More Paris Observations

French Women Are Not Fat

Yes, it is true, there are no fat people to be seen in Paris.

Well that may be a sweeping statement, but generally there is a dearth of that obesity that we see in Melbourne.  I am shocked to find that Australia is rated something like fourth in the world for obesity.  While obesity is on the rise in France, the number of over weight people has doubled in 20 years, the country remains one of the 'thinnest' in Europe.

Why is this so ?  I have read about the French Paradox - the theory that the French eat well, but remain thin because they only eat small portions of very good food.  The rise in obesity is attributed to a change in the French diet and the wider consumption of American style food and eating.

I have some additional theories about this subject.  One is stairs !  I never appreciated before how very flat Melbourne is.  Having just navigated the metro and transferred to the regional train station, lugging my heavy suitcase up and down six sets of stairs, four escalators, one travelator and numerous subways, I have a new appreciation for the trials of living in an ancient city.  The metro is underground and there are very few elevators so there is no option but to trudge up and down the stairs.  And then there are the apartments.  We have been living on the third floor and the lift in our building is a modern addition wedged in between the old stairway, and as a consequence is tiny.  Really tiny. Three person tiny (or for fat Australians, probably only two person tiny).

Stairs to our local Metro (some of the stations are showing their age)

My next observation that owning a car in Paris is a luxury unaffordable by many, so people have no option but to walk and metro everywhere. They buy their shopping and drag it home - no driving the SUV up to the shops to pick up the forgotten carton of milk.

And then there are the French kitchens - just ridiculous.  Granted our apartment is a tourist rental and you would not expect it to be well provisioned but it is a fairly standard representation of a Parisian kitchen; a tiny fridge (ie: a bar fridge), two induction hot plates, and, sharing the only other power point, a kettle, toaster and microwave.  No oven. So when I decided to take on the challenge and cook dinner one night I had to factor in the limited facilities.

Typical French woman cooking

So what to cook under these conditions, for six hungry Australians in search of a healthy meal.  Of course, ratatouille, what else.  So off went Tom and I to do the shopping.  Our destination was Rue Monteguril - check it out at this link.  Tres Bon!  Spoilt for choice Tom and I found ourselves in a passionate argument outside the patisserie about which cake to buy.  For goodness sake, as if it mattered, was there going to be much difference between the splendour of the chocolate gateaux from the tarte au frambois or any of the other delicacies? After the obligatory beer on the pavement and watching the world go by, it was back to the apartment to cook.  Despite the trying cooking conditions we enjoyed three courses with some French wine sourced by brother-in-lay Jeff. Entree, melon (deliciously sweet) with smoked ham and chevre.  I now have all the family hooked on chevre, the tasty goats cheese that is so popular here.  The ratatouille followed and was served with veal and basil sausages and bread.  Oh - French bread - where to start extolling the virtues of French bread.  It has less preservatives than Australian bread and I am told that means I can eat so much more of it before blowing up into a gluten balloon.  

All this with tarte to follow !  The French do not generally make cakes or tarts - bit hard without an oven - so I did not feel guilty about buying the raspberry tart.  And for Gemma we picked up the little piggy!

Bon appetit.

Gemma with Cochon and a French tart