France is well known for its excellent food. Eating is ingrained in the French culture -- children are taught from an early age to develop an appreciation for the entire range of flavors and foods, meals will extend for hours, and the French set a high bar for the quality of their food. People buy food fresh, the same day or, with breads, the same hour that they'll eat it. The fresh fruits and vegetables are wonderful and the breads, pastries, and sweets are second-to-none. There is even a ubiquitous chain of frozen-food-only stores, Picard, that has excellent quality (someone could make an absolute killing if they could figure out how to replicate the model in the States).
That said, after six months here, there is a lot of food we miss from back home. Pizza, for example, isn't nearly the same here -- it is almost always ham and it is very rare to find the flavorful pepperoni, onion, peppers, garlic, sausage, mushrooms, etc. that we crave. There are also a variety of meals that we try to replicate but that just don't quite turn out the same because of differences in available ingredients. While the tacos never tasted better (probably from better quality beef and vegetables), getting the spices right in the chili has been a challenge and the pumpkin pie just wasn't quite the same.
Breakfast is an area that is a bit of a grind for us. Before moving here I anticipated that we'd run to the local boulangerie each morning, grab a croissant, pain au chocolat, or chausson aux pommes, and enjoy it with some juice for breakfast. Reality, however, has been different. On weekdays we have cereal and on weekends we have something else -- crepes, eggs, pancakes, or toast -- just like we'd do at home. But I really miss waffles and oatmeal and, after all of the rich French food, plain bran flakes.
The French brands of cereals tend to be very limited, very sweet, and full of chocolate. It is fine for a day or two but after a while it gets old. So, after six months, you get to a point where you are ready to spend $15 (12 euros) to buy a box of Cheerios. And, fortunately, there is a store where they'll enable that transaction. The place is appropriately called Thanksgiving and it is located in the Marais. There you'll find peanut butter, jelly, the disgusting-looking peanut butter and jelly mix (aka Smucker's Goober PB&J), macaroni & cheese, Pop-Tarts, candy corn (still stocked in March), Coors Light, and shelf after shelf of all-American goodness. And if you can't find what you need at Thanksgiving, you can always head over to The Real McCoy near the Eiffel Tower to see if they have it.
Erin has also gone to the grocery store at Marks & Spencer a couple of times to stock up on items that we can't find in the local stores. She'll usually get things such as cereals, peanut butter, bacon, and cheddar cheese.
In addition to these grocery stores, there are also a number of restaurants that specialize in all-American food. We've been to Coffee Parisien -- with its place mats listing all of the American Presidents -- and Schwartz's Deli. Both have menus that look great -- burgers, shakes, etc. -- but that don't quite exactly deliver what you are longing for. Which is probably just as well.
That said, after six months here, there is a lot of food we miss from back home. Pizza, for example, isn't nearly the same here -- it is almost always ham and it is very rare to find the flavorful pepperoni, onion, peppers, garlic, sausage, mushrooms, etc. that we crave. There are also a variety of meals that we try to replicate but that just don't quite turn out the same because of differences in available ingredients. While the tacos never tasted better (probably from better quality beef and vegetables), getting the spices right in the chili has been a challenge and the pumpkin pie just wasn't quite the same.
Breakfast is an area that is a bit of a grind for us. Before moving here I anticipated that we'd run to the local boulangerie each morning, grab a croissant, pain au chocolat, or chausson aux pommes, and enjoy it with some juice for breakfast. Reality, however, has been different. On weekdays we have cereal and on weekends we have something else -- crepes, eggs, pancakes, or toast -- just like we'd do at home. But I really miss waffles and oatmeal and, after all of the rich French food, plain bran flakes.
The French brands of cereals tend to be very limited, very sweet, and full of chocolate. It is fine for a day or two but after a while it gets old. So, after six months, you get to a point where you are ready to spend $15 (12 euros) to buy a box of Cheerios. And, fortunately, there is a store where they'll enable that transaction. The place is appropriately called Thanksgiving and it is located in the Marais. There you'll find peanut butter, jelly, the disgusting-looking peanut butter and jelly mix (aka Smucker's Goober PB&J), macaroni & cheese, Pop-Tarts, candy corn (still stocked in March), Coors Light, and shelf after shelf of all-American goodness. And if you can't find what you need at Thanksgiving, you can always head over to The Real McCoy near the Eiffel Tower to see if they have it.
Erin has also gone to the grocery store at Marks & Spencer a couple of times to stock up on items that we can't find in the local stores. She'll usually get things such as cereals, peanut butter, bacon, and cheddar cheese.
In addition to these grocery stores, there are also a number of restaurants that specialize in all-American food. We've been to Coffee Parisien -- with its place mats listing all of the American Presidents -- and Schwartz's Deli. Both have menus that look great -- burgers, shakes, etc. -- but that don't quite exactly deliver what you are longing for. Which is probably just as well.
I hear you on missing the things from the states. When we were stationed in Berlin, when we would come back to the states we would go and eat the foods we missed. Somethings we would also bring back with us. The plus for us though was we had the Commissary to shop in, but we also frequently shopped on the German economy. We had a small market across the street from or apartment.
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