Campbell's Cream Soups

A billion years ago when I lived in Portugal (yes, I am that old), I discovered that Mr. Campbell was a genius. Why? Because he invented a condensed soup, marketed that soup, and then sold that soup. (Actually, it was Mr. John T. Dorrance who invented condensed soup. But Campbell sold it, so I'm going with him...) While that may not seem genius to you... open any American woman's pantry and you will find Mr. Campbell hanging out in there. Read any recipe for any type of American casserole and it will include a can of cream of whatever soup...brought to you by Campbell's. I'm telling you, he was a genius.

So there I was in Portugal with no idea how to cook, and every recipe I encountered called for a date with Mr. Campbell. Who was nowhere to be found in Portugal. And so I learned how to make a basic white sauce that could then be turned into a cream of whatever sauce for casseroles. I've been doing it ever since.

The thing is, cream of chicken is not so easy. Because I don't have canned chicken broth either. So I tend to usually just make cream of mushroom instead and deal with it.

Well, one day a few weeks ago, I walked into the grocery store, and there was a half-shelf full of Campbell's Cream of Whatever soups! They had cream of asparagus, cream of tomato, and cream of mushroom. And for only 2.37 euros a can!

(My mother shrieked at that price. You can't think about how much 2.37 euros is in dollars. You have to think in relevance. Relevant, in this case means "something within the 2-3 euro price range is not overpriced, especially when it is a hot-commodity contraband item from America." Relevant really does mean that. You can go look it up...in the bettercountry's American Living in France Dictionary.)

I bought every can of cream of mushroom that they had, and gave several away to friends. On a later trip, I wanted to buy a few more to stock up, but they had never re-filled the shelves from my last shelf-cleaning visit. As I turned away, I noticed a can of cream of mushroom on top of the asparagus, in the very back. I called one of the stockers over and asked if she'd pull it down for me.

"Are there any more cream of mushroom's up there in the wrong spot like this one was?" She looked through all of them and found one more can. Then I said, "I know you're not the one who orders the food, but if you tell your manager...the recipes that Americans use (it was on the English aisle), they all call for cream of mushroom or cream of chicken. If you stock cream of chicken...we Americans will buy it!"

(Visions of "if you build it he will come" just flashed through my head...)

She told me she'd tell her manager, and I cynically thought, "No you won't. You don't care if Americans would be in Campbell's creamy bliss." But the next time I went back, I saw...

Restocked shelves...with CREAM OF CHICKEN SOUP!!! However, they cost 6.90 a can, and well, I've lived without cream of chicken this long, I can keep living without it at that price. (There's relevant, which is 2.37, and there's just plum crazy, which is 6.90). I walked away and figured I'd wait until they realized no American was going to pay that much and they ought to lower the price.

So today, at first glance, I saw that 6.45 over on the right. Then I looked at it again, and realized that was the price for PEANUT BUTTER. The far left price, 2.31, is for cream of asparagus. The middle one is blank. The third from the left is 2.27 for cream of tomato. Could it be? Did they change the price of the cream of chicken?

I grabbed a can and carried it up front, and asked the check-out lady how much. 2.10!!! Woot!

No, I didn't buy every can...today. My shopping cart was already full and a girl can only pull so much up a Marseille hill. But tomorrow... those cans are mine!

Thank you, Mr. Campbell. Thank you, Monoprix, for marking it down to a relevant price. Casseroles will soon be coming to a Marseille table near you...

Some completely useless trivia for you should you ever go on Jeopardy and they have a Campbell's category for you to choose from:

• The red and white colors on the label reflect the colors of Cornell University's football uniform.
• The gold seal in the middle of the label was the symbol of the 1900 Paris Exhibition.
• Cream of Mushroom soup is one of the top 10 items sold in US grocery stores every week.
• One of Andy Warhol's Campbell's Soup prints sold for 11.8 million dollars.

Nicer weather and drugs

Several people have asked me, so I thought I'd update you. It stopped snowing. It warmed up. It's gloriously been in the low 60's with the sun shining for...well, forever now. This picture does it no justice, but since I showed you the Mediterranean with snow, I thought I ought to show you it in normaltime weather. It's this pretty pretty color.

When it snowed, I mentioned that I'd been under that weather and had been in a somewhat Nyquil-induced stupor for awhile. Well. I reflected last night and remembered that it was January 28th when I first began feeling bad. I went to the doctor on February 13th, and she insisted that I did not have a sinus infection. I didn't go to medical school or anything...but I've had sinus infections all my life and I recognize them. I think she was wrong. So she gave me a non-functioning nosespray and sent me on my way.

10 days later, I was incapable of going out and enjoying the gorgeous Marseille sunshine (and thus also doing my job), because I had no energy left from fighting off the sinus-infection-that-would-not-die. I went back to the doctor and said, "Please make me better." She checked me and oh! imagine that...I have a sinus infection. She gave me what one friend lovingly termed, "The French cocktail," (because they never give just one drug), and sent me happily on my way.
One antibiotic, two different forms of Advil, a stronger nosespray that I have to take for 15 days, and the most necessary thing in life beyond Jesus and air: a box of tissues. My nose has been blown raw.

But...I have been (for the most part) able to sleep through the night without any Nyquil. I can breathe! The sore throat and headache and feeling tired and weak are finally gone and now I just have a runny nose. So...a month later...I can happily say that I am beginning to feel better. yay.

Salons

I'd love to tell you that I am back from the land of stuffy-nose, sore throat, and no energy, but it wouldn't be true. I suppose today's post comes from the world of should-buy-stock-in-tissues.

***'Salon' in French can either mean a hair salon or an exhibition/fair.

In this case, it means the latter.***

Way, way, way back in 2007, I braved a transportation strike to go to the Salon du Chocolat in Paris. It was worth every bit of the inconvenience on transport to get there. (A few pictures can be found HERE.) I knew it would become a regular part of my annual existence in France. However, I wasn't able to get to another one until just a few weeks ago. I'm not sure how long the Salon has been coming to Marseille, but I sure am glad it's made it's way here!

I went with Barney and the Artist. While not even half as big as the one in Paris, it was still fun to see so much chocolate and get plenty of free samples. This booth had chocolate covered macarons. Coffee flavored macarons. Could there be anything more tasty in the whole world? I think not.

There was a chocolate fashion show. Because, um, who wouldn't want to wear chocolate? One outfit was made entirely of chocolate! (It was also utterly ridiculous looking...) Anyway, here's a close-up...it had little cicadas! (The cicada is sort of the 'symbol' of Provence).

This one, I think, was made with the help of a friend of mine! She's a superb cook, and the camelridingcowgirl told me that our friend made the little flowers.

A close-up of the flowers. She did a good job, huh?! :)

I wouldn't wear a chocolate dress...but I could settle for some earring shaped like my favorite French yummy--the macaron. I bought a pair of pink/red ones.

There were also chocolate sculptures.

Above is a group of Frenchies playing pétanque, (bocce ball), the national pastime of Provence. Below is a chocolate pétanque set.

About a week later, there was a Salon of "Creative Past-times." There were booths of every kind of crafty past-time you could ever imagine! Quilting, knitting, embroidery, tatting, tile mosaics, baking, wood stuffs, and scrapbooking. Scrapbooking?! In France? Who knew? Barney and I laughed, because the salon was approximately 95% women...and all above the age of 50! We had to be the youngest people there.

My little quilter's heart was thrilled to see beautiful quilts, and even more beautiful fabrics. I'd say "for sale," but that might imply a low price. Not so much. (The prices didn't stop me, though!)

The quilts below are made my the quilter man at my local store in Marseille. The big one on the left is truly beautiful and impressive, as it looks like a Persian rug, but upon closer inspection...it's not actually quilted that much. It's just big squares and rectangles sewn together. I could do that. The other two, however, are a different story. The Log Cabin on the top right took my breath away and I've continued to stare at the picture of it on my phone...and the Lone Star quilt in the center was also so pretty. I'd like to make both those patterns some day!

I found the booth for the Quilting Association of France and asked if they knew of a quilting group or workshop that I could join in Marseille so that I could (a) improve my quilting skills and (b) learn all the quilting vocabulary in French. These sweet little ladies were so kind to me! I told them I was a beginner, and that I've only made around 10 quilts or so. The woman writing down my info laughed and said, "If you've made that many AND you're an American, we're going to say you're an intermediate!" (Quilting in France certainly has it's own style that has nothing to do with America, but true patchwork quilting is seen as très americain, and thus, simply by birth, I am endowed with some kind of patriotic abilities that these women must not possess...) I hope to join their group very soon. Can you imagine it? Little ole me, sitting around a quilting hoop with a bunch of retired French ladies. Oh boy!

I near bout keeled over and died when I found these art nouveau fabrics! The hardest part was deciding which ones to buy. I finally decided on two half-meters of these two prints, instead of one whole meter of just one. I'm so in love with them. Pretties fabrics I've ever seen in my whole life, right there. It was a good day!!!

More Snow

I feel like the only thing anyone has discussed in Marseille lately has been the weather. After an incredibly mild (so far) winter, it turned cold all of a sudden about two weeks ago. There were the whispers of snow last week that I already wrote about. Last Friday night, it snowed again, and just north of Marseille there was actual accumulation. Like several inches of accumulation. But with so many warm bodies and and underground Metro system warming up our little city on the Med, nothing stuck here. But the cold continued...

I would get up and look at my phone to see how cold it was. Most mornings it would say 19ish degrees F, with a windchill to make it feel like 14. Or 9. Or even one day, 6 degrees. Farenheit. That's cold, folks. COLD.

A few days ago, CSI and I were out doing some research, and this arctic cold Mistral wind nearly bowled us over. When we got back to my place I asked if we were wusses because we can't handle these temperatures, when there are other places that are so much colder than here...and then I remembered. (1) We don't have appropriate clothing for this kind of weather. (2) We don't have HEAT. All I have is a small little space heater who, surprisingly, is getting the job done...but still. My apartment is not heated. It doesn't really need to be.

If this cold snap would just lift already.

Last week, a group of friends laughed at lunch that if it's going to be this cold, it really ought to snow. It's the only thing that can make it bearable. Well, at least it isn't raining.

All week I kept checking the extended forecast, and it couldn't make up its mind. Either it was going to snow today and tomorrow, or it was going to be sunny. I mean, look at it. It says that it is 32 degrees and sunny out, but that it's supposed to snow today with a high of 36. HUH? Well...

When the forecast can't get it right, why not just step out on the balcony and find out for yourself? This is a video I shot two hours ago from my balcony.

As I said, I don't have appropriate clothing for snow days. So, I put on a pair of tights, then wool knit tights, then my winter thermal running pants, then a pair of jeans. FOUR long sleeved t-shirts, a hoodie sweatshirt, and a scarf. Plus hiking boots, a coat, fleeced earmuffs, fleeced knit hat, and gloves...Then I went down to the beach. Oh, what a glorious walk! Snow on the sand! Amazing!
Look at that gorgeous color of the water!!!
More snow on the sand, and low visibility of the mountains just across the way.
A surfer who apparently hoped that snow = good waves. It didn't. Too bad for him.
The sun trying to fight it's way through the clouds.
In this photo, you can almost barely see the snow that was coming down.

I took a video there too...

Oh how I love snow. I love that our God is so amazing that He can make snow fall somewhere were it is almost always sunny and warm. I love the image of our sins being as white as snow. I love the Christmas song that says He came...not in a loud storm, but soft like a winter snow.

Sorry I haven't written about much other than weather lately. That's because...I've been sort of under it, actually. I'd gotten a winter cold back around New Year's that lasted a good two weeks, and then I had about a two-week reprieve, and then fell under it again about two weeks ago. I can't seem to shake the sore throat, runny nose, headache. So...I just go to work, stay at home, blow my nose, and wish that it would snow to make it all worth it. Today was worth it.

Marseille Snow

I used to think that fall leaves were my favorite thing ever. They make me ecstatically happy. But when I walked outside from Thanksgiving dinner in 2010 to a winter wonderland, a falling snow that didn't stop for a month, I discovered that it might just be that snow is my favorite thing ever. I can count on fall leaves every year. I can only hope to see snow. The hope increases the joy when fulfilled.

Back in January 2009, there were whispers of coming snow. The forecast said it would happen, but all the Marseillais said, "I'll believe it when I see it." My language teacher told me that it hadn't snowed in her son's lifetime...and her son was almost 30 years old. Like a child on Christmas morning, I woke much earlier than necessary and raced to the window to see if my dreams of falling flakes had come true. At 5:30am, they had not. Absolutely no precipitation. No white. No skies softly drifting to earth.

I went about making my coffee and meeting with God and didn't look up at the window for another hour. When I did, oh my how the scene had changed! It must have started snowing just after the moment I'd last looked... Here's a video I took from my balcony that morning.

I went out and wandered through the once-every-thirty-years Marseille snow and marveled at my Mediterranean city covered in white. Palm trees bent low from the weight of the fluff. Visibility almost zero in a city that is usually blindingly bright blue. The water in the port frozen with small icecaps bumping against sail boats.

It was the best day I'd ever had in France. I still treasure that memory.

This past weekend, I checked the forecast on my phone: Wednesday, sun. Thursday, snow. Friday, sun. Saturday, sun. Sunday, sun. Etc.

Thursday, snow? Could it be? That a small little break in the sun would bring...snow?! Please oh please oh please let it be! Let it snow! Just one small sweet day of precious beautiful fluttering flakes.

Despite being sick and Nyquil-drugged, I jumped from the bed this morning, raised my shutters and looked out the window in joyous hope.

Soft little flurries were bumbling around in the air, trying to drift their way down. They were so light that I couldn't even capture a photo of them. Not that my iPhone weather app proves anything, but it did show just what the snow looked like: Heaven's dust coming down for a gentle, quiet morning.

It's not even noon and the snow has stopped. None of it stuck. And as the weather forecast shows, the sun will come out tomorrow and probably stick around for awhile. After all, this is Marseille. But I am so thankful for those few hours of watching the stuff that fills my heart with such joy fall from the heavens.