David Downie fell in love with Paris. He was 18, it was the ’70s, and his first companion was a foot-long baguette with Dijon mustard. It was only day one of “the intersection of physical, historical, and cultural ingredients” that led to a career as food writer. In his book A Taste of Paris, he waxes eloquently about the bistros, bakeries, boucheries and fish markets that fill the city, and the unpretentiously life-loving culture that has sustained this moveable feast. A Taste of Paris is also an idiosyncratic history of the city through the foods its inhabitants have enjoyed. He finds the roots of Gallic cuisine in the banquets of ancient Roman colonists, who gobbled snails and frogs legs prepared with garlic, butter and parsley. Decrying “today’s fashionistas, wineistas, and other gastronomic hedonistas,” he maintains that simple is best and praises the return of local sourcing stateside. Downie reminds us that Paris never gave up on farm to table.
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