Emily in France 🇫🇷 I Rarely Say Bonjour
In constant communication
One of the first pieces I penned that made me feel like writing might not just be my love and passion but a viable career was on the power of bonjour. Originally published by the Wall Street Journal’s now-defunct Expat Blog, it ended up appearing in print (and eight years later, a clip is still wedged into the bulletin board hanging on the back door at my mom’s house).
The story delved into the ways I’d realized, since moving to France eight years prior, that bonjour could be a bit of a secret weapon of sorts, a means of weaseling my way into the good graces of the French. (It’s also a topic explored at length in Julie Barlow and Jean-Benoit Nadeau's The Bonjour Effect, not to mention the subject of the pilot episode of my podcast, Navigating the French, which Julie gamely joined me on to discuss this essential word.)
Writing for such well-heeled publications is a bit of a mixed bag: On the one hand, it was pretty validating to appear in a paper I regularly saw on the welcome mat of my apartment as I left for school growing up. On the other, whenever something you write is read by such a wide audience, there’s going to be kickback. People took to the blogosphere (because there was still a blogosphere, at the time) claiming I'd gotten it wrong: That saying bonjour was far from uniquely French, that if it had been so hard for me to get a handle on this habit, I must be the rudest sumb***h to ever roam the great US of A.
I took it pretty hard, at the time. (I like to think I’ve since developed a thicker skin.) If nothing else, I’ve now taken advantage of the wisdom afforded by time and distance and can thus say…
I’m from Manhattan, aka the capital of not-rude-but-efficient. Exhibit A.
I grew up with a father who answers the phone the way people do on TV: No hello, no goodbye.
(This may, of course, explain the disconnect that led to my best friend scolding me, back in college, for never saying goodbye on MSN before going to bed.)
These days, however, my lack of hello – and goodbye – feels like the norm among my mostly-online community. The vast majority of my conversations with my friends and my siblings are long and protracted, conducted over WhatsApp or Instagram. We can pick up and drop off minutes, hours, or even days later; we rarely say goodbye, much less hello.
(My father, as is often the case, was so far ahead of the curve as to be maddening.)
So maybe this is living abroad in 2024: Eschewing greetings, salutations, and well wishes in favor of having those we love forever at our fingertips. It’s a stark contrast from my early days in Paris, where contact with home happened in a phone box or by way of long-distance minutes added to an orange flip phone that beeped ominously when my money (quickly) ran out. It certainly doesn't negate the power of bonjour in a shop or restaurant, in France… but it has a way of making me feel all that much closer to those I love.
Cheese of the Week
Seeing as cheese shops are usually defined by a color scheme with a narrow range of taupe to écru, Morbier is always a welcome surprise, with its orange rind and blue-grey center. It’s unsurprising that most first think that line through Morbier’s middle is blue mold, but in reality, it’s ash, a holdover, some say, from the times when inclement weather precluded Franche-Comté dairy farmers from getting their evening milk down to the cooperative for production of the region's massive 88-pound wheels of Comté. Instead, they would ladle the curds into smaller molds and top them with ash to protect them from unwelcome bacteria overnight, finishing the tomme with curds from the morning’s milking to make this more diminutive, semi-soft, pressed-and-uncooked delicacy.
Whether the legend is true or not, I love Morbier for its nutty, slightly funky flavors that stem in large part from its lightly washed rind. It’s also a welcome substitute for raclette if you're taking part in après-ski cheese specialties.
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
Would you look at that beast. That’s a turkey breast pounded thin, lined with a layer of ham from the Prince of Paris, aka the only producer of Paris ham still producing the delicacy in Paris (I visited him when attempting to create the perfect croque monsieur), stuffed with a softball-sized portion of grated Comté cheese. Rolled in breadcrumbs and fried to perfection, it puts most iterations of the cordon bleu to shame – and it’s got a permanent spot on the menu at the lovely Bistrot des Tournelles in the Marais. More on the blog.
What I’m Doing
1. Our next TERRE/MER retreat is on the books! Join us for cooking, ceramics, and yoga overlooking the Mediterranean from April 11 to 14. Book now to secure yoru spot!
2. Signups for the next edition of the Nantes Writers’ Workshop June 24 to 28 are open! In the meantime, be sure to sign up for our newsletter to keep those creative juices a-flowing.
Where I’m Going
1. To Maxim's, to see how Paris Society has revamped this Art Nouveau institution since taking it over late last year. (I’ll be channelling Gigi and may well wear a feather on my head.)
2. To try out a cooking class at the new outpost of the Cordon Bleu in the historic Hôtel de la Marine.
3. To the gorgeous Bibliothèque Forney for a writing date with a dear friend, the brilliant Dr. Gemma King, of Les Musées de Paris.
What I'm Writing
1. With the help of experts, I delved into the differences between Parmesan and Parmigiano (and why you want the latter). For InsideHook.
2. The definition of what constitutes a dirty martini is expanding by the minute – and these unconventional ones are taking Miami by storm. For InsideHook.
3. From the archives: In Paris, you'll definitely be visiting museums. Here’s now not to get stuck eating at tourist traps. For Fodor's.
What I'm Reading
1. Sovietistan was recommended by a friend whose tastes I trust, so despite not previously having much knowledge about this region, I decided to give it a go. Don't let the sheer immensity of this tome put you off: Erika Fatland is deft in her approach to zeroing in on the history and culture of these Central Asian countries, exploring what makes each of them distinct while also bringing center stage an essential issue: In countries whose pre-Soviet history retains little indelible evidence, how do locals perceive/explore/explain their own history and identity? I loved discovering these countries through Fatland's unwaveringly curious approach. This travel narrative isn't just exquisitely written; it's also rich in intelligence, heart, and empathy.
2. This explainer that showcases the crunchy crystals in cheese, exploring what they’re made of (hint: not salt) and why they’re becoming more sought-after after years of cheesemakers attempting to avoid them altogether. In Culture.
3. Some days, being bilingual makes me feel smart; other days, it makes me feel stupid. Apparently, science says I’m right on both counts. In the BBC.
A bientôt !