Le Petit Déj
The enchanting wintery swirl of a French breakfast in February.
There is no precise formula for the quintessential French breakfast. Across the world, beauty, lightness, and simplicity characterize the premier meal of the day with a loveliness that belies the pressure to consume a hearty first repast. The nutty Nigerian okpa, the fluffy Brazilian pão de queijo, and silky Greek yogurt hold a place next to le petit déj in disproving the mutual exclusivity of nutrition and delicacy.
Although they are endlessly varied, French breakfasts are typically built around the centerpiece of French bread: the baguette. As ovens grew more powerful and flour more affordable and refined, the modern baguette emerged as a staple of French life in mid-19th-century Paris. Today, the baguette is best enjoyed for breakfast as a tartine, sliced and slathered with jam and butter (or, in my case, a non-dairy buttery spread).
If you’re lucky enough to arrive early to la boulangerie, the second starchy component of le petit déj is a selection of les viennoiseries. The array of French pastries runs the gamut from the lacy vanilla custard mille-feuille to the dense spiral-shaped raisin bread, pain aux raisins. In the morning, the traditional croissant or its velvety cousin, le pain au chocolat, offers the perfect flaky compliment to the weight of the tartine.
As for the spokes anchoring the leavened center of the French breakfast wheel, fruit juice and a hot drink are a must. The punchy apple-mango medley and light orange and peach juice pictured above provided a much-needed tanginess. In lieu of coffee, I enjoy Earl Grey with le petit déj. Earl Grey is made from black tea and is technically intended to be served without milk, but I prefer the blasphemous preparation, with a dash of soy or oat milk.
Teas, particularly those like Earl Grey, achieve their intricate profile from the addition of Bergamot oil, building a teetering balance on the palate. But I find Earl Grey with lemon or sugar alone too bitter. Milk’s dulling effect provides unmatched comfort. I think my firm stance on enhancing Earl Grey’s warmth and coziness captures the beautiful essence of le petit déj. No matter how you prepare it, French breakfast stands in contrast to the blustery winter that casts its shadow each year.
This year, I arrived in Paris caught under a gusty sky the week of Valentine’s Day, and the light, simple petit déjeuner my Mom prepared was a welcome relief from the impending storm. Once the bright bowl of strawberries was empty and only viennoiserie crumbs remained on the plate, I headed to the Louvre.
Standing at the window on the labyrinthine third floor, the visitors below looked like shimmery dew pooling on the pavement. I looked out onto the vast plaza surrounded by exhibits displaying the sumptuous treasures draping Napolean’s apartments and couldn’t help but wonder what life was like when rulers like Charles V and Marie de' Medici traipsed through these same halls. The bread, sugar, and tea intrinsic to le petit déj bring with it stories of empire, violence, revolution, and imperialism.
I find it quite sobering to observe paintings like Henri Horace Roland de la Porte’s The Light Meal which depict quotidian moments and ordinary objects. Roland de la Porte died in Paris in 1793, four years into the bloody French Revolution, which spun on the axis of class division and was defined by bread riots that shook the foundation of French elite rule. A glass of milk, an apple, and a piece of leavened pastry, not unlike the scene at my own table that morning in February, captures such an unexpectedly potent symbol of fragility and upheaval.
There is so much to reflect upon when face-to-face with le petit déj. Each corner of the juice carton and crisp ridge of the baguette contain tiny worlds with storied histories and lives of their own. The leafy ecosystem inside the lacy Earl Grey sachet offers a window into thousands of years of tradition steeped in rich complexity. To capture the space-time one can traverse in a single breakfast, I’ll leave you with what was in my ears as I wandered along the wide boulevards of Paris that frost-kissed morning in February, Ce matin-là (that morning).
Recorded in 1998 by musical duo “Air” who hail from Versailles, the song swells with otherworldly strings punctuated by light tuba and shakers that drift into a sonic cloud. If you like to step gently into the synth-y alien soundscape of other 90’s French electronic music duos like Daft Punk, track six on Moon Safari, “Remember,” is where you should dock your spaceship.
Drooling… so lovely and warm!
Now I’m hungry and wish I was in Paris.