Mastering the Art of French Dining
by Dorty Nowak
"Croquis aquarellé: terrasse d'un café à Paris" by Guy MOLL via Flickr CCL.
After growing up in a family where dinner was eaten off trays in front of the TV, I wanted to create a gracious dining atmosphere in my own home. Lit candles and cloth napkins were the norm, and I combed Good Housekeeping for tips to better the ambience for my family and guests. However, it wasn’t until I moved to Paris that I discovered how little I knew about what truly makes a pleasurable dining experience.
Given the choice, I usually opt for a good meal over a walk in the Tuileries or a stroll through the Louvre. Consequently I’ve had many opportunities to observe the French dining culture, both in restaurants and in friends’ homes. I’ve observed that French children are taught from an early age to sit quietly through a two-hour meal, and to master the alarming array of cutlery set before them. I’ve never seen a French parent plunge under a table of surprised diners to retrieve an errant three year old, as I once did. Nor do I see French children sitting at the dinner table playing games on their smart phones. They are learning more than table manners; they are learning to savor the presentation of good food and the lively conversation that is an essential part of the fine art of dining.
Unfortunately, I still have a lot to learn about presentation. I’ve figured out which way to pass a dish, but am often stumped when I’m the one serving guests. I was told the eldest female guest is served first, but am I offending someone if I guess wrong? A neighbor once asked me why I never used my good crystal when she came to dine. Not entirely joking, she said, “Am I not a good enough friend?” As I stammered that I was afraid of breaking the crystal and saved my good tableware for special occasions, I read in her incredulous stare all I needed to know.
Conversation at a French dinner table can be a challenge. The merits of French cuisine are a frequent topic of conversation, as well as history, culture and world affairs. It is important to come to a dinner party hungry enough to handle the typical five courses, and also prepared to converse. At a recent dinner I sat across from two men who spent the entire meal discussing the French resistance. I listened, both fascinated and muzzled by my lack of knowledge and fumbling French. As I was leaving, my hostess said she was afraid I hadn’t enjoyed the evening. “But I did,” I protested. To which she responded, “ But you didn’t talk at dinner!”
Except for dinner parties or special occasions, I rarely “dressed for dinner,” which I considered an antiquated custom and a bother. That changed when I met Mme. Thirouard. One day while hiking in Brittany, I came upon La Duchesse Anne, a Michelin one-star restaurant. It was raining and my poncho and pants were soaked. I was also very hungry and the prospect of a wonderful meal was too great to resist. I walked into the restaurant and asked if there was space available. Yes, but first I had to pass muster with Madame Thirouard, who has been greeting diners there since 1946. Arms folded across her chest, she looked me up and down and said, “This won’t do, wait here Madame.” Leaving me dumfounded and dripping, she disappeared up a flight of stairs, soon returning with a pair of her husband’s neatly folded pants. “I think they will fit” she said and told me to go upstairs and put them on. When I returned she said, “Now I will seat you. You would not have enjoyed your meal in such wet clothes.” Thanks to Mme. Thirouard I now take the time to slip into something nice or at least freshen up before a special meal, even if I’m dining alone.
Over the past ten years I’ve observed the erosion of French dining culture. Now it is common to see a chic young woman munching on a baguette as she hurries to the Metro, or a man in an impeccable suit sipping a latte from one of the Starbucks that have sprung up like mushrooms all over Paris. Is the French way of dining on the way out? Has it become a tradition observed by an ever dwindling older generation, or only for special occasions? I hope not. Although the French are not immune to the appeal of convenience food or the pressures of getting more done faster, they have a strong respect for tradition. As long as they enjoy their culture of dining as much as they love to wander through museums and stroll the streets of Paris, it will endure. Meanwhile, I’ve learned to savor the experience of dining as much as the food, and that’s just fine with me.
Dorty Nowak is a writer and artist living in Paris and Berkeley who writes frequently about the challenges and delights of multi-cultural living.
