La Boulangerie

I have failed the French bread shop test, again.

The French take their bread seriously.  It is eaten with all meals, and with their snacks.  The bread is always baked fresh, on the premises, throughout the day, so that it is possible to buy a freshly baked loaf late in the afternoon that will still be warm when served for dinner.  It is hard to imagine, but for a time the bread I bought in a Coles supermarket started life in Ireland.  How did we allow that, why did we accept it: the French wouldn’t.  In many small towns, the breadshop still grinds it’s own flour.

Shopping for bread is therefore a serious business.  There is no chit chat with the staff in a breadshop, like there is with the butcher, there is no opportunity to taste, like when there is shopping for la fromage.  The French take their wine seriously too, but there can be mirth in la cave when sampling the local product, but not in the breadshop.

In every town that has at least one shop, there is a breadshop, and if the town can only support one shop – it will be a breadshop.  For those travelling with only beginners French, buying bread may appear the simplest but it is the most stressful of shopping.

I have completed the French course in Duolingo.  I have listened to all of the CD’s by Michel Thomas.  After a week in France I am not only using my French with the shopkeepers but also making small talk with other customers.  But not in the breadshops.

There must be no hesitation when ordering bread, or else impatience builds behind you which makes the shopkeeper nervous.  Uncertainty is unacceptable.  But from the queue it is impossible to see all the varieties of bread for sale.  I had tried in a different shop to go straight to the counter to view the bread available before taking my place in the queue, but this caused such disquiet on both sides of the counter that I won’t do it again.

There is always a queue.  I join the queue, and then when the next person arrives, I motioned for her to advance in front of me to give me more time to make a selection and then make my request to either of the two ladies serving.  This came as quite a shock to her: no one gives up their place in the bread queue.  It was for no purpose, by the time I was close to ordering there were already another 5 standing impatiently behind me.

Sweat beads started to form.  There are two shelves, split into sections, each containing a different style of baguette.  Which are white, which are ‘rustique’, which have grains?  It’s my turn: all those years of learning French and all I can do at this moment is point and grunt.

Again, I fail the breadshop test.