The Principality of Monaco may be luxuriously nestled between the magnificent French and Italian Rivieras, but it certainly has a glittering and vibrant cachet all it's own.
It is internationally renowned for the Monte Carlo Grand Prix (Monte Carlo is part of Monaco) and for having the first and most elegant casino in Europe.
It is also regarded as the definitive playground for the rich, famous and infamous. Or, as famously observed by Somerset Maugham, it is "a sunny place for shady people."
I decided to become one of those shady types - better known as "ex-pats" - and made Monaco my new home.
You might think that with Monaco's year round, jam packed events schedule that the Christmas Holidays would be as spectacular as New York or London, but it seems that they just didn't make the social calendar.
Christmas is a quiet and quite insular, family holiday with very little hoopla or commercialism.
Perhaps symbolically, a 100 foot, fully decorated, rather garish Christmas tree was erected in front of the Casino; only to short out in a rain storm and burn to the ground two days before Christmas.
Ever since Grace Kelly vicariously made every school girl's fantasy come true by marrying the handsome Prince, Americans have had a special love affair with Monaco.
A soft spot for the Yanks
In turn, the Monagasque have a soft spot for Yanks.
This was demonstrated to me when, just before myfirst Christmas in my new country, I had the good fortune to meet a family that has lived in Monaco for seven generations.
They graciously invited me to Christmas dinner at their home. This is a particularly special invitation for an "étranger." The true warmth, hospitality and life
style of the Mediterranean people are only fully apparent in their homes. It is a privilege to be invited to share in this special family celebration.
My Mother was a Canadian from Montreal. Her background was English and Irish, and her Christmas rituals were right out of Currier and Ives.
My Mother's version of Christmas dinner
To show my appreciation for the invitation, I offered to duplicate my Mother's version of Christmas dinner for my hosts and their guests.
The traditional Christmas meal for this part of the world differs greatly from what might be expected in North America.
The meal is served on the night before Christmas, and centers around enormous, silver trays of smoked salmon, served with creme fraîche and warm blinys; and slabs of Pate de Fois Gras with morsels of toast.
My offered was accepted, but I was advised not to prepare too much because of the large amount of food already being served.
The shopping odyssey for the ingredients for Mom's Christmas dinner began with a serious set-back. When I asked the local butcher for the largest turkey he had, I was presented with a
scrawny, capon-size bird that would hardly serve four, much less the twenty-four guests that were expected.
He explained that the American "beast sized bird" was tasteless, dry and not interesting for the table of a discriminating diner.
Outside the shop, I overheard a couple speaking with an English accent.
On a hunch, I asked them where they bought their turkey for the holidays. The directed me to a small store in Antibes, further down the coast in France.
My Tom Turkey
There I found my good old, 24 pound Tom Turkey.
Having checked off the centerpiece from my shopping list, the rest of the items began to rapidly fall into place. Yams (pommes de terre douce) turned-up in the exotic tropical food section of
the local green grocer; and the ingredients for the sausage, apple, chestnut stuffing were soon in the bag along with all the rest of the "fixings."
I commandeered my host's kitchen for the preparations.
After a full day, the meal was ready to serve to the expectant, but somewhat skeptical guests.
The salmon and fois gras had already been consumed, and the sight of the monster, golden brown turkey, steaming sweet potatoes and giblet gravy produced groans around the table. Undaunted, I carved the bird, served the meal and awaited the reaction.
What came next caught me completely off-guard.
The guests all stood and applauded warmly, complete with hearty "Bravos". They then proceeded to embrace me and plant kisses on both cheeks.
Not only was the meal a smashing success, but I was asked by my hosts to return and prepare it again for the next year's Christmas celebration.
And so it came to pass that the American Turkey who came to Christmas dinner in Monte
Carlo was re-ordered. In fact, I have been preparing this little taste of America for my friends in Monaco for the past 14 years.
www.monte-carlo.mc/en/general/principality-of-monaco