Sunday afternoon, I indulged in the Death By 1,000 Calories of Molten Chocolate Experience that is chocolat chaud in France. First of all, I love that it’s served in a porcelain pitcher. I love that after refilling one’s empty teacup several times, there are dark chocolate streaks clinging to the side of the pristine, white porcelain, like wax drippings on a candle. The chocolate is so thick that, as it begins cooling, it forms a pudding-like skin on top, and I love that, too. Tilting the teacup to your lips, the pudding-skin slips away like quicksilver, leaving one no choice but to finally conquer it with a swoop of a spoon at the end. And the taste? Lest this delve into overtly graphic realms, (TOO LATE, I KNOW), let me just say that I challenge anyone not to moan at least once.
This particular cocoa nirvana took place at a café on Boulevard Montparnasse, with an American girl à peu près de mon age, whom we’ll call E. After a few hours of sinning together in the form of how many Weight Watchers points I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW, we decided to walk back to my neighborhood for obvious cardiovascular reasons. This amounts to a 30 minute balade from the hustle of Montparnasse area, along the quieter Boulevard Raspail, through the chic Saint Germain des Prés and into the tourist-laden err, colorful Latin Quarter I call home. The typically gray Parisian-winter sky even approached sunniness at several points there. I’m telling you, it was a veritable Maxwell Coffee commercial of an afternoon.
At about the corner of Boulevard Raspail and Rue de Rennes, enter a group of four French men spewing generic come-ons in our direction, INTERRUPTING OUR COFFEE COMMERCIAL IN PARIS MOMENT. E had mentioned to me earlier that, in situations such as this, she always deflects with, “Je suis Findlandaise.” It cracked me up that she pretends to speak an esoteric language, not because it’s implausible (she’s tall with platinum blonde hair--you would totally buy that she's Finnish), but because it says something about French men that SHE HAS OUTLINED SUCH A POLICY IN THE FIRST PLACE.
It wasn’t long before our deliberate silence led one man to say, “Quoi, vous ne parlez pas Francais?” (What, you don’t speak French?) Maybe it was the snicker on his face or the 1,000 grams of sugar coursing through my veins, but this really riled me up because: Dude, I didn’t spend precious years memorizing assigned genders for inanimate objects, and I definitely didn’t learn how to conjugate the stupid SUBJUNCTIVE so you could interrupt my Sunday in Paris Coffee Commercial Moment and TELL ME I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SPEAK FRENCH.
“Si, on parle francais,” I blurted in one breath. After a satisfying pause, I continued to say, “Mais on n’a pas envie de parler avec vous.” (Yes, we speak French, we just don’t have any desire to speak with you).
Watching them scuttle away from behind, E looked at me and said, “Or, that works too.”
w007!
I sooooo wish I coulda seen it. You obviously have the delivery down pat!
BTW, been there, Finland roxx.
Posted by: Mathieu | 08 February 2005 at 04:22 PM
excellent!
there is nothing like the satisfaction of effectively managing a french insult. I remember once walking through town and crossing the path of two wannabe ghetto-boys (you know, those guys that spend tons of money on Lacoste clothing to be as boyzinthehood as possible) who spit out "ça c'est des gros nichons ça." I came back with "toi, t'as une petite bitte, mais je le dit pas à tout le monde!"
god, that felt good.
Posted by: kim | 08 February 2005 at 04:23 PM
HA HA! NOW THAT IS A COMEBACK, KIM. The *only* reason mine was effective was because of the crazed look in my eye (you know where you've had so much caffeine that you forget to blink?)
Posted by: Coquette | 08 February 2005 at 04:27 PM
When I lived in Switzerland I used to go to a café chocolat chaud at was so thick with chocolate - real stuff, not that powder - that it you waited 60 seconds before drinking you could stand a spoon straight up in it. Better than any man, I think.
Posted by: Sammy | 08 February 2005 at 04:41 PM
I think the "connard" would have been over the top. It's all about being subtly bitchy. That is what I love about the French. And I'm sure that guy understood that.
Ever been to Cafe Angelina? If Not, I am going to take you. Most divine chocolat on the planet!
Posted by: Flare | 08 February 2005 at 04:54 PM
Don't worry about the treats - according to the NY Times, "French Women Don't Get Fat": http://www.nytimes.com/2005/02/06/books/review/06REEDL.html?incamp=article_popular_1
Posted by: Kathryn | 08 February 2005 at 05:43 PM
Thanks for dropping by and for the congrats, Coquette!
I blog to share moments like those, and this has been a culmination :)
Posted by: Mathieu | 08 February 2005 at 10:15 PM
I think that comeback worked well! Although I like the Findlandaise one too. My problem is with annoying parents. My sister told me to tell anyone that gets too close to my child that.."excusez-moi mais elle est contagieuse." I have yet to use it, but I'm ready.
Posted by: Auntie M | 08 February 2005 at 11:02 PM
C'est parfait! :)
One french man who tried to talk me up outside Notre Dame, then muttered "fuck you" at me when I used my favorite phrase from my guidebook: "Laissez moi tranquille!" ;)
Posted by: carolyn | 09 February 2005 at 01:50 AM
That's a lovely retort. I think it contained the proper amount of French disdain. When in similar encounters, I always find that I'm regrettly short on wit and have to resort to something utterly lame and pathetic. But yours was brilliant.
Posted by: Gloria | 09 February 2005 at 02:29 AM
Quelle réponse! Je devrai maintenir celui-là dans l'esprit !
Posted by: aryn | 09 February 2005 at 02:49 AM
Well you should go to places where people don't harass you and you can have verrrry good hot chocolates : the Fumoir, or the Barbara Bui cafe :-)
Posted by: Negrito | 09 February 2005 at 08:32 AM
That was a good one Coquette, but Kim's retort just plain ole' Kicks Ass.
I have not yet found real chocolat chaud... it seems everytime I order it here it comes from a packet. I'm sure someone in Troyes serves it, but I haven't found it yet!
Posted by: ViVi | 09 February 2005 at 12:34 PM
Ok - So here is my question. Coquette - Please allow me to solicit info. If you are not comfortable with this let me know, but know that you may be influencing tomorrow's products at your Grocery...
What if you could have GOOD chocolate chaud from a packet? Would you do it? I mean in a pinch, would you prepare it at home for you and some girlfriends? What would be different from regular old Swiss Miss, the thickness? the richness??
Posted by: SaraJane | 09 February 2005 at 04:08 PM
I love it that you were angered most by the insult to your knowledge.
Posted by: Jecca | 10 February 2005 at 12:02 AM
SaraJane, I have taken some time to seriously reflect upon your comment, and I have come to the following conclusion: Unless we're talking about special occasions, I do believe I prefer powdered hot cocoa to the cafe stuff. A bold statement, I know. Those who know me will be scratching their heads, given that I eat AN ENTIRE BAR of fine dark chocolate everyday. But the hot chocolate at the cafe? It's like pouring 5 melted chocolate bars down your throat. It's the same with really rich melted ice cream. Delicious, but I'd rather pro-looong the enjoyment.
That being said, something a *tish* bit better than Swiss Miss would be nice. Over here, I get a dark cocoa at the grocery store that's made by Poulaine called "1848." It's a great buy...not too much sugar added.
You can see I am passionate when it comes to the chocolat ;)
Posted by: Coquette | 10 February 2005 at 12:31 AM
If only I could be so blunt.
I'm going to go now and pull out my box of Swiss Miss. I plan on boiling some water, emptying a package into a mug, and pouring the water all over the powder. Yum. (Can you hear the sarcasm?)
Posted by: pismire | 10 February 2005 at 02:02 AM
Oh, Coquette, bravo with your retort to the obnoxious men! But I have to know - after your fabulous comeback, did you turn dramatically on your heel and swish your hair for extra emphasis?
And along the lines of chocolat chaud, I haven't tried it yet, but perhaps Vosges haut chocolat makes a tasty version?
Posted by: Kathleen | 10 February 2005 at 03:33 PM
I swear I didn't read your post before writing about sleazy French dragueurs on Wednesday... We are just living parallel lives on the left/right bank!
Posted by: petite | 10 February 2005 at 11:20 PM
lol I entirely believe you, Petite. Now, it's the TWO WHOLE DAYS without checking my site I should be smacking your hand for. *feigning shock* I mean, you would think you worked full-time, maintained a brilliant blog, and had a tadpole to raise... or something.
Posted by: Coquette | 11 February 2005 at 03:14 AM
hahah good one! That's better than saying "Main urdu bolta nahi hai" ( i don't speak urdu) in Pakistan when the YOUFS in the bazaar (aka dudes that basically walk around randomly singing to gurls and trying to pick them up) try to get at you!
Posted by: Motu | 12 February 2005 at 04:25 AM
I love the insight as to what it is actually like to live in Paris. I shall live vicariously through you.
Posted by: Kassi | 12 February 2005 at 04:54 PM
I love it! I am envious that you can handle the off-the-cuff subtle insult in a second language. I once had a guy in the French Alps ask me if I could count Euros (before the Euro was released) and I just stood there, speechless (in French) because the only things running through my head were in English. Connard!
Posted by: елизавет | 15 February 2005 at 11:09 PM
I would have gone crazy with people speaking all French when actually it's not my first language at all. Ugh! generally, Frenchs are not that much concerned about weight loss?
Posted by: Mcgill | 05 September 2007 at 02:48 PM