La Vernissage (The Opening)

Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Verderonne

If you had told me a week ago that I would be preparing a buffet for 100 people for an art opening at a museum in a French village, with many of the guests from Paris, I would have laughed… but that’s why I haven’t written for two days. One day to cook, one day to recover.

Sunday morning I began at 8 a.m. by trying to make zucchini bread from memory. Despite the electricity turning off and on a few times, while the artists from Paris tried to get their “spectac” (think in terms of a spectacle) operating, and Caroline ran in and out of the house looking for switches and breakers to turn off, I managed to burn the bottom of the loaves. But when Walt sliced off the bad parts and cut it into cute little pieces and arranged it on a platter, suddenly we had gateau de courgette, which was quite popular. I made it again last night just for the 6 of us. Then I made two huge bowls of cold pasta salad, a large bowl of zucchini salad a la cucumber salad, another very large bowl of carrot/apple/raisin/rice salad dressed with fromage blanc and cinnamon, and three large potato/ham/onion frittatas, which also disappeared into those French mouths as fast as you can say “delicieux.” We had cornichons (pickles), saucisson (sausage), platters of cauliflower, carrot sticks, and pepper spears with dip, lots of bread, a brie cheese that was about 2 feet in diameter, and a big bowl of tabbouleh salad as well. Caroline’s friend Marie arrived in the nick of time to help make things look nice: arranging the tablecloths, potting up the rillettes in a terrine, arranging bread in a basket, etc. Thank god; I didn’t know how to do any of that or where to even begin looking for tablecloths. And Caroline’s friend Gilles came and whipped up a big punchbowl of sangria, which I was glad to get a glass of after everything was ready to go.

Russell and Caroline frantically finished installing all the black and white photos of the villagers on the wall in one room of the museum after Russell went to church and Caroline was cursing him for it, and the spectac artists found a generator to power their installation, which consisted of Gilbert dressed like a ballerina, on his knees on an electrically powered thing that went back and forth, with the little pink shoes at his knees like they were his feet, and wearing a tutu of electrical cords with little lights that twirled around. There was also a pretend monkey on a wire that tried to light his cigarette on a blast of real flame, a huge pig with a crown of flames, a few doll’s heads that twirled around, and a big armoire that shook back and forth with a mirror and doors that banged open and shut, all electronically. I didn’t understand any of it but it was amusing to watch, if a little strange, and Caroline says it was all very suggestive. Reed was fascinated by the technical aspects and fortunately didn’t understand any of the words. Later on in the evening Gilbert gave a monologue performance that was wonderful to watch; he must be quite an actor. Afterwards when I told him the spectac was great, he said the food was great too.

Walt and Leonard were in charge of the bar, so after Walt helped me in the kitchen all morning with peeling potatoes and similar tasks, he and Leonard went off to get ready to serve coffee and beer and wine in one of the outbuildings, next to where a woman was teaching people how to make paper from vegetable fibers. Reed got to do that, of course, and then he fell in love with the woman’s daughter, Laura, who is a college student and very beautiful of course. It was quite a day for Reed, really, as he spent the morning making some of his little mini artworks, which he started giving to everyone, and since they were held together with paper clips they worked well as lapel decorations. So Marie and some of Caroline’s other friends were all wearing them. There was also a painter named Connie from Germany who came to do some performance art that involved garbage cans and books, and Huberto from Germany had installed books in various places around the garden, adding to the festive atmosphere.

Guests started arriving a little before three, which was the opening time, and people milled around, going to see the spectac on the hour, looking at the different exhibits, drinking coffee, etc., and then suddenly, it was 6, and the buffet opened, pounced upon, practically, like the cats are always doing to dairy products left unattended in the kitchen. At one point when I was refilling one of the bowls, Caroline announced, “And here is the cook!” – introducing me to the crowd of people with full mouths – embarrassing me but secretly thrilling me too. A few people then came to talk to me after that, dispelling my idea that all French people are standoffish, and that Parisians especially are snobs. Not so. And the envy expressed by some young Australians of our living situation made me realize once again how lucky we are to be in this lovely old house with such nice people.

When it got dark and all the food was gone around 9 pm I started cleaning up the dishes, rescuing the remains of the brie from the cats who had started feasting on the leftovers, and staggered up to bed around 10 pm, knowing I wouldn’t have to get up or do any work on Monday if I chose not to. Still, I couldn’t sleep for a few hours, knowing how happy Caroline was with the event and with Marie’s praises ringing in my ears. I’m a simple girl, and easy to gratify, I guess, like a puppy. Good girl, good girl!!