TRAVEL SERIES
A Street-Side Meal in Paris
This food memory still feeds me
I’m so hungry right now. Hungry for dinner and travel. So I’ll travel here, with you. To a food memory that still feeds me.
Setting the Scene
My husband Kevin and I have been to Paris together twice. The second time we exchanged homes with a Parisian family and lived there for six weeks. Fantastique!
Paris is an old haunt for Kevin. He spent a summer there alone as a 17-year-old, srudying in a small art school in the Montparnasse neighborhood. The instructor hated him, but another student proved helpful. Maybe he’ll tell that story one day.
It was 1971, the summer Jim Morrison died there. When long hair wasn’t socially acceptable. Kevin’s caused him problems all over Europe.
But it was worth it. To be that young, right there, just then. To be that free from parents and everything going on stateside.
Like lots of teens, he backpacked around Europe that summer without a cell phone. Checking in at home with a roll of quarters at a pay phone. Or a telegram. Or a special air-mail letter that arrived in a week.
So of course Paris represents so much to Kevin. Which made him the perfect tour guide on our first trip together.
His fluency with French set the stage for days and nights packed with great chats with locals. I even surprised myself by following pretty well. The icing on this cake was that, during our second stay, we decided to get married.
The Meal Among So Many That Captures Those Days for Me
As we explored the city, our favorite approach was just to wander neighborhoods off the tourist path. Wherever we ended up, we’d pick a crowded cafe or restaurant. Dive in. Learn for ourselves whether the buzz was worth it. Nine times out of ten, it was.
When we found a place we really enjoyed we’d go back, and back, getting to know staff and regulars. We ate countless amazing meals.
So it’s funny that one memory stands out for me. Because this meal takes me right back there like no other.
It Was All About All of It
One super-hot afternoon, famished from miles of walking, we plopped down at a tiny table outside a corner cafe. We ordered tuna Niçoise and uncharacteristically — as we’re more into wine — a couple of beers.
It wasn’t my first tuna Niçoise. But somehow this was the moment.
The vibrant street scene as my thirst met that tall, cold glass…
The thrill of having nowhere to be, not even anything in particular to explore next…
Languid conversations all around us…
And then… our plates came.
I was amazed first that the dish featured cold chunks of canned tuna. Like the Bon Appétit recipe here. The addition of rice floored me too, kicking up the unctuousness of each bite in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
And it was all about all that color: juicy red summer tomato, bright white halved eggs with their yellow centers, brilliant green, still crisp haricots verts, and shimmery black Niçoise olives on a canvas of dark mixed lettuces. With a silky Dijon vinaigrette drizzled over everything. Whew.
It just worked. All of it. The street, the heat, the beer, the meal, the day, and everything that was going on in my heart. How being in Paris was expanding and relaxing me. Changing me. Opening me to a new future.
That Meal is Still Feeding Me, and Now Mine
These days, my grown young ones just smile and say, “We know, we know, Mom,” whenever I recount yet again why I often make this meal with canned tuna. “If it’s good enough for that cafe in Paris…”
Kevin smiles too, with his “I don’t know how you remember this stuff” look. While this particular take on tuna Niçoise becomes a sweeter and sweeter part of our shared food history.
Provence is Next for Us — How About You?
Yep, we’re planning a stay in Provence in eighteen months or so. Have you been there? Any spectacular food memories? Please do share. And tag me so I can go there with you! After all, one of the best parts of travel is the anticipation. :)
And do you flash on a memorable meal or food tradition of yours as you read mine? Then get in the travel-memory food game with this lovely prompt from Sharing Randomly:
Now to showcase a fellow writer: I enjoyed meeting Brett Millan through his Coffee Times profile below. Maybe he’d be intrigued to do a story on how his family’s food traditions were affected by their move from Mexico City to Texas. Or on his adventures in Peru!
If this piece resonates, do explore more. And you can back my work directly. ♥️
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