Authors: Harriet Welty Rochefort
French Toast
Also by Harriet Welty Rochefort
French Fried
An American in Paris Celebrates the
Maddening Mysteries of the French
Harriet Welty Rochefort
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS
.
An imprint of St. Martin's Press.
FRENCH TOAST
. Copyright © 1997, 1999, 2010 by Harriet Welty
Rochefort. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.
For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue,
New York, N.Y. 10010.
Illustration on the chapter-opening pages © 1997 by David Roth.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover
edition as follows:
Rochefort, Harriet Welty.
French toast : an American in Paris celebrates the maddening mysteries of the French / Harriet Welty Rochefort.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-312-19978-4
1. Rochefort, Harriet WeltyâHomes and hauntsâFranceâParis. 2. Paris (France)âSocial life and customsâ20th centuryâHumor. 3. National characteristics. Frenchâhumor. 4. AmericansâFranceâParisâBiography. 5. Women journalistsâFranceâParisâBiography. I. Title.
DC718.A44R63 1999
944'.36081âdc21
98-31419
CIP
ISBN 978-0-312-64278-5 (trade paperback)
First published in France by Anglophone S.A. in a somewhat different form.
First St. Martin's Griffin Edition: June 2010
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To the memory of my parents, Paul and Doris Welty
The French Connection
Meet Philippe!
Getting Here
From Shenandoah, Iowa, to Paris, France
The Frenchwoman
Why no self-respecting Frenchwoman would be caught
dead in a suit and tennis shoes
The Parisians
How an lowan fends for herself among the inhabitants
of the City of Light
Politesse
The French, polite? What to do and not to do in polite society
French Toast
owes a great debt to many people. My French family generously included me in their lives from the very beginning. Thanks to my mother-in-law, I learned how to cook a few decent meals. My sister-in-law, the epitome of French chic, taught me a lot about the French-woman, which is why I use her as an example so frequently.
My American familyâthe late Doris Welty-Bury; Miriam Welty Trangsrud and Chuck Trangsrud; John Welty; Ward, Jane, and Ryan Weltyâhas always supported me in every way, beginning with my mother, who very wisely never tried to keep me at home. This book was an attempt to explain to them what it's really like to live abroad.
Many people helped with this book in different ways and I apologize to anyone I may have left out inadvertently. Bob and Ann Campbell, Sarah Colton, Dorie Denbigh, Martine Gérard, Mercedes Guerric, Richard Hill, Fred Painton, Ron and Betty Rosbottom, Nancy and Pierre Sayer, and Jan Tabet proffered pertinent, judicious, and sensitive observations. Judy Fayard unwittingly inspired this bookâas European editor of the now-defunct
European Travel & Life
, she asked me to contribute articles on life in France, large parts of which appear in two of the chapters of this book. Jayne Binet, Jill Bourdais, Dr. Hiraoki Ota, and Alain Schifres graciously agreed to be interviewed. Janet Thorpe, Nancy Sayer, and Marcia Lord generously took the time to proofread the manuscript.
French Toast
owes its name to the late Lambert Mayer and his friends at Trim International and Business Wire. My gratitude to my agent, Regula Noetzli, for her efficiency, and my editor, Karyn Marcus, for her enthusiastic support.
Finally, my expert adviser and partner, Philippe Roche-fort, has borne with me through thick and thin. He has grappled with my gripes, listened for hours on end to my opinions of the French school system, proofread my copy, worked the Mac (which I treat as a glorified typewriter), caught errors, and let me interview him. Without him,
French Toast
would never have seen the light of day. Nicolas, Benjamin, and David, the three Roche-fort sons, were of constant inspiration and help with
this project. They, too, were interviewed and helped me with their considerable computer skills, but mostly they were what they are: really fine young men and great company.
This book was definitely not written by a committee. The opinions in it are, as they say, mine and mine alone.
French Toast
When
French Toast
was published thirteen years ago, I was both gratified and surprised by how quickly it found its niche. As one amused reader passed it on to another, it became clear that it appealed to a range of sensibilities: those interested in France, those interested in living in France, those interested in an American living in France, those interested in an American married to a Frenchman and who had two children, plus the challenge of French in-laws who didn't speak English. Although all of them got a laugh from it or even maybe learned something from entering “my world,” the ones who identified the most furiously with my little tale were, understandably,
like me: women who had married a Frenchman and who were living in France trying to cope with the issues of cultural adjustment which one can blithely ignore when a tourist. One of the many letters I received was from a woman who, like me, was an American married to a Frenchman and living in France. “All this time I thought that I was crazy or my husband was,” she penned. “But after reading your book, I see that what I thought was sheer insanity can be chalked up to all those cultural differences. Thanks for allowing me to breathe deeper and relax.”
I loved the idea of enabling this reader to “relax” and enjoy herself and not get bogged down in the craziness of life in a foreign culture. In fact the main reason I wrote the book was to explain cultural differences to myself and to try to cool down about Things the French Did That Drove Me Insane and get beyond the question of “Is my French husband nuts or is it me?” From the way the French drove and the way they colorfully insulted each other to the cold way Parisian mothers didn't greet me in front of the school to . . . well, for the rest, you can read the book. . . . At the time I wrote this, though, I was having such a hard time that there seemed to be no alternative; either I wrote down all the things I found “funny” and couldn't get used toâor I left the country before my frustration turned to hostility. Since I didn't want to leave, I decided to jot down every single aspect of French life that seemed odd, curious, or mysteriousâ
and the list turned into the book
French Toast
. It was a good thing for me and, I'd like to think, for some of my readers. Not only did I cool down, but I've also enjoyed life in France in a much different and fuller way than I ever expected. Yes, the French are “funny”âbut so are we. . . .
Every year I'm asked to speak to groups of newly arrived Americans and Europeans who don't know what to expect in this very different country where the ways of acting and behaving seem to be so much more important than elsewhere. “Live and let live” isn't really a French thing to do. If I lived in Finland or Brazil, I doubt I'd get as many calls for help as I do in France where there's a much greater chance that someone not in the know can make a big gaffe. I shudder to think of all the ones I made early on, many of which are set in stone forever in this book.
I was far from imagining that my interest in cultural differences, an interest stemming from my very practical concern about trying to fit into French society, was shared by thousands of people, who either have come to France as tourists or who have never come at all. The reaction to
French Toast
proved to me that Americans, whether Francophiles or Francophobes, are simultaneously intrigued, intimidated, or incensed by the French. The same goes for the French who are simultaneously in admiration of, fascinated and/or repelled by the Americans.
Scores of books written by academics and journalists have tried to get to the bottom of this mutual fascinationâsome would say this mutual love-hate. A handful of books, such as mine, have been written by the Total Immersion people, Americans who have married French people and lived their lives in France and whose views are necessarily different because they are writing from their own experiences and not from theory.
I always think about this when my Francophile friends come to visit. Some stay a few days or a week, others, especially the ones who are professors on sabbatical leaves, for much longer. On one hand, since they don't live here all the time, they are less blasé, less jaded. They're thrilled to discover that special goat cheese they'd never seen or tasted before. They go gaga over the Paris shopping and cultural scene. They wonder why the French seem to spend so much time in cafés and why they always seem to be on strike (well, so do I). But the ones who stay around long enough find themselves alternately admiring of, mystified by, or simply ticked off by the French way. My book was an effort to figure out why. . . .