What is fantastic about the USA is that whatever you buy or eat happens to be “the best of the world”, nationally acclaimed" or “world famous”.
Yesterday morning, as I just stepped out of the Austin Chicago plane, I was starving -I woke up at 4:30, it was 9:45 and they had only offered us a drink (did I mention I bought my ticket on Cheapoair?)- so I grabbed a few pecan caramel cinnamon baby buns on the terminal G. I could hardly believe my eyes, they were “famous all over the world”! Wow!
Obviously the world must be reduced to USA, or Illinois maybe, or even Chicago airport terminal G?
BTW, the baby buns dough had not risen, the caramel goo with pecans was nicely sticky and it had more cinnamon than even a German bakery could use in a year (but I kind of expected that).
Where was I? Fame! The French believe Sylvie Vartan is famous in LA, that Alain Delon and Sophie Marceau are stars in Japan, are they really or is it an urban legend?
We all heard about these French chefs being famous abroad. I remember a pastry chef bragging of to me about opening a shop in Shanghaï, and me answering naively : “How funny, I am leaving next week to Shanghaï, is it somewhere near the Bundt?”,then he mumbled :” actually this is some kind of a project…”
I can tell I am really famous in my village. When I went to the bakery and the grocery after my mother’s funeral, everybody paid respect to me saying : “Oh, you must be Mimi’s daughter, the one writing cook books in Paris ? Your mother spoke so highly of you! She lent me a book of yours, I should buy it for my sister (my mother-my daughter), where can I find it?” Then the next day, when I sorted her belongings, in her sewing machine table drawers, I found every single magazine I had been published in for years, some as old as 20 years (she had them put aside at the local news stand, they receive only one of each decoration or food magazine), with written all across the page in large red block letters: “Blandine, page 26, ne pas jeter”
Of course my parents don't have a computer, even less Internet. My brother used to print my blog for her to read. I found a whole stack with notes from her hand, she had spotted and highlighted with a fluorescent pen every reference to my childhood, every wink and homage I was sending her…
Yes, I was famous in her heart, and for much more than 15 minutes…
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