My mother, knowing my adoration for Paris since she took me there when I was fourteen, bought this book for me. I was excited to wander through Paris with the author to sip coffee at a hip cafe or dine on escargo. Although I was just about to call myself a “foodie” this book awakened me to the fact that I am not a foodie, not by a long shot.
Initially, it was a bit odd reading about roaming the streets of Paris and eating flaky croissant while I was sitting at a pool in Mexico eating nachos. The story of Ms. Bard’s transformation from an American to an American living in Paris was slow and too focused on food. Clever writing and humorous dialog were rare. Instead, the author is more concerned with what she ate at the party then the party itself. The characters felt underdeveloped – the personality of the man she moves to Paris for barely emerges, yet she will launch into a discussion about sausage that will span several pages.
After more than 100 pages, I put the book down because I simply couldn’t stand listening to her talk about the food she was eating any longer!