A Last Look at Christmas

And you thought Santa's only way into your home was via the chimney? Not in France. Although clues--no sack, no toys--suggests that maybe this is his exit route. This time of year, exterior-ly mounted Santas on ladders are everywhere. Also the occasional Santa on a swing. I still haven't worked out what that's all about.

Crimson Cherries and Fat Pigs

Right now, the stalls at the daily market in the old section of Nice are loaded up with sweet treats for Christmas.  Glacé fruits glow as though they have lights inside them--clementines, lemons and long green stalks of angelica. Elsewhere are confections of nuts and nougat. The petals of violets and roses are candied. 

Best of all are the little sweets made of marzipan. Treated like a sublime modelling clay, the fruits and objets made of almond paste are so exquisite you can't imagine actually biting into one of them.

The amazingly realistic cherries pictured here are the same size as real ones, and no two are the same. The pigs are about the length of your thumb. 

I watched a woman assemble a small box of marzipan fruits, then add a little bag of crystallized violets. Maybe she'll give them as gifts or take them to her family's as a treat to hand round after the Christmas feast.

A Day in Toulouse

It's been a few weeks since I've been in the big city so today Kate and I took the train to Toulouse. First stop, a little retail therapy at Galeries Lafayette where we sniffed lavender-scented candles, fondled cashmere blankets and looked with longing at twinkling modern versions of classic chandeliers. 

It was bitingly cold today and all the small kids out on field trips were so heavily bundled up that the smallest ones could hardly stand up. 

Rows of wooden chalets had transformed the main square into an Alpine village. We cupped our hands around plastic glasses of spicy vin chaud as we wandered around. Because he looked so exactly like the drawing of him, we photographed this foie gras seller. 

The Léran Choir Makes its Debut

Four weeks of weekly rehearsal and the choir was ready for its first performance. Choirmaster Alan Simmons had done a stupendous job of making a random group of singers sound, if not dazzlingly professional, at least in tune. 

At 7:30 on Saturday night, we had our final run through in the usual rehearsal hall. Then, abandoning our coats, we hurried through the cold night to the café. Eventually brought to order (and drinks orders temporarily suspended) we launched into our six carols, some French, some English before ending with choir + audience renditions of "Oh come, all ye faithful" and other popular Christmas songs. 

Our first Noël in France.

Three weeks to go and Christmas food is now starting to show up in the shops. 

But not a plum pudding in sight.

Instead, following a tradition that started in Provence, French people go through 13 desserts after their Christmas Eve dinner, before they go to midnight mass. The number represents Christ and his 12 apostles. 

Not quite as intimidating as it sounds as you can see from this shot of a pre-packed 13-dessert tray at SuperU.