FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

         
                                          Jean-Marc

une collation (ko-lah-syon) noun, feminine
  1. a snack, light meal

Hear the word collation pronounced: Download collation.wav

French synonyms: un en-cas, un goûter, un quatre-heures, une bouchée, le casse-croûte

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Citation du Jour:
La vie n'est pas un restaurant mais un buffet. Levez-vous pour vous servir.
Life is not a restaurant but a buffet. Stand up to serve yourself.
                                                               --Dominique Glocheux

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A Day in a French Life...

On our third day in Paris I ask the hotel manager once again for a sèche-cheveux.*

"They've all been checked out, madame."
"How many hair dryers do you have for loan?"
"Quatre, madame."*
"How many rooms do you have in this hotel?"
"Three hundred and fifty-five, madame."

I leave the front counter and walk through the lobby toward the breakfast buffet. The man behind the podium holds one palm up and asks me for my room number. "Trois cent cinquante-cinq,"* I say. He searches the register until his pencil stops at "355" next to which he adds one vertical line beside the line that is already there. "Allez-y, madame."*

I join Jean-Marc at a table for two beside the coffee machine. As my hair drip-dries I watch my husband make sandwiches.
"Have you eaten?" I say.
"Oui."

Jean-Marc is seated before a plate of jambon* and fromage,* two things the French do not eat for le petit déjeuner;* such buffet items are geared toward international clientele and attract certain snack-savvy Frenchmen (a second breakfast market that I don't think hotel management has anticipated).

Jean-Marc saws open a croissant then stuffs one slice of ham and one flat square of glue-toned cheese inside. Next, he rolls the sandwich into a napkin marked "IBIS" and places it beside the growing line of would-be goûters.* I do not pull my hair forward to shield crimson cheeks. I've come to terms with my Frenchman's canteen crimes. It used to bother me, but then I am responsible for the food heists. Since visiting the States, where he first learned about doggie bags, my husband truly sees a future (read: forthcoming afternoon snack) in excess restaurant food.

When the plate is empty and all the ham and cheese is tucked into the croissants, he searches for a makeshift emporte-restes.* I suggest he roll the sandwiches in the Figaro newspaper to his left. I hope he'll speed up this process, as I am still somewhat uncomfortable with taking extra food from the buffet.

"Go ahead--use the newspaper!" I say. He scrunches his nose as if it is literally distasteful to wrap sandwiches in newspaper. "We do this back home," I say, hoping to convince him.

Jean-Marc gathers the sandwiches and walks over to the front desk to ask for a doggie bag. When the Italian couple at the next table exchange smirks and the podium man's palms begin to sweat, I hide my face behind a damp blond screen, scurry past the buffet, through the automatic doors and out onto sunny rue Bréguet. (To dry my hair, of course.)

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*References: le sèche-cheveux = hair dryer; Quatre, madame = Four, Madam; trois cent cinquante-cinq = three hundred and fifty-five; Allez-y, madame = Go ahead, Madam; le jambon (m) = ham; le fromage (m) = cheese; le petit déjeuner (m) = breakfast; le goûter (m) = snack; l'emporte-restes (m) = take-out (doggie) bag (l'emporte-restes is not a common term)