Yesterday was voting day for European elections. We had 38 official parties to choose from, and we all know who won. Pretty much throughout Europe. The wind is blowing to the right.
My voting station is the nearest public high school, a five-minute walk from where I live, and I headed there mid-afternoon on Sunday. I expected a long line and wished I’d gone earlier, but Sunday mornings and lunch hours are sacred in France and to me, thus nothing happens on this day until the last sip of wine has been had.
Surprisingly, though, I got to the polling station and walked right in behind two people, as three others walked out. Inside the large gymnasium was nearly empty, except for the handful of volunteers there to register voters. I walked up to the pale and tired young woman registering voters, and I worried she’d slip off her chair and hit her head, so bored she seemed as she languidly checked my identity card, found my name, crossed it off and handed me a small, wheat-colored envelope.
Next there was a long table with stacks of “bulletins de vote,” ballot papers with the photo of the party representative, some slogans, some description. The idea is to pick up one of each, then go to the silver curtained voting booth, fold up the ballot paper of your choice (the papers were large; they required two folds), then slip it into the envelope, leaving the other papers in a mess in the booth. Many voters had done this before me.
I have voted about five times in France so consider myself still new to the game and, per usual, forgot to take one of each ballot papers and instead, went right to the one I would vote for, took it, did my folds in secret, then exited the polling booth. I realized that had anyone been watchingl they’d know who I voted for and would…perhaps be waiting outside to string me up?
Envelope in hand, I went to the next stop where a young man found my name on another list, showed me how to drop the envelope into a clear plastic box with a special lever that opened the necessary slot, then he used a special ruler to show me where to sign, which I did, at which point he cried out to the four people in the room “À voté!” Voted!
That was it. Everyone was polite, grateful even to have had something to do. As I walked home I was happy it had been so fast and simple, and then I got deeply worried that no one was voting . But in fact, 52% of the French population voted yesterday, the highest number since 1994.
While my voting experience was underwhelming, the results and the very near future are not, and the French are all called to vote again to establish a new Assemblée Nationale in three weeks. Emmanuel Macron is taking a huge risk by dissolving the current body, betting that voters will support his party instead of underlining their conservative choice.
It’s a game of poker says the press, in trying times. And when times are trying and we seem to have little control, it seems important to be constant. Which is why I got up this morning and washed the healthy Norman soil off of the gorgeous little new potatoes from the market, shucked the sweetest ever peas grown by my dear friend Baptiste, then cooked and served them drenched in delicious butter. I topped the vegetables with poached eggs, direct from chickens raised by Paulette who continues to delight everyone at the market with her colorful bouquets and jars of homemade jam. Some of us are lucky enough to know about the eggs, which she keeps hidden in a basket under a thick tea towel; I always ask for them and depending on her supply I get six or twelve. This was a twelve-egg week, to my delight.
These actions and the dish that resulted comforted us. Simple products, simple tasks, clear and pure flavors. My gratitude to faithful suppliers is overwhelming because, no matter the winds of political change, they will – because they are obliged – continue. And we the people can say, with feeling, the most apolitical and perhaps most important of wishes, Bon Appétit.
COMFORT FOOD
1 pound (500g) small new potatoes, scrubbed clean (no need to peel)
Coarse sea salt
1 fresh or dried bay leaf from the Laurus nobilis
1 cup freshly shucked peas (from about 12 ounces;750g peas in their shell)
A handful of fresh fava beans, if you’ve got them, peeled once
1 large egg for each guest (unless they ask for 2)
2 to 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in small pieces
Fleur de sel and freshly ground black pepper
1. Place the potatoes in a medium-sized saucepan, cover by 2-inches; 5cm with water, add 2 generous teaspoons coarse grey salt and a bay leaf and bring the water to a vigorous boil. Reduce the heat so the water is boiling gently, partially cover and cook until the potatoes are nearly tender through, about 15 minutes. Add the peas and the fava beans if you’ve got them, shake the pan so they fall down amongst the potatoes, cover and cook until the peas are bright green and the fava beans have turned slightly green-purple, no longer than 5 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, bring a saucepan two-thirds filled with water to a rolling boil. Add ¼ cup of white vinegar, then crack as many eggs as are called for into the water where the bubbles are coming up, adding no more than four. If you need to poach more eggs, do a second batch.
3. If you like soft poached eggs, they will require about 3 minutes, harder needs more time. To remove the eggs, use a slotted spoon and tap it on a cotton tea towel to catch the drips. If there is water caught in the folds of the egg white, gently touch the towel to the egg to soak it up. Transfer the egg to a shallow bowl.
4. To serve, divide the potatoes and peas among four warmed, shallow bowls and top them with pieces of butter. Make a slight hollow in the center of each dish of vegetables and place an egg there. Season with salt and pepper and add one last little pat of butter to the egg. Serve immediately.
