Bonjour! Bagging A Baguette.
How to (and not) order a baguette in Paris. Houh, houh.
I’m not here today to talk to you about a bunch of holiday food, but—-
Yes, I do the cooking Olympics. Yes, I handle it independently, because that’s how I like to do my magic dance. Get out of the kitchen and leave me alone! It’s a solo piece that may look interpretive and freestyle to an untrained eye, but it’s all intuitive and intentional. There’s a deep relationship between myself, my senses, and the ingredients. The ingredients include the space, lighting, music — everything. Some of you know what I mean. If ya don’t, I invite you to begin seeing what cooking is like for those of us who become one with it. I don’t even think that “cooking” is the right term for what it is, that’s too narrow. It is an extension of me - I’m not separate from the food, or the experience. I think that’s how I can describe it best. We are one.
I AM here today to talk to you about baguettes, specifically the baguettes I ate while I was in Paris. The twelve hundred baguettes I ate when I was in Paris. But mainly…my panic and anxiety about ordering the baguettes I wanted to eat when I was in Paris. I don’t want this panic to happen to you. Jean did that, so hopefully you won’t have to go through that.
I was prepared to walk into a boulangerie and order a baguette. That’s it, that’s all.
“Bonjour, je voudrais une baguette s’il vous plait. Merci beaucoup. Bonne journee.”
Translates:
“Hello, I would like a baguette, please. Thank you so much. Have a good day.”
I had prepared this statement. Rehearsed it far too many times. In my head. Out loud. On the way to the bakery. On line in the bakery, so nervous I was about to throw up for fear of forgetting it all at and blurting out, “A — un—-une bag please goodbye no thank you,” and running out of the store, with failure tucked under my arm instead of delicious bread.
I’d researched how to say it online, and worried that my asking of the baguette might be too formal. Should I say “je voudrais” - “I would like,” or should I say “je vais prendre” - “I will take” ??????
What would Real French Jean say? I’d already been doing such a good job of not looking like an American, I didn’t want to throw it all away with one mistake! Maybe if I were a regular customer, I would je vais prendre, but could I get away with pretending I was Jean from down the street? I could not.
I wondered if every other non-native French speaker was losing their minds in the way I was about this. I consulted TikTok and was very soothed by the number of highly anxious people who just wanted to eat some fucking Parisian bread, but felt frozen about the ordering process. Cool, we were all freaking out. It helped, but also didn’t help. Which TikTok baguette orderer to I take advice from? It took me a month to find a person I could comfortably adopt a baguette ordering style from without feeling like “Pretend French Jean.” I've been studying French for a year, both with online apps and with a human French teacher. Neither of these things made me panic any less.
“Bonjour,” I said, finally in the bakery. I was using an uninterested, not too chipper tone. Engaged enough to not be rude. I was channeling Lily from Duolingo, but slightly more eager. It me. Regular Customer French Jean.
My heart was racing, but at least I hadn’t forgotten the BONJOUR beginning. “Je voudrais — un (wrong) baguette? Merci!” The young man behind the counter asked me a QUESTION IN FRENCH and that’s when I shut down. “My French is bad,” I said in a fake French accent. A million face palms in my brain to myself, as he nodded and cheerfully said “no problem,” in an actual French accent because he was French. I could feel my face burning with self-disdain as I blurted out “par carte,” to let him know I was paying by card and he responded again in English, “no problem.”
I walked out of the boulangerie and five steps to my Airbnb with so much disappointment in myself. I’d forgotten to say thank you. I hadn’t used the feminine for the damn baguette. I’d pretended I was a French person who couldn’t speak French. On top of all that, I’d made these mistakes at the most convenient pastries, coffee and breads location - right in my building. Well. I guess I could never go in there again.
Stepping into my tiny Parisian elevator, I brought the edge of my Shame Baguette to my lips and chewed it off. At least I could do something right - eat. As my teeth sank into my failed yeast bounty, I knew I’d made another mistake. I’d ordered the wrong kind of baguette. Chewing and confused, I entered the apartment feeling nothing but defeat. This baguette was okaaaay, but it was soft. I had wanted a baguette that ripped the roof of my mouth open, like a sharp tortilla chip with a thousand edges. One that cronched and cranched, letting hard flakes of bread fly everywhere. I’d seen those dark baguettes next to the light ones and — I don’t know what I thought. I just knew I had baguetted wrong.
“Ohhhhh.”
That evening, I internetted the answers.
“Well, my French teacher should have told me this and I also have been here before, I blame everyone including me!” I said, between bites of my soft baguette, topped with huge chunkfuls of butter and flaky salt which made it still not great. Oh. What I’d wanted, was a baguette tradition. Not a baguette normale.
Baguette tradition:
Taken super seriously. Seriously - the way it’s made and sold is in the law. Le Décret Pain - THE BREAD LAW. Only contains flour, yeast, salt and water. Looks more rustic, dark, and definitely can shred the roof of your mouth. I wanted this baguette bien cuite - well cooked. You can get pas trop cuite - not too much on the well cooking, if you want.
Baguette normale (or ordinaire):
Eh. It’s ooookay. It’s soft and light and doesn’t make you feel like you want to protest any injustices or commiserate over wine and cigarettes. If this is your thing, go for it. I guess.
I had many a baguette tradition over the rest of my stay. They were all great, and I panicked less and less as I ordered them every time. I never reached “I’m doing great at ordering, no panic here,” levels. I was still riddled with anxiety when answering other questions, but everyone was really sweet and appreciated the use of French, even if I had to cop out at some point in the interaction. So many Parisians are excited about practicing their English while also panicking about fucking up the words! We’re all being anxious together —- and I assure you, they’re more nervous about fucking up than we are. More nervous about sounding stupid.
The main focus was teaching myself how to sound stupid. Being okay with messing up, fucking up, and being seen. If I kept trying to be perfect, I’d miss out on wonderful things. Maybe the reward of delicious bread and coffee at the end of the mistakes made me push through. Would we all be more comfortable with the discomfort it takes to learn things if there were yummy treats at the end? Isn’t that how you train animals? I’ll do whatever for some cronch-cranch, mouth destroying cylinders with butter. I’m gonna be more messy. I can be one with the ingredient of fucking up. Maybe you can too.
“Bonjour. Une baguette tradition bien cuite, s’il vous plait. Merci. Ouais, par carte. Super. Au revoir, bonne journee! Or. ..soir…or…argh.”
GREAT BAGUETTES I ATE IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD:
9th/10th Arrondissements short walks, big yummys
Chez Carla (Au Caprice Gourmand) 9 Rue Marguerite de Rochechouart
I did go back into my building’s boulangerie - this place. Also one of my fav croissants, and Cafe Noisettes.
Tranché. 62 Rue Marguerite de Rochechouart - and two other locations.
The baguette tradition maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan. And the croissant.
Mamiche 45 Rue Condorcet - they have other locations
Always skeptical of a “viral” spot, but my baguette, pain perdu, sandwich, little slice of free Christmas cake and YAY ICED COFFEE were so lovely. Line was long, but it wasn’t that bad. Everyone in there was super sweet.
Truly, all the boulangeries/patisseries were great. I didn’t have a bad baguette tradition even at the “just neighborhood” spots.
Hot Travel Tip: If you walk into anywhere in Paris and don’t lead with BONJOUR or BONSOIR - you’ve set yourself up for a bad time. It’s rude and could change the outcome of your time. The other panic I had, was what time to switch to BONSOIR (hello, good evening.) Especially right before the sun started to set! Argh! Bon-jousssoiiir?
