Thinking about France, my brief home in the early nineties, has to start with Paris: I went to Paris so many times, for business, witty (I love the Musée d’Orsay) and, first and foremost) for my culinary pleasure. Apart from Rio maybe, I can’t think of any other city which is as romantic as Paris. I missed Les Halles, the old central fresh food market in Paris immortalized by Zola’s Ventre de Paris, which unfortunately closed in 1973. However, for me, La Grande Epicerie de Paris is a good modern substitute. Every time again, I buy Saucisson aux Noix, Banon cheese wrapped in a case of chestnut leaves and a melting Epoisses, to be downed with a Pouilly Fumé on the Rive Droite catching the sunset behind La tour Eiffel. Just add three letters to Paris, and you are in paradise 

On my way to Niamey in Niger I transitted in Paris and followed a recommendation of a Brazilian friend, a great chef who had lived for many years in Paris:  Le Verre Volé, on a side street of Canal Saint-Martin, not far from the uniquely landscaped Buttes-Chaumont park with its waterfall, lake and city views. Close by food shops dot steep Rue de Belleville, which leads to Belleville Chinatown. Even in Paris I don’t want to abstain from Chinese food for too long! 

My love to France (food) started in 1992 when  my employer had sent me for a couple of months to Alsace Lorraine to improve my knowledge of French. I settled in Nancy, a quintessential French town with one of France’s most beautiful central squares, Place Stanislas . On my first night, I went to dine at McDonalds, too lazy to decrypt the amazing seafood menu of French Brasserie Flo. Thanks to my versatile language teacher Elisabeth in Nancy  I did learn a bit of French in my 11 months. But way more important, I learned how to Savoir Vivre.  My former boss asked me to join an official dinner at Paul Haeberlin’s famous L’Auberge de I’Ill.  Finally I understood that the concept of stars does not necessarily has to do with astronomy.  The stars were still shining when I returned to the Auberge 20 years later for a birthday dinner with my wife. The Auberge had always been good at ejecting great apprentices and chefs: Now it was Marc Haeberlin who was on the helm. Jean Georges Vongerichten, a kitchen apprentice of Marc’s father Paul Haeberlin and later the inventor of Thai-French fusion, later became one of my favorite chefs in New York City with his namesake restaurant Jean Georges.

During my own apprentice time in France I learned even more: Why rush at a business lunch when food is so good and why forgo wine when life can be so short? Here, in the heart of Savoir Vivre, a three-hour-lunch seemed just as a blink of an eye. At last I was introduced to my favorite French culinary institution – the Routier: Leave the autoroute, head into rural France and from 12 until 2pm you’ll find good simple food behind arrays of trucks and tractors parked in front of eateries which are oasis between work and home:

Lunch is in full swing and the eatery is packed. Mechanics, builders, banker types, my colleagues and me sit shoulder to shoulder on ramshackle chairs.  “Allez y. “Installez-vous”. A small bread basket and bottles of red wine and water arrive.

“Pour l’entrée nous avons rillettes de porc, ou croissant au jambon, et pour le plat escalope à la normande, ou steak frites.”

I opt for the steak frites.

The starters arrive almost instantaneously and are soon devoured, being extremely good – accompanied by enough wine. Our knives and forks are unceremoniously removed from our plates and placed on the paper table-cloth in readiness for the main course, as the waitress clears our plates. The steak frites arrive, done perfectly â point. A glance along the table reveals escalopes flambéed in calvados, some fish with rice and a pork chop with pasta, both with similarly buttery appearances. Crusty bread is ripped apart and help us to put the food on to the fork and mop up sauce at the same time.

“Pour dessert c’est mousse au chocolat ou crème brûlée.”

Merci, je suis rassasié.