Bastille Day – For France, Sarah Drinks Italy

bastille day, france and drinking italian prosecco
It’s always been curious to me how certain “holidays” have become such bigbigbighugebig(!) deals. For a given occasion that we commemorate today, it probably meant nothing to the people who were there at the time that it first occurred. For example, who knew that freeing all of seven prisoners from a crumbling ramshackle of a tower in France back in July of 1789 would turn into a day that we eat French bread for breakfast, French fries for lunch, and to drink…Peru.

Just kidding. What do you think I am, some sort of historignorant fool?!?!

Of course, I know it’s French toast for breakfast, not French bread. ;)

Really though, the idea of a “holiday” has always been something that makes me wonder. Rather, I wonder about the evolution of a given holiday. At what point does some certain seemingly insignificant event evolve into a full-blown holiday that has people drinking themselves topless, riding a donkey named Margarita straight into a kelly green river of beer? I also wonder, what is truly a holiday? According to my second favorite author, Merriam (Roget is my first favorite), a holiday is a day that is free from work, i.e. a vacation break. That means Labor Day, which doesn’t even have any some such specific event attached to it, is a holiday. However I have never, not once, ever received a greeting card in the mail wishing me a Happy Labor Day.

Wait a second here. *slow realization* I have never gotten a Happy Labor Day card. Not once has anyone ever taken, what? Two seconds? Not two seconds out of their, oh-that’s-right-you’ve-been-sooooo-swamped life to sign a name to a card and drop it in a mailbox. How hard is it to send a card? It could even be a blank card, for fox ache. You have time to shuffle along in line for 20 minutes for your caffeine and sugar fix but you don’t have two seconds to give me a happy fix? Charbucks even has cards right there are the register! What? You can’t just throw one in along with your Orange Mocha Frappuccino? I don’t ask for much, you know, but a card every once in a while would be nice! I wouldn’t even mind if it were a free, lazy cheater’s eCard!



A holiday is also a holy day (which is probably the etymology of the word). That means Valentine’s Day is a holiday because Valentine was a saint, and though I haven’t worked for a real employer at a real company in almost a year now, I am pretty sure that Valentine’s Day was not PTO (that’s “Paid Time Off,” for the uninitiated). So doesn’t that mean Valentine’s Day really isn’t a holiday? If that’s the case, that a holiday is either a vacation or a holy day, then this entire line of questioning stops here because Bastille Day is neither a vacation day nor is it a holy day, and I have no idea why I’d even be celebrating it or waiting for a Happy Bastille Day card that will never come.

So yes, it is Bastille Day, a national holiday in France that celebrates the 1790 Fête de la Fédération, a symbol of the uprising of the modern French “nation,” which was held on the first anniversary of the 1789 storming of the Bastille. You see, this is a French holiday, and though I’d love to say that I had a croissant and Yoplait yogurt for breakfast, will be having a Salade Nicoise for lunch, and will be off to L’Orangerie for dinner, let’s be serious. My Sugar Daddy is booked tonight, so there is no way I am going to L’Orangerie.

In all honesty, I am not a fan of French food. I have always associated it with “fussy,” and if there is anything I am not, it is down with the “fussy” (in food, that is; and babies, for that matter). Fois gras, funky mushrooms that taste nothing like chocolate, and garden pests all drenched in butter are not my cup of tea.

However, I will credit France with the one thing that has kept me sane all summer – Champagne. After reading The Book, I of course pulled statements completely out of context and manipulated them into my own twisted concatenation of logic: French women drink Champagne. French women don’t get fat. Therefore, drinking Champagne will keep you from getting fat. If I extend the reasoning, which I always do, drinking a lot of Champagne will make me even skinnier.


Of course, I have also realized that Champagne isn’t exactly within The Delicious budget. At least, not real Champagne that comes from Champagne that actually tastes better than those bottles of sparkling swill that perpetrate Champagne. So, I have been dieting on Prosecco, the Italian answer to Champagne.

Prosecco isn’t necessarily less expesnive than Champagne, but it certainly feels less guilty, and when I’m not eating French food, I feel better not drinking French sparkling wine, you know, to co-ordinate. I love Prosecco. I can’t stop drinking it.

So, in honor of France, I lift a glass of Prosecco! ;)

** a year ago today, we celebrated a jailbreak with french bread, french fries, and to drink…peru! **

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{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }

1 hermz August 23, 2006 at 12:56 am

One college summer my roommate and I decided to throw a party. We found a good night for it. But we couldn’t think of a theme. Until we realized that it was Bastille Day! We decorated with French bread, a bottle of French dressing, a can of French-cut green beans, etc. We even bought a cake a decorated it with “Let them eat cake.” Sure, that’s not Bastille Day, but no one complained… especially not after seeing the little guillotine on the cake, constructed of cardboard and a razor blade.

It was so much fun, we did it again the following year. :)


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