I prefer my meat boneless, skinless, faceless
I’ve been in a weird sort of forced-vegetarian state since I’ve arrived in France. Despite passing more than four butchers on my walk from home to work every day, I have only purchased one meat product: a rotisserie chicken. Why? I have no idea how to cook real meat.
I’ve floated in and out of veganism, vegetarianism, semi-vegeterianism and full-on In & Out Burger obsession for years. However, the rare times I cooked meat at home revolved around boneless, skinless chicken breasts or ground turkey. These were available in lovely, plastic-wrapped packages in the refrigerated section at the back of the grocery store.
Yes, I could probably find the same plastic-wrapped packages in the supermarchés here. But the lovely part of grocery shopping in France is the tiny merchants: the butcher, the cheese shop, the outdoor fruit and vegetable markets. These tiny stores require interactions–you can’t simply pick among the packages, reading the product information until you find something you like. You have to speak up and know what you want, and the courage to do so has escaped me so far.
However, working in a restaurant has definitely opened up my eyes to all the animals and animal products that we simply don’t use in America: chicken livers, quail, pork bellies, rabbit. Here people–and young people, at that–order chicken livers like Americans order chicken nuggets. It’s simply unfathomable to me, mentally stuck in my world of lean chicken breasts on a Foreman grill.
But I’ve realized that these products must have some redeeming qualities. Why else would people continue to order them, to ooh and ahh over them in the restaurants and the butcher shops? Entire rabbit bodies are sold in Monoprix, the equivalent of Target–this is not a hoity-toity, gourmet speciality. Instead of being trapped by plastic packages of only the prettiest parts, the French are open to a huge variety of animals and meat products.
I know I can conquer the ice cream here. I have confidence in that. But the meat? I’m still working up the courage to buy it, let alone eat it.
