Snickers Cheesecake at Litton's in Knoxville, Tennessee
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Dear Parler Paris Reader,
I chuckled to myself when I entered the airport in Atlanta, Georgia, on Thanksgiving Eve, having flown direct from Paris Charles de Gaulle.
At CDG Terminal 2E early in the morning, there was one small kiosk for coffee and drinks, sandwiches, croissants and a few muffins. It was quiet and monochromatic in tone. Immediately upon disembarking from the Air France flight, during which the food was very good (considering) and the service very respectable (wine and champagne for no extra charge), the passengers were escorted through another round of security control including a full body scan machine (my first time) after passing through passport control where many ahead of me had their thumbs imprinted.
We all took the tram to other terminals to catch our planes on to further destinations – mine being Knoxville, Tennessee. At the top of the escalator of concourse B, the intersection looked more like a shopping mall with a food court than a hallway to airport gates. Masses of people were everywhere and they were definitely eating and shopping actively under the neon lights of the merchants’ with great gusto.
I knew at that moment I had arrived in the USA.
Knoxville is a beautiful town at the foothills of the Smoky Mountains where I lived for a total of 14 years. It feels like home, even though it’s as different from Paris as any two places could be. My sister made a big Thanksgiving spread for just four of us including her daughter from Phoenix and my 93 year-old mother visiting from New Orleans. We filled our bellies with juicy roast turkey accompanied by fresh-made cranberry sauce, stuffing and OF COURSE, homemade pumpkin pie – the real kind. It was an emersion in Americana – exactly what I had hoped for.
Over the course of the first few days, we toured the town to see how things had changed and how the city had grown. Lots of the older buildings in original parts of the city had gone through gentrification and revival, particularly in the downtown area which had matured very nicely, reminding me of Portland’s downtown with its well-tended old buildings. My sister couldn’t wait to show us a new area called “Turkey Creek” that had sprung up on what was pure pastureland only a few years ago. Now it was a metropolis of consumerism – one retailer after another dotted by office buildings and other commercial centers. It was the new downtown – all created in the blink of an eye – all brand spanking new awaiting new customers.
Not much was open on Thanksgiving Day except for a few drugstores. Almost no cars were on the streets or in the parking lots. This holiday is sacred in America – more sacred than religious holidays – or so it seems…except for one thing: BLACK FRIDAY.
Black Friday was a whole new term for me. Somehow living in France, it had escaped me along with a lot of Americana I was missing living in France all these years.
So, as it seems, the day after Thanksgiving is the biggest retail day of the year, and is when the retailers turn a profit and go ‘into the black.’ Suddenly the term is EVERYWHERE – in every ad, on every billboard, on everyone’s lips. Many stores opened not long after midnight Thanksgiving to be the first to offer their bargains and buyers were lining up to grab them.
I thought about how rue de Bretagne shuts down at 2 p.m. on Sunday, strictly enforced by the city ordinances to protect and respect the day of rest and so as not to ‘exploit labor’ by asking people to work overtime. What a contrast in looking at life!
Our Black Friday was not spent in the stores being consumers. Instead, in the cold and misty morning, we toured the Jewish cemetery to visit a few people who had been important in our lives. While taking the paths through the modest graves, we felt a reconnection with more of its ‘residents’ than we would have thought. It is customary to place a stone on the tombstones, and so we did on the ones we loved. Then we drove off to one of Knoxville’s landmark restaurants for lunch, “Litton’s.”
Litton’s is not only famous for its great all American food (hamburgers, steak fries, etc.), but for its assortment of pies. In a display cabinet at the entrance are pies and slices of pies -- Red Velvet, Key Lime, Lemon Meringue and the most decadent of them all, the Snickers Cheesecake: cheesecake, caramel, chocolate, caramelized peanuts and whipped cream. We were not leaving without a tasting of it after chowing down on burgers and fries.
No, they don’t make pies like this in France (although a Tarte Tatin with Crème Fraiche is one of life’s greatest pleasures), and I’m glad they don’t (!) or else I’d soon be moving up in dress size.
The first part of the trip home to visit with family in Knoxville, aside from the pure pleasure of the reconnection with family and friends, was a lesson in consumerism…buying, using, eating American style. While there is no doubt that one can certainly shop well in France, eat well in France, and enjoy the luxuries of French design and esthetics, the viewpoint is clearly different and it is that difference which has struck a chord and makes me take notice.
Saturday, my mother and I flew to New Orleans together and it is there that a whole new round of consumption began…so much so that I took to the bed hours early with a bloated belly and a vow to moderate…but, you’ll have to wait till Wednesday to read all about that.
A la prochaine...
Adrian Leeds
Editor, Parler Paris
(with her Mother, Gertrude Beerman (93))
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P.S. For those of you in Paris, plan on visiting with me and other readers of Parler Paris on December 14th when we meet for Parler Paris Après Midi at La Pierre du Marais from 3 to 5 p.m. Learn more at: http://www.adrianleeds.com/parlerparis/apresmidi.html
P.P.S. Scroll down to learn when the next House Hunters International shows featuring our Parler Paris friends are broadcast – if you haven’t already seen them – or want to see them again!
