I’ve come to realize that the local bakery is to Parisians what Tupperware is for Americans.
I grew up going to dinner parties with my parents and never had to ask what we would bring (we rarely hosted). An oversized plastic salad bowl covered in aluminum foil with its diminutive tupperware companion that stored the dressing. Dessert was never our contribution to the meal, always greens. Arriving with our arms full, we’d be greeted at the door by a woman with a soiled apron and slightly tousled hair (that may or may not have sheltered bits of dangling crumbs) who would lead us to the table where we would set down our salad, right next to a heap of other rainbow-colored Tupperware containers.
The fact that my French mother-in-law still boasts the wonders of Tupperware, and the tradition of their parties, is not only amusing to me but somewhat indicative of how novel certain American products are in foreign markets – particular those with business models targeting at stay-at-home women.
When I’m invited to someone’s home for a meal in Paris, it inevitably requires a trip to the bakery and/or wine shop. Would the host enjoy a simple baguette? A bagful of chouquette? Or maybe a…
