Emily In France Exclusive 🇫🇷 5 Things to Eat in Paris this October

From the desk of an expat.

Despite a prolonged summer, Paris has finally welcomed its first cooler temperatures as of, well, today. And I’m ready. Not just because I did as I always do and packed up most of my summer clothes weeks ago (like… in September), so I've been wearing the same three sundresses in a loop (I never learn), but also because I’m more than ready for fall produce.

I don't think I ever put so much thought into seasonal eating until I arrived in Paris. Aided by bumper crops from Central and South America – not to mention Florida and California’s all-season bounty – my New York City childhood didn't really hinge on the seasonality of food. Sure, there was corn on the cob in August, and yes, the ice men were an indelible part of the leadup to the summer holidays, but at home, our fruit bowl was always full of apples, oranges, and bananas, no matter the season, and broccoli, as one of the only vegetables my three siblings and I could agree on, was an omnipresent offering.

In France, however, seasonal eating is omnipresent. Market vendors give the season’s bounty pride of place (and prices that suit its abundance). From the outset, sixteen years ago, I long spent summers in the south, where we ate apricots with abandon until they slowly disappeared, to be replaced by some of the most delectable peaches I’ve ever had. Even when I was on a student budget, gleaning most of my food from the supermarket, I would notice when the very first Spanish strawberries appeared in March – and notice, too, when come August, they weren't looking nearly as pretty.

But what was once a mere fascination has become an obsession, something that seems, as the French say plus fort que moi – stronger than I am. At some point at the tail-end of August, at which point I had been maintaining a quarter-watermelon-a-week habit, the very idea of eating the refreshing pink flesh repulsed me, and I had to force myself to finish the chunks I had lovingly sliced and stored in the fridge. Come mid-September, the tomatoes that had formed the backbone of my diet since June no longer seemed appealing, relegating to sitting lonesomely on the fruit plate as I reached, instead, for the first kale of the season to make up my midday salad.

My apple collection has started to amass on the fruit plate; the body count on my potimarron consumption is already two (and there’s one waiting in the wings.)

But that’s not all.

Fall is not just the prime time for seasonal produce in Paris. October ushers in some of my favorite cheeses, comfort food dishes, and pastries. And now that the weather has finally decided to cooperate, it’s hard to decide what to dig into first.

All that to say… if you're in Paris this October, here are all the things I humbly implore you to eat.

1. Reblochon Cheese

Reblochon is perhaps one of the more approachable of the washed rind cheese family. While it’s definitely got some stank on it, it’s not nearly as odiferous as something like Epoisses or Maroilles or Munster, the latter of which I have been asked to avoid bringing into the wine cellars where I do cheese-and-wine tastings for Paris by Mouth, lest its stench put off other customers.

By comparison, Reblochon is fairly easygoing: Thanks to its gentle pressing, it develops a firmer, more flan-like texture than some other members of the family. It’s definitely got some umami complexity to it, but it’s counterbalanced by a lovely lactic creaminess and a slight nutty quality.

Much to the chagrin of artisanal producers, most Reblochon is baked into tartiflette, a casserole of potatoes, bacon, onions, cream, and, of course, loads of the melted cheese. It’s delicious, to be sure, but it’s far from the best way to appreciate the subtlety of this cheese that seems tailor-made for early fall, when the milk still comes from cows who have grazed on the last of the summer pastures for a flavor as freshly herbaceous as it is rich and comforting.

2. Paris’ Best Chausson Aux Pommes

When pressed to pick my favorite viennoiserie, I pretty much always opt for the chausson aux pommes, or apple slipper. Much like its cousins the croissant or the pain au chocolat, a chausson is made with flaky, buttery, laminated dough. But this little slipper conceals a seasonal treat: apples.

Apple chaussons vary from bakery to bakery. The most commonplace among them are stuffed simply with applesauce; at Du Pain et Des Idées, the pastry is folded around a whole caramelized apple. But my favorite boasts slow-cooked apple segments in an almost syrupy sauce, not to mention a caramelized exterior that’s almost like if the ideal crème brûlée top were somehow affixed to the very best buttery croissant.