Letter From Paris
Paris Kiosque - December 1997 - Volume 4, Number 12
Copyright (c) 1997 Harriet Welty-Rochefort - Used with permission.
The Four Star Lunch in 30 Minutes
I was amused to read in the newspaper the other day that a new status sign in New York and Los Angeles is the four star business lunch in 30 minutes or less.
It happened that I read the article on a day in which a dear friend had invited me out for my birthday lunch at a pretty small ocean blue and yellow painted restaurant called Le Murier in the 15th arrondissement.
Habitually tardy, we reserved for 2 (late, even by Paris standards) and made it by 1:30. Three reasonably priced delicious courses (among them, a delicious zucchini charlotte with fresh goat cheese) and a bottle of wine later, we left the place at 4. The businessmen who had been in the restaurant when we entered had gone -but they weren't LONG gone-and certainly hadn't devoured their meal in 30 minutes! This is Paris!
An Almost-Night in the Park
Since it was my birthday meal - and day - we continued our afternoon by hopping over to the Parc Georges Brassens. It was dark and as we strolled, we could hear the sharp shrills of whistles close by. I smiled as I remember my dread of this typically Parisian-park sound, which meant that my kids were getting on the grass and that some park official was coming to get them off of it. How could I imagine that the whistle this time was for us and that it meant it was closing time?! We were accompanied to the gate by a charming "park volunteer" the age of our now grown-up sons, who offered to buy us coffee next time we ventured back that way. My friend and I agreed that it should be the other way around, considering his age and the fact that he had saved us from spending a cold November night in the park!
A Story of French Flattery
What I like about the Parisians is that they EXPRESS themselves. If we Americans vented the way Parisians do, there would probably be a shooting. Here, however, you can get into a verbal joust with someone and it can even, sometimes (and I admit, rather rarely) finish better than it started.
Example: At a stoplight a car behind me honked 5 seconds after the light had turned green. Not appreciating the honker's haste, I raised my arm in that expression of anger that the French give so well (it was not, I must add, another, more vulgar, gesture).
At the next spotlight, the driver pulled up next to me. With my hands, I gestured to him - what's the rush? He pulled down his window and I pulled down mine so we could talk.
"What's the rush?" I repeated. "The light is only green 10 seconds so you have to get through it fast," he explained, and then, as usual, upon hearing my accent, asked the proverbial question. "Are you English or American?" "American", I answered. "Vous =EAtes ravissante!" (you are ravishing) he replied. The light then turned green and each of our cars sped off in different directions.
Why do I like this little story so much? (a) It bears out my theory about French men - they like to flirt and they like to flatter but it only goes as far as the woman wants it to (b) related to (a), it couldn't have happened in New York or LA because by the time we'd have got to the second stoplight, one of us would have got out the gun! OR I would have sued the guy for sexual harrassment (ha ha). Oh yes, and (c) this incident happened two days after my fifty-second birthday and I can assure you that at this wonderfully distinguished age, the expression "flattery will get you nowhere", no longer applies!
Secrets to the Grave - No More
Speaking of French men, singer/actor Yves Montand has been dug up from his "final" resting place because a young woman has claimed that she is his daughter and the court has ordered an DNA test. The French entertainer, while alive, steadfastly refused the test. Although one can sympathize with the girl's desire to know who her father is, the whole "affaire" wreaks havoc with the notion that one carries one's secrets to the grave....
Quiche, Anyone?
It's a coincidence - but a funny one. While Americans observed Thanksgiving Day (Americans in Paris, by the way, celebrate it in American restaurants and private parties all over town), 18 French chefs spent the day in an 18-hour marathon to assemble the world's biggest quiche lorraine in hopes of getting it into the Guinness Book of Records. Next time you set out to make a quiche, think of what went into theirs: 1800 eggs, 160 liters of milk and 180 kilograms of bacon! With that in mind, making a normal quiche of normal proportions should seem as easy as pie (pardon the pun).
Harriet Welty-Rochefort, a bona fide Midwesterner from
Iowa, visited Paris for the first time while in
college. She became so completely enamored of
France that she stayed - and has been there ever since.
Married to a Frenchman and the mother of two
Franco-American boys, Harriet Welty-Rochefort writes
on business, lifestyle and travel for major U.S.
publications. Her book -
French Toast - is a lighthearted look at
French manners and mores.
Online
orders
as well as telephone/fax orders (1-800-387-8992 in the USA only) are possible.
It is also available at all major English language bookstores in Paris.
Writes Leslie Caron: French Toast includes the most delightful barbs at France's
subtle but deep-rooted codes of behaviour...I read the book on the EuroStar between
Paris and London and wished the train had not reached its top speed of 300 kph!
Harriet can be contacted at
101676.467@compuserve.com.
Your Cellphone in Paris
