Eight Things I Miss Most about Drinking and Dining in France
Sigh. It’s been two and a half years since my last summer stay in La Belle France, and I’m not headed back any time soon.
When I think about what I miss most about French food and dining, I find it’s not so much about the food itself, as it’s not that hard to create French quality food chez nous (a topic about which I’ve written an entire book!).
Instead, what I miss most are just so many of the little things that make the French drinking and dining so joyful. They are all small details, and yet I miss them dearly. Here are eight things that come top of mind. I’d love to hear what you’re missing!
No matter how modest the cafe or restaurant, most everywhere you order a drink, they bring you a little snack to go alongside. Not to be confused with the amuse-bouche found in high-end restaurants, it's usually something quite simple. You see, the French understand that drinking on an empty stomach isn't a good idea. But they also don't expect you to order a huge appetizer that will (paradoxically) ruin your appetite for dinner. This little touch is everywhere, in the simplest of spots. And it's just so gracious.
Ditto the little cookie you usually get with your coffee. Here's a chocolate Madeleine that helps keeps that strong coffee from burning a hole in your stomach. It's so thoughtful! (PS: The coffee pictured is "une noisette": espresso with a little touch of milk.)
I sorely miss artisan butchers, who cut your meat fresh and to your specifications. Pork had beautiful marbling and great flavor. The veal. The farmer chicken. The sausages. I could go on and on.
Restaurants serve full size bottles of wine, to be sure. But they also offer 50-cl bottles (which is 3/4 of a regular bottle). It's perfect for two people, especially when said two people have started with an apéritif. (A bottle, at this point, is too much; a half-bottle is not enough. A 3/4 bottle is brilliant).
Tax and service are included in restaurant bills. There are so many reasons why I like this system—too many to go into here. First and foremost, it means that servers earn a living wage that does not rely on the whims of customers who tip varying amounts. For the diner it means that the price you see on the menu is the price you pay.
In the above photo, two kirs (white wine with crème de cassis in one and liqueur de pêche in the other) cost 7 Euros and change (about $8), tax and tip included. Most wines cost around 5 euros a glass; the most I ever spent was 8 euros (tax and tip included), but that was a premium Bordeaux splurge. Here in Amerique Profonde at a casual bar, two of us spent $20 for one glass of wine each (after tax and tip). The above photo was on the French Rivieria. Why are wine prices so high here? It certainly can't be the real estate!
I have no idea why large coffeehouse chains (I’m talkin’ to you, Starbucks) in the U.S. serve shots of espresso in cups (often paper) meant to hold larger drinks. It cools down the drink way too fast. Yes—in larger U.S. cities, you can find coffeehouses that serve espresso as it should be served, in a tiny cup. But here in flyover country, it's an exception, not the rule.
Sadly, some of the best restaurants where I live in Amerique Profonde are nowhere near anyplace you'd like to stroll around afterwards. Basically, you drive there and drive home. And even though my own home is near a beautiful park, it's not the kind of park where you see people strolling around. I miss the civic beauty and street-life that makes the after-dinner stroll so fascinating in France.
Don’t Get Me Wrong
All this said, I love my city and community here in Amerique Profonde. And it's really nice to live somewhere where you don't have to worry about what's going to be closed because of the next strike (gas stations? ATMs?). And when you go to restaurant if something goes wrong, they’ll try to fix it. Not always so in you-know-where.
Still, it's hard not to long for a few other great things à table that are now all too distant...
Tell me, mes amis. What are you missing?