TODAY’S WORD: LA BONBONNE

pronounced “bohn-BON”

Une bonbonne is a large, rounded glass bottle used for storing or transporting wine and other liquids; a demijohn or carboy. It is also known as une dame-jeanne, a name derived from the older Occitan damajano, possibly tracing back to Damghan, a Persian city once renowned for its glassmaking. The charming story that it was named after Queen Jeanne of Naples is probably folklore.

Example

Jean-Marc remplit les bonbonnes de vin dans notre salle à manger.
Jean-Marc is filling the demijohns with wine in our dining room.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Friday night, we were invited to a family-only gathering at Nicolas and Sophie’s new home—and there was even more to celebrate: the birth of their first grandchild, Leandro!

Out on the back patio, huddled around la poussette, we all took turns getting our first glimpse of the little bout de chou. As our son Max could not make it, I took an extra peek just for him. Not that he needed it. As a close friend of the baby’s father, Max had already met le nouveau-né—and sent me a photo to prove it.

Leaving room for others to scoot closer and enjoy the tender sight, I found a chair near the pool and soon began chatting with two nonagénaires—the baby’s great-grandmother and great-aunt.

I had spoken with these two nanas over the years, but we had never moved beyond the usual niceties. That evening, I learned a little more about the sisters, who love hiking in the hills above Marseille, playing cards, and, fashion, and friends.

“Every three weeks, we stay at our friend’s in the countryside. She’s in her eighties and thriving in a big farmhouse near Aix.”

When the hors d’oeuvres appeared, one of the nonagénaires sprang to her feet and began making the rounds with the cheese platter before settling back down beside her sister, a glass of wine in hand.

As if that were not inspiring enough, a few guests nearby began lamenting the fact that they were now approaching sixty.

“Ugh,” the ninety-three-year-old sighed. “Are they talking about age again?”

At ninety-three, the passing of time was not something that concerned her. It was a subject that bored her! There was so much more to life than keeping track of one’s age.

Amazed by all I was hearing—and still contemplating an incident that had happened back at home, moments before we left for the party—I asked the sisters, “Did you ever argue with your husbands?”

“Ah, les disputes. C’est normal. But no, not often.”

“Well,” I confessed, “after thirty-two years of marriage, I am only now learning to keep my mouth shut.”

“It has taken you that long?” The women smiled.

On that note, I shared a would-be scène de ménage from earlier that evening.

“You know Jean-Marc is a winemaker. Only now, after two vineyards, he’s begun making wine on our back patio—and he’s even processing other people’s grapes there too! And now the juice—along with tout son bazar vinicole—has made its way into our house. He has taken over the kitchen, parts of the living room, and my Mom’s studio… Who knows where he’ll go next? Our bedroom?

“He is using those enormous green-glass bonbonnes—those round-bellied dames-jeannes that look so charming and rustic until one of them explodes.”

“Oh, those are lovely!”

“Yes—and fragile! To clean them, Jean-Marc uses gravel from our front yard. He pours it into the bottom of each vessel and swirls the stones around before rinsing the giant glass bottle with the garden hose. Except the last time he rinsed one, it popped—and glass shattered everywhere.

“Do you think that stopped him from rinsing the others and filling each one with twenty-five liters of fermenting red wine—right there on our dining table, the one my sister-in-law refinished last spring?”

When I saw what he was doing, I nearly burst—just like that first dame-jeanne.

And then came le déclic: I could try to control the situation—or I could keep my mouth shut. 

Dressed for the party in my white linen top and white pants, I stood beside those giant bottles, imagining twenty-five liters of red wine gushing across our light-colored floor and splattering the beige couches. I’m not going to say a word, I thought.

But if those dames-jeannes burst, he can deal with the whole mess!

My two new friends smiled.

Now I only have to keep my promise—and perhaps I, too, will live as long and enjoy as many years of marriage as they did. And should the urge to argue arise, I’ll do as these nanas do: hike the hills above Marseille, play belote with the girls, and faire du lèche-vitrines—go window-shopping!

As for the bonbonnes, those are Jean-Marc’s responsibility. And if they explode and paint the house red? Well, what is a home if not a place to work, play, love—and wear a few stains from a life well lived?

---

FRENCH VOCABULARY

la poussette = stroller, baby carriage

le bout de chou = little one, cutie

le nouveau-né = newborn

un/une nonagénaire = a person in their nineties

une nana = a woman, girl, gal

une dispute = argument

c’est normal = that’s normal

une scène de ménage = a domestic quarrel

tout son bazar vinicole = all his winemaking stuff 

une dame-jeanne = a large, round-bellied glass bottle; a demijohn

le déclic = the realization 

la belote = a popular French card game

faire du lèche-vitrines = to go window-shopping (literally “to lick windows”)

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REMERCIEMENTS
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