Emily in France 🇫🇷 A Haunted City
Ghostwalking in Paris
I’ve been a tour guide in Paris for over a decade, but while these days, most of my tours focus on food, this wasn't always the case. Early on in my career, I spent a lot of time escorting groups around the Louvre and into Notre Dame; I spent afternoons introducing visitors to the rambling acres of Père Lachaise cemetery, and come evening, I even explored Paris’ darker side with a tour that focused on murder, betrayal, and ghosts.
Even when I was actively giving that tour, I often quipped that the French are far too logical to actually put much stock in hauntings. But Paris is indeed a city rife with ghosts – how could it not be, given its thousands of years of history?
On a three-hour guided tour of the city center yesterday, I led my guests into the second-century Arènes de Lutèce, wending our way past King Philippe Auguste’s 12th-century fortification wall to gawp at the majestic 18th-century Pantheon, home to the remains of 81 of France’s most illustrious minds.
We passed the Conciergerie, where Marie-Antoinette was held prisoner in the aftermath of the French Revolution, and we meandered through the Marais, lingering on the Place des 260 Enfants, named for the 260 pupils of the local elementary school who were deported during the Vél d’Hiv roundups at the hands of the French police, actively collaborating with the Nazi occupier. We walked along the Seine, lingering in the courtyard of the Louvre, which bears the signatures of the kings that left their mark upon it. We loitered in the gardens of the Palais Royal, where the first murmurs of Revolution brewed in 1789.
Paris’ history is palpable everywhere you look: in its walls and paving stones, in its museums and theaters – and perhaps even more so to those who, like me, spent their early years in such a comparatively young country. But the city has felt particularly haunted as I approach my 17th anniversary here, and not by ghosts as old as these.
Relying on walking as my main mode of locomotion in recent years has led me, in what sometimes feels like a deeply personal echo of Midnight in Paris, to encounter past versions of the city I have long called home, accidentally walking past an address that was once mine or facing off, all at once, with the souvenir shop that has replaced my once-favorite bakery.
It was yesterday, as I was crossing a bridge towards Ile de la Cité, still ensconced in that strange place between sleep and awake, that I saw a woman sitting on a bench, scribbling something in a notebook. I felt like I was witnessing a past version of myself, the version that travelled Europe for five weeks in the summer of 2005 and again in 2007, seeking refuge in the cool of churches or on café terraces, inking what felt like very deep lines on the backs of postcards while I sipped too-sweet coffee and nibbled on overpriced croissants.
Most of the time, I’ll admit, I’m too busy to pay attention to such personal Parisian ghosts, forever running, as I am, from one appointment to the next. But some days, when I take the time to slow down, I glimpse what feel like indentations of former selves echoing in this city out of time. I get the sense that the years I’ve spent here are not actually relegated to the past, but rather laid on top of one another like contact paper, each sheet revealing what lies beneath. On these days, it seems wholly possible that I could simply turn the right corner and come face-to-face with friends who have long since abandoned the city, with a past self who liked the happy hour at that particular pub or the chicken curry sandwich in this particular boulangerie,
At the end of the day, maybe the ghost I find most palpable in Paris is me.
Cheese of the Week
Coulommiers is sometimes nicknamed Mother Brie, though there’s some disagreement within the industry as to whether this smaller wheel of cheese, which is also sometimes called Brie de Coulommiers or Petit Brie de Coulommiers, is actually the ancestor of all other Bries. Some claim that its small size is an indication that it is indeed older; others say it stems from producers aiming to make a version of Coulommiers that was easier to transport and is thus a sign it’s younger than the larger wheels. Either way, Coulommiers my personal favorite of the Brie family, with a rich, lactic flavor and just a touch of funk reminiscent of the very best Camemberts.
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
Despite le Cadoret’s incredible appetizers, unevenness plagues the menu of this convivial bistro. I will return, but next time, instead of a main, I’ll order three starters and a dessert. More on the blog.
Where I’m Going
1. To the Vosges, to report a story about the fermes-auberges making local Munster – and providing shelter and sustenance to local hikers.
2. To La Mazette, for a food festival to raise funds for Hello Ernest, an association seeking to eradicate hunger. Twenty female chefs will be donating their time and expertise to the festival, and each ticket helps contribute funds to the association and shines a light on these talented women in food.
3. To Montmartre, to show some visitors to Paris the ins and outs of one of my long-time favorite neighborhoods.
What I’m Saying
Républicain is a false friend, especially for Americans, but not for the reasons you might think. To explore how and why this term’s meaning varies so widely from France to the U.S., I’m chatting with Emile Chabal, a historian of twentieth century European and intellectual life and author of France, a book that delves into the paradoxes that define this country.
What I'm Writing
1. Les Petits Parisiens in the 14th brings a refined glow-up to the classic French bistro. For the Infatuation.
2. From the archives: Meet the very first cheesemaker to bring cheesemaking to the French capital. For Culture.
3. From the archives: Many top culinary masters are abandoning Paris in favor of greener pastures, where they can have a hand not just in choosing, but in growing their ingredients. For the BBC.
Friends of Emily in France
I’m surrounded by some pretty exceptional entrepreneurs, writers, and tastemakers, and I think you should know about them too! From now on, each week, I’ll be profiling one person I think you should be aware of.
Let’s get the ball rolling with Allison Zinder, a fellow food tour guide, trained chef, and an absolute gem of a human. Her newsletter, Paris on the Edge, explores her experience moving to eastern Paris in 1995 and weaves narrative nonfiction with delicious recipes. She's also recently launched Food & Culture of France, a deep-dive gastronomy program that’s basically like food summer camp for grownups – except “summer” is April 2025.
FAQs
In an attempt to bring you the content you crave, I've solicited your help. What questions can I answer for you? Drop them into the newsletter chat, and I’ll answer as many as I can!
Kicking things off is Feast & Fables, who asks: “So much of it feels like it is about knowing ‘how’ to behave rather than where to go. What cafes only let you drink coffee outdoors (eating inside), what the ‘eating day’ looks like (how b’fast happens, lunch timings etc).”
What a good question! The French day is indeed governed by a pretty strict adherence to a meal schedule, as I explored in this story for Whetstone. In France, breakfast is usually small, sweet, and eaten at home, which is why so few bakeries have seating. (Though you will find seats at a handful of my favorites, including Sain Boulangerie (10th), Du Pain et Des Idées (10th), La Parisienne (5th), and Liberté (10th). (I’m aware of the overwhelming geographical concentration of my choices. What can I say – I’m French. I eat breakfast near home.)
When lunchtime rolls around, many cafés will set up for meal service and thus will indeed refuse customers who only want a coffee, as this question implies. Come 12:30, pretty much every dining room is packed with diners, though you can usually still sip a coffee on the terrace.
But this isn't the only timing snafu you may encounter. By 2:30pm, it’s unlikely you’ll be able to get lunch in most restaurants, which close their doors until dinner service begins at 7 or 7:30pm. That said, some places do serve en continu, aka between lunch and dinner, including Bouillon Pigalle (18th) and Bistrot des Fables (7th), which I just reviewed for the Infatuation.
What I'm Reading
1. This exploration of metathesis in French, without which cheese would be called formage, ewes berbis, and gourmets groumets. I was particularly tickled by the latter, which showcases the word’s origin in describing a valet or groom whose job was to drive the wines. In l’Express.
2. This cinematic story on the Montmartrois pétanque club losing its location to a luxury hotel whose speakeasy bar I love and the owner of which is a native of Montmartre and even grew up playing pétanque in the club. In the Telegraph.
3. This short-and-sweet explanation of why most cheeses are made in wheels. In Tasting Table.
A bientôt !