition of Jambon is broader than the Australian version.

"This?" (points to shoulder of pork)

"No..."

"This? (points to pork roll)

"No..."

"Wait, I'll get the other madame to help us.

Quick discussion ensues between them, and he gives her a speedy run down of our non-progress so far

"Bonjour madame. So you are looking for pork meat?"

"Yes...."

"What are you going to do with it?

"Put it in a quiche."

"Ahhhh. Like a quiche Lorraine?"

Me, thinking furiously about whether all quiches are alike enough to say yes...

"Yes."

"Ah, voila, then you are looking for poitrine fumée. (She holds up something that looks like it might vaguely resemble heavily smoked streaky bacon). You dice it up and fry it quickly on the stove before putting it in the quiche."

The mention of cooking it before it goes into the quiche oncerned me a little, because I never cook my bacon first, but i decided that surely an hour in the oven would cook the pointrine fumée.

"Ah yesss, that's exactly what I'm after."

She gives it to the man to slice up for me. I, stupidly, decide that it should be cut into fine slices the way I'm familiar with. So he holds up his knife to the chunk of pointrine fumée to indicate how wide I would like my slices. I'm trying to say and indicate narrower ("plus fine") and he wasn't really getting it. So I had resigned myself to fat slices until the madame took the meat and the knife from the man and said

"No no no, I understand what she wants. She wants it like this (indicates a slice the same thickness as one i had already refused) and then you will dice them up nice and small for her."

"Yes! That would be perfect!" (Poor man)

Anyway, I then entered the shop to pay (this all took place at their little street cart in front of the shop), and was looking around at all the yummy potential. Then, I discovered bacon! In its most familiar form, short rindless rashers. (uncut).

"But you've got bacon over here!"

"Of course we have bakon. You can mix the two if you like. But what you have is much better for a quiche." (What's a girl to say?)

"Ok, then I am happy."

*All translations are approximate, and what I intended to say and what I understood them to have said. Whether I actually achieved this is another matter.