Day 11: The French Sunday Family Lunch

All over France, people have lunch with their families on Sunday afternoons. Some families meet in restaurants, often in a big multi-generational group; others go to their mother's or grandmother's place for the meal. It's part of the culture to do this, and I think it's a nice tradition.

In our French family, we don't get to do it very often. My husband's parents have been deceased for more than a decade, and his sisters live in other parts of France; the one that does live in Paris, we never see (long story and off-topic). We spend several holidays a year with the sister who lives in the south of France, and that's a lot of fun.

There is yet another sister who lives in a suburb of Paris which is about a 30-minute train ride for us, and every so often we make the trip out there on a Sunday, or they come into Paris to see us instead. But we don't do it every week or even every month, so when we do get to do it, it's a lot of fun. Today was the day we went to visit them: my sister-in-law and her son. (She also has a daughter and granddaughter but they were away today.)

Things like this are what make France worth it.

It was actually a good day to go and do the family thing because the weather was dreadful; drizzle and light rain all through the earlier part of the day, and by mid-afternoon it was POURING and my feet felt frozen, even indoors. When we arrived on the train, they met us at the station and then we went to the local marché to pick out what we wanted to eat (teasing them about how well prepared they were for this lunch; but then again we weren't well prepared as guests, either, having forgotten to bring a bottle of wine with us). We hit the boulanger for bread and dessert, the wine shop (ha!) and then the market, where we picked up all the fixings for a traditional French Sunday dinner en famille - two rotisserie chickens, potatoes au gratin, four kinds of cheeses, two baguettes, individual pastries for everyone (we all chose what we wanted, instead of getting a big tarte or cake) and the red wine.

This was not the day to worry about points, clearly. The best I could do was just watch my portions and go with the flow. If pressed to estimate my points, I'd have to with, what... 80?

The good news is, I ate a simple, light breakfast and there were no appetizers or snacks before or after the meal. The bad news is, I'm home alone tonight with my 10-year-old step-son (husband left directly after we got back to Paris on the train for a 3 day business trip) and I've gotta feed this kid something, and he wants spaghetti. So there's that. I'm really not very hungry at all after the big lunch (in France, it is more common to eat a bigger meal at lunch and then a very light dinner, and I'll be following that tradition tonight for sure) so I will make a small amount of pasta and may eat very little or even none of it. The Bubble feels too pronounced right now, as I sit typing this.

Sometimes, you have to make allowances for real life, and not freak out about it. Frankly, I had a great time with my French family (my husband's nephew is a RIOT) and I understand more and more French the more time I spend with them, so I get to participate more in the conversations than I used to. And it is really not "done" in France to walk into a family meal and (a) refuse to eat what is being offered or (b) to announce you're on a diet; that sort of thing is (a) rude and (b) private.

It's one of the best, and also the worst, parts about living in France: the French have a whole other relationship with food than the Americans. In America, we have a love-hate relationship with food: we love it but we fear it so much, fear it taking over our lives and our bodies. We don't eat for pleasure; eating has become utilitarian, food is seen as "fuel" and nothing more.

The French would say "Bof!" to that attitude. They have a love-Love-LOVE relationship with food. They take their time when eating (well, most do. My husband is a speed-eater, but he still gets great enjoyment out of what he's eating). They usually always eat at a table, rarely in front of a TV or at a desk or while hurrying down the street (although I have seen busy working people eating a sandwich on the bus or metro when they're in a rush). They enjoy and they savor; even my young step-son will tell me: "Savoré!" if he thinks I'm eating too quickly.

To the French, mealtimes are sacred, and family meals the most sacred of all, so you take your time (2-3 hours on a Sunday for the actual eating part of the day is normal). You talk. Food is served in courses so you get a little pause in between dishes. You talk some more. You have some wine. And almost always, cheese at the end (although dessert could just as easily be fruit or yogurt; it's not always something rich and high-calorie like we had today).

For better or worse, I don't have these sorts of big family meals that often. I'm not going to lie: I enjoy them. But not only for the food itself. I like the ritual and how I feel like I am part of a family here when we get to dine with my husband's relatives, since I'm so far from my own family. 

So for the few times a year we do this, I'm not feeling one big guilty about it. And NOT feel guilty is actually a very healthy thing for me, where food is concerned.


How I did yesterday: not bad and I did get in that cleaning workout and quite a bit of walking. 
How I'm doing today (so far): read the above.