Moveable Feast, Meet Immovable Object

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” –Ernest Hemmingway “A Moveable Feast”

            Now, I know Hemmingway meant that as a metaphor for things that change over time, but it’s just so true. Paris really is a moveable feast. If there is one thing the French are truly good at, it’s how to make, and more importantly, enjoy food.

            Upon first arriving in Paris, I didn’t really get to experience French cuisine as much as I had expected. I had no French mother or grandmother to pamper me and cook for me, and I had a limited kitchen space with even more limited knowledge of how to cook French (I’m more accustomed to cooking Italian). As a student, my budget did not allow me to eat out all too often, even at the neighborhood cafes. People kept asking me what the food was like and what the best things I had eaten were. I was only really able to tell them about the baguettes and croissants.

            After about a month of this, I was seriously beginning to be disappointed. Where was all the Bouef Bourguignon I had heard so much about? The rotisserie chickens and the foie gras? I am a firm believer that the best and easiest way to experience a culture is through their cuisine. I was starting to feel as if I wasn’t truly experiencing all the wonders that France had to offer.

            Fortunately, it is impossible to stay in France for very long without coming into contact with delicious food. Little by little, I tasted more and more traditional French dishes. The first time that I had scraped up enough money to grab a meal at the neighborhood café, I ordered the “Steak Tartare” as it was the most traditionally French thing on the menu, and something I had yet to try. A Steak Tartare is pretty much raw hamburger mixed together with raw egg, Worcestershire sauce, and spices. If you know me, you know that I am an adventurous eater and will eat pretty much anything. I was hesitant to eat uncooked beef, but I thought, “When in France, eat as the French do.” Since that meal, those have become my words to live by. The Steak Tartare was excellent, and I left both full and excited at the prospect of discovering more new foods.

 Steak Tartare with fries and salad

            Since that first culinary awakening, I have had the chance to eat many more traditional French meals (thanks Uncle My and Rick!), and I have yet to eat something I didn’t like. From the Confit de Canard to the Filet Mignon (which in France is a tender cut of pork, whereas it is a tender cut of beef back home), just about everything has been cooked to perfection and left me with a look of ecstasy on my face. The key is to eat the specials of wherever you are eating, and look to see what other people are eating. Eat mussels and bouillabaisse in Marseille, charcuterie in Lyon, and flammekueche in Strasbourg. If you are like me and are still learning about wine, let the waiter suggest something. This is the recipe to success.

            What makes French cuisine so good (besides the amount of butter used and the thousands of years of experimenting) is that the French know how to keep it simple. Take sauces for example. In the States, sauces tend to be overbearing and overly sweet. The French view this as trying to cover up a bad cut of meat or an overcooked one. To the French, a sauce should bring out the flavor of whatever it is covering, not hide it. French sauces tend to be simple, like Béarnaise and Buerre Blanc. Even their mayonnaise is to die for. Spread a little bit of their demi-sel butter on a fresh baguette? I’m making myself hungry already.

            The French don’t just know how to make food, they know how to enjoy food. This is obvious if you have ever watched a French person, or any European for that matter (minus the English) eat food. They take their time. They taste their food. They eat in courses and learn to pair foods together and pair foods with wine. In the States we grab a sandwich on the go for lunch and then get back to work. In France, even on weekdays they take the time to sit down and enjoy a full meal with a couple glasses of wine, regardless of social status or age. I’m sure productivity at works dips after lunch with all that good food and wine, but it’s worth it. It makes for happier workers.

            My advice to all of you: while traveling, go out and eat. Watch and see what and where the locals are eating. If it is something you’ve never tried before, don’t even think about what it is, just pick up your fork or chopsticks and eat. Why eat the same old boring things that you can eat back home? You didn’t travel to Greece or Thailand to eat a Caesar salad. What’s the worst that can happen anyway? Best-case scenario you have a life changing culinary experience, and you add one more dish that you know you love to your food arsenal. Bon Appétit!

-Pesky P

A few of my favorite things...

 Sole Meuniere

 Bouef Bourgignon

 Confit de Canard

 Moules Frites

No Reservations

I was able to find the previously mentioned episode of Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations", filmed in Paris. I thought I would post it as it is a good representation of what the French culture is all about.

Mythbusters: Why the French Don't Suck

            I am going to just come out and say it: I stole the second part of the title from the very first episode of Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations”. I couldn’t help myself, it’s just too perfect of a title.

            Lately, the French have been getting a bad rap in the U.S. It seems as if we have forgotten that France is our nation’s oldest ally, and have given us such wonderful things as the Statue of Liberty and French-kissing. Somewhere along the way, the American mindset has changed. When and why, nobody knows.

            In the minds of most Americans, “French” is synonymous with “sissy”. Sure, we still think of France when we think of haute cuisine, but most of the things that we consider very “French” are also very feminine. For example, the French are renoun for women’s fashion, perfume, wine/champagne, and kissing people on the cheek (and mimes too, but that didn’t seem to fit with what I was trying to say).  I don’t know if it’s because of the way they dress, or because of the way they sucked up to the Germans in World War II, but whatever it is we just think of them as feminine. In reality, France is actually a pretty manly and testosterone-driven place. We just tend to ignore the things like bullfighting, rugged mountains for skiing, topless women at beaches, and a heated passion for soccer. Manly enough for ya?

            Everybody loves to make fun of the French. Sometimes it can’t be helped, as they kinda set themselves up to be the butt of many jokes. The French take it all in stride. Although they are a very proud people, I have yet to meet a Frenchman who is unable to laugh at their own culture. This is a skill that many Americans lack.

            I have also come to find out that most of the American stereotypes of the French are far from true. For example, there is the stereotype that French people are rude. This couldn’t be any more false. I have been welcomed into many French homes with open arms, and I find them to be very curious and interested in all things foreign. They also take great pride in their heritage and are extremely eager to explain or show certain facets of their culture to foreigners, specifically when it comes to food and wine. I think that this stereotype came about because most Americans who go to France only go to Paris. I’m not saying that Parisians are rude, but Paris is a huge city. Big cities tend to be fast paced and crowded, and usually contain a lot of tourists. Sometimes those aspects don’t come together well. If people judged Americans based on the temperment of New Yorkers, we would have the reputation of being rude too. I also think part of it is just a cultural difference. Whereas in the U.S. it is polite to smile or nod your head upon making eye contact with a stranger, or even your neighbor, that is not the case in France. Smiling at someone can be thought of as flirting, and so the French tend to avoid smiling when there is no reason to (pretty logical in my mind). So, the fact that nobody is smiling at you might make the French seem rude in an American’s mind.

            Another common stereotype of the French is that the French hate Americans. This is partially true, but not in the way that you would think. Everybody hates tourists, and a huge majority of tourists tend to be American or Chinese. So that is one aspect of it. Everybody also hates the American government, and for good reason. However, the French do a much better job than most cultures (American included) at separating the American government from the American people. They don’t understand many of our laws, or how we let politicians get away with what they do, but they don’t hold that against us. In anything, since France opposed the war in Iraq, one could argue that Americans hate the French. Also, the typical young French person watches many American shows/movies and listens to plenty of American music, so they are usually excited to meet Americans of the same age.

            Finally, there is the stereotype that French people stink and French women don’t shave. I have no idea where this generalization came from. Like in the states, some people stink, some people don’t. Most people have perfectly acceptable hygiene. I have yet to see a hairy French woman, and I find French girls to be not only incredibly sexy but well-groomed and well-dressed as well. I think it’s the dirty Italians who are hairy.

            Then there is the stereotype that all French people smoke. That one is true.

            So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that the French are poorly portrayed in the American media. This is the danger of stereotypes and generalizations. If all stereotypes were true, than every American would be obese and stupid, and we would all carry around shotguns. If French people really were like how they are portrayed in the U.S., they would all look like this:

            To wrap it up, I will finish with a list of the best things France has given us: the statue of liberty, brands like Louis Vuitton and Chanel, the guillotine, French-kising, our indepence, Zidane’s awesome head-butt in the World Cup final, part of the English language, cinema, impressionism, champagne and cognac, the bayonette, mayonnaise, the parachute, Tin-Tin, and most importantly the bikini.

 

American things that you wouldn’t expect to be popular in France but actually are

American fast food is huge here. McDonalds (or McDo as the French call it) being popular in France makes sense, considering McDonalds is now the biggest colonial power on the planet and third in GDP only to the U.S. and China. However, I would never have expected KFC to be as popular in France as it is. Most French people have no idea where Kentucky is, and would probably place it on a map somewhere near Zimbabwe. Subway is also extremely popular, which seems to go against everything that I know about French cuisine. Why, in the country with the best bread and cheese in the world, would people want to eat processed cheese on cardboard? When I went to visit one of my French friends, he was practically bursting at the seams to tell me that he had a Subway sandwich for the first time. When I asked whether or not he liked it, he told me “It’s incroyable! You get to choose what you want on your sandwich!” Another French friend of mine is headed to London on a business trip. Instead of being excited about seeing Big Ben or eating fish-n-chips, he told me was excited because he can “finally try Burger King!” Ironically, the only fast food chain that doesn’t seem to be super popular is Quik, which is the only chain that I’ve seen that is actually French.

Really random American TV shows. I guess this makes sense, because American shows are the best. I was happy to find out that “The Simpsons” reigns supreme here in France. I become something like a celebrity when I tell people here that the creator of “The Simpsons” went to the same university that I go to, and that Springfield is (loosely) based off a trashy town connected to my hometown. Another show that is insanely popular here is “House”, which is funny because I don’t know a single person who watches it back home. Whenever the topic of TV shows comes up between my French friends and I, they ask me if I watch “Docteur House”. They never believe me when I tell them that I have never seen an episode of it, kind of like how they never believe me when I tell them that I haven’t been to New York. Lastly, “The Young and the Restless” is extremely popular as well, which I find absolutely hilarious. While I was staying with my previous host family, they were convinced that I would be familiar with the show “Les feux de l’Amour” (“The Fires of Love”). They even played be the opening sequence to the show, and were perplexed when I didn’t recognize it. I found out later that it is “The Young and the Restless”, which has been going steady in France for 14 years

Luckily for me, Basketball is getting very popular in France. Thanks to Tony Parker, Nicholas Batum, and Joakim Noah (whose father is a French pop-singer), Basketball is quickly becoming the second most popular sport in France. The older brother in my previous host family is a huge Blazer fan and a self-proclaimed “French expert on the NBA”. He hits me up on Facebook all the time to talk about the big games and to give me shit for being a Miami Heat fan. It’s good to know that I’m not the only person in France staying up until 4 a.m. to watch basketball. I’ve been thinking about lacing up the ol’ B-ball shoes and heading over to the neighborhood park to show some youngsters how the game should be played. It’s been years since I’ve been able to school anyone in basketball.

Letterman’s jackets. This one I can’t figure out. I can’t think of anything clothing-wise that is more uniquely American than a Varsity Letterman’s jacket. European schools and universities don’t even have sports teams, so the concept of a “varsity letter” is beyond them. Yet, you see guys wearing knock-off Letterman’s jackets all the time. Sometimes I feel like I am walking the halls of a mid ‘90s teen sitcom, like “Saved By the Bell” or something (“hey, was that Slater?”). My only guess is that they the jackets on American shows, and (like everything American) try to duplicate the look. French people really do think that American highschools are how they are portrayed on T.V., and that we all walk around with letterman’s jackets and everybody is either a jock, cheerleader, or nerd.

 

Planes, Trains…. and Rollerblades?

            I love France. How do you not love a country where scooters and rollerblades reign supreme?

            Growing up, I could never figure out how to skateboard. All the shifting and changing of foot placement, I just couldn’t ride the damn things.  This was back in the days of Tony Hawk’s Pro-skater, when everybody wanted to dress and act like a skater. Needless to say, not being able to ride a skateboard was a huge blow to my already-fragile 10-year-old ego.

            So I learned how to rollerblade, and I was actually pretty good at it. I remember immediately asking my parents for a pair of rollerblades after watching that Disney movie “Brink” (don’t even try to pretend that you don’t know what movie I’m talking about).

            Then I found out that rollerblading wasn’t considered “cool” any more. In fact, being a rollerblader made you a certified loser, or gay. I dropped rollerblading quicker than a dress on prom night.

            Which brings us back to France. Either France didn’t get the memo about rollerblading not being cool any more, or they just don’t care (more likely). You see people with rollerblades on the metro, in grocery stores, in school hallways.  It’s not just young men either, I see girls from 10-35 with rollerblades all the time. For some reason, I think it’s kinda sexy too. Nothing like a sexy French girl with long legs gracefully gliding along the sidewalk with a baguette. I know, I’m a freak.

            You also see a lot of people riding scooters. Not the motorized “mo-ped” kind, but the foldable razor scooters. Like rollerblades, scooters were cool for a little bit too…. cool for ten year olds. The funny thing is, it’s mostly older people or middle-aged people riding them here. I get a kick out of seeing a 50-year old woman zipping around on a scooter with helmet and full body armor. Absolutely hilarious.

            The amount of people cruising along on rollerblades and scooters leads to some pretty messy, but hilarious, crashes. Awhile ago I saw a dude on rollerblades not stop in time and run smack into a tree in front of a group of cute French girls. The other day, I watched as a tiny Yorkshire terrier darted in front of an older Frenchman on a scooter, sending him ahead over heals into traffic (the dog didn’t seem to be hurt). Only in France.

-Gregulator

Top 5 Best and Worst

Today, rather than writing a typical blog entry or whatever, I have decided to make a top 5 best and worst of Paris. I hope you enjoy.

BEST

1.     The number one thing about Paris has to be the food, and it’s not just French food. Paris is such an international city that you can find authentic cuisine from just about anywhere (except Mexican food, as there are no Mexicans). From Chinese food in Belleville to falafels in the Marais, Paris is a foodie’s paradise. If it were up to me, I would spend all day eating. Luckily I am eating for two; for myself, and for my poor uncle who is reduced to reliving his youth vicariously through me.

2.     France’s alcohol policy. Not only can I finally buy beer (legally, at least), but I haven’t been carded once. Also, they are allowed to sell beer or liquor pretty much anywhere. For example, you can get a beer with your meal at McDonalds, and any tiny corner store will sell fifths. No joke, the grocery store near my apartment was giving out samples of some whiskey called “Monkey Bone”. It’s also worth mentioning that there are no open bottle laws, so you can drink while walking to a club/bar or on the metro. This makes pre-gaming that much easier.

 Nothing better than Mcdonalds fries and a frothy 1664

3.     The women. Although some of them are out of my league (I guess I’m not metro-sexual enough for their liking), I will still never get bored of just looking. Most French girls find American guys interesting because they watch American movies and listen to American music. They also (typically) find us gentlemanly compared to French D-bags. I don’t know if there is anything sexier than a girl with a French accent (French maid outfit anyone?).

 even French news anchors are sexy

4.     I feel safe here, no matter where I am. Even in the ghetto, I feel much safer than back home knowing that it is highly unlikely that someone is carrying a loaded .22. I am also quite bigger than almost every French guy I see, so they never intimidate me. Seriously, have you ever seen Napoleon or Charles De Gaulle? I have no idea how the French military ran shit for hundreds of years.

5.     Kebabs! Known locally as a “Greek sandwich”, I have yet to see one being sold by a Greek person. Kebabs are everywhere, and each place does them slightly different. My favorite has schwarma (thinly sliced lamb that cooks on a giant rotating spit), hamburger patties, cheese, and a fried egg. Top that off with lettuce, tomato, onion, and sauce (I usually go with “Algerian” sauce, which is kind of like a spicy thousand island), and you have heaven on a bun (or pita). Best part? It usually costs about 5 euros for a kebab, fries, and a drink.

WORST

1.     You never know when things are going to be open. On Sundays literally EVERYTHING is closed, which makes it hard to find dinner if you forget to buy something on Saturday. I understand when things are closed on Sundays, but a grocery store closed at 4 pm on a Tuesday? I can never figure the system out. There is a bakery near my apartment that sometimes shuts down for 2 or 3 days out of the blue, no forewarning, then opens back up like nothing happened. I dunno, maybe it’s a French thing.

2.     The French look for any reason to go on strike. I have been fortunate so far, with no major postal or metro-driver strikes, but I feel like one is long overdue. The worst part is, it’s never the things that you want to go on strike that actually do. Sure, the garbage men will go on strike and leave the city smelling like a giant sewer, but the police or teachers NEVER go on strike. It’s not fair.

3.     There is shit everywhere. For a country with such small dogs, there sure are some huge piles of “merde”. A friend of mine told me it’s because they feed their dogs cheese, which I wouldn’t doubt. The amount of shit everywhere makes it extremely difficult to go on a jog at night. Oh well, I would still take a Paris covered in crap over a clean Springfield any day.

4.     How much it cost to go out in Paris. It’s hard to enjoy Paris’ nightlife when you are living on a budget. I like to go to bars as much as the next guy, but it’s hard when you have to pay 6 or 7 euros for a pint. Maybe that’s why France has such low rates of alcoholism: nobody can afford to be a drunk.

5.     The amount of people begging for money. If you gave a penny to each person you saw begging for money in Paris, you would be broke after 20 minutes. Most of the beggars here act like they are entitled to your money, and sometimes get angry when you ignore them. Others get on the metro and make some speech about how they lost their job and blah blah blah. If I was a beggar, I would learn some kind of skill or trick, or at least make a clever sign. It’s not like they are pressed for time. The gypsies are the worst. Nothing makes me angrier than when I see a gypsy lady begging for money on the metro dragging her poor little kid along with her to seem more pitiful. No kid should have to go through that. They should be in school.

 

My Best Friend

            I finally have a best friend here in Paris, and he is nothing like how I pictured him to be.

            When I left for Paris, there were a million things that I was worried about. Finding friends was not one of them. I knew that I would meet a bunch of really cool people who were in the exact same situation as myself. Learning a new culture and crossing the language barrier are the kinds of things that can develop life-long bonds between people. I was confident that after two or three weeks, I would have plenty of friends to go out with on weekends, friends who would share many of my interests.

            Which is exactly why it is odd that my best friend here in Paris is a homeless man, a “bum” if you will.

            Surprisingly, my new friend Hubert has been an invaluable inside into the French culture. I met Hubert about a month into my stay here in Paris. It was a chilly Friday night, and I was coming home from the bars. It was still rather early, so I decided to grab a nightcap from the neighborhood “arabe” (a small corner market that stays open late).  As I left the market, beer in hand, I saw a homeless man snuggled up beneath a coat with a beer of his own. He said something to me, and at first I assumed that he was asking for some change before realizing that he was asking me for the time. It was the first time a homeless man has asked me for anything other than money. I told him what time it was, and he tipped his beer to me and said “enjoy your beer, god knows that I enjoy mine.” That makes at least one thing we have in common.

            The next Friday, I saw him outside the same market on my way to the grocery store. He recognized my face and wished me a “bonne soiree”. While at the grocery store, I decided to buy him a beer. I realize now that this probably wasn’t the best idea. Some people refuse to give homeless people money because they believe that the person will use the money to buy beer or drugs instead of food. Me? I guess I encourage, even reward, their drinking habits. To each their own, right? I gave him the beer, and cracked one for myself (thank god for no “open bottle” laws in Paris!). I’m sure we made quite the odd couple, standing there with our beers and conversing in broken French.

            Drinking a beer with Hubert has become a sort of routine, happening almost every Friday. One Friday, however, Hubert was missing. The next weekend I asked him where he was, to which he replied that he was on vacation. I guess in France even the “sans-abris” (homeless) get more vacation time than the average American. I think it’s highly likely that next time he will tell me he is “on strike”.

            I have built the kind of relationship with Hubert that I have struggled to build with my professors, in that I never hesitate to ask him a question about French society or culture. Believe it or not, Hubert has a wealth of information. So far, he has turned me onto a cheese that I had never tried before meeting him (Tomme de Savoie), taught me which French cigarettes are good and which are garbage, and even explained to me the differences between a Pinot Noir and a Cabernet Sauvignon.

            Alas, it’s too bad that the person with whom I most want to keep in touch is the only person I have met so far without a facebook, email account, or even a fixed address.  I guess that is just all the more reason to cherish our Friday night beers.