A book I read and re-read every time I need a little inspiration to get myself properly aligned with the universe is French Women Don’t Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano. Thinking of it as a diet-advice book misses its usefulness as an exercise in practical philosophy. The book is really about breaking free of the “diet” trap and embracing the pleasure of a proper meal, accompanied with a glass of wine or champagne.
Guiliano is a French woman who has lived most of her adult life in the United States. Before writing the book, she was president and CEO of Cliquot, Inc., the U.S. branch of the renowned champagne house. In New York, she writes, “my business requires me to eat in restaurants about three hundred times a year.” She is well-positioned to contrast the French way of eating with the American one.
While Guiliano obviously endorses French dietary practices, she doesn’t chastise Americans for succumbing to snack foods and oversized portions. She’s been there, done that, and she recovered with the help of some sensible French advisors, notably a family physician she calls “Dr. Miracle.”
Guiliano is not a nutritionist and she doesn’t pretend to present a medically-endorsed health plan. Most of the book is about how to eat, how to savor food and find pleasure in mealtime, with modest portions. She emphasizes quality, which makes excessive quantity superfluous.
Aside from a few recipes , the only content that resembles a “plan” in the usual pattern of the diet book genre is a recommendation for a phase Guiliano calls “recasting.” That process begins with three weeks of journaling and then a weekend mini-fast, eating only boiled leeks and their cooking liquid. In this, my fourth reading of the book, I’m trying the “Magical Leek Soup” kick start for the first time. After a severe winter that derailed some of my good French practices, I need an extra boost. So this is what I’ve been eating all day, and continuing through tomorrow.
There is indeed something magical about it, and it goes to the heart of the French food philosophy. At breakfast, the boiled leek was decidedly inferior to my usual toast and egg. At midday, it was a remedy for hunger. But at dinner, every bite was delicious as my palate had attuned to the pure taste of a simple vegetable simply cooked.
Still, I’ll be happy to enjoy a more substantial dinner tomorrow, and a glass or two of wine this weekend.
Americans have long entertained a mythology regarding the French and their dietary habits: our Gallic friends enjoy robust health and svelte figures, despite their addiction to cheese and cigarettes.
I was watching 60 Minutes that night in 1991 when Morley Safer shared what may have been the most welcome news ever in the history of health reporting. His iconic report called “The French Paradox” credited red wine as the French secret weapon in keeping heart disease at bay while feasting on foie gras and butter. Oui! Sign me up, said 99% of viewers. Maybe even vegans were intrigued.
Some context for those too young to remember the culture in which this report landed. America’s obesity epidemic was in its infancy (11.1% of adults in 1990 compared to 30.6% in 2017), and dietary fat was public enemy number one. Dr. Dean Ornish‘s prescription for reversing heart disease cast as arch-villain the saturated fat from animal products; his book was a best-seller. Americans were being nagged to ditch the bacon and eggs in favor of rice cakes and oatmeal. Fat-free manufactured “foods” such as Snackwells were entering the market.
So here came the French and their food-loving ways, with copious amounts of red wine washing it all down. Maybe that steak was no longer off limits if it came with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon.
Wine from Corbières
As the old adage goes, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. While wine sales surged in the wake of such positive press, so did American waistlines. Was it possible that a glass or two of red wine could not counteract the effects of camping in front of the T.V. every night with a bag of Doritos and Cheez Whiz? Color me shocked.
Unfortunately, follow-up stories detailing the entirety of the French way of eating did not attract as much notice. As it turns out, French and American dietary patterns differ in other ways that may be more significant. I’ve read about these differences, mostly in the best-selling French Women Don’t Get Fat advice book by the delightful champagne goddess Mireille Guiliano. (Stay tuned for more on the book, next post). And a year ago, I had the opportunity to see for myself.
Last May, I took my second trip to France. My first journey was in 1987 when I was young and concerned with nothing beyond adventure and romance. This time, I was worried my middle-aged flab would earn me jeers from the trim and fashionable French. But if the French were disdainful of my plump figure, they concealed their scorn well; every person we encountered treated us with generosity and warmth, even in Paris.
I was ever so observant to the French manners with food. I saw first-hand some of the practices I had read about, and when I returned home, I put as many into action as possible. This resulted in a 20-lb. weight loss in six months and improvement in all key health markers at my annual physical.
So what are those French ways I observed? Check out this slideshow I made for you!
French people don’t eat between meals, and meal times are strict compared to the U.S. In the south of France, we learned quickly that we needed to get lunch at noon, or soon after. Most restaurants stopped serving at 2 p.m. and didn’t reopen for dinner until 7 p.m. Drinks could be enjoyed at bistros in the late afternoon, but typically without food.
The French sit down to eat and drink, and they take their time. Want a coffee? Find a table, place your order with the waiter, and enjoy that tiny little cup for an hour if you’d like. But under no circumstances do you get it “to go.” Never did we see a French person walking with a beverage or an ice cream cone.
The French socialize while eating. They talk to each other – or at least their dog – instead of texting or watching television.
Portions are smaller than in the U.S. The servings are enough, not too much.
The French don’t make large grocery runs. Admittedly, we didn’t pass a Costco. But at the markets we visited, we saw people purchasing only what they could carry home in one bag, or often, a small pull-trolley. And in the grocery markets, shopping carts also tend to be petite.
Farmers’ markets abound. Larger cities have daily markets; smaller villages have market days. Produce, artisan cheeses, fresh-baked breads and quality proteins are readily accessible. By French law, a standard baguette can cost no more than one euro. That explains why one is sticking out of nearly every shopping bag in France!
The French walk it off. This is a function of design. European cities were built for people, not cars. It’s much easier to exercise when physical movement is necessary to accomplish daily chores.
Some of the French practices may seem daunting, even impossible to follow here. None of our businesses close for two hours at midday so employees can enjoy a leisurely meal. Food and drink “to go” is so central to our culture that cup-holders are standard equipment for cars. Work and social expectations have us checking our phones even when we do manage to dine with friends. Restaurants respond to customer demand for value with supersized portions. Most people live too far from a grocery to walk, and with long work hours and commute times, “stocking up” once a week seems the only viable option. And despite the popularity of farmers’ markets, many people (ironically, sometimes in rural areas) don’t have access to one.
But most of us can find one good practice to try. In my community, at least 150 people are committing to walk 100 miles this month in solidarity with our favorite butcher, who has started walking his way back from health problems. Norte, a local bike advocacy group that organizes all things awesome, has partnered with the equally awesome Mark to commandeer a support group around a fun, healthy activity. So, if you’re in the area, and even if you’re not (non-locals are welcome), lace up those sneakers. And if you want to celebrate the end comme les francais with a steak and a glass of wine, well, I think you’ll know where to get it.
Tomorrow: Do French women really not get fat? Let’s talk about it!
