Paris is hardly exotic, uncharted territory. Even living in big cities in China, which is a much bigger adjustment for a Westerner than living in France, one can find traces of familiarity in everyday life. However, people react differently to traveling, and often at different points in a person’s travels, especially if they’re long, there comes a craving for that familiarity. If you’re in Paris, and you find yourself missing the good ‘ol U.S. of A, just get yourself over to Breakfast in America diners for a taste of home. Well, even if you’re not missing America, you should still get over to this restaurant for breakfast, which one can enjoy at almost any time of day.
This fine diner, created by a Californian who moved to Paris in pursuit of a career in film, made the city his new home. As he says on the back of his menu, all that Paris lacked in his eyes, was a place to get an old fashioned, hearty American breakfast.
I agree. Paris has many things, but they have a few culinary points of divergence. For one, my host mother nearly had a heart attack when I told her that I loved peanut butter. In her eyes, peanut butter is like a representation of all that is wrong with the United States and our culture of obesity, over-eating, portion sizes, and way of thinking about food. (Amazing that she relates all of this back to the simple product of a crushed peanut!) And my mention of ketchup during a meal in which she served fries got her off on a rant which ended in her assuring me that, while she is willing to buy me the foods that I enjoy eating, she would never buy ketchup. Ever.
Breakfast in America has these things. It also has REAL maple syrup for your fluffy pancakes stacked high and wide. (Instead, I spread peanut butter over my chocolate chip pancakes, which melted and created a superior natural Recees effect that only enhanced my already stellar carb-happy meal.)
I must admit, the creator of the two Breakfast in America restaurants in Paris was a genius. The delicious menu of reasonably priced items (I got my massive plate of pancakes for 7 euros—only two euros more than a panini on the street) attracts tourists (the waiters all speak English), expatriates, and natives alike.
This fine diner, created by a Californian who moved to Paris in pursuit of a career in film, made the city his new home. As he says on the back of his menu, all that Paris lacked in his eyes, was a place to get an old fashioned, hearty American breakfast.
I agree. Paris has many things, but they have a few culinary points of divergence. For one, my host mother nearly had a heart attack when I told her that I loved peanut butter. In her eyes, peanut butter is like a representation of all that is wrong with the United States and our culture of obesity, over-eating, portion sizes, and way of thinking about food. (Amazing that she relates all of this back to the simple product of a crushed peanut!) And my mention of ketchup during a meal in which she served fries got her off on a rant which ended in her assuring me that, while she is willing to buy me the foods that I enjoy eating, she would never buy ketchup. Ever.
Breakfast in America has these things. It also has REAL maple syrup for your fluffy pancakes stacked high and wide. (Instead, I spread peanut butter over my chocolate chip pancakes, which melted and created a superior natural Recees effect that only enhanced my already stellar carb-happy meal.)
I must admit, the creator of the two Breakfast in America restaurants in Paris was a genius. The delicious menu of reasonably priced items (I got my massive plate of pancakes for 7 euros—only two euros more than a panini on the street) attracts tourists (the waiters all speak English), expatriates, and natives alike.