Recipe no°9: Apple Pie Martini

1 1/2 oz. vodka

1/2 oz. cinnamon schnapps

2 oz. apple juice

1 oz. cranberry juice

Shake over ice, strain into a martini glass. Garnish with an apple slice.

For a little extra flair à La Ricaine, garnish with an tiny American flag or a lit sparkler*.

*Let sparkler burn out before attempting to drink. 

Hold your heads high, fellow expatriates, and feel free to shout English in the streets! You need no longer endure the mépris of those who surround you, the asinine, condescending smirks on their faces as they ask you, "Ah oui, tu es américaine ? Tu aimes ton président ?" (smirk, smirk). Watch as they now humbly bow to you, claiming their country is still not ready to elect a non-white (although maybe a woman, if Obama's team hadn't stolen her ideas). Bask in the warmth of their approval/jealousy. Ahhh...

If you still feel the French don't love you quite enough, you can always share with them this uber-inspirational video, which I discovered grace à one of my favorite Americans, miss Caitlin.

A while back I talked about the things I love about France, which make it hard for me to leave. I promised to do the same for the U.S. of A., and something tells me that day has come.

Reasons why I love my country:

1) Obama.

Ok, so I know it's a little bit fresh, but the U.S. does have a certain something, a way to prove that even if we're over-consuming, rich bastards, there's a reason why we're number one (as much as I cringe to type those words). There is something special about our country; we've shown we're not quite as predictable as the rest of the world might make us out to be. And although there are many aspects of the typical American life that I disapprove of or even disgust me, Obama is ready to address many of them and force us to address them as well. I could go on about this forever, so let's just leave it at this: I'm proud of us for the first time I can remember.

2) My family (and friends!). 

Yes, here's the corny part. But you try living so far away you can't go home for Christmas/Inauguration Day. But I suppose even if  was home, my little sister is off gallavanting over in Uganda...that is if they allow gallavanting over there. God I hope she's OK.

I list this because it is a deal-breaker. I miss everyone too much to set up permanent house over here.

3) Understanding everyone/being witty.

You take this for granted, don't you. And no, maybe I'm not the wittiest of them all but I certainly feel more free when speaking English to say every little annoying or possibly hilarious joke that might cross my mind. Is this necessarily a good thing? No, but it sucks thinking of something and then the moment has passed or you don't know how to say it with the same nuance. Let's just say I often feel the version française of my personality is less interesting.

4) Heat.

Here comes the spoiled American talking. Grenoble is probably warmer all-around than Boston, but indoors... France is cold ! I've noticed people do dress more warmly, so I've invested in a few turtlenecks (making their first come-back in my wardrobe since 6th grade), but still...it doesn't get much warmer than 15°C in my room on cold days, and I looked it up, that's only like 59°F! Luckily I can write my blog in the office because at home my fingers don't move so well (cue world's tiniest violin). But although I miss this, I think the U.S. should strive to copy France in this arena, as unpleasant as it may seem, you can get used to it.

5) Convenience.

Almost all businesses, including grocery stores are closed on Sundays here, and often on Mondays too. Maybe eating at 2am isn't the best idea, but it's nice to have the option, and not being able to grocery-shop on a weekend day is just plain silly.

6) Diners.

Need I say more.

OK, I know I'm forgetting some important things so please remind me what they are. But this list would not be complete without :

7) Macaroni 'n cheese.

What would a list about America be without some kind of powdered cheese? I think what I love the most is the horror this idea can inspire in any cheese-respecting French person. Sometimes you just need a little reminder that you come from a place where cheese can viably be spelled with a 'z'. 

God bless!