Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes
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Average rating3.8
In Paris for a weekend visit, Elizabeth Bard sat down to lunch with a handsome Frenchman--and never went home again. Was it love at first sight? Or was it the way her knife slid effortlessly through her pave au poivre, the steak'spink juices puddling into the buttery pepper sauce? LUNCH IN PARIS is a memoir about a young American woman caught up in two passionate love affairs--one with her new beau, Gwendal, the other with French cuisine. Packing her bags for a new life in the world's most romantic city, Elizabeth is plunged into a world of bustling open-air markets, hipster bistros, and size 2 femmes fatales. She learns to gut her first fish (with a little help from Jane Austen), soothe pangs of homesickness (with the rise of a chocolate souffle) and develops a crush on her local butcher (who bears a striking resemblance to Matt Dillon). Elizabeth finds that the deeper she immerses herself in the world of French cuisine, the more Paris itself begins to translate. French culture, she discovers, is not unlike a well-ripened cheese-there may be a crusty exterior, until you cut through to the melting, piquant heart.Peppered with mouth-watering recipes for summer ratatouille, swordfish tartare and molten chocolate cakes, Lunch in Paris is a story of falling in love, redefining success and discovering what it truly means to be at home. In the delicious tradition of memoirs like A Year in Provence and Under the Tuscan Sun, this book is the perfect treat for anyone who has dreamed that lunch in Paris could change their life.
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I love food memoirs. I admit to it, even though they are rarely different and often times merge together in my head, swimming so that I can hardly keep one separate from another.
Bard's memoir is more than just a food memoir. It is, like the subtitle implies, “a love story, with recipes.” It centers around the life she builds with her boyfriend-turned-husband, Gwendal. Bard's writing is laced with an incredible sense of humor that had me laughing hysterically and snorting, which is often rare. In fact, I find most food memoirs to be overly reminiscent of childhoods or full of melancholy. While Bard acknowledges her past—her parents, her earlier days, her cultural Judaism—she does not let that taint her experience in Paris or her new beginnings with Gwendal.
She doesn't fall prey to the same misgivings that many (including myself) attribute to the French. Bard seems to find some middle ground, like G. Willow Wilson in her memoir, between not-American but not-French. She is poignant and wry, which I love.
I wish I could type some of my favorite lines from this book, but it would take away from the fantastic events and experiences in this book. I have never had any desire to go to France or to learn French, but I absolutely adored this book. It's one of the few books that I'm not going to sell or donate before moving, and I would recommend this book to anyone.
It all started with lunch. Bard met a man and it soon became quite apparent that he was The One. And, happily, Paris, it seems, was The Place to Live. All turning out nicely for Bard, and she got a book out of the deal as well. A satisfying book at that.
