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“How will you serve your wedding feast?” my French chef friend asked. She was putting the finishing touches on our small, Covid-era celebration.
“Oh, I splurged,” I said. “Bought some Chinet paper plates.”
Her head tipped, eyebrows raised. “Mmmm,” she replied.
Without another word, her disapproval was clear.
At the time, I didn’t fully understand. A plate is a plate, right?
But then I went to Paris.
From the Eiffel Tower’s sparkling lights to the ceilings of the train stations to the bespoke ironwork on balconies, the city does not disappoint.
Even an everyday streetlamp is decorated with climbing leaves.
Nothing too inconsequential for beauty.
Coffee isn’t served in clunky mugs (which I have in excess) but curved cups, resting on minute saucers notched for steadiness. Spoons so tiny they could stir pancake batter in a dollhouse.
No detail accidental.
And then there is the ritual of sitting. The French are experts at the sit-and-watch-the-world-walk-by. Cafés fill with people who linger, savoring each sip while the city flows past.
Time itself feels different in Paris—measured by presence instead of productivity.
Then the art. The city boasts 150 museums, and although we only managed five, we left planning to return for more.
And the food. My friend was right—presentation matters.
Entrees were accompanied by dots and dollops of dense yet light sauces. And until now, I had no idea how special meringue could be, especially when set on fire.
One day, we visited the grave of Edith Piaf. As we stood with other tomb tourists, I played her signature song “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien.”
No regrets.
France has endured revolutions, wars, and upheavals. Plaques across the city memorialize insurrections and battles. Standing before them, I wondered if the French devotion to savoring—the coffee, the art, the meals—is a response to this history.
If tomorrow is uncertain, perhaps the best we can do is make today unforgettable.
Unregrettable.
And so, I am forever grateful I left those paper plates in their plastic bag.
Instead, we released inherited china from an infrequently opened cabinet. Exactly the 13 plates we needed. It made an already fortuitous day momentous.
And the dreaded dishwashing?
My husband did it.
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