This is the final post of my spring trip to France. Our invitation was scheduled for 8:00, a crazy-late time to eat in my old-fashioned book. Annabelle and I walked through the ridiculously charming village by the light of the full moon, and arrived to a warm welcome of two-cheeked kisses. Thierry and Helene, introduced us to their two kids, their sister Monique, and their friend Jean Pierre. We received a tour of their quite lovely and live-in home, and Thierry apologized for its size, comparing it to the McMansions that all of us Americans supposedly live in. I insisted that our house was smaller than his, but he definitely didn’t believe me. Helene had laid out a spread of hors d’oeuvres in the living room, and we all gathered round for several types of charcuterie, pates, and olives, all paired with wine. The main meal hadn’t even started, and we’d already eaten the best food we’d had since arriving in France. I’d had a week to practice my French, and I m...