On a trip with many meals included, Doris leans back gently from the table and muses, to a background sound of intestinal activity.
1. Postres! What a brilliant term. With a literal translation of “afters” it sounds so much more enticing, maybe even seductive, than “pudding” or “dessert”. “Postrrres?” whispers the waitress, waving casually towards a groaning buffet. Maybe just a teeny weeny little baked local banana?
2. Potage, or indeed fromage. When Doris was young enough to be embarrassed by her parents, the family went on a camper van trip to France. In one never-forgotten scene, Mummy Doris went into a shop and asked for potage. They showed her some tinned soup. Non! Potage! she insisted repeatedly. Dried soups, glass jars of soups, cup-a-soups, and even soup stock cubes were rejected before MD saw some cheese in a fridge. Potage!! she exclaimed happily, pointing to it. Doris has inherited this ability to learn languages foreign, which is especially important when engaged in the search for butter in breakfast buffets. Butter in Spanish is not burro, as although that is Italian for butter it is alas Spanish for donkey, and caused some consternation when she tried it on the first day. Turns out that the Spanish for butter is Mantequilla, which is easily remembered and never to be confused with Manzanilla which means chamomile. Fortunately when she did ask for Manzanilla the chap behind the buffet smiled tolerantly and guided her to the butter, which that day was classified as smoothies.
3. Orange Squash. Here, to make fresh orange juice, they put a whole orange in a mighty powerful blender and bazoom a tasty glass of fibre-rich drink emerges. It is now known as Orange Squash in S&D-speak.
4. Date Palms. Many date palms here, but few dates being eaten. Come back the Liwa Date Festival, all is forgiven.
I must go, another meal is scheduled in just a few hours. Perhaps with postres.
Butter as a smoothie-? That is at least as puzzling as the other bit of food classification that I read on this blog a week or so back (& have taken to heart): Marmite is a jam & Bovril is a sauce. Aha!
PS Love the camper van pic – I have a similar one from aged 13 with 12yo sister when our family ventured to France on a one-off camping trip. I also relate to your mum’s French food shopping experience – as an adult shopping near a French campsite I was asking for milk (“lait”) and could only be given garlic (“ail” but is asked for as “l’ail”, sigh).