Le Chene Brings La Sourire (The Smile)

      There is something about this lettuce that got everyone's head turning in Paris today.   Between my Gastronomy Lecture and Debutante (en anglais: very elementary) French language course, I stopped by "Le Retour A La Terre"(Return to the Earth) grocery store to pick up some much needed organic produce pour le diner.  Stepping into "Le Retour A La Terre" is stepping into the menage a trois lovechild of Whole Foods, Berkeley Bowl (Bay Area food scene) and classic French Gastronomy.  Varieties of kombucha and coconut milk sit next to ooey gooey baby goat cheese and very fresh creme fraiche.  However, the smorgasbord of salivating of French organic products must be saved for another post (and for another visit): http://leretouralaterre.fr/
      During my short break, I picked up a butternut squash, a couple Italian oranges, and a head of unidentifiable lettuce, but worth a try.  The bouquet of greens resembled purple butter lettuce, layered like the petals of a blooming rose.  After paying, I walked leisurely towards class, cradling my red butter lettuce in one hand and bag of oranges in the other.  While I was surprised to receive stares (I mean who hasn't seen a head of lettuce?) I was more surprised by the positive reactions of passers-by.  True, the occasional old man or young woman stared in distress at this creature, but most seemed to welcome the newly born into the world.
      In class, I received similar reactions.  After some ooh's and ah and and "what is it", it felt like show and tell than French class.  My professeur remarked, "ahh Ingrid, pour moi"  "eh, oui, ici" I replied.  She then asked "qu'est ce c'est?" "La salad" I replied.  "Oui, mais plus.  Il s'appelle 'Chene'".  Aah now I knew the name of my much loved  bouquet: not butter : Le Chene.
      On my ride home on the metro, I continued receiving smiles.  Sitting there with "le chene rouge" on my lap, a homeless man smiled at me before getting off at Place d'Italie; I hope it was because of le chene.  Two women stepping onto line 6 pointed and remarked about "le salad", smiling.  An woman couple sitting across from me, looking Parisian in attire and manner,  turned her head to give my salade a smile, a je me souviens smile like the one of Anton Ego in Ratatouille,  tasting ratatouille, taking him back home, je me souviens, I remember.
      "So much depends on a red wheel barrow, glazed with rainwater, beside the white chickens"--William Carlos Williams.  So much depends on those little things during the day.  The ten minutes of sun in an exceedingly cold February.  The touch of warm water in the early morning.  The smell of the baking bread while walking through the streets of Paris.  Food does that.  It is a little thing, but a thing we all enjoy, and we each intimately partake in, appropriating for ourselves.  Somehow my public display of le chene became a intimate detail in the past and present lives of Parisians.  Next time: celery root, I am sure I will have similar reactions;)