My husband Sean and I first visited Paris almost 40 years ago as struggling students. And from that trip, I have a distinct memory of then-boyfriend Sean saying repeatedly, “All I want is a little bread, a little cheese, a little wine, and to sit by the Seine.”
We probably couldn’t afford wine at that time, and I don’t recall if we made that moment happen. I do remember at the end of the trip existing on potato chips when our travel funds ran dry. Sean and I have repeated this phrase over the years - just give me a little bread, a little cheese . . . whenever we want a change of pace, something to take us away. To me, his refrain is a celebration of savoring, something he is particularly good at.
Jump to last summer when Sean and I visited Paris again, in our we-can-afford-wine-now era. And yet, instead of wishing to dine at Epicure, Sean repeated his bread/cheese/wine desire. This time, we chose the Jardin du Luxembourg for our déjeuner and came to the park with provisions that included two tiny bottles of screw-top wine.
We were so excited to bring to fruition this idea we’ve played with for years. We started out on the iconic green metal chairs that are placed around the park’s paths. But then, Savoring Sean spotted a beautiful tree, and he decided we must elevate this experience further. So we dragged our chairs on the grass and continued our adventure.
I speak a little French, but I really had no idea what an older woman started screaming at us not long after we set up camp. I’m guessing it was something like, “Descendez de la pelouse, bande d’Américains stupides!” (Get off the grass, you stupid Americans!)
We didn’t understand her words, but we knew what she was telling us. We immediately packed up and brought our chairs back to the path. We were red-faced from being chastened (it stings a little more to be verbally slapped in French) but also from the strain of suppressed laughter. A little post-picnic research reveals that sitting on the grass, at least in that part of the park, was strictly interdit.
We may have been accidental ugly Americans in that moment, but we quickly fell back in line with Parisian park etiquette. We crunched a baguette that revealed soft, fresh dough inside. The ham and cheese cut with the knife Sean fashioned out of a coffee stirrer was rich with flavor, as is my memory of this Parisian moment flanked by sunshine and trees and all manner of Parisians passing by.
For more information on this scene, visit Jardin du Luxembourg