One of my favorite things about living here is that it seems so much easier to make little connections with the people you run into on your daily routine. This morning I slept in and then went to my favorite outdoor market, which is my favorite basically because it's open later than the others and I can go even if I sleep past 11am. The people there are starting to know me, I think, especially the man who sells mostly onions and garlic. He has all these different varieties, at least five or six kinds of onions, and last week I asked him something along the lines of "There is kind of onion that makes less to cry?" Sadly the answer was no, and I suffered for my (delicious) rutabagas, but he was very nice and this week he gave me a big smile and recommended some new things for me to try.

A few blocks from my apartment there is a bakery that sells what might be my new favorite food, quiche oignon. Basically, you take caramelized onions and put them in a pie crust with some cheese and maybe some egg or something, and it is so delicious. The main thing stopping me from eating them every single day is the fact that the bakery keeps strange hours, and I can't figure out what they are. But when I do, I'm going to be in trouble. Between that and the amazing kebab place I discovered literally around the corner from me, it's been a good few weeks for food.

Speaking of food! Ryan and I hosted Thanksgiving a week and change ago, and it went exactly the way I'd hoped. Almost everyone we invited was able to make it, a majority of whom had never celebrated Thanksgiving before, and the food and company were both excellent. I've stolen a lot of other people's photos of the event, and I'll post them later on. Ryan, Hannah, a girl from NY named Maty and I cooked most of Wednesday, and had a ton of fun. Lessons include the fact that making pumpkin pie from scratch takes basically a year, especially if you have no mixer; French ovens have an internal logic all their own that no conversion chart will explain; cornbread made from ingredients that are almost like what you get in the States will not turn out as expected; and French kitchens may come with an oven and four burners, but that does not mean they are wired to allow you to use them all. But in the end everything was absolutely delicious, and the evening was a great success. Probably half the dishes were things most people had never heard of, let alone tasted, and the idea of a pumpkin dish that was sweet instead of savory inspired great suspicion. But everyone came around after tasting it. Also! I made rutabagas (as my family always does for holidays), and in France you can get them, but they're very pale yellow instead of orange. It turns out that when they are a less alarming color, everyone eats them and thinks they are delicious, instead of being afraid of them and thinking they are weird. Michael (who is Australian) for some reason could not keep the word "rutabagas" in his head, and decided instead to refer to them as "winnebagos," which I kind of love.

Now I'm running out the door to go to the Fête des Lumières, about which more later. Two posts in one week, go me! :)