'L鈥橝ppart' is a painfully funny story of the joys and pitfalls of making Paris your home
David Lebovitz knows all about the romance of Paris, 鈥渇litting from museum to caf茅 to pastry shop,鈥� taking in picture-perfect views of the Eiffel Tower, luxuriously eating Berthillon ice cream by the Seine.
Those are daily joys when you鈥檙e visiting the City of Lights. When you change your status from tourist to permanent resident, the attractions are even more sublime, but the roadblocks are downright Kafkaesque. Lebovitz, a well-known pastry chef and cookbook author, delves into both in L鈥橝ppart: The Delights and Disasters of Making My Paris Home.
The plot sounds simple 鈥� an account of how Lebovitz bought and renovated his own apartment after years of renting. In reality, the former Californian鈥檚 project couldn鈥檛 have been more convoluted. The book is factually much heavier on disasters than delights, making for a painful account that鈥檚 only bearable because Lebovitz makes it painfully funny as well.
If you've ever dreamed of tossing your return ticket home, Lebovitz will make you think twice with his explanations of French fees, bureaucracy, space limitations, 鈥渢he 鈥渉ighly structured and layered鈥� nature of society, and business customs that never favor the customer. French life is rightly lauded for some benefits, he notes, including healthcare and long vacations. But the advantages come at a cost.
When Lebovitz鈥檚 contractor says 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry鈥� early on, we already flinch, guessing how much he should be worrying. (Using the familiar 鈥渢u鈥� verb tense with his workers rather than the more formal 鈥渧ous鈥� turns out to be just one consequential error.) And Lebovitz warns us early to keep every official document in French life, because 鈥測ou never know when some one will insist that you produce an electric bill from exactly four years and eleven months ago. (And trust me, they will.)鈥�
"L鈥橝ppart" feels more personal than Lebovitz鈥檚 other cookbooks and guides to Parisian life, though typically charming and occasionally a touch risqu茅. It includes ruefully sweet accounts of his partner Romain, a Frenchman who sees the pitfalls in Lebovitz鈥檚 path. Romain can鈥檛 save Lebovitz from himself, but he can at least accompany his partner to 鈥淓Ey-Kay-a鈥� (Ikea), which, we learn, beats out Charles de Gaulle Airport as the most confusing place in Paris.聽
That鈥檚 love.聽
As with many chef-memoirs, recipes are strewn throughout the book. This is a real bonus, as Lebovitz is a master of clear, well-tested recipes that elevate the repertoires of home cooks. When it comes to cooking, he鈥檚 in complete control, knowing every nuance of preparing buttery, caramelized kouign amann pastries or savory beef stew. 聽It鈥檚 quite a contrast to his rocky route to home ownership. But we see him build his renovation skills, too, in a place where a big part of life is 鈥渋nvesting in relationships,鈥� even getting in line for the same checker in the supermarket.
It took time, he writes, but 鈥淚 realized that living in Paris awakened something inside me that not only changed my cooking, but the kind of person I am. Without realizing it, I鈥檇 become entrenched in France, and French culture, and France made sense to me.鈥�
We envy Parisians in a different way hearing Lebovitz describe the characters of different neighborhoods or reading his descriptions of choosing and nibbling the perfect baguette. We鈥檇 never want to take on the hassles he encountered building his home, but we鈥檇 sure want to be in the kitchen he envisions when his task is done, soft light streaming through new windows (another long story there), surrounded by friends 鈥渃hatting while I tended to a coq au vin simmering on the stove....鈥澛�
Vicariously, he serves quite a feast.
