FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

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donné(e)  (doh-nay) adjective
  : dirt cheap ("given")

"Donné," from the verb "donner" (to give), means many things, including "given". Here is an example and proverb:

          Tout ce qui n'est pas donné est perdu.
                All that is not given is lost.

                                   *     *     *
In books: French Demystified: Simple enough for a beginner, challenging enough for a more advanced student.
.

                                                         
Our Grenache grapevines, those that slump like old men and nag like old women, just received a spa bath that only aching vines can rave about. While some prefer mud and pay the price, our grapevines go gaga over ground "garbage" -- compost, that is. Like spa mud, organic compost can be costly... especially when you have a klepto in the countryside.

In one towering heap, Jean-Marc had the vine-rejuvenating organic "restes"* delivered last week. Soon after, fate struck, this time in the form of a broken-down tractor. In the days it took to fix the engine, Jean-Marc noticed that the pile of compost was diminishing... As the dent in the pile grew, so did my
husband's angoisse.*

Driving by the vine fields, in search of answers, Jean-Marc noticed an old camionnette* parked alongside the Grenache vines. When next he spotted a paysan* busy with a few buckets, he believed he had found the compost culprit.

Jean-Marc watched as the man, freezing to a standstill before dropping the heavy buckets, gave himself away.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," the man said, stepping in front of the seaux* so as to conceal the compost. "I was just scraping together some of the, uh--fallen bits--of, er, compost," he added, sheepishly.

Jean-Marc studied the dent in the compost pile. "That's a lot of 'fallen bits'," he pointed out. "How many bucketfuls of compost have you 'scraped together'?" Jean-Marc asked.
"Only two," the man swore, stepping aside to reveal the buckets behind him.

Jean-Marc was about to let the man keep the compost, but as he turned to leave he noticed a pile of wood in the camionnette and realized that Mr. Fallen Bits had also helped himself to some firewood (the oldest Grenache vines that had recently died).

"Mind if I have a look in your truck?" Jean-Marc asked. That is when he discovered six bucketfuls of "fallen bits"! Now that explained the great "dent" on his compost pile.

"Monsieur," he began. "If you need compost, I can give you the telephone number of the company that sold it to me because, you know, compost--CE N'EST PAS DONNE!!!"

                                          *     *     *
Apparently compost isn't "dirt cheap" ("donné") -- but who knew it was a commodity? Back to the kitchen now... where I intend to turn those wilted lettuce leaves and a few pumpkin skins, eggshells, coffee grounds and, you know -- "les restes"-- into liquid gold. Never mind physics. This is economics!

                                               *     *     *

One hundred more French words and stories in my book Words in a French Life.

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References: les restes (m) = scraps, leftovers ; l'angoisse (f) = anxiety; la camionnette (f) = pick-up truck; le paysan (la paysanne) = farmer, peasant; le seau (m) = bucket, pail

     The Grape Grower: A Guide to Organic Viticulture
     The French Peasantry in the Seventeenth Century

:: Audio File ::
Listen to my Francophone daughter pronounce today's word & read the proverb:
Donné. Tout ce qui n'est pas donné est perdu.
Download donn.mp3
Download donn.wav

Shopping:
"501 French Verbs" includes common idioms & example sentences demonstrating verb usage.
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Visions of France DVD: See the breathtaking beauty of southeastern France.
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trémousser (tray-moos-ay) verb
  to wriggle, to jig about; to wiggle one's hips
  ...and, my favorite, "to bestir oneself"

Listen to my son, Max, pronounce today's word:
Download tremousser.mp3
Download tremousser.wav

                                                
To bestir oneself. That's one way to look at it. From another viewpoint, say, that of a mother standing at the head of her kitchen canteen, ladling soup out of a four-quart casserole, all this arm-flailing, head jerking, and torso-twisting looks about as poetic as elbows do on a neatly set table.

"Arrête de danser!" I remind Max. His sister, Jackie, who is seated en face,* grins. She's not dancing yet, but she is wearing a Tecktonik t-shirt. "The dance" even has a trademarked name!

While Tecktonik dancing began in Paris seven years ago, the craze, or "phénomène,"* ignited sometime last fall in our southern French town. Because the upper body is about all one needs to get grooving, Tecktonik dancing can be done just about anywhere, especially: in the doctor's office waiting-room, in the car on the way to school, while walking down a tree-lined boulevard on the way to buy baguettes, while brushing one's teeth, while doing one's homework, and even while being tucked into bed by one's mom. "Max, stop dancing!" I remind my son, trying to plant a kiss on his flash-dancing face.

One of the things that I like about Tecktonik -- besides the fact that it gets my son away from the computer and provides him a fitness break, is its "flashback" quality: Tecktonik dancers, in their waist-high slim-fit jeans and geometric tops, look as though they have stepped out of the 80s. I spent my teens in that decade; twenty some years later and all that 80's glam grandeur is flashing--and flailing--before my very eyes!

So that it may flash and flail before your very own, watch with me now a video of our own Tecktonik, bionic, glam-on-it dancer: "DJ Max" (sorry about the video lighting -- which could use some sort of "teck tonik" -- but it's the best we have for now): http://fr.youtube.com/watch?v=spvsUO-MX8k


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References: en face = across from; le phénomène (m) = phenomenon

     Le Nouveau Petit Robert: (a *French/French* language dictionary)
     Tune Up Your French: Top 10 Ways to Improve Your Spoken French
   

Shopping:
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"Just a smidgen," my mother-in-law says, pushing her plate forward with a little more enthusiasm than her French words would let on. "Un chouia,"* she insists as I dig into the pan, portioning off the cake in a range of slice sizes. Next, like a metal detector, I let the spatula hover over the cake until I sense my belle-mère's resistance melt like scrap gold. "Ça ira," that'll do, she says, indicating her choice -- the largest slice: like mother-in-law, like daughter-in-law. I lift it out of the pan, keeping every crumb intact.

It is 2 p.m. on Christmas day and we are still stuffed from the réveillon.* But there's always room for chocolate cake and, this time, my mother-in-law's has candied orange peel inside. (She's scalped the oranges before stringing the skins, hanging them to dry over her living-room radiator.)

I didn't know about the candied oranges -- which just goes to show how my mother-in-law is always holding back an ingredient (chippie* that she is) just to throw us off.

"So your chocolate cake calls for orange peel?" Aunt Marie-Claire ("Michou") inquires, as we huddle around the desserts. My belle-mère* remains vague as Aunt Michou fishes for instructions and is, in the end, left to wonder about how to rig orange peels over her own Parisian radiator.

Meanwhile, I wonder about how I'm going to get the Provençal "Pompe à L'Huile" Olive Oil Cake recipe out of Aunt Michou.... But before I can make any progress, she tells me it took her THREE years to get the recipe from Cousin Sabine.

Our recipe scalping reminds me of the demise of my belle-mère's oranges. If we aren't careful, we'll be strung just like those pathetic peels -- only Cousin Sabine doesn't have a dainty radiator -- but a walk-in Provençal fire pit, hooks and all!

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References: un chouia (m) = a smidgen; le réveillon (m) = Christmas Eve Dinner; une chippie (f) = little devil; la belle-mère (f) = mother-in-law

More about my belle-mère, French cousins and aunts in my book, Words in a French Life ...and more about cake in La Bonne Cuisine de Madame E. Saint-Ange: The Original Companion for French Home Cooking

Christmas decorations for Noël in the town of Valbonne.

réveillon (ray-veh-ohn) noun, masculine

  1. Christmas Eve Dinner, New Year's Eve Dinner, midnight supper
      (réveillon de Noël, reveillon du Nouvel An)
  2. Christmas / New Year's Eve party

Great French-themed books for children, by Catherine Stock:
"A Spree in Paree" and "A Porc in New York". The illustrations are delightful!

                               *     *     *
Today's quote:
Le Père Noël ne fait jamais de réveillon dans sa maison, car il rentre au mois de mai ; ce n'est plus la saison. Santa Claus never has Christmas Eve dinner at his house as he returns in May -- when it's no longer the season. --Francis Blanche
.

A Day in a French Life...
by Kristin Espinasse

Preparations are underway for tonight's réveillon and, once again, there isn't much for me to do but twiddle thumbs—in between and among twiddling a bit of dust, twiddling together a bit of decor, and twiddling over to our marriage armoire to check on place settings. We'll need 12 this year.

Santa's helpers, disguised as everyday Frenchmen, are here to stir up the savories and sweets. Cousin Audrey is making la soupe de courge with ginger and pears. Uncle Jacques is bringing oysters. My mother-in-law (en route now from Marseilles, along with my oyster-bearer beau-frère) has in her overnight bag her chocolate cake and some homemade "carrot bonbons" (she is also toting smoked salmon and foie gras)...

Jean-Marc is marinating garrigue sanglier for roasting in our cheminée. Aunt Marie-Françoise is bringing her gâteau de marron and soup bowls for her daughter's potage... Aunt Michou (a.k.a. "Michounette"), in from Paris, will surely have in her bag une devinette.

We have friends here from Texas as well: Phyllis and Tim. Twelve jars of peanut butter arrived ahead of them (this, after the last 12 and the 12 before that—enough to twiddle the tastebuds of any expat).

As for me: I am in charge of finding matching napkins, plates, and glasses. Best untwiddle my fingers and toes, and get to that now, illico presto!

"Joyeux Noël à tous et à tous une bonne nuit!"*

le réveillon (m) = Christmas Eve dinner
la soupe (f) de courge = pumpkin soup
le beau-frère (m) = brother-in-law
garrigue sanglier (le sanglier de la garrigue) = wild boar from the Mediterranean scrublands;
la cheminée (f) = fireplace
le gâteau (m) de marron = chestnut cake
le potage (m) = thick soup
la devinette (f) = guessing game (anyone's guess)
illico presto = right away
Joyeux Noël à tous et à tous une bonne nuit! = Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

     
:: Audio File ::
Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce today's French word and quote:
Le Père Noël ne fait jamais de réveillon dans sa maison, car il rentre au
mois de mai ; ce n'est plus la saison.
http://french-word-a-day.typepad.com/motdujour/files/reveillon.mp3
http://french-word-a-day.typepad.com/motdujour/files/reveillon.wav


Le gâteau à la crème de marron. Recipe found in this post. 

cul sec! (kew sek)
  bottoms up! down the hatch! cheers!

The expression refers to leaving the bottom of a glass (cul) dry (sec), having emptied its contents. The French definition is "Boire un verre d'une seule traite." "To drink a glassful in one gulp".

                                    *     *     *
Cake update: I've posted my mother-in-law's chocolate cake recipe over at the Pif (that's "peef") blog: http://french-word-a-day.typepad.com/recipe
.

Fifty kilometers north of Avignon, in the toasting, teetering town of Tulette, there is a little watering hole disguised as a proper buvette.* Chouette!*

There, at a table by the window, two expat-strangers conversed in a formal style called "get-to-know".

With set faces and serious eyes, the women -- stiff and secure behind their fruity Mai Tais (OK, the drink part's a lie*) ...

...were about to unwittingly zap that suffocating "small talk" trap...
When in walked a drunkard who all but sat in their laps.

In slavering French, with a thirst that vodka couldn't quench, our slurry seatmate began to relate...

...babbling on in a futuristic French tense, in a language so evolved that it made little sense.

"Cul sec!"* said he, raising his glass.
"Cul sec!" he sang. "Cul sec!" he sneezed.
Meanwhile his timid tablemates shared knowing glances, mouthing doubts about "was the guy tipsy?"
"Cul sec!" slurred he in what was possibly repartee.

It was thanks to this French equation (for all the man wanted, in the end, was a "cul sec!" translation) that the women, once straight-faced strangers and stiff, became fast friends in a language jiff.

                                       *     *     *

Seated across from me, and Mr. Tipsy, was the writer who recently reviewed my book.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
References: la buvette = refreshment room (café); chouette! = cool!; lie = (we were just drinking coffee); cul sec! = bottoms up!

In books/France: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly:
"This heartbreaking story by a uniquely gifted writer is about transforming pain into creativity, human despair into literary miracle." -- Elie Wiesel

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"FRENCH in 10 minutes a day" is a fun, dynamic and engaging way to begin your love affair with French.
"La France" Magnetic Puzzle -- learning tool includes the French regions and French departments with their specialties
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French Country Diary 2008 (Calendar)

In the town of Sérignan (Vaucluse)

cafard (ka-far) noun, masculine
  1. cockroach
  2. melancholy, blues (depression)

Chaque minute de cafard vous prive de soixante secondes de bonheur.
Each depressing minute deprives you of sixty happy seconds.  --Blas de Otero

In books: Provence: The Collected Traveler: An Inspired Anthology & Travel Resource by Barrie Kerper
.

Chocolate cake. It is one of the things that springs to mind when I think of my belle-mère. I see her cautiously stepping off the train. In her right hand there is a plastic Monoprix sac; in her left, a small overnight bag.

"Attention!" she warns, as I reach for her sacoches. "Le gâteau..." she says, indicating her bag. Knowing her, she's wrapped that cake with a few rounds of aluminum foil before balancing it on top of the few personal items in her carry-on. In the shopping bag she's got the latest editions of Voici and Elle, magazines which she'll hand down to me when she returns to Marseilles after her weekend stay. She's in good form when she's reading gossip and looking at the fashion magazines, and when she's baking cake.

As for the chocolate cake, she's not sure if it will be any good. She's still building back her confidence after quitting cake completely, or the baking of cakes, I should say. At one point in her life, making chocolate cake was akin to climbing Kilimanjaro: a seemingly impossible feat. That period, which
Jean-Marc respectfully refers to as "her tired moment" was, truly, dark as the chocolate in her famous gâteau and minus a merciful dose of sweetness.

Around that time we were organizing a joint baptism/birthday party for our daughter (her older brother, by 2.4 years, was about to turn three). The food was to be catered... except for the dessert. Jean-Marc planned to ask his mom to make her chocolate cake.  

Given my belle-mère's "fatigue," this seemed a cruel request. "Are you sure we can't order the cakes from one of the dozens of bakers in the area?" I asked. "Ne t'inquiètes pas, chérie," Don't worry, Jean-Marc assured me. It would make his mother happy to make the cakes.

When Michèle-France learned that her son had "ordered" from her three chocolate cakes--THREE!--she all but fled under her unmade bed. She had no proper cake pans, for one. For two, three, and four, well, let's just say that there began a scramble--a veritable scurry--to get the cakes together in one blues-busting hurry!

One week later the cakes made it across the French countryside, to the vineyard in Trets-en-Provence where the festivities had already begun. Jean-Marc greeted his mother, helping her out of my brother-in-law's car, and paused to inspect the cakes. Their undulating chocolate surface only hinted at the transformative effort involved.

Later, I noticed Jean-Marc inquiring about the dessert, asking his friends if they had enjoyed his mother's very special cake. With each friend's affirmative nod, I followed my husband's eyes over to his mother's and watched as he added an encouraging wink. I searched my mother-in-law's face which seemed to lift; where once numbness and shadows had gripped, there was now a noticeable shift.

A soft light, like the glowing embers of a fire after midnight, took flight, there behind the once pained regard of a woman whose eyes now reflected her son's delight.

Now, in those lively, soul-filled eyes, I saw that my husband's "cruel" request had been compassion in disguise.
                                        *    *     *

la belle-mère
mother-in-law

attention!
careful!

la sacoche
bag

le gâteau
cake

Read popular French magazines and speak like a native!: Voici (gossip) & Elle (fashion)
.

avouer (ah-voo-ay) verb
  to confess (one's love)
  to admit to (a crime), to own up to

Que toutes nos pensées soient telles que si on te demandait à tout instant ce que tu penses tu puisses toujours l'avouer sans honte. May all our thoughts be such that if one asks you at any moment what you are thinking you can always admit it without shame. --Marcus Aurelius

                                     *     *     *
A great review!: Please don't miss Susan Sparkman's review of my book "Words in a French Life"
.

I admit it. Je l'avoue. I set up an email account for my brother-in-law, Jacques, announced his status (célibataire!*) in a post I wrote entitled "beau-frère,"* then proceeded--minus my share of  "savoir-vivre"* -- to get entangled in yet another moral snare.

Alright, I admit it: I snooped! I snuck into that Gmail* account, clicked open the courriels,* and read my beau-frère's fan mail!

...this before he even knew what had hit him or, I should say, before *I* even knew what had hit me; for what was that if not a moment of folly?

To be fair, and before the pouring on of tar and feathers (would you dare?), it was concern for clarity (would Jacques understand the correspondents' English?), injury (would someone send hate mail?), and duty (surely it was my duty to field the courriels?) that turned me into self-appointed email intermediary.

                             *     *     *
Post note:  I admit it. Je l'avoue... I set up a Facebook account for my brother-in-law, too! (Open to all--including future pen pals comme vous!*). To access the link, you may need to sign up for a Facebook account (takes only a minute). "Jack's Friends" is open to everyone!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
References: le (la) célibataire = single man or woman; le beau-frère (m) = brother-in-law (you can read the post here); le savoir-vivre (m) = social etiquette; gmail = Jacques' address; le courriel (m) = email; comme vous = like you
.
:: Audio File ::
Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French word "avouer" and today's French quote:
Avouer. Que toutes nos pensées soient telles que si on te demandait à tout instant ce que tu penses tu puisses toujours l'avouer sans honte.
Download avouer.mp3
Download avouer.wav
.
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In Film: A Good Year

The village of Les Sauzes, not far from the Italian border.

................................................................................
At $6.99* a pop, "Words in a French Life" in bargain book form makes perfect stocking stuffer for the Francophile in your life!
*while supplies of the hardbound remaindered copies last.
...............................................................................

inébranlable (ee-nay-brahn-lahbl) adjective
  unshakeable

Soyez assis avec toute la majesté inaltérable et inébranlable de la montagne. Laissez votre esprit s'élever, prendre son essor et planer dans le ciel. Be seated with all the unchanging and unshakable majesty of the mountain. Let your spirit rise, soar up into the sky and glide. --Sogyal Rinpoché
.

"Unshakeable" is a state of being to strive for around here. Only, daily I get tripped up. Come the six o'clock hour and I can meltdown with the best of them. My son and daughter, both "the best" and "THEM!," no longer have meltdowns... of the nose-to-the ground-pound-your-fists-and-cry-like-a-hound
type... but they join me, along with Jean-Marc, Braise, and now Coco, in the end-of-the-day soul slump. Everyone is tired, everyone is hungry, and everyone has the patience of a Parisian taxi driver chaotically circling the Arc de Triomphe, returning to the airport to pick up more tourists.

Thankfully, moods change and it happens that at the dinner table one or even two of us out-of-sorts types will be in an inquiring mind--enough to distract the rest of us into self-forgetting if only for an evening. Last night it was my son Max who wanted to know:

"What is the meaning of 'ee-pee'?"

Ee-pee? It took a moment or two for my son's French accent to register. Next, an image of a long-haired type, bandana tied around the head, pot-stained fingers now forked open and signing the language of peace appeared in my mind's eye.

"You mean 'hippy'," I corrected. Just saying the word "hippy" was enough to lift lamenting lips into a smile. Meanwhile, Jean-Marc came up with a definition for our son. "Hippy...C'est un comportement "cool" qui s'est développé dans les années 60 suite à la libération des moeurs et en refus de la
guerre..."*

As I tried to concentrate on my husband's explanation, I saw our cat, Coco, wrestling again with the Christmas tree ornaments. One quarter of the tree is bare, thanks to our furry feline Grinch.

"Coco!" I snapped. Instantly, Braise appeared at my knee, wagging half of her body. "I didn't call you, Jalouse.* Go lie down!"

When the kids began to laugh, Coco startled, fell off the couch, and landed on all fours. That's when the kids' muffled giggles grew info a snorting uproar.

"Everybody, calm down!" I said, as the food got cold and the kids, distracted, accidentally ran their elbows, and pajamas, through the sauce on the plate below.
"Roll up your sleeves!" I shouted.
The kids did as they were told, accidentally knocking elbows...
"Watch it, Jackie!" Max complained.
"Je ne t'ai rien fait!" I didn't do anything to you!
"Arrêtez, les enfants!" Knock it off, Jean-Marc warned.

Next, another ornament fell off the tree and crashed, startling Coco whose fur flew up as he arched his back. The kids gurgled, Braise barked, and I threw up my arms at wit's end. "Coco!" The cat ignored me, but Braise was back, tail wagging and pretending to be the cat!

"Jackie! Go lie down!" I snapped.
"But I didn't do anything!" my daughter replied.
"I meant, 'Braise'!"
That's when Max laughed at his sister, "ha-ha, go lie down!," who then complained to her father. The edge was getting sharper and I was ON it until I fell off...

"Why is it that every single time we sit down at the table..." I began.
"THIS is a time of rest, a time to enjoy one's meal in complete calm. After a long day, we should be able to sit down and relax...ENJOY each other. We all just need to learn to be COOL," I said, adding "...mommy, especially!" so as not to point to finger at anyone in particular.

A moment of reflection ensued until the "crash!" of yet another paw-swatted ornament disturbed the silence. That's when the room came alive again beginning with Max, who had a behavioral suggestion for his edgy entourage.

"Why don't we all become ee-pees?" he offered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
References: Jean-Marc's hippy (also hippie) definition = Hippy...It is a behavior--"cool"--that was developed in the 60's following the freeing up of stuffy customs and as an anti-war statement; la jalouse (f) = the jealous one

     In French music: ZEN by Zazie
     In DVD: French for Kids: Learn French
.
:: Audio File ::
Inébranlable. Soyez assis avec toute la majesté inaltérable et inébranlable de la montagne. Laissez votre esprit s'élever, prendre son essor et planer dans le ciel.
Download inebranlable.mp3
Download inebranlable.wav

Shopping:
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French film: La Vie en Rose

In books: Christmas in the Trenches:
"In 1914, British and German troops were dug into trenches in France, facing one another across the barbed wire and barren ground called No Man's Land. On Christmas Eve, the British soldiers heard the Germans singing Stille Nacht and joined in." --From School Library Journal