Breakfast In Paris…

An article crosses the desk seemingly pointed right at me. The writer laments breakfast in Paris, whining the French don’t offer a humongous American wake up call of eggs, bacon, sausage or potatoes. Never one to turn down bacon, I still bristle and scream out, “Blasphemer.”

The idea that a freshly baked baguette heaped in real butter and fruity jam is any less than the perfect way to wake up is, well, American. The writer snarks the French idea of breakfast is basically anything slathered in jam. And?

Certainly, we aren’t slamming the croissant? Mon Dieu. Although we would never add more to its buttery perfection, it cannot be argued it is the perfect vessel for fruit spreads of any stripe. Those of us who regard bread amongst life’s finest things might actually jump from our beds, sleepy eyed, sans makeup (well probably not without makeup but still) to rush to the boulangerie were fresh baked croissants the prize, non?

Who are we, the most obese of the world, to advise the least obese what to eat for breakfast? Stop smoking, yes. But stop eating bread for breakfast? Never. Can’t we all just live and let live? Who’s got my fan? And a chocolate-infused croissant? And coffee to make me feel I’ve been shot from a cannon?

The brakes screech in my brain. Taking shots at a writer about a lifestyle I defend but do not live? That’s on me. Why am I not drinking cafe and stuffing my gullet with jam laden baguettes each morning? It’s not like they’re magical unicorn food, all unattainable and sparkly.

A photo transports me to the streets of Paris, shopping with The Norwegian. If you look closely, you’ll spy a half eaten baguette amongst the wares. It’s a day shopping, wandering, exploring, young and in love, munching a baguette on the streets of Paris. How very un-Parisian of me.

In my American way, I rushed from shop to shop, no time to sit, too much to do. Eating on the run, as always. No matter it was neither slathered in jam nor was I perched properly at a sidewalk cafe taking my time. I did, however, have my pearls.

Perhaps it’s time for a rewind? And I sensing wanderlust?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s