Mirabelle Plums

Our Mirabellier in Seine-et-Marne in early July 2014, about 3-4 weeks before harvesting

Mirabelle plums are one of those French products that receives comparatively little attention abroad with comparison to other fruit trees. Thought to have been brought to France during the Crusades, these fruit trees are common in the northeastern parts of France, especially in the region of Lorraine. Lorraine alone produces 80% of the world's Mirabelle plums!

The fruits are typically harvested in August, though last year (2014), due to a particularly warm spring, we began eating them in late July. To remove them from the tree, one simply places a tarp on the ground and shakes them from the branches! 

 About 3 weeks later. Almost ready...

The Mirabelle plum is delicious when eaten directly off the tree, or when used in desserts such as Tarte aux Mirabelles, but 90% of the Mirabelles are used to produce jams or brandy, simply called Mirabelle. Though some is produced and sold commercially, the plum brandy is usually made at home, or gifted from friends, neighbors, or relatives. Everyone who makes Mirabelle has a different recipe and while some can be relatively mild in taste (depends on the fruit and how much sugar is added to the eau-de-vie), some can certainly show off their might!

 Ready!

If you would like to learn more about French cuisine, culture, and enjoy exploring France, please feel free to check out our award winning food tours at culinarytoursofparis.com. We hope to see you soon!

Lentilles du Puy

Auvergne might be one of the most overlooked regions for a foreign traveler coming to France. It doesn't have the highest mountains, though it does have some beautiful extinct volcanoes scattered throughout. It isn't a well known wine region, though there are some very good producers who have begun making organic and natural wine in recent years (Bouju, Dhumes, Tricot, and Domaine Miolanne are worth looking out for if you can find them). It doesn't have the ocean, but it has some clean rivers that are still home to wild salmon!

 

Some of the Puys, or high mountains and extinct volcanoes of central Auvergne

For a region that barely anyone knows of outside of France, many people are surprised to find out that in terms of restaurants in Paris that focus on the cuisine of a particular region, Auvergne is the region that is most commonly represented. A Bougnat (combination of the term charbonnier, a coal man, and Auvergnat, someone from Auvergne) is a term which originally signified an Auvergnat who came to Paris to sell coal, but eventually came to represent those that migrated to Paris to work in the restaurant industry in the 1950's and 1960's (my father-in-law is one of them). Auvergne restaurant owners liked to hire their own people (the Auvergnats used to even have their own train wagons on certain trains coming to Paris!), and the promise of a steady job and a new life prompted thousands of Auvergnats to immigrate to Paris to work in cafés, restaurants, and tabacs. Even as recently as ten years ago, more than 3/4 of the tabacs in Paris were run by Auvergnats!

Auvergnat cuisine is famous for being heavy- lots of pork, cheese, potatoes, cabbage, and as we will focus on here, lentils. Lentils have been cultivated in Auvergne, especially near Le Puy-en-Velay, for more than two millennia. They are planted in March and April and harvested towards the end of summer, though they can be kept in storage for a long time. Lentils provide high amounts of B vitamins, protein, phosphorus, zinc, and iron, yet are low in fat. Seemingly everyone could benefit from including more lentils in their diet!

 

Saint-Madeleine de Chalet, a 12th century chapel on the edge of a cliff above Massiac, about an hour's drive from Le Puy-en-Velay

The terroir of Auvergne adds to the mineral content of the lentils, and their taste for that matter! Terroir, while difficult to define in English, represents the natural factors impacting the outcome of the lentils. In this case, it could be the volcanic, mineral-rich soil, and the cool dry winters and hot summers.

Lentils are typically prepared in Auvergne by cooking some onions and carrots in olive oil, then creating a stock with water, salt, pepper, and a couple of bay leaves (some add nutmeg, thyme, and/or rosemary, but to each their own recipe!) and are served with saucisse d'auvergne, as seen below. The lentils retain their texture while cooking in this method, and are not as floury as other lentils that we have tried from abroad.

Saucisse d'Auvergne avec Lentilles Vertes du Puy

Auvergne is not the only region in France to produce lentils, as both green and blond lentils are grown in Franche-Comté, and blond lentils are even produced in the valley of Brie, just 50 kilometers east of Paris (where we offer our Countryside Tour. Click here to find out more!).

 A view up close of some high quality green lentils!

If you would like to learn more about French cuisine, culture, and enjoy exploring France, please feel free to check out our award winning food tours at culinarytoursofparis.com. We hope to see you soon!

Andouillette de Troyes

Unlike many of the French specialties which we discuss on our blog, this one in particular could be considered an acquired taste. I have even had friends that have said that you need to be born French to enjoy Andouillette, or at least to have been raised in a culture that enjoys eating pig intestines and stomach!

Andouillette is a sausage that is prepared by taking the pig intestines and stomach and cutting them into long strips, shoving them into a tube casing, and seasoning it with salt, pepper, onions, and white wine (Champagne could be used as well, as it is the wine of the region in which Andouillette de Troyes is produced). It is cooked in a stock for several hours, after which it may be served hot or cold, though in Troyes it is almost always served hot, and many times grilled after its preparation in the stock.

 

Grilled Andouillette de Troyes, served with melted Chaource cheese, which comes from 30km south of Troyes

Andouillette supposedly gets its name from the abbot of St. Loup named Guillaume Andouillette, who came up with this creation in the 15th century. The abbey of St. Loup can be found in the city of Troyes, in the southern part of Champagne. If you don't go for the sausage, you should at least go for the beautiful timbered houses (many of which date back to 16th century) or for the high quality champagne that comes from the Côte des Bars, just southeast of the city of Troyes. Fleury, Drappier, Schreiber, Domaine Marie Courtin, Vouette et Sorbée, and Lassaigne are just some of the great producers that can be found within an hour's drive of Troyes (and found at restaurants and bars within the city limits of Troyes itself).

Just a couple of examples of the well preserved/restored timbered architecture found everywhere in old town Troyes

Personally, it took me a few years to come around to Andouillette. However, after enjoying a beautiful grilled Andouillette in Troyes last year, it is easier to understand why there is an Association (Association Amicale des Amateurs d'Andouillette Authentique, or AAAAA) dedicated to protecting and awarding diplomas to high quality Andouillette!

If you would like to learn more about French cuisine, culture, and enjoy exploring France, please feel free to check out our award winning food tours at culinarytoursofparis.com. We hope to see you soon!

Asperge des Bois

 

Asperge des Bois, also known as aspergette

I first came across asperge des bois in Paris in April or May of 2014, when I saw it for sale at a marchand of fruits and vegetables being sold in bundles under the name of asperge sauvage, or wild asparagus (this is not the appropriate name, but I didn't know better at the time as I had never seen it before). I bought a bundle of it with really no idea what to do with it, but fortunately enough for me, when I stopped by one of the restaurants that we use for our tours on my way home, the chef was preparing some asperge des bois and cooking it with risotto. As I really had no other ideas, I decided to follow his lead and try my hand at making his recipe at home. While the resulting dish turned out good, the taste of the asperge des bois was different from what I expected. In no way did it taste like asparagus; the taste is subtle and more than anything just added some crunchiness to the risotto which I had prepared at home.

The origins of Bath Asparagus in France are mysterious. It seems the only suggestion to be found is that it was brought by the Romans to be cultivated, but even then, most sources which I cam across appear to suggest that it is an educated guess. It is not related to asparagus, but gets its name due to its resemblance to asparagus.

 This photo is just to give an idea of how much asperge des bois could be found in this spot- it goes deep into the woods here as well

No more than two days later, I was taking an early evening walk in the woods behind my mother in law's house in Seine-et-Marne, about 50 kilometers east of Paris. As I cut through an apple orchard to a small path that passes through the woods, I noticed what looked like asperge des bois growing in abundance in one spot that was maybe 50 meters wide and at least 75-100 meters deep into the woods, if not more. After reflecting on the price in Paris for a small bundle (5 Euros for maybe 15-20 small shoots), I thought about bundling up as much of this valuable plant as possible and giving some to friends. However, as I had only known of the existence of the asperge des bois for 48 hours maximum, I decided it would be best to wait for some to bloom just to make sure that it was indeed Bath Asparagus (named due to its former abundance near the city in England of the same name), as I did not want to poison myself and my friends with some mystery plant that I picked out in the forest.

 Asperge des bois in bloom

A week later, I decided to retrace my steps to check on my patch of asperge des bois, and to my delight and dismay, the shoots had bloomed and the flowers proved that I was correct the week before. Unfortunately, the shoots are at their best when they are smaller and no longer consumed once the flowers have bloomed (though they did make a pretty bouquet of flowers for my wife). Nevertheless, I know where they are for next spring and will be sure to collect as much as possible!

This apple orchard was nearby where I found the asperge des bois. That is the only hint I am giving!

If you would like to learn more about French cuisine, culture, and enjoy exploring France, please feel free to check out our award winning food tours at culinarytoursofparis.com. We hope to see you soon!

Corsican Clementines

If you are lucky enough to be in Paris during the month of December, you will find an abundance of clementines at pretty much every market or marchand of fruits and vegetables. While quite a few of them are coming from Spain due to cheaper prices and easier transit, the best quality ones are coming by sea from Corsica, in the heart of the Mediterranean.

Clémentines de Corse with the leaves still attached to guarantee freshness

Father Clément (born Vital Rodier in 1839 in Auvergne) is credited with creating the first clementines (hence the name clémentine) at an Algerian Monastery in the 1890s when he crossed a bitter (Seville) orange with a mandarin orange. The orphans at the monastery were thrilled with this sweet fruit that matured earlier than the oranges which they had been growing on their grounds. Clementines were brought to the eastern coast of Corsica in 1925, which is where the vast majority of Corsican clementines are still grown. Today, Corsica produces 98% of all French clementines!

L'Église de l'Assomption in Cargèse

Corsican Clementines received IGP (Indication Géographique Protégée) status in 2007 as an indicator of its quality and origin. To be an IGP certified Corsican clementine, the pickers must leave at least one leaf on the clementine itself when picking. This shows that not only are the clementines picked by hand (it would be quite difficult to remove the clementines from the tree with a machine while leaving the leaves still attached to the fruit), but it is also an indicator of its freshness as the leaves wilt within 5 days of the clementines being picked. Clementines do not ripen in storage, so it is best to eat them as soon as possible!

View of the coast near Ajaccio

If you would like to learn more about French cuisine, culture, and enjoy exploring France, please feel free to check out our award winning food tours at culinarytoursofparis.com. We hope to see you soon!

Drinking Water

Carrying a bottle of water is one of the easiest ways to be singled out as a tourist in Paris. Perhaps it is because many visitors spend the entire day walking from one site to the next without returning to their temporary residence in Paris, while the Parisians themselves spend more time at their homes and offices where they have greater access to water. In any case, it is rare to see a Parisian with a bottle of water in hand while in public, which makes those of us who carry bottles of water while outside stand out even more.

Over the last few years in France, I have gotten the impression that many of the French very rarely drink water. Here are a few examples:

-My girlfriend and I like to meet up with a friend of her father's for lunch every few weeks. On almost every one of these occasions, we drink a lot of wine. I like to have a glass of water on the side just to stay hydrated. I routinely offer water to our friend, and he always declines, and says "I don't need that." He says that he drinks nothing but water at home, but even at 73 years old, he is rarely there. He isn't a solitary case either. Another friend of his I have known for close to five years, and I do not think I have ever seen him drink a glass of water. Then again, they are in good health which makes the French Paradox even more confusing.

-In most cases in Paris, a carafe of water is only brought out on request. If you don't ask for water, you won't have it. Compared to my experience of growing up in the U.S. where a big glass of water is served without even asking for it, I found this bizarre when I first arrived here.

-Anytime that there is a heatwave in France, those watching the weather reports are constantly reminded to drink water to keep cool (and to go to the supermarket and stand in the frozen food aisles, one of the few places other than a hotel in France that has air conditioning). The lack of hydration was most likely the main reason that roughly 15,000 people perished as a result of the heatwave that hit France in 2003.

Why is it that the French seem to drink so little water? A likely explanation is that it is a habit which is left over from the past. In previous centuries, drinking alcohol was the safest way of drinking fluids as the process in which alcohol is made kills off the bacteria that contaminated much of the drinking water in the cities. In this case, one might be considered a fool for drinking water at all!

French Beer

Grape based drinks receive a lot of attention in France, and rightfully so. However, a good percentage of France's terrain is not suitable for grape cultivation. As a result of the climate, regions of France such as Nord-Pas-de-Calais, Bretagne, and Alsace are fitting producers of beer. Many do not know outside of France (and even those that reside within its borders) that it is the home of some excellent beer.

Brewing dates back to at least the 11th century in the northern France, and to the time of the Gauls in Alsace. The Romans brought wine with them to Eastern France, and beer subsequently became the drink of the working class. The monasteries in both regions became the most reputable brewers during the Middle Ages up through the late 18th century, as outside of winter time, they were the only ones who were allowed to produce it. The French style Bière de Garde was produced in the wintertime by farmers in Northern France to be kept for the summer months as a result of the law. The French Revolution put an end to this regulation, and brewing flourished in Northern and Eastern France. There were roughly 2,000 breweries in France at the turn of the 20th century, though this number has dwindled to approximately a tenth of its former amount.

Unfortunately most of the French beer that people know in France is produced in enormous quantities and rather bland. In Paris, it is surprisingly difficult to find quality beer, as most bars serve only Kronenbourg and Heineken products. This is beginning to change, as beer is increasingly becoming a beverage of choice. This is leading to bars putting higher quality beers on tap and even led to the reopening of two breweries in Paris, one in 2009 and the other in 2010, after both had been closed for 40 years.

For those that live outside of France, other than the mass produced lagers which are not really worth the extra money to begin with, it is difficult to obtain high quality craft beer from France. Even when it can be found, it can suffer from the long voyage and may lose a lot of its character.

All the more reason to come to France and try some high quality beer.

(Certain facts from the article were obtained from Culinaria France by André Dominé and the Eyewitness Companions Guide to Beer by Michael Jackson).

What a Restaurant Should Be Like

France has long been revered for its position in the gastronomical hierarchy. The concept of the modern restaurant originated in Paris in the late 18th century (though other sorts of communal eating establishments had existed long before this). UNESCO even recognized French cuisine on their "World Intangible Heritage" list. Their intention is not to recognize the ingredients or the food itself, but the ritual of the meal which has held such importance in the social lives of the French for so long.

Unfortunately, like many cultural traditions, the long meals in France are becoming less commonplace than they were a generation ago. While a few still take a leisurely-paced lunch break, most only take enough time to grab a sandwich and get back to the office. Eating at the office desk would have been unimaginable in the past, yet many feel they have far too much to do to partake in the daily ritual of a two hour lunch break.

In Paris in particular, people are straying further away from tradition. McDonald's restaurants are seemingly everywhere (there are 1,228 in France) and they have longer lines to get in than almost any restaurant in this city. A lot of the trendy and hip restaurants, while they may serve excellent food, appear to move away from seeming too traditional and give the impression of a restaurant that could be in hundreds of other cities worldwide. The food is important of course, and one would imagine that any good restaurant in Paris is aware of that, but the ambiance and sense of being a part of this long-lived French social ritual is equally important.

When I've talked with people that have traveled abroad, many remember the monuments and museums and other important historical attractions that a locale offers. However, the positive memories that always seem to be the strongest are those where the traveler is allowed to partake in a local tradition, or simply put, live like a local for a day. Whether it be eating a meal with a local family or going to a house party with a bunch of natives, those memories seem to be more gratifying than the throngs of people that one encounters at the touristic venues.

My girlfriend and I celebrated our fourth anniversary this week. As it happens to fall on February 29th, I guess one could call it our first. Since we don't have too many anniversaries, we needed to make this one count.

A few days before, a friend had asked me to make a reservation for her at a bistro, and while looking at their website, I noticed that the owner of the restaurant happened to be from Bozouls, which is a very small town (less than 2,800 people) in Aveyron. My girlfriend was thrilled to hear this, as her grandparents are also from Bozouls. It seemed like a good sign, so off we went for our anniversary dinner.

After being seated, my girlfriend could hardly contain her excitement, as she had brought a photo album of her trips to Bozouls to show the owner. As soon as we saw an opportunity, she slipped over to the counter, asked the owner for a minute of his time, and opened the album. "Ah Bozouls!" he cried. He proceeded to flip through the album and describe every house, it's inhabitants, and what they had done to either restore or ruin the property.

As this was going on, he seemed to forget almost everything going on around him. He excitedly walked us into the kitchen to show us another photo of his parents' house, and then another wall sized map of the town. We spent around 15 minutes talking before he needed to get back to work, as the restaurant was beginning to fill up.

The meal was nothing short of amazing, and in a restaurant where not just the owner, but all of the staff are so passionate about what they are doing, it is little wonder. We finished off our meal with a huge cheese course, and were almost too full to move.

As we went to the counter to pay, I pointed to a bottle of wine behind the counter, telling my girlfriend that the owner has a domaine near his ancestral home in the south. The waiter behind the register saw me and asked if we wanted to try it. There was little chance of us refusing.

After a glass was poured for each of us, he sliced off a large hunk of cheese for us to enjoy while we had the wine, and some more bread. No sooner than we finished that piece, the owner walked over and pulled out a big plastic bucket from under the bar. The bucket contained crème de roquefort that a friend of his had produced in Aveyron. As he spread some of the cheese on some bread for us to try, he said "Well you'll need to have some wine with it" and refilled another glass. A few customers sitting near the register were also treated to some thick hunks of bread slathered with the cheese. Some others asked a question about one of the wines, and were treated to a free glass of wine. Why? Well, why not?

We stayed and talked at the bar with a couple of the servers, and it was easy to see that they enjoy what they do, and took pride in upholding the tradition of a sociable meal for which France has long been famous.

As the world becomes more interconnected with each passing day, globalization is chipping away at many of the important cultural traditions unique to their respective societies. A lot of older Frenchmen say that restaurants like the one I discussed were the norm in their day. The sight of another McDonald's, Subway, or Starbucks being built is a depressing reminder that something as integral to French life as their social life at the restaurant table could be in danger if they cease to take the time to appreciate its importance.

If you are traveling to Paris and looking to see (and eat) what French people really eat, in addition to walking around some of Paris' best neighborhoods, take a look into my tours at culinarytoursofparis.com.

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Patriotism

I can't think of a better place to get into a deep philosophical conversation with a total stranger than in a bar.

There's a bar/restaurant just a few blocks from my apartment in the 15eme that I have been going to ever since I moved to Paris four years ago. It's the kind of place where I can walk in and shake hands or kiss all of the waiters and waitresses, as well as a couple of familiar customers who share the same enthusiasm about this locale's ambiance that I have. It's also the kind of place where I go for happy hour for one drink at 5:30 and end up staying there until 11pm or later. They have amazing food which makes it all the more difficult to pull myself away when I start to become hungry.

A couple of weeks ago, my girlfriend and I had just returned from the U.S. and decided to walk over and say hello to our friends. Within a couple of hours we were sitting at a table with two middle aged men that we had just met after they heard that we like good beer. One guy is a beer distributor and asked what beer we like. We name one and when we came back two weeks later, we see that the beer we named is now on tap, and according to the staff, thanks to our suggestion.

Back to that first evening, we decide to order food, and in the meanwhile, the other gentleman asks if I could review his song lyrics that are written in English, just to make sure that they are grammatically correct and do not sound ridiculous. We exchanged contact information, though I still haven't received those lyrics.

Somehow we got on to the subject of patriotism in France. Before I came to Paris, I had the impression that the French were very patriotic. My father told me that when he lived in France in the early 1960's that it didn't take much to stir up patriotic fervor amongst the French populace. One line of La Marseillaise could be enough instill pride in anyone with French blood. This was also during the presidency of Charles de Gaulle, perhaps the most popular public figure in France in the 20th century, so he might have helped this cause.

My girlfriend and I commented on how no one seems very patriotic here anymore. The two gentlemen agreed and added an interesting viewpoint, summed up as follows; "If you act patriotic these days, then people will think you support the extreme right, and no one in Paris wants to be mistaken for that." It's a valid argument, as many right wing politicians essay to arouse patriotism amongst their political constituents, much more so than any other political group here. So perhaps it is a reason why many here in Paris are reluctant to be thought of as patriotic for fear of being associated with these groups, such as Front National. This could certainly be part of why patriotism has declined here, but there has to be more to it.

On the 14th of July, we usually join the masses at the Champs de Mars to watch the fireworks by the Eiffel Tower and hang out with a few friends. In 2008, my girlfriend wore a French flag around her shoulders and put a couple of miniature French flags in her hair. She's proud to be French and she does not care if others are aware of it.

When I went to watch the festivities that year, I was surprised by how much my girlfriend stood out amongst more than 100,000 spectators. There were hardly any French colors or flags anywhere! As we walked into the crowd, a couple of adolescents taunted her. A few others whispered jokes about her. We enjoyed the evening anyway, but coming from a country where flags are displayed virtually everywhere, especially on our national holiday, I was surprised.

That it appears that not many young Parisians know the words to La Marseillaise is perhaps another indicator that national pride is declining in this city. I feel that most non-French students who have studied the French language for more than a couple of years have had to learn the lyrics to the French national anthem, and every now and then a few remember the lyrics. At times when I have hung out with both French friends and others from abroad, those French present are usually impressed that someone knows a few lines to their national anthem. I've heard quite a few of these French acquaintances say that they probably know less of the words themselves than those from abroad who study French. It doesn't seem to be terribly embarrassing to them, rather they just think it's funny that foreigners who have studied French probably know their national anthem better than them.

Paris might not be the best place to judge patriotism in France, as seemingly most Parisians don't really care about anything anyway. I know that many Frenchmen are indeed proud to call themselves French. Perhaps their displays of patriotism are exuded in other ways, or maybe it comes in a self satisfaction that while many want what they have, few can have the privilege to call themselves French.

If any one has some opinions on this subject, I would love to hear it. Has French patriotism decreased in recent years? If so, why?

If you are traveling to Paris and looking to see (and eat) what French people really eat, in addition to walking around some of Paris' best neighborhoods, take a look into my tours at culinarytoursofparis.com.

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Differences in Business Mentality

In 1987, Paul Kennedy, a historian at Yale University, wrote a book called "The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers". Kennedy delves into the histories of past and current world powers, discussing how they came to be important, and how most eventually faded into history. Throughout this book, one sees a common theme: a nation gets powerful as a result of good decisions, a strong economy, and success in war. As a result of their success, many of these countries became over extended, had strewn their money and resources over far too large of an area, and eventually were the cause of their own demise.

One might wonder what this has to with the subjects that I normally discuss in my articles, but I'm getting there.

As I came across this theme in Kennedy's book, I came to realize that this type of rise and fall could be applied to other fields as well.

Let me give the example of someone opening a restaurant in the United States. With good promotion, products, and/or success, the workload will most likely increase. This is a good thing, to a point. It becomes tempting to continue to expand operations, hire more employees, and try to make more money. Since the restaurant one has is successful, why not open a second one? Why not use the extra capital to expand into a totally different direction or industry? Occasionally this works out, though oftentimes it does not. Companies can get too spread out and pay less attention to small details. This may lead to less personal attention to clients, more stress, and an increasingly unpleasant work life.

In France, French chain restaurants are a rarity in comparison to the seemingly endless amount of restaurant chains in the United States. Most restaurant owners in France are in charge of one sole restaurant, or in rare occasions, two or three. When posed with the question: "Your business is doing so well. Why don't you take advantage of it and open a second restaurant?" most would respond, "Why would I do that? I am already busy enough as it is."

By keeping operations relatively small, the French are able to focus on the quality of their products. Occasionally this will lead to high prices, especially if a vendor is offering a product with high demand. Many French culinary delicacies are able to pull this off.

In Julia Child's book, "My Life in France," American experts made suggestions for the French on how they could "increase productivity and profits" in their respective businesses. She suggests the following response to be what an average Frenchman might say:

"These notions of yours are all very fascinating, no doubt, but we have a nice little business here just as it is. Everybody has a decent living. Nobody has ulcers. I have time to work on my monograph about Balzac, and my foreman enjoys his espaliered pear trees. I think as a matter of fact, we do not wish to make these changes that you suggest."

To comfort those that work far more than necessary, some complain that the French are lazy and don't get much done. As a result of this misconception, the fact that France is one of the most productive countries in the world is a surprise to more than a few. A survey conducted by UBS, a banking and financial services group, found that French workers are on the job more than 300 hours less per year than the world average. When comparing GDP per capita and number of hours worked per year, it actually turns out that the French are more productive than the Americans (French: The Most Productive People in the World, Business Insider, August 20, 2009).

Another difference in mentality is what one wants to achieve by working a full time job. Does one work to buy nicer things, or does one work just enough so that they can have plentiful time off? The differences in vacation time between the United States and France are well known, and yes, the differences are as staggering as reported. The French have, on average, 5 to 6 weeks of vacation time per year. Americans have, on average, two. Furthermore, many choose not to take their full vacations, for they feel like they will appear lazy for taking more than a few days off a year. I know of many Americans who work constantly throughout their vacation, even though they are supposed to be off work. An American friend of mine was told that he would be reprimanded if he turned his work cell phone off, even at night while sleeping (I should add that he was supposedly on vacation). The puritanical work ethic has remained ingrained in our collective consciousness in the U.S., whether we are aware of it or not.

Meanwhile in France, no work related anything gets done while on vacation. Bosses even tell their employees not to work while on holiday (not that they needed the reminder). While on vacation, emails are left unanswered and phones calls are hardly acknowledged.

No one in France would think of giving up his or her vacation. A friend of mine who worked in Paris told me that in her office of 60 or 70 employees, only 2 of them were at work for the majority of the month of August. Not surprisingly, the ones that stayed were not French.

While some in the world would prefer to work to increase prestige, privilege, and productivity, others are content to work just enough to provide a comfortable living for themselves and/or their families, have ample time off from work to be with them, and have time to pursue other pleasurable activities. Who can say whether one way of viewing one's career is the right or wrong way, but given the choice, I personally would choose the latter.

If you are traveling to Paris and looking to see (and eat) what French people really eat, in addition to walking around some of Paris' best neighborhoods, take a look into my tours at culinarytoursofparis.com.

If you are on facebook, click like on my facebook page here. Thanks for reading!

Hugs and Kisses

Many of those who travel to France have encountered “bisous”, whereby people kiss each other on the cheeks as a form of greeting. The number of kisses depends on where you are, though it usually consists of somewhere between two and four. No matter how many kisses there are, those of us coming from the English speaking countries are usually pretty awkward upon our first try.

At first, we are tempted to shake hands, as kissing is a very personal greeting to us, usually reserved for close family members and lovers. As a general rule, girls kiss both boys and girls upon meeting. Boys will normally only kiss girls, unless it is a close friend or family member, in which case it is perfectly normal for guys to do a cheek-to-cheek kiss with a male counterpart.

Based on kisses being such an integral part of interaction in France, one might think that this implies that the French are more comfortable with intimate displays of affection, right? Not necessarily. Try hugging a French person.

My girlfriend and I are currently traveling in the U.S. for a few weeks. We have been using a French guidebook to get us around, as I don't have a guidebook for my own country. In this book, there is a section dedicated to social etiquette and respect in the United States called Faire/Ne Pas Faire. Almost every time that we have met up with a friend or family member, we have brought out the list and discussed its contents. Make sure you pronounce your H's. Don't drink in the streets. Not leaving a tip will lead to a horrible impression of one's character. Though these are all interesting (and important to know), the following suggestion is by far my favorite:

Ne faites pas la bise, quel que soit votre sexe, ça ne se fait pas. On se serre la main, en plus tendre, on se fait des "Hugs" (grandes embrassades avec tapes affectueuses dans le dos et grognements béats).

In summation, (when in the United States) don't greet people with kisses, especially if they are the same sex as you. they don't do that. One shakes hands, or more affectionately, one does a "hug" (big embrace with affectionate pats on the back and blissful growls or grunts).

Do French people really not know how to hug? I asked my girlfriend and she confessed that when she first visited the U.S., she was not sure of proper hugging etiquette. She thought that she was supposed to gently place her arms around her counterpart, and rest her chin upon their shoulders, only letting go when the other person made the first move. If one is not used to hugging those that are not their lovers, then this makes sense. French people do hug, but this is usually reserved for couples. Hence the reason why people from France might melt in your arms (if they are not uncomfortably squirming) when you are greeting them with a hug.

If you happen to visit France and feel awkward during the kissing process, don't feel bad. Just know that a French person might feel equally maladroit in your homeland when you are tapping them on the back and affectionately grunting.

If you are traveling to Paris and looking to see (and eat) what French people really eat, in addition to walking around some of Paris' best neighborhoods, take a look into my tours at culinarytoursofparis.com.

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French Administration

One of my first experiences with French administration was when I was renewing my visa a couple of years ago. I had to get to the prefecture early enough so that I could be waited on, as the foreign service office at this prefecture is only open for two and a half hours a day. In front of the prefecture was not a line, but a bunched up group of people struggling to keep order. Some people are claiming that they are in front of the line, some people are repeating that nobody run.

Why would anyone need to run?

There is a big wooden door blocking the entrance to the courtyard of the prefecture. To be served at the prefecture, one has to collect a ticket with a number at the other end of the courtyard from the attendant at the reception desk. When the door is finally opened, everyone tries speed-walking their way to the door. Some people send their more nimble children to get to the front.

It is frustrating, chaotic, and occasionally nothing short of baffling, but in a way, it sums up French administration.

It can take eons to get anything done in this country, and people have come to accept that in France. Long waits and a mind numbing amount of repetitive paperwork are the norm. While in line at the prefecture, you might see three guichets and four employees, and yet only one of these windows is actually open for business. Meanwhile, the other three employees are drinking coffee and complaining about how they hate the job that they hardly pretend to do. You'll be asked for numerous documents à fournir, and upon arrival you'll probably be scolded for not bringing others that you were not told to bring. I've learned my lesson. I bring every document I have ever received in this country, with at least one copy.

After I had lived in France for one year, my girlfriend urged me to save copies of my pay stubs, as I will be asked for them whenever completing an administrative task. I've even been asked for some bulletin de paie that were three years old, so this means hanging on to every single one I receive from here on out in my lifetime.

As soon I opened a bank account, I was told to hang on to my account statements each month, even though I have them online. I could live with hanging on to bank statements and pay stubs, as they are handy to have around sometimes.

However, while renewing my visa last year, I received a letter from the prefecture that stated that they did not have proof that my girlfriend and I were in a domestic partnership from between June and November of 2010. Oddly enough, they had sufficient proof that we were together before the end of June and after November, but not enough for in between. We were asked to find things that could prove that we were sharing a place of habitation. It turns out we had some junk mail from that time that for some reason, we had not thrown out. We obtained a giant envelope, stuffed the junk mail inside, and mailed it to the prefecture. It was just what was needed to renew my visa.

So not only do I have to save my pay stubs and bank account statements, I now have to save my junk mail as well. Magazines from Office Depot, Google, and several clothing stores are kept in a folder, waiting for their time to be sent to the prefecture next year to prove that we still live together.

Earlier this year, before one of my two or three visa appointments per year, I called the foreign service office at the prefecture to make sure I had a proper list of the paperwork I needed to bring. Defying logic, they said they cannot tell me over the phone. So I wrote a letter asking for a list of things to bring. They sent the list, but it was the wrong one. I called them again to ask, once again being reminded that they could not tell me what I needed over the phone. They sent another list, which happened to be the same wrong list they had already sent me. For my prefecture visit, I brought every paper known to man (at least to this one) in a backpack, just in case.

After waking up at 5:00 am in order to arrive on time, followed by a brisk speed-walk through the courtyard at the prefecture, we were called to the guichet pretty quickly. Per usual, everything was wrong with my dossier. First, we were told that I was at the wrong prefecture. After arguing with them for a few minutes, they realized that I was at the right one. They bring out the list of things I needed to bring with me, which of course was completely different from the one that they kept sending me. Even though I expected this and brought every paper I knew of with me just in case, it turns out we only had 17/20 of the papers that we needed. Fortunately, we were told to mail the rest in. For reference, we asked if we could have the list of papers to bring. The administrator told us that she was not allowed to give us a copy, even though she had an enormous stack of copies of this list on her desk. In what I would call a breakthrough, as she finished her sentence, she realized how illogical this was and gave us a copy anyway.

Hopefully more examples of common sense will prevail to reform administrative incompetence in France. However, those that wish to change it should prepare themselves to wait in line.

If you are traveling to Paris and looking to see (and eat) what French people really eat, in addition to walking around some of Paris' best neighborhoods, take a look into my tours at culinarytoursofparis.com.

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What is Fluency?

Everyone seems to have a different definition of fluent. I remember hearing a grown man tell me that his friend went to Sweden and was fluent in Swedish in three weeks, with no prior experience with the language. Then again, the man who told me this never learned a foreign language and had never really travelled abroad.

In the United States, the bar seems to be set a little lower for quantifies "fluent." I've heard people tell me that they were fluent in a language, yet couldn't order dinner without the waiter switching to English. Perhaps it is because we have so little exposure to foreign languages that anyone that speaks a few words in something other than English can be considered a fluent speaker of the language.

Conversely, one must have a high level of command of a second language to consider themselves fluent in Europe. A high proportion of native Parisian students would be considered fluent in English if they were judged by the same standards as those used in the United States. However, if you were to ask them if they are fluent or not, many would decline and say that they do speak it well enough.

This leads to the question: What is fluency? What constitutes the progression to fluency?

Exposure- While I'm sure it is possible to become a fluent speaker of a language with limited exposure, it is very difficult. If you want to speak a language well, you have to be around it. Speaking for 5 minutes a day in your high school classroom just isn't enough.

I had this naïve belief before I moved to Paris that based on my 6 years of middle and high school French, that I would probably be fluent within 6 months of living in Paris. I had studied here for a month in university, and I felt pretty comfortable with my French while I was here. However there were a couple of things that I didn't take into account:

First, I was spending most of my time with American students, and we weren't speaking in French to one another.

Secondly, since I wasn't passing time with the French, my only real exposure was in restaurants, ordering food. I was a pro at getting dinner but I couldn't contribute much to a real conversation. I remember someone asking me where the post office was and I was able to tell them that I didn't know. I was proud of that moment up until two years later, when I moved back to France.

Upon arrival, I realized I was nowhere near fluent. I made friends with some French kids, and this is where I made some progress. At first, I just listened to the conversations. I couldn't contribute anything meaningful, so I just concentrated on understanding the dialogue. I would concentrate so hard that I occasionally fell asleep at the table (surprisingly not as a result of alcohol). It was here that I started picking up useful words and expressions like "truc", "machin", "mec", "en fait", etc. I would look these up and then try to use them in the conversations I attempted to have with my girlfriend.

After about three months of living in France, I actually felt like my French was worse. It was actually better, but only at this point I began to realize how often I made mistakes.

On a side note, from time to time I started having dreams in French. This is no indication that I was fluent, as at this point I was far from it. I feel this is misconceived as a sign that one has a command in the language. Almost every dream I had in French at this time involved me buying a croissant, or asking what time it was, or telling my mom to put away the dinner plates.

Speaking- One cannot have a command of a language without being able to speak it, right? I made quite a few attempts to speak French as often as possible. My biggest help is that I started dating a French girl a few weeks after moving here. Instead of me going to my French classes, I would come over to her apartment and attempt to speak nothing but French for two hours, two to three days a week. It was incredibly frustrating and exhausting at first, but within a few weeks I saw some improvement. Here's how I gauged that my French was getting better:

At first, when I came into a shop, I would ask for something and the vendor would respond in English. From thereon, the conversation was in English.

After a while, when I came into a shop, I would ask for something and the vendor would still respond in English. However, I would respond in French, and then we would continue butchering the other's language until one of us gave up. At first I would give up. A couple months later, they would give up.

Three or four months after moving here, when I came into a shop, I would ask for something and the vendor would respond in French.

Making Progress- I knew that my French was improving when two thoughts occurred to me:

First, I no longer had to mentally translate my sentences word for word from English to French before I spoke. French and English sentences do not always have the same structure, so until you start thinking in French, it can be very difficult to have a fluid conversation in French.

Second, and perhaps most importantly, I no longer cared if I made mistakes in speaking or writing French. I make mistakes in English all the time (hopefully they have been edited out before you read this), and it is my native language. How can I expect myself to speak French perfectly if I don't speak and write perfectly in English?

From here, the learning process becomes much more smooth. One might not notice the progress as much as they did previously, but those around them, especially those they only see every now and then will be able to tell the difference.

Fluent- I think it took a couple of years before I could consider myself fluent in French. How could I tell? The telltale sign for me was that when my girlfriend and I had conversations, we couldn't remember in which language we had been speaking. The languages begin to blur together. We could be equally comfortable speaking English or French. Though we both have much work to do before we could be considered native speakers in the other's language, and though we still both make mistakes, it doesn't really inhibit the conversation, nor is it as mentally draining as it was in the past.

I would love to hear other's experiences with this. As I said, seemingly everyone has a different definition of what constitutes fluency. What is yours?

If you are traveling to Paris and looking to see (and eat) what French people really eat, in addition to walking around some of Paris' best neighborhoods, take a look into my tours at culinarytoursofparis.com.

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Why Do I Keep Staying in France?

Working as a tour guide in Paris, I get asked a lot of the same questions on each tour. When I get asked "Where are you from?", "How long have you lived in Paris?", or "Is John-Paul your real name? (yes it is)", my answer is automatic, to the point where I can almost think about other things while I am giving my response. However, when I am asked "Why do you still live in France?" or "What keeps you here?» I am never really sure how to respond, no matter how many times I am asked this question. Perhaps the following story can give you an idea why.

In the summer of 2010, while beginning to prepare dinner one evening, I decided to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner at a shop around the corner from my apartment. For New Year's, I had made the resolution to start spending more than four euros on a bottle of wine, and so far, I was doing a pretty good job (even though I still rarely go above seven euros a bottle). It's not that I felt that I was becoming too good for 3 euro-a-bottle wine, as every now and then one can procure a good bottle of wine for that price. It's just that the difference is pretty noticeable when you spend those two to three euros more in France.

As I walked into the shop, I was greeted by a guy who was in his early twenties, and was eager to help me find something. I was wearing a shirt from work, which has English written on it, so he asked if he could practice his English on me. We chose a bottle of Régnié and made our way over to the cash register. After I paid for the bottle, he suddenly switches back into French and asks me, "Do you want to meet an Alsatian?" I have no idea what he means by that, but I say, "OK, why not."

The vendor directed me behind the register to a small passageway, which led to some stairs to the basement. I get down to the bottom of the stairs and take a good look around. He's led me down to their wine cellar! In the middle of the cellar, sitting on a pink couch that looked like it had been abandoned on the curb, were two of his friends, drinking rosé wine, which they had placed upon a folding table. Sure enough, one of those guys was Alsatian (he didn't seem as keen to introduce me to his other friend, though he was as good of a guy as any of them). They offered me a glass of wine, and I sat down and talked with them for a good thirty minutes about Alsace and about getting robbed here in Paris, as the vendor and I both had stories about being victimized the week before. They offered me another glass, but then I realized that my girlfriend was probably wondering where the hell I was, especially since I said I would be gone for five minutes. I thanked the guys profusely for their hospitality and made my way back home to continue chopping vegetables for dinner.

If a story like this happened once in my time living in Paris, I would already be impressed with the serendipity of this city. However, incidents and occasions like these seem to happen all the time here. I've lived in Paris since February 2008. Though I originally planned on living here for three months, I have now lived here for three and a half years. Chances are that I will be here a while longer.

If you are traveling to Paris and looking to see (and eat) what French people really eat, in addition to walking around some of Paris' best neighborhoods, take a look into my tours at culinarytoursofparis.com.

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Duck Fat

In several of my articles, I have written about the wonders of the French Paradox. To sum it up, people eat a high fat diet, lots of pork, salt, and drink plenty of wine and other alcohol to wash it all down. Yet, as a whole they seem to be one of the healthiest countries in the world. Today I want to address what may be the most surprising secret to their success: that is, duck and goose fat.

Even though many people in France eat a lot of fatty foods, smoke cigarettes as if they were breathing air, and don't pay any attention to exercise (Paris is becoming an exception to the latter point), France has one of the lowest, if not the lowest risk for cardiovascular disease in the industrialized world. For example, according to a survey conducted by the World Health Organization's Multinational Monitoring of Trends and Determinants in Cardiovascular Disease (MONICA), on average 315 out of 100,000 middle aged men die every year in the United States from a heart attack. In France as a whole, approximately 145 out of 100,000 middle age men die from the same cause each year.

In the Gascogne region of France, there was a puzzling find. Though this region eats more saturated fat than any other group of people in the industrialized world, only 80 out of 100,000 middle aged men die from a heart attack each year. What is their secret?

Apparently, it is duck and goose fat.

These two fats are used for cooking nearly everything. While best known in France for adding scrumptious flavor to sautéed potatoes, the Gascons use duck and goose fat with nearly everything they prepare. Where one in Italy, Spain, or Provence might use olive oil, the Gascons use duck or goose fat. While in Brittany one might put salted butter on their bread, the Gascons use goose fat as a spread.

What is it that makes duck and goose fat so healthy? Apparently it is a result of the kinds of fats that make up its composition. Duck and goose fat are low in saturated (bad) fats, and very high in unsaturated fats. Saturated fats are solid at room temperature, and can clog up arteries in the human body. Unsaturated fats are liquid at room temperature, and go through the system much easier. Duck and goose fat are actually closer in composition to vegetable oils like olive and grape seed oil than they are to butter or lard. This is a reason that duck and goose fat need to be kept refrigerated, as it becomes liquid at a fairly low temperature (14° C, or 57.2° F).

Duck and goose fat are pretty easy to find in France, though I would say that duck fat is less expensive and more prevalent, at least here in Paris. One can buy duck fat in a jar, in a refrigerated section of almost any grocery store. It is pretty cheap (2-3 euros), and it can potentially last for years (though once you get in the habit of cooking with it, it is likely that you'll run out of it in a couple of months at most). It adds the taste of duck or goose to a simple meal, so its a cheap and healthy way to add a lot of flavor to your dishes.

This is just another mystery solved in how the French Paradox lives up to its name. Go get some duck fat and start living a healthier, and tastier life.

If you are traveling to Paris and looking to see (and eat) what French people really eat, in addition to walking around some of Paris' best neighborhoods, take a look into my tours at culinarytoursofparis.com.

If you are on facebook, click like on my facebook page here. Thanks for reading!