12 December 2009

Breakfast in America Parisian Style

There is a diner in Paris.  Yes, a diner.  It has red diner booths, Frenches mustard, and those true-to-a-diner sugar pourer glasses . . . you know, with the round silver top, and the greasy-never-been-washed ribbed glass sides. 

I had heard about Breakfast in America from fellow American students, but I really had no interest in going there.  I've only been here four months, and haven't really been feeling the need to "eat American" yet.  But one of the prof's here at the school invited me to join her and small group of students for breakfast this morning.  And when a prof asks you to join it's best to accept. 

I had no idea what to expect upon arrival . . . but I confess, I suprised myself with the feeling of giddiness I had when I saw the neon red "DINER" above the door!  I laughed . . . "A diner . . . IN PARIS?!?!?" As I entered, I found myself feeling happier and happier.  The chalkboard of todays specials: PASTRAMI with MUSTARD!!  Not sure if it was on rye, but it was pastrami!

Also on the menu: hamburgers . . . and chicken nuggets . . . and cheesecake . . . and breakfast burritos . . . and Dr. Pepper and RootBeer . . . and bottomless cups of coffee . . . and (drum roll please) BAGELS WITH CREAM CHEESE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

I was with three other Americans, my French professor, and a German student . . . but the three Americans are from either the south or the midwest, so when I exclaimed "BAGELS!" and "PASTRAMI!" my joy was met with "DR. PEPPER!"  While I know they enjoyed the little slice of home, I don't think it meant as much.  Diners are definately specific to the culture of the northeast . . . or at least to the greater New York City and Philadelphia and Jersey Shore areas.

I never thought I would be so happy over a bagel.  But as I sat there, thinking about it, I wanted to cry.  I didn't order a bagel.  I didn't actually want to eat one.  But just knowing that if I did, I could have one.  It was a wonderful feeling. 

And a bottomless cup of coffee!!  Now, when it comes to wine or cheese or pastries, the French are experts, but I have to admit, I think they know very little about coffee.  So to purchase a good cup of coffee that came in a real mug that the waitress kept filling was about as close to home I'm going to get right about now . . . granted, I would never describe diner coffee as "a good cup of coffee," but hey, I'm in France, not everything can be authentic!

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

That's how I felt when we moved to Lynchburg in 1989 -- an hour and a half drive to a good bagel and Chinese food....

Anonymous said...

Hooray for you Deb.

A little taste of home away from home. That's great!!

Anita

M.S. said...

Oh Lord, thank you for the unexpected joys in Paris. And thank you that we are American and have deep rooted loves like bagels and good coffee. It makes us who we are. Thank you for allowing us to experience the joy of who we are via BREAKFAST IN AMERICA!!! YAY!!!! Amen. (Megan)

M.S. said...

Oh Lord, thank you for the unexpected joys in Paris. And thank you that we are American and have deep rooted loves like bagels and good coffee. It makes us who we are. Thank you for allowing us to experience the joy of who we are via BREAKFAST IN AMERICA!!! YAY!!!! Amen. (Megan)