Viva liberty!

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. We live in difficult times. By the time you read this, it will be a few days old, but today I am thinking about Bastille Day. The holiday is on July 14, which has great meaning to me both on a historic plane, and as a personal memory. I’ll start with the important stuff.

Our American Revolution inspired others to reject colonial powers around the world. “Fete Nationale” or what we call Bastille Day is the anniversary of the time in 1789 when French revolutionaries overtook the political prison and weapons stronghold that was pivotal in their citizen revolt. Their victory over the French Court is fairly well dramatized in Dickens’ “Tale of Two Cities” but fiction aside, the results were quite remarkable. The revolution not only echoed that of ours in North America but resonated throughout South America and Africa as well. If old-world Europe could stand up to power, then the colonial world could as well, and they did. They followed suit.

The French, of course, had bailed us out at Yorktown when George Washington’s backed the Brits up to the beach only to see the second-largest Navy waiting for them. French folks are now to the left of most of us, and their exploits in subsequent wars are the stuff of humor (Why do they grow trees along the Champs-Elysees? So the Germans can march in the shade.) The truth is that the American Revolution was a squeaker. Were it not for the charms of Benjamin Franklin bleeding their coffers dry, we may not have pulled it out and the world might be a different place.

They were so inspired by our efforts that they shipped over a little thing called the Statue of Liberty. At more than 100 feet tall, it’s a big chunk of copper that has welcomed immigrants since the 1880s1880’s. It’s an iconic structure that has become more a symbol of our country than theirs, but the gift reminds us of our long-held friendship.

OK. So now the personal stuff. Back in my Georgetown days, the definitive Bastille Day party was at a place on Wisconsin Avenue at around O or P street called Au Pied de Cochon, which means “The Foot of the Pig.” It was a funky, 24-hour dive that was the after-party place of choice. It was Fullers, but French.

There were a couple of things about Au Pied de Cochon that amused me. First, there was a huge mural on the wall of a man in a Chef’s hat and a cleaver who was about to dismember a terrified pig. I know that doesn’t sound humane or appetizing, but it was actually a very charming, cartoonish piece of art.

The other point of amusement is that no matter what was ordered off the menu, it came with a side of ratatouille. Eggs Benedict? Side of ratatouille. Berries and cream? A side of ratatouille. This was many years ahead of the animated movie of the same name, but the after-bar crowd in DC was well acquainted with the dish.

Back to July 14. I don’t know how the association took place. It may have been a connection with someone working in the kitchen, but every year on Bastille Day, they hired the best Cuban band in town. They were called Machu Picchu (after the archeological site) and played some really heated salsa music. A Cuban band in a French restaurant on a French holiday? It’s quirky stuff, but it worked. It really worked.

I haven’t been back to Georgetown in a couple of decades, but my understanding is that Au Pied de Cochon is no longer there. It fell to a fire in the later 80s and was never rebuilt. There is talk of some international intrigue surrounding that fire, which wouldn’t surprise me, but the memories remain.

Happy Bastille Day to all. Viva la France. Viva Liberty and as a friend reminded me this week, if you run out of bread, there’s always cake