Inspired by our recent Book Club article, the editors at Bas Bleu decided it was time to compile a book club guide of our own! Our new series will recommend novels handpicked by Bas Bleu, sharing our editor’s review, questions to prompt thoughtful book club discussions, recipes inspired by elements of the book, and activities to provoke increased connection with the text and each other. Want to request a book be featured in our Book Club Series? Contact us here!
The Review
(Not Quite) Mastering the Art of French Living by Mark Greenside
Mark Greenside's witty, observational writing is catered to Americans planning a trip to France (or, if you're a daydreamer like me, Americans simply fascinated with the cultural practices we take for granted). Greenside explains his own faltering experiences in France with driving, shopping, money, food, entertaining, healthcare, and language—experiences he repeats year after year at his summer house in Brittany, France. Whether you're learning from his mistakes or laughing at them, (Not Quite) Mastering the Art of French Living is riveting, informative, and relentlessly funny. (RR)
The Discussion Questions
How would you define author Mark Greenside’s approach to daily errands, language barriers, and others' perceptions when in France? Have you ever felt like an outsider?
Discuss Greenside’s important relationships in Brittany. How do his French and expat friends affect his relationship with France?
What aspects of Greenside’s experience is familiar to you? Which experiences do you think are universal or unique to his adopted country?
How does Greenside represent cultural differences in his book? Did any descriptions or word choices surprise you or make you think?
This memoir says a great deal about the influence our home can have on us. How did Greenside’s bicontinental decision shape him and his relationship with the world? What aspects of your own travels have strongly influenced who you are today?
Did your perception of Greenside change throughout the book? How do you believe he’s perceived by those around him?
What is the price of bicontinental living? Who pays for it? How does the lifestyle in Europe compare?
Has reading this memoir deepened your understanding of cultural differences? Did any instances in the memoir surprise you? Have you ever encountered situations like this in your life?
The Advice
A selection of specific advice from Greenside’s amusing lists at the end of each chapter.
On Driving… “Posted speed limits are a fabrication, except where there’s a sign that looks like a warning for a nuclear disaster.” “Any open space, no matter how tiny or where it’s located, is a possible picnic area or parking place. If there are trees, bushes, or a wall nearby, it’s also a possible toilet.” “Given Derrida, Foucault, and postmodernists, it’s not surprising that French people excel at signaling.”
On Shopping… “Avoid anything that says ‘easy to open’ or ‘new packaging,’ because it’s never easy, and if it’s new, it’s worse than it was before.” “French people have some of the longest life expectancies in the world, so time doesn’t matter so much. Shopping, apparently, is how they choose to spend it.” “Customer advocacy does not exist.”
On Money… “The sales tax is 20 percent. The good news is the posted price includes the 20 percent, so I don’t see or feel it when I pay it. The bad news is I’m paying a 20 percent sales tax.” “In the U.S., you are what you do, though nothing that you do really matters. In France, it doesn’t matter what you do—even if it’s nothing, especially if it’s nothing—and everything matters, is judged, rated, and critiqued.” “France is a generous, social welfare, neosocialist state—and I’ve never been so vigilant with money in all my life.”
On Eating… “Dégustation means ‘tasting,’ not disgusting’; poisson means ‘fish,’ not ‘poison’; terroir means a product of the land—like ‘turf’ in surf and turf—not ‘terror’; a person with a napkin tucked under his chin is a gourmand, not the pretentious, gluttonous slob I think he is in the U.S.” “Cheese is a basic food group in France. It’s important to get this right.” “Never eat anything called Américain.” “People eat with gusto, shovel food with their knives, eat with their fingers when necessary, talk with their mouths full, make a mess, and never seem to go to the bathroom.”
On Cooking… “Measurements are different.” “Ingredients are different.” “Cuts of meat or different.” “A meal without alcohol is breakfast…usually…”
On Entertaining… “French people want to know what they’re eating. If they do not like a single ingredient, they may not eat the entire dish.” “In France, people don’t help themselves to anything. At meals, nobody will move until the host says, ‘Bon appétit,’ and even then some people won’t move until they are served.” “Bring the host a gift: Any gift will be appreciated, as it’s the thought and gesture—le bon geste—that count.”
On Healthcare… “Don’t get sick or go to the hospital on a weekend or holiday, during the summer or a heat spell, probably not even during midi, and definitely not in August, when it’s hot, there’s no air conditioning, most of the doctors are on vacation, and those who are on duty wish they were not.” “The French attitude toward mental anguish is like the Anglo-Saxon attitude toward physical pain: suck it up—and French people do lots of sucking it up.” “The United Nation’s World Health Organization ranks the French medical system number one in the world. The U.S. ranks thirty-seventh.”
On Language… “If a person speaks to you in English, speak French, as the odds you’ll misunderstand are greater than the odds you won’t.” “Nouns are more important than verbs, and pointing is often clearer than speech.” “Familiar words are the most dangerous.” “To French people, if you’re always happy and everything is wonderful, you’re a liar, a jerk, or American, none of which is a compliment…Unlike the U.S., criticism is what counts in France, not agreement.”
The Recipes
Mark Greenside is a confessed picky eater, and the eating habits of the French tend to confound him. When he makes plans to host dinner for a friendly French couple and his American wife, he spends several pages working through his decisions, which quickly go awry due to his failure to properly navigate the charcuterie.
“There is no doubt this will be the full seven-course French meal: hors-d’oeuvres, crudités, entrée, salad, cheese, dessert, coffee, tea—with appropriate booze at every course. The possible choices are immense, and so are the possible faux pas.”
Make your own Seven-Course Chicken Dinner
Serves 6
Apéritifs and hors-d’oeuvres: Of choice
Appetizers and crudités: 3 melons, sliced in half, the flesh and seeds removed and filled with port
Entrée: Baked chicken with potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and green beans
Salad: Combine lettuce, olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt, and pepper
Cheese: 3-5 varieties of choice (Greenside chose a local round chèvre, a Tomme de Savoie, Bleu d’Auvergne, and a Livarot)
Dessert: Tarte aux fruits, ordered ahead at the bakery
Additional: Fresh baguettes, butter, coffee, tea, several bottles of alcohol ranging from apéritifs to wine to digestif
If in France, reserve a poulet noir one or two days in advance.
Wash the potatoes (Greenside uses “tiny, round, almost translucent-skinned light-brown broilers”), tomatoes (tomates grappe, or on the vine), and green beans. French slice the green beans and dice the tomatoes and a large yellow onion.
Remove the chicken’s head, feet, and insides. Stuff with lightly seasoned tomatoes and onions. Add the potatoes to the dish, then bake at 180°C for 90 minutes until browned.
Cook the green beans separately, fifteen minutes before the chicken is done.
Serve each dish separately, and allow guests to finish comfortably before clearing their dishes and reemerging from the kitchen. Dinner will likely last 4-6 hours.
When Greenside and his visiting friend happen upon a restaurant in Brittany, Greenside insists on trying it, despite the building’s eerie emptiness. The luxurious meal that follows is one they’ll never forget. Although his description of the meal is both vague and extensive, his language barrier prevents him from understanding what he’s consuming.
“So later that summer when LeRoy is visiting and we drive past a restaurant named Cochon Grillé—“Grilled Pig”—I stop. I want him to know what I know. It’s noon, midi, and Cochon Grillé is empty, which is not a good sign in any country, but is especially bad news in France. I’m thinking health inspectors, or worse, pig plague. I’m ready to leave when a gruff, bearded fellow comes from somewhere and says, ‘Messieurs.’”
Make your own Traditional Pork au Poivre
Serves 4
1 1/4 pounds pork tenderloin
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon black peppercorns, coarsely ground or crushed
2 teaspoons olive oil
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1/2 cup dry red wine
Salt
Slice tenderloin lengthwise and split into 1 large, flat piece. Spread mustard over both sides of the meat and rub in the pepper, pressing gently so it adheres well. Cut meat crosswise into 4 even portions.
In large skillet, heat oil over medium flame. Put tenderloin in the pan and cook for about 10 minutes or until an instant-read thermometer registers 155 degrees F, turning once. Transfer meat to a plate and tent with foil to keep it warm. Add chicken broth and wine to pan and cook over medium-high heat, scraping up any bits that have stuck to the pan. Continue to cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until sauce is reduced to about a half cup. Pour sauce over meat, season with salt, and serve.
One of Greenside’s most treasured edible discoveries to come from his time in Brittany is langousine, although like everything he tries in France, he’s tentative at first glance.
“Madame uncovers the bowl, and Daniel goes over the top when he sees what’s inside. I do, too, as I look at dozens of the ugliest shrimp I’ve ever seen piled on top of each other like a massacre. Then what I see next is worse. Madame digs into the bowl with her bare hand, grabs a handful of these orangey-pink things, and drops them in a mound onto my plate, saying, ‘Langousine.’”
Make your own Langoustines with Lemon & Pepper Butter
Serves 4
1 kg fresh langoustines, about 18
400 ml white wine, or water (optional)
50 g fresh breadcrumbs
olive oil
2 lemons
100 g butter, softened
2 tsp coarse black pepper
1 lemon
For the lemon and pepper butter, mix the butter, black pepper, and lemon zest with a pinch of sea salt and set aside.
Heat a grill to high. Combine the langoustines and wine or water in a pan. Bring to the boil, cover, then lower the heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove and cool slightly.
Place your langoustines, belly-side down, on a chopping board and cut in half lengthways, discarding the black vein in the tail.
Place, flesh-side up, on a baking tray, top with the lemon butter, sprinkle over the breadcrumbs and drizzle with oil.
Finely grate the zest from 1 lemon into a bowl and set aside, then halve both lemons. Place the lemon halves on the tray. Grill for 5 to 10 minutes, or until golden – keep an eye on it.
Serve the langoustines sprinkled with zest and with the grilled lemon.
The Activities
Map out Mark Greenside’s numerous and specific errands. See how many landmarks you can pick out from the book.
Write your own cultural advice list about America, or about your home specifically. Be as detailed as possible for the laughs.
Plan your own trip to France (without the fussiness). Really channel your inner travel agent. For longer meetings, fill more time by scrapbooking your “travels.” Print pictures from the Internet of the hotels, restaurants, and sights that would make up your dream trip.
Share your own cultural traditions with the group. Find renewed appreciation for the melting pot that exists in every corner of America.
Write your own locational memoir. Tell the story of your family home, your societal pressures, or your unspoken expectations growing up. What factors differentiate your experiences?