There are many things j’adore about living in France.
Most of them are food-related.
I love that wine costs no more than its unfermented cousin juice.
I love that there is a bakery on nearly every block.
I love that the bakeries are all in a permanent contest to see who can mix the most butter into flour and still come out with a pastry.
I love my mentality that I probably won’t get to stay here forever, so I might as well try all of them now.
I love that the best breads I’ve had in my life only cost 85 cents.
I love macaroons.
I love almond croissants.
I love that when I order these things, it’s like I’m living a page out of my French I textbook.
I love that the French are so gourmand that even store brands of foods are fantastic. (Seriously. Can you imagine a world where there is a generic brand of pâté de foie gras?! That world exists. It is called Monoprix, and it is where I buy groceries.)
I love that the French say Bon appetit!
I love that the French linger over meals.
I love that a French meal is incomplete without dessert.
I love that there are no drive-thrus.
I love that the closest French equivalent to a drive-thru is a walk-by counter where you grab bread on the way home from work without actually going in the bakery.
I love that instead of drinking one big cup in the morning, the French drink little cups of coffee all day long.
I love that they love coffee and that they make it strong.
More than anything else, though, I love the Saturday farmer’s market by my home.
Next time on EJ in Angers: more on the farmer’s market.