Category: Francophilia

When in French

I recently finished a book that surprised and delighted me so much that I need to share.

For a couple of years, I’ve received New Yorker writer Lauren Collins’ e-mail newsletter and followed her on Twitter, but I never intended to read her book, When in French: Love in Second Language. I assumed (falsely) it would be a personal memoir about her love life, maybe a more realistic version of “Emily in Paris.” (I knew from Collins’ Twitter feed of her scorn for Emily.) A couple of weeks ago, stopping by the public library near my winter home, I saw a stack of these books on a table and picked it up on a whim. (One great thing about the library: if you don’t like a book, simply return it with no remorse.)

No one resembling the fictional Emily is in this tale and neither is Paris. The setting is primarily Geneva, where Collins relocates with her new husband and begins to learn his language. The couple met in London and fell in love in English. Although the relationship provides the raison d’être for the book, the story is primarily a deep dive into the role of language in our lives and culture.

Collins explores the mysteries of language and how it has fascinated philosophers, academics and some oddball characters through the centuries. She is particularly attuned to considering how language influences individual thought and behavior as well as the culture in which it is spoken. Although her direct experience is in English and French, she draws from a broad range of encounters, contemporary and historic, highlighting consequences from amusing to tragic that have occurred when languages collide.

Collins relates her personal experiences of French acquisition reshaping her relationships and interactions. Centrally, learning her husband’s language reduced their misunderstandings and provided a crucial window into his psyche. As she progresses in her French classes, she begins to pick out fragments of his conversation with others. One evening she is listening to him speak to his brother on the phone and notices his use of the word quoi to punctuate sentences. “Even as it dawns on me that I may have pledged lifelong devotion to a man who ends every sentence with the equivalent of ‘dude,’ I’m taken by an eerie joy. Four years after having met Olivier, I’m hearing his voice for the first time.”

Out in the wider world, Collins’ perceptions also change. For example, her American egalitarian background initially caused her to recoil at the French distinction between the familiar and the formal: “The necessity of classifying each person one came across as vous or tu, outsider or insider, potential foe or friend, seemed at best a pomposity and at worst an act of paranoia.” Eventually this dissonance reverses: “The correctness that French requires revealed itself as not vanity but courtesy, guaranteeing that every person, however weak or humble, commanded a measure of respect.” She relates hearing a Homeland Security officer address an older man ahead of her in line at arrivals in New York and that his “undifferentiated English ‘you’ hit me like a bludgeon.”

Cultural differences not related to language are also observed. One in particular will strike at the heart of American moms. Towards the end of the book, Collins gives birth to her first child. Her description of the standard services provided by the Swiss hospital are almost too much to bear for those accustomed to U.S. healthcare. The coup de grace: on the day after her daughter’s birth, an aesthetician arrives in her hospital room to offer her a pedicure, manicure, foot massage or hair style, a soin postnatal to which every new mother is entitled “to help her feel more like herself.”

Finally, one of my favorite tales in this book doesn’t involve language at all. Lauren and Olivier rent a house in Corsica for a week and bring their families together for a vacation. The American contingent doesn’t speak any French, and some of the French contingent doesn’t speak English. But they are all in, ready to embrace each other in their differences and commonalities. Olivier has informed his family that the Americans typically eat breakfast by grabbing leftovers from the fridge while standing in the kitchen. His French parents proceed to the kitchen, gamely prepared to try the American custom. Meanwhile, Lauren’s parents are on the patio, seated at the table and ready for petit dejeuner in the French manner. The French custom prevails as it has attracted converts and really, who wouldn’t prefer baguettes, coffee and conversation at table?

I’m reluctant to return this book to the library. (I will! I will! I can never be even one day late). But perhaps I’ll buy a copy so I can read it again, and again.

Midi-Pyrénées and Carcassonne

Back on our virtual Tour de France (the only way most U.S. citizens can currently visit), we will make a brief stop in the south-central region formerly known as the Midi-Pyrénées.

Midi-Pyrénées

The geographical, cultural and historical composition of this region is odd, and we have better things to do than to sort it out here. For fans of medieval history, the dominant political entity was the county of Toulouse, whose powerful rulers extended their influence beyond this region. The counts were part of the family of our favorite queen, Aliénor d’Aquitaine, and were major players in the Albigensian Crusade against the Cathars.

The principal city of the counts and of the region is Toulouse, the fourth largest city in France and a hub for tech, culture, medicine and education. One of my regrets from our last trip is that we bypassed the pink city on our drive from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. No vacation is ever long enough to do everything one might want. A stopover in Toulouse would have necessitated removing another destination, and Toulouse was among many possibilities that did not make the cut. Since adding #toulouse to my Instagram feed, I’m sure not to bypass it again.

Rue Peyrolières in Toulouse. My kind of place. (Didier Descouens, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

Technically, our only stop in the Midi-Pyrénées two years ago was a short walk-around the center of Condom. We refrained from snapping selfies with the town sign, and we didn’t linger as it was a drizzly day and we were eager to get to the sunshine of the Mediterranean. Our only photos of Condom are the cathedral exterior and mail delivery via bike.

Although not technically in the Midi-Pyrénées, the medieval walled city of Carcassonne seems to me most aligned with this region. Its claim to fame is its role as a Cathar center, and its rulers generally allied with the counts of Toulouse. The well-preserved castle and fortifications are one of France’s top tourist attractions and definitely worth a stopover. We had a great view of and access to the city from our AirBnB. While some of it is a bit kitschy, overall a visit to the cité is almost a magical time-travel adventure.

Views of Carcassonne.

Now for the food. The most iconic dish of the region is the cassoulet, a hearty slow-baked casserole of beans and meat. Toulouse and Carcassonne are both famous for it, and of course we ordered it for dinner in Carcassonne.

When the time came for me to try it at home, I had difficulties. I followed, to the best of my ability, Paula Wolfert’s recipe for Cassoulet de Toulouse. The most essential ingredient — the large, white Tarbais beans — are one of those protected French agricultural products that normally you would need to import at great expense, but checking that box on my cassoulet ingredients list was surprisingly easy. I hesitate to tell you people about this source, because wait times for shipments have already stretched to weeks this year, with many products being sold out, but I’m good to my readers and my friends. The amazing heirloom bean purveyor, Rancho Gordo, grows the bean in California from French seed stock as “cassoulet bean.”

Getting all the meat ingredients during a pandemic proved too much for my patience. I gave up on the plethora of pork products and settled for a pork shoulder and some bacon. I wanted to be lazy and purchase duck legs confit, but I couldn’t find that and made my own with the sous-vide as recommended by Paula Wolfert. I also failed to procure the toulouse sausages which made me furious at myself because I have a deli right in my neighborhood (Raduno) that makes these rare beauties, but I remembered I hadn’t picked them up about 30 minutes after Raduno had closed for two days and the beans were already cooking, so I couldn’t delay. And finally, I burned some of the beans on the bottom. I’ll need to try this again. I can’t even add my photo because it was so ugly. Well, here’s the duck legs:

I’ll leave you with a book recommendation. Historical fiction and fantasy fans may enjoy Kate Mosse’s Languedoc trilogy set in and around Carcassonne. I’ve only read the first one, but it helped me imagine what life was like in the medieval cité and I was grateful I had read it before visiting.

Also, I discovered there’s a strategy board game called Carcassonne. Comment below if you’ve played it and can recommend.

Next: the Languedoc with sunshine, the sea, and wine wine wine.

French women: not so fat

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.

Of course, French women do get fat, but not nearly as much as American women. Obesity rates in France are about half of those in the United States. While I couldn’t find statistics, my personal observation is that morbid obesity is rare in France.

Previously I listed some of the French characteristics in a little slideshow. If you noticed, none of them involved carb-counting or fat-shunning or food bans of any sort. They all focus on style.

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.

Healthy eating the French way

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!

FrancoFile Friday: Français en Caroline du Nord

The French, they are everywhere.

A restless and curious people, the French have explored and inhabited nearly every part of our planet, spreading French language and culture wherever they journey. Sometimes this influence has been unwelcome (see colonialism). But today, hooking up with French culture is usually a pleasant experience.

Recently, we were on vacation in North Carolina and we found a treasure trove of French experiences. Of course, French restaurants and eateries are plentiful, as expected. Even in the suburb of Cary, we stumbled upon two crêperie food trucks in the same parking lot.

One of my favorite stops for years has been the La Farm French bakery in Cary. It is far from a well-kept secret; wait times for brunch on the weekends can be long, but the take-out queue moves fast for those getting bread or pastries to go.

If you speak or are learning French, eventually you may want to read a book en français. One of three French bookstores in the United States is located in Raleigh. We visited Des Livres & Delices and were impressed at the large selection – classics, contemporary literature, history, travel guides and more. The shop, located near Five Points, also includes a small French grocery and offers online sales and shipping.

Des Livres & Delices, Raleigh, N.C.

Another enchanting stop was about an hour west of Raleigh in the small town of Pittsboro. A French-American couple (he’s from France, she’s from North Carolina) opened the eclectic shop French Connections nearly 20 years ago in an old house on Pittsboro’s main street.

Whimsical art on the lawn of French Connections, Pittsboro, N.C.

Inside, owners Jacques and Wendy Dufour have collected a delightful gallery of fabrics and art to share France and Africa with North Carolina.

The gorgeous fabrics made me vow to learn to use my sewing machine.

The couple also lived in Senegal. African handicrafts, art and textiles fill two large rooms of the shop.

For the Francophiles who want to gather, Raleigh has an active chapter of Alliance Française, offering weekly activities and special events. It is connected with a language school for children and adults wanting to learn French.

And for conversation, each city in the Triangle has a French Meetup group.

First FrancoFile Friday video.

We hope you enjoyed our first FrancoFile Friday post. This will be an occasional thing whenever we find something non-regional we want to share, so check back regularly.

On Monday, we’ll take you to the region of Pays de la Loire, which is not just for wine and chateaux!