Film, France, Food

My Trifecta.

The 77th annual Cannes Film Festival kicks off today.

I’ve written a little about my love of film here on Substack, how Dorothy and the Tin Man, et al., captivated me at age four.  I can’t seem to pinpoint exactly when my love of all things French began.  Inspector Clouseau? Pepé le Pew? All I know is that when it came to choosing what language to study in junior high, I jumped into French with both pieds.

I loved learning how to speak French and I was good at it.  I continued to study it throughout high school and college.

Monsieur Fadel and Madame Shuster taught me French in high school.  Each year, they took a group of students to France and each year, everyone assumed my name would be the first on the sign-up list. Each year, I begged my mom to go. Each year, she said no. She used the excuse that we didn’t have the money to send me on an overseas trip, but really she just didn’t want me to go.  She wanted me to stay in her hip pocket.

France became a dream deferred.

I did try to use my French at any opportunity.  At my first job out of college, I communicated with people in Montreal so I’d practice with them. Later, as a marketing assistant, I worked with a graphic artist who was taking French lessons.  We faxed, emailed, and conversed in French so we both could practice our language skills.  

I went to see French films, I bought French artwork for my apartment, I found Eiffel Tower lamps at Target.

In my thirties, I met G and followed my newfound passion for cooking and food. When he found out I’d not been overseas, he took me to get my very first passport. I had a passport!  Look at me!

G graduated with his MBA and we celebrated by booking a trip to France.  We spent five days in Paris and five days traveling throughout the Loire Valley.  I will never forget the train ride from the airport to the seventh arrondissement.  The train went underground right before arriving in the city of Paris. I walked up the steps and Paris was revealed to me.  My dream had come true.

Shortly after returning from France, Dad had a stroke and life as I knew it changed forever.

While a caregiver, I took culinary classes in the evenings to find some peace and sanity.  I loved it so much I applied to culinary school.  One month after my dad died, classes started.

As the two-year program was winding down, I happened to walk past a bulletin board and saw a notice about a culinary internship offered by American Pavilion. In France. At the Cannes Film Festival. I had to read it three times to believe it. I drove home and immediately applied.

Only nine people were accepted and I was one of them. I graduated from culinary school and then packed my bags for a month in the South of France.

I worked in a makeshift kitchen in a hospitality tent about ten feet from the beach. My team made breakfast and lunch each day and catered a few cocktail hours and receptions.  Once the festival began, I was able to see some films. Bright Star, The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, Inglourious Basterds. I spent the month on the Mediterranean, got glimpses of Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese, and Roger Ebert. I even walked the red carpet one night.

But my favorite moment? Walking through security each day. I passed a line of cars waiting to enter the festival grounds. I strolled by, waved to the guard with my badge, he gave me a friendly nod, and I walked straight in. I belonged.

It’s been fifteen years since my trip to Cannes. In my next few posts, I’ll be reminiscing about film, food, and France. I hope you’ll join me!