When I process our time in France through a food lens, I get the giggles. I have been looking forward to eating my way through France and expanding my gourmet palette. To get the kids in the mood, as soon as we checked into our Airbnb, we went in search of chocolate croissants. It took us a few attempts to find an open patisserie, but Wes was in raptures over his almond-chocolate-goodness sweet, and the rest of us were well satisfied with a croissant in each hand, walking down to the picturesque port.
But the cloudy afternoon quickly turned into a cool, rainy night, and after being turned away from a few très French restaurants because we didn’t have reservations, I spotted a warmly-lit restaurant with open tables and quickly herded us inside. It turns out it was Chinese food. But I’m going to give it full credit for French flair. When our spring rolls arrived, we were shown how to roll them up in the provided lettuce leaf with one sprig of mint on the inside before dipping and eating. Ooh lala, it turned this typical appetizer into a gourmand delight. I’m sure the atmosphere and the usual giddiness of a new city added its own sweetness. Dessert was a flambe delight of a baked pear. Dinner #1 was a delicious, but not quite the French meal I was searching for.
Dinner #2 was sans kids, who inexpensively and inexplicitly often prefer PB&J and chicken nuggets from the supermarket frozen section. We had eyed a patio full of people sipping their afternoon aperitifs and so we returned for dinner. It was a French restaurant, but French-Congolese. Delightful, but still not the Frenchy French-French exquisiteness I had been envisioning for my first Franco visit.
Dinner #3. On our first exploration, Dwayne spotted a Brazilian churrascaria (a large selection of meat on spits) and the kids clamored for one night there. It was an odd establishment that didn’t serve alcohol (read: no caipirinha for Dwayne) or pork. Infer the owner’s beliefs as you like. As Wes mentioned in his blog, I had the vegetarian option and ate all the beans/rice/sawdust/collard greens I could with sides of fried plantains. If we haven’t made this classic poor man’s Brazilian dish for you before, please invite yourself over this summer so we can enjoy it together. Sawdust (aka farofa) is surprisingly delicious.
Finally, Dinner #4, Dwayne and I were again without children and determined to find a restaurant that checked all the boxes for our penultimate night in France. We found a place open that did NOT have pizzeria in its name, and I quickly swung from vegetarian Brazilian to steak tartare, which is, if you were unsure, raw hamburger + raw egg + other things = Oh! So good! I couldn’t look at it while eating it but I would definitely order it again with whatever wine the good monsieur recommends.
Piper and Wes had their hearts set on crepes daily. Crepes for breakfast, brunch, lunch, and tea. Against my will, they found a place in the touristy* port that served crepes with Nutella for Wes, and Nutella and strawberries for Pipes. When we went to an off-Broadway creperie the next day that did not serve such crepes, there were tears and punishing silences. Finally, we just gave the youngers the key and some euros and left them alone for long afternoons and even an entire day, and they just went to the tourist creperie and came up with excuses for not doing their math. At some point, I just had to enjoy France and French food enough for both of them.
What I had my heart set on, à la Rick Steves, was going shop to shop to get cheese, a baguette, a bottle of wine, and a little something-something for dessert and picnic in some lovely square or park. When we finally got to Avignon, Kyla and Dwayne indulged me as I ordered stinky cheeses (like angels’ feet!), a sweet nougat, and a strawberry something-something before finding a bakery for two fresh baguettes. A half bottle of white wine would have topped it off perfectly had I been able to find one, but water is a lovely accompaniment as well. I finally got to have my little French picnic in a garden behind the walls of the Pope’s Palace in Avignon. Bon appétit, let’s eat!
On a final note, is this not a delightful produce shop? There were a few tiny ‘supermarkets’ on every street block, but only fruits that had won beauty contests got to be sold in this one. It was a sensory experience and the girls and I walked away with an armful of gorgeous and perfectly ripe fruit.
France wins Food!
*Commandment #11: thou shall not eat where only tourists tread.
Needopedia 