Cafe Americain

One of the great fetishes I have is food.

Popular cable television terms consumers with a taste for something unique "foodies". I can't imagine a more classically grotesque term to define an individual with an abiding respect for the art of the kitchen. Another popular term is gourmet, appropriated by Williams Sonoma (a fine cookware establishment) and others who care to savor the more refined things in life.

I must subscribe, in spite of all, to three philosophies on food and dining that succinctly sum up my own personal approach to delectable sustenance. To wit:

1. "You cannot appreciate good cooking unless you try all cooking." - Julia Child
2. "I don't like food, I love it. " - reference the food critic in the 2007 film 'Ratatouille'
3. One day, the Roman emperor Lucullus had, by some chance, the evening to himself. He informed his chef that he would take his dinner alone, in his private chamber. The chef sent up a selection of the Roman equivalent of cold cuts of meat and leftovers. Lucullus sent it all back to the kitchen, and then sent for the chef. "When you prepare food to entertain guests in our company," he began, "I expect you to prepare a spectacular feast. But when I dine alone, it is then that you must prepare the finest of all meals. For it is then that Lucullus dines with Lucullus!"

Or: try all food, understand what truly fine food is, and love it. It is always good to dine with spouses and friends, but when dining alone, then truly accommodate yourself as your own best company!

Which brings me to the point of this post. When traveling abroad, we often stay with good friends who are more than generous with their homes, lives and families. Coming from Polish Catholic (that's from Poland) heritage, I find myself thinking (guiltily, of course) that we must repay the debt of our stay, our inconvenience to our friends somehow.

And being Polish, the solution is food. And, although I try to moderate it, lots of food (I was never a 'good boy' for my grandmother as a child unless I asked for a second helping).

So I've been thinking: what would ex-pat Americans who have made their lives, happily, in France enjoy for dinner? Cooking for friends is a laudable pastime. Surely in France, terrine, pate', boudin, chevre, all that we find exotic in the States, is the every-day fare. Surely something "they can't get over there" would be the ticket.

Why not a classic American steak dinner? The butcher's cut in France is much different, but I think we can muster a fine cut of steak, perhaps a filet mignon (French to begin with), shallot-dijon-white wine sauce (or Roquefort-Cognac sauce, or...), roasted mushrooms, and buttery roasted Yukon Gold potatoes.

Aperitif: classic martinis (no flavored liqueur, just olives, vermouth and gin or vodka)

With dinner: deep, farm-flavored red wine, redolent of lavender, rosemary, the smell of golden fall leaves on the wind, earth and minerals

Dessert: Tart Tatine. Apple pie ala mode in a pinch. Particularly in Normandy, apples don't get any better. Anywhere. Or the Calvados, which must be lit on fire in the kitchen and presented in a dark dining room.

After dinner: (if you can stand it) a cigar and a walk. Scotch or Port, depending on the mood.

A fire and a comfortable, engaging conversation. Bed. The prospect of waking up to a clear light streaming through the window, your wife beside you, and starting the day with only the planning of lunch ahead.