On New Year's Eve, we're eating France. I admire their enthusiasm but wonder how they'll be able to churn out over fifteen dishes in their closet-sized kitchen. We buy the foods already made. Like Joan of Arc heading into battle, we charge out the door to plan the Meal of the Millennium. Whereas Americans avoid spending time on food, living on diets of Big Macs, Stouffers dinners, and Hamburger Helper, the French devote hours each day just to food shopping, especially in Paris.
Food is bought fresh daily, from individual merchants.
I suspect the multitude of small apartments and tiny refrigerators has something to do with this, but even those with ample living space seek out only the best and the freshest of foods daily. You must try the raw foie gras cru. It is the best of the best, rarely found at other times of year. We head on to our next sampling. The man behind the counter cuts a small straw-colored section from under the rind for Georges to taste.