From Paris with love

I love it when Americans talk about what make the French so French; from black turtlenecks and berets to necking in the parks, and lest one forget the old cliché (recently reintroduced in book format) “French Women Don’t get Fat.” It would seem that the New York Times has done it again. Elaine Sciolino, who is leaving her post as Paris Correspondent, gives us a few new DOs and DON’Ts in what is less a “so French” article as much as it is a how to be French article. I know, I eat this kind of stuff up. I’m embarassed for myself as well. But I shared Elaine’s embarassment in running out for butter in work-out clothes only to run into the crème de la crème (politicians, diplomats, etc.) of the quartier (Rule #6). Whenever I don’t bother to brush my hair it is without a doubt I run into an ex or someone who says “I didn’t know you wore glasses” when they really mean “I think you should use a better eye cream.” Elaine also notes another of my favorite pastimes, flirting with the butcher (Rule #4). I don’t mean batting eyelashes (although it can be helpful in scoring that last roast beef) I mean the light banter that can get you some great cooking advice or even a meat thermometer on loan. Although I notice that these pleasantries can backfire when one is cooking anything other than French cuisine (Rule #3). When I last told the butcher I wanted an assortment of ground meat for an Italian ragu. I was told that only “this, not that” was to be used in ragu, and definitely not pork. Even though I insisted it was an Italian recipe, he held his ground and begrudgingly sold me my meat along with the compulsory “extra 100 grams”. I now usually ask for 100 grams less than what I really need and rarely let on that I would use this precious meat for any recipe but French one.

Au revoir Elaine!