Missing home -- When home is Paris.

I was talking on the telephone the other day to a friend from Paris who is living in NYC.  We were discussing what we both missed about “home”.  I grew up in Southern California, so I miss Mexican food.  Like an ex-smoker who is never around cigarette smoke, my cravings have diminished greatly since the early years when I smuggled tortillas and other ingredients back to Paris. However, once I’m back in California I can’t get enough.  This is much to the disappointment of the friends I stay with there who would rather I cooked for them.  Instead I drag them around looking for the newest Mexican restaurants or returning to old favorites. 

Not surprisingly, my transplanted Parisian friend -- a young woman working in Fashion-- was missing an entirely different food experience.  She told me she missed the dairy case at her local Monoprix (An upscale chain of grocery stores found in Paris).  Huh?  I’m certainly a fan of the myriad choices of butter, cheese and yougurt one can find in Paris, but I have never really thought too much about it when I am home.  After all, I've been too busy chasing down a burrito truck.

So after we spoke, I decided to go to Monoprix and really look at the dairy case.  I stood in the front of them (there were several) looking the same way I look at a work of art.  Looking very closely at every detail, noting the colors, brands, selection and scale of the entire department.  And sure enough I noticed how really enormous the dairy cases were.  They took up more space than the produce section.  In a small (by US standards) grocery store, it was one of the biggest sections with two aisles of refrigerated cases each about 50 feet long.  There were at least 100 kinds of yogurt in all different sizes, Crème Fraiche, 30 different Butters, Milk (Cow and sheep) fromage blanc, etc.  Then there was another section of milk based desserts and fruit compotes.  Every type of creamy French dessert in the classic flavors, coffee, chocolate, caramel and vanilla.  Along with ready to eat îles Flottants, Crème Brulée, Chocolate Mousse, Pots de Crèmes and Crème aux oeufs (my current obsession.)

Of course the products were familiar.  For example, I have several favorite brands of yogurt including one brand that varies the flavors following the fruit of the season.  So it’s fun to take the peach in summer, the sour cherry in fall and lemon in the winter.  Another favorite is a yogurt made of sheeps milk along with all the varieties of Fromage Blanc.  A creamy cross between Yogurt and Sour Cream that is always sold unsweetend and is good with a bit of sugar, some fresh fruit or salt and pepper depending on your mood.  It is also sold as a Faiselle when it comes with a sort of strainer inside the container.  This allows the water to separate from the milk solids and it gets thicker over the few days it sits in the fridge.  Asumming you have the restriaint to wait.  My advice, buy the largest container possible to have any hope of seeing the result.

One of my favorite snacks is steamed new potatoes with some salty butter and a big dollop of Faiselle de Fromage Blanc du Chevre.  A goat’s milk fromage blanc that has a slighty stronger flavor.  Some sea salt and coarse ground white pepper with its warm nutty flavor make the dish perfect.

So once I had really thought about the dairy case, I realized that she was right.  It was indeed something worth missing.  And unlike Mexican food, in NYC you can’t simply whip up a goats milk Faiselle when the mood strikes you the way I prepare some makeshift enchiladas or a burrito in Paris.

My thanks to AmateurGourmet.com for the burrito pic - impossible to find in Paris.  We also seem to share the same taste in Mexican food.

Au Resto - Reading a French Menu

Au Resto, pronounced oh resto, means “at the restaurant.”  Despite all appearances to the contrary, most French people love short cuts, nicknames and, of course, breaking the rules.  Grammatical ones included.  However this is only acceptable if you know you know the rules you are breaking.

So this post will give you a few short cuts and hints to have a better experience eating in France. The goal is to help you figure out the menu and decide what to order.  If you’re looking for hints on tipping and getting the waiters attention, read this previous post.

French food is a vast subject and French menus can be quite puzzling to visitors.  These days, many people in the US and other English-speaking countries are accustomed to restaurants that go out of their way to provide an exhaustive list of ingredients and cooking methods in the short description of each dish. 

For example:

Chicken Provencal – A free-range bonless chicken breast, lightly marked on the grill and seasoned with Herbes de Provence.  Served with an heirloom tomato-eggplant ratatouille spiked with house-made preserved Yuzu and finished in the oven with a toasted parmesan, cracked white pepper crust and a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and fresh herbs.

I just made that dish up, but you get the idea.  Well, in France the menu would most likely say, Poulet Provençal et sa ratatouille.  Nothing more.  The English translations are often not much more help, something like “Provençal Style Chicken and its Ratatouille Vegetables.”

Like so many other things here, you’re just supposed to know how this dish is made.  But for visitors this causes two levels of distress.  If you already know some French food vocabulary, that helps enormously.  But if you don’t know how to decipher the hints about the preparations you can still be lost deciding what to order. 

Once you have figured out the meat, in this case Poulet = Chicken, the first clue is to think about the origin of the word describing the chicken.  French food is often a mix of regional specialties:  Provençal = Provence, Normand = Normandy, Bourguignon = Burgundy. 

So when you see the word Provençal think of Provence.  Near the border of Italy, expect tomatoes, basil and other Mediterranean herbs, olive oil and of course garlic.  Albeit in very small doses, most French people seem to have an aversion to Garlic.

Normand.  In Normandy they are famous for milk and cream, apples and Calvados, a strong alcohol made from apples that is the regional equivelant to a Cognac or an Armagnac.  One classic is Sauté de Porc Normand - sautéed tenderloin of Pork with a cream sauce.

Bourguignon.  The dish most most commonly known outside France is Beef Bourguignon.  Slowly-cooked from fatty cuts of beef and made with lots of red wine from Burgundy.

So back to the case of our Poulet Provencale et sa Ratatouille, this is chicken dish cooked Provençal style with tomatoes, Mediterranean herbs, garlic and olive oil.  "Sa ratatouille" means the Ratatouille that goes along with it.  

No Provencal meal would be complete without this slow-cooked  preparation of Eggplant, Tomato, Onions, Garlic and herbs drizzled with Olive Oil.  You get the idea.  Sometimes the classic ingredients are changed to include Zucchini aka Courgette instead of eggplant.  In this case the menu would say “Ratatouille au Courgette.”  This is my preference since I’m not a fan of Eggplant. 

BTW, a garlicy Ratatouille aux Courgettes makes a great accompaniment for seared Beef, especially Black Pepper-marinated Flank Steak sliced thin across the grain of the meat.  This would be great with a hearty red wine from the Rhone - made primarily of Syrah.

When I was quite young and started to visit France, I didn’t speak any French and was a less adventurous eater than the one I evolved into.   We were deep in the countryside and stopped along the way at a small village restaurant.  I was travelling with a friend who knew a little French.  Quite helpful as no one in this small place spoke any English.  He helped translate the more common words and since it was a chilly night I decided to take the hearty-sounding Veal and Rice Stew called “Riz de Veau.”  When it arrived there was no sign of stew and just a few small wrinkled pieces of tender meat.  Slowly we realized that this was not Veal and Rice, but Veal thalamus glands, called Riz de Veau, commonly called Sweetbreads in English.  That’s what is referred to a Faux Ami – a False Friend.  This describes a word or words that sound like they should be one thing in English and are actually something completely different.  Needless to say, J and I were hunting for a sandwich after that meal.

This is just a start on helping you order in French, so I promise to keep posting about how to translate French menus and offer helpful tips for making the most of your visit to Paris.

Here is a menu of the primary meats found on Menus in French restaurants with English translations. I have also included some of the more common cuts:

Poulet                             Chicken

                Supreme                            Breast

                Cuisse                                  Thigh

                Aile                                       Wing

Boeuf                               Beef

                Piece de Boeuf                Roast Beef

                Onglet                             Steak cut from the back

                L’Entrecôte                     Steak cut from the ribs

                Tournados                      Similar to Filet Mignon (but usually cut thinner)

Porc                                 Pork

                Filet Mignon                    Pork Tenderloin

                Côte du                          Pork Chop

Canard                            Duck

                Cuisse                              Thigh

                Magret                              Breast

Biche                               Vennison                         

                Selle                                 Saddle

                Gigot                                 Leg

L’Agneau                           Lamb

                Gigot                                Leg

                Cote                                 Chop

                Cotelettes                        Little chops

                Selle                                 Saddle

Veau                                  Veal

Poisson                              Fish

Rouget                               Red Mullet (Often very small filets)

Thon                                  Tuna

L’Espadon                         Swordfish

Lotte                                 Sea Bass

St Pierre                            John Dory

Cabillaud or Morue            Cod

Maquereaux                      Mackerel

Sole                                   Sole

Escargot                            Snails

Grenouille                          Frog

Coquilles St Jacques          Scallops

Riz de Veau                       Sweetbreads

Lapin                                 Rabbit

Liève                                 Wild Hare

Photo Credits:

Chicken Provencal - Gourmet Magazine via epicurious.com

Sauté of Pork Normand - Courtesy of Plat de Jour

Ratatouille - La Petit Gourmande Blog

Pause Gourmande

Mr Creosote - Monty Python's ultimate gluttonA Gourmand or Gourmande, depending on if you are speaking to a man or a woman (the feminine form has an "e" at the end) can be gentle teasing way to call someone a glutton.  A pause gourmande, pronounced Pose Gor-man-d, is a little gourmet break, a delightful snack.  A good way, I think, to introduce a quick post about eating in France.

I was having lunch with J recently and he noticed on the menu, hiding amongst the desserts, something called “Café Gourmand”.  It was priced at 7€50, slightly less than the other desserts yet much more expensive than a coffee.  Because he knew both meanings of Gourmand, he cynically joked that it was the owner who was the glutton, gouging the customers with his overpriced “gourmet” coffee.

In fact, this is a recent trend that has started to appear more commonly on Paris menus.  A Café Gourmand is not an overpriced “gourmet” coffee, but three small desserts paired with a little espresso.  Or for those in the know, a Noisette.  A great guilt-free dessert where you often get to sample three mini-versions of the desserts on the menu.   It’s the perfect end to a nice lunch and ensures you get “just a bite” of dessert without having to cajole your friends into ordering a full dessert to share.

During the course of another lunch, with MC, a close friend who frequently inspires my posts, we talked about table manners.  Her French husband is quite a stickler for the rules, even though he breaks them with abandon himself.  He shrugs off protests from his family with the classic comment “its okay to break the rules as long as you know what they are”

We were having Terrine de Fois Gras, a chilled version of Fois Gras, usually served with little Brioche toast points and some sort of sweet relish.  That day it was a mild Mango Chutney.  As we ate the Fois Gras, MC explained to the others at the table the proper way to eat such a dish.  Voila, more rules about eating in France.  You see, there is a tendency for people to spread the creamy rich fois gras on the toast point and then happily eat it like a breakfast Tartine, akin to an open-faced peanut butter sandwich. 

The word tartine (Tar-Teen), comes from the verb tartiner (Tar-Teen-Ay) which means to spread.  A Tartine is a 3-4 inch long half baguette spread generously with butter and sometimes jam too - if you are a gourmande.  This is dipped in the bowl of coffee for breakfast.  Well, just like a big milky coffee, that’s the end of “tartines “ – “spreading” for the day. 

Here’s the rule, aside from breakfast you should never - tartinez- at the table.  So, taking a big chunk of Fois Gras and spreading it all over the toast to make a sandwich is not correct.  With the tip of your knife, you pick up just enough Fois Gras for one bite and you put this on the corner of the toast.  Then you take a bite of the toast along with the morsel of Fois Gras.  Then savor the perfect bite...

I already knew this rule about Fois Gras, but MC called me out a bit later when I was liberally spreading the amazing Bordier Smoked Salt Butter all over a piece of bread.  It turns out that the rule “No spreading after breakfast” applies to butter as well.  You are expected to put just enough butter for one bite and never to spread the entire piece of bread with butter, take a bite and set the rest down on your bread plate. Well, on the table actually. 

That is another odd thing; if you have been to France you know there is almost never a bread plate.  Once you have taken a piece of bread, between bites you set it directly on the table to the left of your plate.  This is probably because that the French use bread the way the rest of us use a knife so it rarely gets put down.  Any time you need to push something onto your fork it is more polite to use the bread than a knife.  Most important of all, you must never “sauce” with bread.  This is using the bread like a sponge to wipe up any remaining sauce and pop it into your mouth - Very tempting with most French sauces.  One exception, allowed only at home, is to spear your bread with the fork and “Sauce” using your fork to hold the bread.

The last and most counter-intuitive point in French table manners is that you are never allowed to put your hands in your lap during a meal.   I had heard this early on, but didn’t really believe that this could be considered impolite.  After all, I’d been badgered in the opposite direction for years as a child. 

One day over lunch with Jacqueline, a very feisty friend in her seventies, who I consider to be my French Grandmother.  At a moment between courses, I placed my hands politely in my lap.  Hey, she said “Qu’est-ce tu fais là-bas” essentially, “What are you doing down there”?  A bit embarrassed at being accused of who-knows-what, I put my hands above the table.  No elbows, just the forearms and hands.  “C’est mieux” – “That’s better” she said and we resumed our conversation. 

"Souper chez le Prince de Conti", 1766 by Michel Barthélémy OllivierI don’t know the origins of this rule come but one imagines the famous intrigues of “Les Liaisons Dangereuses” and other clandestine love affairs between gentlemen and their mistresses.  Affairs that went on under the noses of husbands and wives, perhaps at dinners with all parties present.  In such a case it would be very important to know what people were up to “under the table.”

In the immortal words of Julia Child, a fellow alum from the Cordon Bleu Cooking School - "Bon Apétit!"

How to order coffee in Paris

It would seem that in the past couple of decades, America, Canada and the UK have caught up with the rest of the world, namely Italy and France with their understanding and taste in coffee.  One notable exception seems to have been Australia.  Even when I was living there in the 80s you could get a good Italian style coffee drink at any corner milk bar or sandwich shop.

Out went the dishwater-bland over perked coffee our parents and grandparents favored for the rich, dark roasted coffee that comes in a dozen forms.  In the US and UK, the point of reference for naming coffee drinks is Italy.  We have all become familiar with the words Cappuccino, Latte, Espresso and the like.  So today, an American or Brit travelling in Italy can order coffee in Italian like a native.  For the same reason, I’ve always felt a certain comfort going to Italian restaurants in countries where I don’t speak the language.  Because, even in the furthest reaches of Anatolia for example, the menu is in “English”.  Well, it’s actually Restaurant Italian which simply seems like English.  Who wouldn’t feel comfortable seeing the words Lasagne or Spaghetti Bolognaise on a menu in Turkish.  

Well, in Fance, things aren’t often as easy.  As my good friend J always says “Those French, they’ve got a different word for everything” and this is certainly true for coffee.  So here’s a quick primer on how to get a satisfying cup of Joe just like you enjoy on your way to work back home. 

The first thing to forget is the Café au Lait.  This is what many people seem to associate with coffee in France, but no Frenchmen are ordering this in their local café.  The closest thing is a Café Crème which comes in two sizes, one called a Café Crème and the larger a Grand Crème.  This is a steamy combination of espresso coffee and steamed milk topped with foam – much like a Cappuccino.  For those of you that prefer a drip style coffee, there is the Café Allongé.  This is espresso diluted with hot water.  Sorry, but aside from a few hotels, real drip coffee is only made at home here.  If you like drip coffee with milk, and I’m sure you do, then you have to ask for it.  You’ll say “Café Allongé avec du lait à coté” – Cafe ah-longe-ay ah-veck doo lay ah co-tay.  If these seems too complicated, you’re right.  I say unless you drink your coffee black, stick with a Café Crème.  

After that, if you only know one French word for coffee you’ll probably order a Café and perhaps be disappointed when you are served a tiny espresso.  But here’s where it gets complicated, or for some of you -- interesting.  Like nearly everything in this food obsessed culture, there are rules about coffee. Just like the rules for cutting the cheese or what to serve at a dinner party that I've written about before.  Okay, these are not really rules, but more like cultural expectations.

The big milky coffees favored by Americans are only drunk in France for breakfast.  At home, morning coffee is usually from a bowl, not a mug.  This makes it easier to dunk the leftover baguette bought for dinner the night before into your coffee.  Yes, besides the idea of ordering café au Lait, the idea that Frenchman head out merrily each morning to buy a baguette is also something of a myth.  Sure, people head out to buy croissants on the weekends and perhaps the odd occasion when they want to impress someone new who’s spent the night.

After about 10am, most people have switched to café (espresso) and after a meal they'd never ever order a big milky coffee.  I’m not sure what comparison to make to define the puzzled look sometimes seen on waiters’ faces, but it’s akin to ordering a bowl of cereal for dinner anywhere but a 24-Hr Diner.  When you think about it, having a big steaming mug of hot milk with a small dose of espresso after a three course French lunch with wine and cheese does seem a bit strange,  if not a bit hard to digest.  But who knows, maybe I’ve just gone native.

“Hey, wait a minute” I hear you saying, “I hate coffee without milk.”  Well so do I.  So here’s a trick to order like a local and still get a really nice mid-day or post-meal coffee.  Order a “Noisette”.  In French, Noisette (Nuh-wah-zet) means Hazelnut and might refer to the color of the coffee.  It is also a cooking term used in recipes to describe a small amount of butter.  In the UK they say “add a knob of butter” where the in French one says “ajoutez une noisette du beurre” so who knows.  Besides, we need to order a coffee.

A Noisette is an espresso, with a dollop of foamed milk and a tiny bit of milk.  Just like a Macchiato in Italy or a Café Cortado in Spain.   In better restaurants and some cafés they bring you an espresso with a tiny pitcher of milk so you can make your own blend – my personal favorite.

That covers the options for what to order, but budget conscious visitors will be interested in one further tip.  When you are in an average neighborhood café in Paris, you have three options where you can order and consume your coffee.  Outside on the terrace, inside at a table or at the counter. “Au Bar”.  The prices are different between the bar and the tables.  A simple Café is 2.50€  or more when served at a table, but rarely more than 1.20€ at the bar. Often 1€.  So if you want to have a quick coffee break and save money, order and drink at the bar.  It’s also the fastest way to use the restroom without any hassle, if you are having trouble finding one.  This applies to all drinks, so you can have a budget aperitif at the counter as well.  If you are unsure if the café you've entered serves at the bar, look for the tell-tale sugar bowls set out on the bar to indicate they serve coffee there.  After all, coffee without sugar is as unthinkable in France as coffee without milk in the states.

One last tip for ordering coffee in a Café, if you arrive around lunchtime and only want to have a coffee on the terrace, choose a table that is not set with silverware and glasses.  Those tables are reserved for people eating, not drinking coffee.  So you will likely be shooed away.  The same is true in the evening when you might like to have an aperitif on the terrace.  But if most of the tables are empty, just ask and they will often let you sit there.

Glossary

English / Italian    French                  What to say           Prononced
Espresso                         Café                      Café                       Ca-fay
Cappucino                     Café Crème        Un Creme              Uhn Khrem
Macchiato                     Noisette                Une Noisette       Eywoon  Nuh-wah-zet

Tartine photo credit - Croque Madame

How to order coffee in Paris

Update on Sunday, January 23, 2011 at 9:03AM by Christopher

What about Decaf?

Since I wrote this post, I have often been asked this question.  Well in France people also drink decaffinated coffee, especially in the late evening after a long meal.

So all of the same "rules" apply as I discussed in the earllier post.  The only thing you need to know is how to ask for one.  The word for decaffinated is décafiné.  Pronounced dey-ca-fee-nay.  It is usually shortened to Déca, deh-kah, when ordering.

Hence, all you need to say is Déca Creme, Déca Noisette, Déca Allongé or if you want a decaf espresso simplysay "un déca."

Et voila - the mystery of decaf in Paris solved...

Epiphany aka Fête de la Galette

Adoration of the Magi - RubensOriginally Catholic, France officially became a non-religious country in 1906.  But some traditions die hard.  For example, aside from my friends who are Jewish or Muslim, nearly everyone I know in France considers themselves - without hesitation - to be Catholic.   This is, of course, regardless of whether they have been inside a church for decades or not.

The result of this pervasive Catholic influence is a culture that still embraces many religious days, often as public holidays.   After all, who wouldn’t turn down a paid day-off work regardless of which religion happens to be celebrating that day? 

This week, there is an important holiday with a religious origin - Epiphany.  Generally considered by Christians to mark the day that the three Kings visited Jesus to celebrate his nativity, Epiphany has been fixed in France to the 6th of January since 1801.  Celebrated as early as the 5th Century, Epiphany was initially more important to Christians than Christmas day.

Like many Christian holidays, Epiphany has its origins in an earlier pagan festival. The Romans celebrated this day as Saturnalia whose festivities lasted seven days.  Saturn was the Roman God of time so perhaps it was related to the New Year.  On the first day of the celebration the soldiers drew lots, using a bean to determine which death row inmate would become "King" during the week of the festival.  Once the Saturnalia was over, the sentence was executed as was the inmate.  It sounds cruel I know, but don’t forget there have been plenty of real Kings for whom the good times ended in execution.  Louis XVI certainly comes to mind.

Today, the dual ideas of Saturnalia and Epiphany have evolved in France to become an important moment for seasonal food which is commonly celebrated regardless of a family’s religious beliefs.

The importance of this “right” moment in the season became clear to me a few days ago when I stopped by my friend MC’s for an afternoon coffee and chat.  Even though Epiphany was a few days away she had bought an Epiphany cake, called a Galette des Rois (King’s Cake) as a special treat for her children’s after school snack.  We were already enjoying a couple of slices with our coffee when her two young children came home from school.  Like kids everywhere, they were eager for a snack.  A smiling MC revealed the cake to the children, delighted to share the surprise.  For a brief moment both children were smiling too, but when MC asked what size pieces they'd like, their smiles disappeared.   Puzzled, she asked what was up.  Her daughter, who is seven, piped up instantly.  “We can’t eat that today, it’s too early.  We have to wait until the 6th.”  Besides, she continued “there are not enough people for the game - we need more to make it fun.”  Her shy brother, almost five, nodded from behind her in agreement.

So once again, here I am baffled by French culture.  How often have you seen a child turn down a delicious treat simply because it wasn’t the "right time”?  I’d venture to say never.  Even stranger about this is the fact that a very similar dessert exists at other times of the year with a different name – a Pithivier Frangipane.   I wonder, had MC offered her kids a slice of this Pithivier would they have eaten it?

The Galette des Rois is a simple confection made of two layers of puff pastry filled with Frangipane, a fairly dense almond filling.  MC had bought hers at Eric Kayser and it was one of the best I’ve ever tasted with a light, yet brightly flavored layer of Frangipane.

As her daughter mentioned, along with the special cake, there is game that traditionally is played when the cake is served.  Having played many times over the years I understand the game pretty well .  The galette is served at the end of a large meal at home which is most often a family affair or a gathering of close friends.

At just the right moment, after the cheese and before the coffee, the Galette is brought out with much fanfare.  Once placed on the table, the game begins.  The youngest present (hopefully a child) is sent under the table to select who will get the first piece of cake.  The pieces are distributed following the direction of the youngest from under the table.  Once everyone has a piece, the youngest takes his or her place at the table and everyone enjoys their cake.  Note - If you ever participate in a Fete de la Galette be aware that it’s important to chew your Galette des Rois carefully.  You see, inside every cake there is a special Fève (bean) similar to the bean in the story of the Roman Saturnial.  Every bakery has their own version of the Fève, varying from a tiny day-glo plastic baby to a porcelain figure or even a gilded metal bean for the most chic Galettes.  The primary difference between the Galette des Rois and the Pithivier Frangipane is that there isn’t a fève inside a Pithivier.

My friend S also reminded me that since the Galette is fairly easy to make, it’s quite often made at home.  The advantage, if you grew up in a large family like he did, is that Grandmère can “forgetfully” put more than one fève in the cake to ensure more smiling grandchildren.  It’s also not unusual for the person cutting the slices to “stack the deck” by peeking under the top layer of crust to make sure the youngest (who’s under the table) gets the féve.King Oscar - Le Roi de 2010!

If you get the Fève in your slice, you are entitled to choose the King or Queen who must wear the special crown that comes along with the cake.  Made of shiny gold cardboard, it’s much like one you might see at Burger King.  Depending on the ages of the group this can be a way to delight children or embarrass adults, all in good fun of course.

Fortunately, I have never had to do the crawling around under the table.  However, I do remember one memorable Fête de la Galette when I was working for a software company in the suburbs of Paris.  The President of company, who wasn’t French, had the mistaken idea that celebrating the Galette des Rois in the office would be a good team-building exercise.  That fateful afternoon, he gathered the team in the conference room.  The unfortunate guy who happened to be the youngest, despite being in his mid-thirties, was forced under the table in accordance with tradition.  Truly a good sport, he performed his duties as required while the rest of us looked uneasily at one another.  In the end, things didn't turn out so well for the boss.  You see, the woman who got the fève was brave enough to name him King and he was obliged to wear the silly crown the rest of the afternoon.  We were never quite sure if he realized the joke was on him.

While writing this post today, I saw a news story on television about the special Galette des Rois made for l’Elysee (The French equivalent of the White House).  Besides explaining which baker had the honor to make the enormous Galette and how he did it, the highlight of the story was seeing Nicolas Sarkozy, the President of France, cut the first piece.

There wasn’t however, the journalist confirmed, ever a fève placed in this special Galette.   Because France is a republic, no one can name the President King.  Frankly, I think it's much like my experience at the office and actually no one wants to risk seeing the President of the Republic reduced to wearing a silly paper crown.

Click image for video highlights of event