Before we begin, I have to mention that I hit the trifecta today, which I thought would be such a good omen. Not only did I get Frase by Forbes right (with them giving the wrong clue!), I also got a Perfect on the NYT Connections, and did the Huffington Post Pyramid Scheme without a single hint. So I thought I was going into Day One unstoppable.
Not so much, but more on that in a bit.
Anyway, I talked to my friend Stacey yesterday. She’s the most French non-French person I know, as she’s managed to spend at least a month there every year for at least the past thirty years, and will likely retire in a town I can't even spell. She’s also an amazing French chef and just an excellent resource all around about the finer things in life. If you read my books, you’ll know Stacey as my go-to whenever I need an expert.
When I told her I wanted to be French for a week, her first question was, “What kind of French do you want to be?”
Well, shit.
I did not know there was more than one option, but of course there is. If you want to be American for a week, there’s an ocean of difference in lifestyle between, say, a rural midwesterner and someone from NYC. And Florida is a different beast all together.
“What are my choices?” I asked.
“Do you want to be Parisian or you want to be Provençal?”
Again, shit.
I said, “I want to be the kind of French that I can pull off in the Fox Lake, Illinois area.”
She nodded from her position on my Zoom screen. “So, you want to be Canadian.” (I know this is an excellent burn, but I am not sure why.)
“Why don’t we start with food?” she said.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Meet the Mess to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.