Emily in France 🇫🇷 A Brie-utiful Wander (Sorry)
I'm a huge fan of a habit.
I was 14 years old the first time I moved to France. I was here for three months, and I brought, I think, about six books with me.
(In hindsight, maybe this is why I insist on bringing 20 library books everywhere I go...)
One was a Mary Higgins Clark book, I remember that much. One was about grave-robbers. One was definitely about a girl who accidentally joins a cult. And one was The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens, which, as you may have gathered, was a quick-and-dirty rebrand of the widely popular The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.
Maybe it was because I was bored; maybe it was because aside from Astérix comics and the aforementioned selection of novels chosen, it seems, at random, I didn't have much else to read. But I devoured that book, marking it with sticky notes and making goals and lists for myself for each of the habits, goals rooted, more often than not, in being fitter, smarter, kinder... somehow better than I perceived myself to be, at 14.
And then I promptly abandoned them all.
My real habits, as a teen, were either of the neutral variety (nervously checking to make sure I hadn't lost an earring pretty much any time I felt uncomfortable in conversation; folding my cardboard metro tickets into triangles as soon as I was done of them) or of the not-great variety (going to bed with my contact lenses in; not doing my homework until the morning it was due).
And while I've had some success forming good habits in the past – going to the gym, for example (which I managed only when I shoehorned it into the early morning, before I was caffeinated enough to come up with a good excuse not to go), or washing my face before going to bed – I'm of such an all-or-nothing constitution that the second I fall out with my good habit, even once, I can never get back into it. It's why I no longer write a bit of unedited flash fiction every day; it's why I no longer even have a gym membership.
But then, a couple of years ago, I slowly developed the ability to form good habits. And it all began with walking.
I'm writing, today, during a pretty big transport strike here in Paris, but it's had no effect on me, because ever since another major transport strike (in November 2020, if you want to know), I walk everywhere. It's gone from a challenge to just being the rule I live by, my normal, my default. (And it's part of the reason I don't feel bad about not going to the gym anymore.)
A slightly more recent habit is journaling, though I've had an on-and-off journaling practice for years. I even journaled every day for a while, when I was 12, slipping into the cold, empty bathtub in the middle of the night when I woke with a start to realize I hadn't written anything that day (well aware of the fact that my night owl mother would know something was up if I turned on the light in my room). But I had all but abandoned journaling until about seven years ago, when I discovered the enneagram, and set off to write the story of my childhood, as The Wisdom of the Enneagram implores newcomers to do.
I liked it; i tried to turn it into a habit.
I plugged "journal" into my Google calendar, hoping that the email reminder each day would keep me going... only to find that more often than not, it just made me feel guilty for avoiding journaling all day, resulting in low-grade, constant panic and no journal practice to show for it. For journaling to become a real habit, I had to make it easy. And to make it easy, I couldn't give myself an out. So I made a rule: Before I do anything else, before I look at my phone, or my computer, I make a cup of coffee, I read a few pages of a paper book, I journal, and then I write. And that's just how it is.
It's been about three years, now, since that practice has become part of my life. It's so ingrained that even if I step away from it for a day or two, it comes back, like a rubber-band stretched a bit out of shape. It works; it's natural.
And it's with this in mind that I've finally been trying to turn another passion of mine into a habit: Hiking.
I love hiking, especially in the fall, when the trees are just starting to turn golden. Every September, without exception, I'll find myself on a hike or maybe two, thinking that it would be lovely to get so into the habit that even the frigid temperatures of winter won't put me off. And every year, once those frigid temperatures arrive, I abandon ship, citing a panoply of reasons unrelated to temperature and usually, if I'm honest, linked to the fact that I don't want to research where to go.
This year, I nipped that excuse in the bud by finding a hike I liked and setting is as a default, hoping that by having somewhere to go, easily and automatically, when the desire struck, it would take some of the decision-making work out of it. It worked to a certain extent, but now I'm usually begging off because of rain.
(Maybe I need a raincoat?)
But I may well have found another way to entice myself out into the cold: Finding a hike near a market.
One of my most recent hikes was to Melun, a town known for being the epicenter of one of the two AOP Bries. It was the perfect opportunity to visit Fromagerie Loiseau, a specialist in Brie-aging, to source some samples of not one, not two, but three different Bries. (There are many – learn more from cheese expert Meg Zimbeck here.)
Aka... the perfect hike picnic.
As you can probably tell from the Halloween decorations up top, this hike dates to a few months ago. Indeed, I have yet to hike in 2023. But I'm not going to lose faith. I'll keep trying to turn my love of hiking into a bona fide habit.
(And I'll admit... it'll help if there's cheese involved.)
This is the free edition of my newsletter, which comes out every Tuesday. If you're interested in subscribing to the paid edition, which comes out every other Thursday and features exclusive tips on Paris dining and more, sign up here!
Cheese of the Week
Perhaps the best-known of the Bries, at least in France, hails not from Melun but from Meaux. One of two AOP Bries, it's subtler in flavor than funky Melun, with a mushroomy aroma and a briny quality, as well as a light sweetness reminiscent of root vegetables.
Brie de Melun, meanwhile, is Brie de Meaux's funkier cousin, with a ripe, footy aroma and a lot more lactic tang, not to mention a slightly reddish hue to the otherwise white rind.
To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.
What I'm Eating
I have such a hard time recommending pop-ups, mainly because I have a natural antipathy for waiting in line for food. (The only food I will currently wait more than ten minutes in line for is the black lentil dal at Dishoom and bagels from Tal.) Luckily, Flor is tucked away in the basement of Merci and, thanks to its 11am to 5pm hours, did not require waiting on the Saturday lunchtime when I chose to pay it a visit with an American friend, equally starved for excellent Mexican fare in Paris. Unfortunately, it’s only going to be around for two more weeks. So I implore you: Get there while you can. More on the blog.
Discover more of my foodie finds via Instagram @emily_in_france and on the blog.
Where I'm Going
1. Back to the UK, where I plan to eat even more Indian food. (Seriously, if I ever say I'm sick of vindaloo, know I've been posessed).
2. Also in the UK: To Prêt à Manger, where I intend to throw a tantrum if the St. Pancras branch doesn't have a very specific salmon rye roll I've come to enjoy.
3. To 5 Pailles, for my favorite chai in Paris before I depart!
What I'm Writing
1. If you come to France and say your favorite cheese is Brie, you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific. My latest cheese column is all about Brie de Melun (and not the Brie de Meaux whose shape inspired these very fashionable hats sported by members of the Brotherhood of Brie. As you can see from the photo, I'm dead-set on worming my way in.) For My French Life.
2. Port City Brewing's Tim Quintyn shares his favorite winter beers, with pine flavors and decidedly higher ABVs on the menu. For InsideHook.
3. We have Jean-Georges Vongerichten's best steak recipe. For InsideHook.
What I'm Saying
In 2010, the French gastronomic meal was protected as a part of UNESCO's intangible cultural heritage – and the food was only part of the package. To discuss some of the other elements so entwined in this bastion of Frenchness is Camille Drozdz, the product designer and ceramicist behind Ici l'Atelier and a co-host of TERRE/MER terroir-based retreats in the South of France. She’s here to discuss a phrase closely linked to that oh-so-French passion for food – but rather than talk about what’s in the dishes, she’s interested in the dishes themselves. Art de la table.
What I'm Reading
1. I grew up with Alexander and his no good very bad day, but until reading this retrospective review, I had forgotten that there is no moralizing about it, no redemption. The best we get from Alexander’s mom is that “some days are like that.” And that feels like something I can get behind. In the New Yorker.
2. I like to think I would be cool enough to be a "Luddite" teen. Even as an adult, this way of life totally appeals to the aspiring Holden Caulfield within me. In the New York Times.
3. As though there wasn't enough cheesy content here, these are the ten fromages you must try in France, from someone who should know, cheese educator Jennifer Greco. For David Lebovitz.
A bientôt !