The magic baguette

If there is such a thing as a magic baguette, I think I've found it.

Let me explain.

Last Wednesday, I had my first demi-groupe at Portail Rouge, a half group of students entrusted to my care for a 30-minute language section.

I wasn't prepared. At all, really. At Collège Terrenoire, I've been enjoying my "observation period," shadowing teachers and learning students' names and language levels. Not so at Portail Rouge, it would seem, since I showed up to my 9 am class and was informed that 15 students would follow me into a classroom of my own to receive their "lesson."

So I improvised. What with? Well, I wracked my brain for something simple and relevant that might engage the students. The election? Maybe for high school English, but the middle schoolers I've met so far have lacked the vocabulary and grammar necessary to debate "Obama v. McCain." Let alone learn about the American electoral system.

I flashed back to a chat I'd had earlier in the week with Kristin. Kristin has been good enough to ship me a few extra things I left behind in Boston (I apparently overlooked many, many important items during my manic packing spree).

Kristin: You may have other American candy soon. You just may.
Me: Are you my American candy?
Kristin: Just that Halloween is coming, and you might get some American candy for Halloween.

Halloween! Of course! Brilliant!

I improvised a Halloween language activity: first, review Halloween vocab (words like Pumpkin, Ghost, Vampire, Trick or Treat, etc.), and then reinforce with a Halloween scary story game.

And so it went. Lucky for the students (and for me), French Halloween vocab is remarkably similar to English Halloween vocab. All except one term in particular. One which a hefty cinquième student in my 9-10 section (perhaps named Thibault?) presented with great enthusiasm.

Thibault: Madame! Une baguette magique!
Me: What? I'm not sure I know what that is. Can you try in English?
Thibault: Bahhhh... Yes! It is a magic baguette!
Me: hysterical peals of laughter

The other students, encouraged by my uncontrollable giggles, chimed in, laughing generously for a good thirty seconds. I think they were just enjoying my violent reaction, not actually mocking their poor Thibault, since it seems unlikely that they could fully comprehend the levity provoked by his comment.

It took only a few more seconds before I was able to understand: Thibault had very correctly tried to translate the French term for magic wand (prompted by our previous conversation about Harry Potter, obviously).

The magic baguette.

It got me thinking. Or rather, probing my memory. With the tip of my tongue. The baguette may have esoteric connotations in French, but to me, it has always conjured a certain texture, a thick crust cracking beneath my hands, giving way to soft, dense insides that taste of real butter and flour and yeast all together, and it just smells like my fantasy kitchen in the country on a Saturday morning! To me, the baguette's magical properties have always revolved around its versatility: whether it's butter and jam, emmenthal and ham, tomato, basil and mozzarella, or paté and pickles, the baguette complements, nay, it elevates your food selection. You can even harness the baguette's power for dessert by simply slathering it with Nutella. Granted, Nutella can make anything taste good. But thanks to the baguette's unique texture and hearty taste, it can both play second fiddle to a culinary prima donna (like Nutella), or headline its own show (I mean, who hasn't emerged from a bakery, baguette in hand, only to discover ten minutes later that they have already consumed half of it?)

Magical indeed.

Well I've found the magic baguette in Saint-Etienne. And I'm somewhat embarassed to admit that it is baked by a CHAIN! That's right, Paul's pains rustiques et de fantaisie (rustic and fantastical breads) have won me over.

Paul officially dates back to 1889; it currently serves around 5 million customers each month. The owner, Francis Holder, is involved as much in the baking of Paul's breads as in the growing of the raw materials: all the wheat he uses is grown sustainably by French farmers, who follow his strict specifications to harvest the perfect grain. The breads are also all baked with traditional methods. Even the aesthetics of Paul's stores, built of brick and wood, serve to mimic a "country style," emphasizing tradition and the baker's place within it.

Paul offers a dizzying selection of breads: the Camp Rémy, country bread, wholemeal bread, rye brea, six grain bread, white bread, bio (organic) bread, faugasse, and of course, the baguette. Seasonal delicacies (which I will soon sample) include bread with figs and bread with chestnuts.

Did I mention Paul's is also a patisserie? Craving a pain au chocolat? Want a macaron au praliné? Need a gourmand fix with a gourmandise?* Have no idea what I'm talking about, but still bewitched by the seductive French words for just about anything edible in a bakery? Just walk into your local Paul franchise, take a deep whiff, and follow your nose. When in doubt, you can always summon your magic baguette.

*A macaron is an elevated version of the American whoopie pie. Only French. So, yeah. And the gourmandise is my new favorite: imagine a flattened croissant filled with cream and bits of chocolate.

Tonight, I will dream in bread.