French Twist (16 page)

In an effort to better understand our predicament, I surveyed about twenty-five American families with children of various ages regarding their dinnertime activities, and I learned two very important things. First off, I discovered that many of my friends lie about how their children conduct themselves at the table as well as about what their children eat. I know because I have been in many of these homes at dinnertime, and I have witnessed the truth. I also learned what I already knew—namely, that it wasn’t only I who turned into the circus-master of a three-ring show every night at around six. Here’s a sampling of the responses to my question (enough to make any French parent
blanch), “What table manners matter the most to you?”

1. “Not throwing milk cups across the kitchen, keeping the screaming to a minimum, and asking to be excused at the end of the meal, which they do, despite often doing the first two items as well.”
   
2. “No feet on the table. Torsos on the table are frowned upon too. No throwing food, no screaming, alternative ways of expressing dislike for the food. For instance, we discourage, ‘That’s yucky. I hate it.’ ”
   
3. “My big rule is no toys at the table. My babysitter reads to the kids at the table though, so that has kind of ruined them. They think eating is something you do when an adult entertains you.”
   

Time for an attitude adjustment.

If the French pick their battles with their children, they fight for their mealtimes tooth and nail. When I snooped around at a few French households, I discovered that this trend of lawlessness in the
salle à manger
had not infiltrated their ranks in the same way. In fact, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed that a three-year-old could make a vinaigrette or that any child under the age of seven could sit quietly—charmingly, even—through all three courses. For the most part, French
children are expected to be ready and willing to participate in family meals, including exhibiting civil mealtime behavior. In the same way I expect my children to take a bath if they’ve rolled around in the dirt or otherwise muddied themselves, the French demand that their children eat well—in every sense. An American acquaintance, Tilly, recounted to me her experience dining out with her own French friend and their collective kids. Tilly recalled with horror her three children climbing under the table, in the aisles, and all over her, while the French children were seated peacefully and calmly as they ordered, waited for, and consumed their meals. When asked how she accomplished this, the French mother responded, “It is non-negotiable. We pick our battles, and food has a very high priority.”

The only meal in France that is approached lightly is breakfast.
Le petit déjeuner
is different from other French meals because there’s only one course, but it is still no laughing matter, and it is rarely consumed while multitasking. My kids often ask me if they can take their cereal into their room so they don’t have to interrupt the fascinating goings-on of their Polly Pockets or My Little Ponies. This question would not even occur to French children, as they are taught from an early age that absolutely the only place they will be fed is at a table. In fact, all soda and snack vending machines have been banned from French schools, because of the nasty habits they breed. I’ve heard that if you happen to be driving on the freeway at about 1:00
P.M.
in France, you will see cars pull over so their inhabitants can
set up a little lunchtime picnic. I haven’t witnessed this, but I do know that it is rare in France to see anyone driving around with one hand on their steering wheel and the other on a Philly cheesesteak. Worse than eating on the go, however, is feasting, or even lightly noshing, in front of a television. In the United States, many of us parents use the television as a lure to keep our kids still and quiet so we can get some sustenance into them. Talk about bad habits! This is a major
non-non
. Recent studies have revealed that kids take in about 40 percent more calories when they dine in front of the boob tube. The way we eat compared with the French seems as though we are fulfilling a mindless task. A potent respect for food will boost healthier mealtime practices all around. Although we can’t just flip a switch and ameliorate the lunchtime spreads in U.S. schools, being aware of the possibilities and improving the practices at our own dinner tables is a fantastic first step.

I’ve discovered the obvious: One way to ensure your child will sit and eat at the dinner table is to curtail after-school snacking. I’m embarrassed to admit how often in one afternoon I cave in to pleas for a snack. In France, kids are generally allowed one after-school snack, called a
goûter
, to keep them fueled until dinner. Mind you, French parents work long hours too, so in order for there to be sufficient time to put together a respectable meal, dinnertime is often much later for French kids. Perhaps my kids’ leetle bellies will have to adjust to the sensation of not being perfectly sated at all times. It might not be easy, but it can be done.

Although I’d seen Lucie’s children behave miraculously and heard from a number of other French parents that this was not uncommon in their dining rooms, I still yearned for more proof (and tips!). I decided to spend the afternoon with Diane, another French mom I know.

We met up at about 1:00
P.M.
and headed out to do the grocery shopping before her children arrived home from school. Immediately, there was a difference in our approaches. For me, grocery shopping means going only to the supermarket. However, for Diane, the supermarket was just the first of three stops. I was confused when she grabbed a handbasket instead of a cart. I couldn’t remember the last time I went to the market and was able to fit everything into a handbasket. But Diane knew what she wanted.
(Tip #1: Know what you want when buying groceries.)
“I see so many people in American grocery stores just walking around looking and piling their shopping cart so high, like they want to try everything at least once. If I know what I want and I know how to cook with it, I don’t buy many unnecessary things.” Together we bypassed the produce, juices, meats, deli counter … We whizzed by so many aisles that I began to wonder why we’d even stopped at the market in the first place.

Diane bought three cans of black beans, a bag of corn-meal (“I need this for a nice fish dish, and I am almost out,” she explained), butter, milk and soy milk, frozen spinach, dried lasagna noodles, a tub of yogurt, and two boxes of cereal. No time was wasted in contemplation. Not a single frozen nugget was purchased. In fact, I realized
that Diane had not bought one snack. When I questioned her about this, she told me that her children have a couple of pieces of bread with jam after school, “and fruit, of course.”

In Diane’s estimation, Americans expect feeding to be too easy. “I go to these homes and I see the parents look into their refrigerators worrying that there is nothing there. But there are things there—just not little packages of things that they can throw at their kids. I try not to buy the things in the little packages.” Somewhat apologetically, she added, “Only the prepared soups will I buy—and that is because they are often better than I make.” Now, I know that for many of us Americans, it is not possible to meticulously follow Diane’s example, as our work schedules don’t always permit the same flexibility, but the spirit behind her routine is what’s revolutionary.
(Tip #2: Get over convenience—get involved with your food.)

After the grocery store, Diane and I stopped at a produce market for “about four days’ worth of fruits and vegetables,” and then at a high-end store for bread. “What can I say, we all like nice bread.” Diane’s husband was scheduled to pick up the fish on his way home from work, which she tells me is very common. “I cannot do it all.”
(Tip #3: Involve the whole family.)

On cue, when Diane’s two children (ages five and eight) came home from school, they both drifted into the kitchen and happily devoured two pieces of fantastic-looking bread slathered in blackberry jam, after which
la cuisine a été fermée
until dinner, except for a bowl of fruit
on the table. Unlike in my own home, these children never feigned starvation and begged for “just a little snack?!”
(Tip #4: Stick to the rules.)
Diane assured me that the only reason her children don’t beg and plead for more is that they know they won’t get it. “If they eat all afternoon, I do not think they will want their dinners.”

Diane’s work schedule allows her to spend Wednesdays at home, which is why I was able to join her on our rounds. Not everyone has this luxury, but each French parent I met with stressed how the quality and enjoyment of mealtimes were main concerns for them—something of top priority that they were willing to fight for. Work be damned? Sometimes. It is almost as though the entire French nation would rather quit smoking en masse than endure unruly table manners or a meal made by microwave. Okay, that’s taking it a bit far, but perhaps you see my point. Diane says, “When I come home from work, sometimes I am very tired, but we do not order a pizza or have sandwiches for dinner. It is very important to me that we cook and have appreciation for our food. This is very French.”
(Tip #5: Revere and respect the family meal.)

It’s ironic, but I think Diane is more zealous with her dinners than the average French citizen because she is in the United States. In France, I noticed that people were most likely to save their extended, luxurious meals for Saturdays and Sundays and eat somewhat lightly on weeknights—something they can do because they know their kids have had multiple nourishing courses at lunchtime. One French mom told me that, at least once every
two weeks, she serves
oeuf à la coque et ses mouillettes
, which is basically a boiled egg in a lovely eggcup with strips of toast (little soldiers—
mouillettes
) to be moistened by the yolk. Who knew that a soft-boiled egg could sound so charming.

In any event, let’s push the envelope. Imagine that your kids are hungry, interested, and gathered around the dinner table, which is sporting a real tablecloth and correctly set with appropriate cutlery and glasses. Go ahead, even imagine cloth napkins. At this point, it can’t hurt to throw out a few tenets of proper French table manners:

• Numéro Un:
  Teach your children to wait until Mom places her napkin on her lap before they begin.
  
• Numéro Deux:
  Do not eat or drink until the mother or father says a brief blessing or toast. At my house, this requires that I actually sit down to eat with my children. That part now happens, but we’ve dispensed with the blessing.
  
• Numéro Trois:
  Apparently it’s very important that hands are kept on the table at all times. This means
  les petites mains
  should never be in the lap, hanging down, or holding a Game Boy.
  
• Numéro Quatre:
  Bread should be placed right on the tablecloth, not on the plate. I’m not so worried about this one.
  
• Numéro Cinq:
  Declining a dish is not allowed. In fact, it is a major offense. (Note: This has taken some serious work.)
  
• Numéro Six:
  Instruct your kids that the proper indication that they have finished eating is the placement of knife and fork together, pointing up in the center of the plate. A wee bit uptight, perhaps?
  
• Numéro Sept:
  Under no circumstance can children leave the table without requesting to be excused IN FRENCH (just kidding, but that would be cute). There are some meals in France that go on for hours and hours. During these marathon meals, children are customarily allowed to leave the table and play between courses.
  

Even with all of Lucie and Diane’s excellent information and tips, I was still a little worried about implementing changes in my own home. Okay, “utterly daunted” doesn’t quite convey how I was feeling about the task of recasting our meals. Bad habits, like the Terminator, die hard, and initially I couldn’t imagine anyone in my family with the willpower to “get French” with our food, especially dinners. My husband and I are
so tired
by the end of the day, and our kids
really love
chicken nuggets and noodles slathered with spaghetti sauce from a jar—enough to have them for dinner multiple nights per week. But every time I thought about the love of food, real food, and manners (oh, the manners) demonstrated by Lucie’s children, my resolve strengthened.

I’ll admit it wasn’t painless by any stretch. Oona and Daphne resisted nearly every enforced modification to our previous, half-baked dinnertime practices, starting with
the reduction in snacks. This shift was a particular affront to Daphne, who often transformed herself into that mini John McEnroe, sprawled out with fists pounding the floor, at the outright injustice she felt when I denied her the 5:00
P.M.
pretzels, dried mango, Veggie Booty, and more that she’d grown accustomed to since sprouting teeth. In fact, even after months of practice, she still grumbles about not getting sufficient junky treats, but thankfully, and perhaps because she has learned it will get her nowhere, this seems to be only on principle.

I’ll gladly endure the griping, too, if that is the only trade-off for the increased appetites that come running to the table each night. And they do!

This table, by the way, has been revolutionized as well. We have made it a priority to eat,
almost
every night, all together in the dining room. Showing up for this family meal has been a piece of cake compared to the effort of feeding our kids the same meal that my husband and I consume. Before the big change, we were as unimaginative with our own dinners as we had been with the girls’ eats. However, knowing that the girls would certainly never agree to our nightly fare of mixed greens with some sort of meat and stinky cheese, we were forced to start planning out our dinners. If the thorn in Daphne’s side is no more continuous noshing, for me it’s the new pressure of thinking up a menu that is acceptable to both generations and getting the provisions to make it happen. Funny: I remember my mom complaining about this same dilemma when I was young.