Last night while "dining" out in Paris (loose term; so not good--it was just consumption of food for energy...but I knew what I was in for), I realized not everyone cares that they are eating badly in Paris.
I also get now why my French friends seem so, at first glance, or a first interaction over food, "critical." Critical here mean discerning, analytical. A huge cultural difference between "the French" and "Americans" is how we deal with analytical methodologies. In France (generally), it is appropriate and expected and part of the cultural fabric to opine on the cheese, the bread, the meat - and call it bad when it is bad. Or simply offer a suggestion that perhaps it is a little too ripe, or not ripe enough, or a little overdone on the baguette. Etc.
We in the US tend to be, generally, more polite. We agree sometimes for the sake of polite conversation. Sometimes. But now I get it on the food part. Once you have been immersed -- and I feel that way going into week 3 -- into eating a different way, in a region (Loire Valley) overflowing with exquisite local, local produce and wines, you start to discern fine differences. Differences between this wine and that wine; differences between this wine with that fish, and that wine with this charcuterie, etc. And of course the astounding differences between good bread and bad, factory-produced bread.
Terrace at current favorite restaurant...outside of Paris: le Favre d''Anne. Rainy noon time so could not dine outside.
I know this is because of such meals at Le Favre d'Anne in Angers, beautiful sparkling wine appreciation time at Bouvet Ladubay, and surprisingly great service and food at the Provence Caffe in Angers after the theatre. Last night I realized I finally understood what the foodie French call "industrial" cuisine.
I did not get into the nearby really good restaurant, MIroir, for dinner here in Montmartre (the no reservation thing). I knew it was a longshot. I went early and tried to use the "une personne, toute seule" (this really is what they ask me; it is translated literally as "just you, all alone?"), as a selling point. No go. Off I went to select a random place on the Rue des Abbesses.
I like to think of myself as the French culture wiki for foreigners. I hope to be a good ambassador for Texas and the US in being a good tourist in France -- even in hard-to-please Paris -- and I hope to help make France -- even Paris -- more approachable, manageable, and enjoyable for the uninitiated.
And at this time of year in Paris, there are many uninitiated.
The Saturday flea market "brocantes" in the Place des Abbesses. Photogenic wares.
I randomly selected for dinner Le Relais Gascon. It had a cute, lively outdoor terrace area. All I wanted was something in the red meat category to keep up the iron and protein intake.
On my left, I see a woman having French Onion Soup for a starter. That's never a good idea. It is way too heavy to include over there in the "entrée" column. It makes sense though when I figure out she and her hubby are American. And next to them, another couple, super happy, without a word of French, using all sorts of US colloquialisms that I know have to be impossible to understand for the server.
My food arrives. It is industrial cuisine. I expected this. Nothing special. Just meat, some type of reconstituted sauce, and some onions thrown in for good measure. I am not outraged. I am just glad for tasty enough red meat and vegetables.
I look over, and the woman who started with the French Onion Soup is having served to her one of the enormous salads that I have seen coming out of the kitchen to many people. The whole top layer of it is covered in thinly sliced (yummy-looking) sautéed potatoes. I then later hear the woman on the left starting to discuss with her husband her choice for the French Onion Soup before the big salad.
I just have to intervene in their conversation now. I am really concerned about the quality of their food experience in France and their impression of "French food." I do not want them going home to the US thinking this meal was an example of French cuisine. There is good cause for this concern because the hubby was having a "cassoulet" that did not even have a crusty top layer on it. It was all soupy with some sausage floating around (I was looking on in horror). This is so wrong.
I tell them, once I apologize for butting in, as I could not help overhearing the conversation: "You realize, right, that this is not good French food? I mean, places like Miroir over on the nearby street, that's the good stuff. You generally need a reservation." And yes, typically with a big main dish salad like that, it's too much if you are having onion soup as a starter. Usually not done that way."
Oh, he says, "What I had was good: I had the cassoulet." [I figure out quickly that I need to cool it and not say, uh, yea, I saw that nasty thing you were eating and let me tell you, that was not cassoulet.]
Ok well, ok, as long as you are having a good time, I say. We talk some about what they have seen and done.
Realizing they don't know what a cassoulet is, and do not realize or seem to care that they are having bad food, but are having a good time in Paris nonetheless, I am relieved. But I am alarmed because I am a little shocked that people come to Paris not really caring or thinking about the food.
The sweet little Place Charles Dullin, Montmartre, with its theatre, just across the street from my building.
Their meal ends. I watch as they try to settle up the bill without a word of French. They are told no credit cards. But how can this be. Surely the server is being really awful and giving them a hard time for the no-French thing.
But no. The French woman on my right also gets the same rejection when she hands the server her VISA ("carte bleue" here). She is stunned, rightfully so, and indignant when they say no credit cards. She wonders where on earth they have this displayed to show their customers. The server points to a tiny chalkboard sign behind the bar and some writing at the very bottom of the plastic menu. I am indignant as well. This seems sketchy this cash only thing. I chime in on this conversation as well.
To make a point, I pay my bill mostly in change. Good chance to get rid of most of those annoying centimes.
The American using the colloquialisms says to the owner, when that couple learns this same information: "That's bullshit." Very not effective to use American comebacks when you are in a foreign country.
I have a nice conversation with the French woman. I ask her where she is from (i.e., which part of Paris; whether she is from the quartier). She is from the 15eme. She came over to this part of town to get some fabric.
So you may want to avoid Le Relais Gascon if you are running low on cash. Go hang out at Le Sancerre (not as "funky" as it used to be....but very "bobo" as they say: see here, e.g., or Le Vrai Paris. (They take credit cards, surely.) And I will try not to eavesdrop on your conversation and correct your dining experience.
Apero time over at Le Sancerre, with good vantage point at the bar; no room on the terrace outside.
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