Book Cover Image via NPR
“Paris was everything I had dreamed, the late September when we first went there. It should always be seen, the first time, with the eyes of childhood or of love. I was almost twenty-one, but much younger than girls are now, I think. And I was wrapped in a passionate mist” (49).
The quote above, from M.F.K Fisher’s “The Gastronomical Me,” is one of many from the book that captured my attention. At 21, I epitomize the young woman learning about Paris while living here; I can appreciate (and even empathize) with the idea of ‘the passionate mist’ that takes over during one’s time in Paris. Whether the mist she is referring to is her love affair with Al or the city itself during her first visit, it is true that Paris is a city waiting to captivate the most self-assured and least-willing visitor with its people, art and most importantly to Fisher, its food.
Despite her ongoing love affair with France and the people she encounters, Fisher’s greatest love will always be food. Whether she is tasting an oyster for the first time as an adolescent in boarding school or devouring gin and Beluga caviar in Chexbres’ apartment whilst dressed in her Easter best, food is more than a meal to Fisher.
Food creates the central notion of which all other interactions follow. “The Gastronomical Me” allows the reader into Fisher’s life, not merely through her stories, but by recreating experiences. Throughout the book, the reader is offered glimpses of Fisher’s evolution as an American in France (in addition to extraneous locations) by recounting the joys and lessons that have come from eating meals all over and with many different people.
Whereas in American culture food is a means to an end; the French do not satiate their hunger to keep going, but instead use food as a tool to socialize and reminisce. Fisher learns this early on, and is able to take the reader on a journey of not only her experiences with food, but that of an expatriate setting up life in a foreign country as a local, rather than a tourist.
Although I thoroughly enjoy the way Fisher describes her experiences, I was confused and found the stories difficult to follow, at times, due to her writing style. Fisher speaks as if she were having coffee with friends, her cup filled to the brim with enough café that it can be sipped until every detail is divulged, and yet, the last drop still touches warmly to the tongue. As the reader, I am intrigued until the last word on each page, but like a friend listening to the story of an experience I was not present to witness, I miss some of the details.
This passage, for example, is eloquently stated, but not an easy read at first glance. However, with time and consideration, it is clear that Fisher has a way with words:
“On land, the tuggings of the moons can somewhat safely be ignored by men, and left to the more pliant senses of woman and seeds and an occasional warlock. But at sea even males are victims of the rise and fall, the twice-daily surge of the waters they float on, and the willy-nilly the planetary rhythm stirs them and all the other voyagers” (40).
I recognize that others may find the fluidity in Fisher’s prose more alluring than I did. While it captivated my attention at the start, I had to reread certain passages throughout the book to keep up with what she was saying. Overall, I enjoyed the book despite the aforementioned criticism.
And yet, Fisher said it best in her own words:
“How can I write the love story of a woman I don’t know? There must be more than celebration, more than the skillful plotting of my thoughts” (229).
For me, M.F.K Fisher’s “The Gastronomical Me” sheds light on the experience of a woman who could have easily adapted to French culture at any age. She had the “upper hand” so to speak, in that she recognized from the beginning that she preferred the finer things in life and wanted to enjoy every moment, every bite—a French culture necessity. Moreover, Fisher learned from her friends and family to be decisive about her choices, and from her experiences she picked up the ability to be independent and confident. She was never the tourist, even during her first experience abroad. And yet, her experiences elucidate the expatriate experience. Her tales leave you hoping for more embarrassing anecdotes, another passionate rendezvous, and of course, new experiences with food--since we know that is the root of this love story.