I recently had the great joy of seeing friends from the States in Paris. Young, newly married, and cruising the world, they chose to spend her birthday in the City of Lights, and I was happy to share a coupe de champagne in honor of the occasion before they headed to Biarritz and then on to Morocco. I've known Lindsey since she was in high school, and it was sweet to meet her adorable husband Girard. She was glowing and as exuberant as ever, (obviously well bezed), and they have a beautiful life ahead of them! I have received a few letters since their departure, and with Madame's permission I would like to share one with you. So, from the pen of LL Ellison I give you "This bread is my life":
"This bread is my life," said the Frenchman, as he waved the baguette in my face and then shoved it in his mouth. How profound...and what a contradiction to the notion that you shouldn't buy into cultural stereotypes. The only thing that could've been better was if he would have been wearing a beret and twirling his French moustache.
What did this crazy man mean? Bread is your life? There are so many ways one could interpret such a remark! I mean, was his statement purely literal, as if to imply he had survived all of these years relying solely on the nutritional sustinence of French baguettes? Surely not. Too many carbohydrates. And besides, he looked drunk not poor and emaciated.
"This bread is my life." Obviously symbolic. Some sort of spiritual reference, a transcendence of yeast and water into nourishment of the soul. How zen of him.
Or perhaps he's referring to his strong French upbringing - A toddler amongst the lavender fields, smoking cigarettes and studying wine pairings. Once a child, now a man lost in the aroma of rising dough, reminiscent of revolutions past and his undying love for his countrymen.
But, wait! Surely "this bread," this crusty baton, isn't a reference to his French manhood? But, of course! What else are the French known for besides Eiffel Towers and Napoleon, expensive soaps and hairy armpits? Sex!!! He's making love with his baguette!
"This bread is my life," said the Frenchman, as he waved the baguette in my face and then shoved it in his mouth. How profound...and what a contradiction to the notion that you shouldn't buy into cultural stereotypes. The only thing that could've been better was if he would have been wearing a beret and twirling his French moustache.
What did this crazy man mean? Bread is your life? There are so many ways one could interpret such a remark! I mean, was his statement purely literal, as if to imply he had survived all of these years relying solely on the nutritional sustinence of French baguettes? Surely not. Too many carbohydrates. And besides, he looked drunk not poor and emaciated.
"This bread is my life." Obviously symbolic. Some sort of spiritual reference, a transcendence of yeast and water into nourishment of the soul. How zen of him.
Or perhaps he's referring to his strong French upbringing - A toddler amongst the lavender fields, smoking cigarettes and studying wine pairings. Once a child, now a man lost in the aroma of rising dough, reminiscent of revolutions past and his undying love for his countrymen.
But, wait! Surely "this bread," this crusty baton, isn't a reference to his French manhood? But, of course! What else are the French known for besides Eiffel Towers and Napoleon, expensive soaps and hairy armpits? Sex!!! He's making love with his baguette!
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