From Penarth to Paris.....and back again

I’M just back from a short jolly to Paris, a city I last visited when I was about 14. My dad did that irritating thing that parents do, where he told every shopkeeper, waiter(ess) and seller of Metro tickets, that I was doing a GCSE in French so, “Go on Ali, you do the talking.”

I could request a ‘sandwich au jambon’ and a train ticket to La Rochelle (‘Tricolore’ text books anyone?), but I was hardly up to reading Victor Hugo in his native tongue, the illusion my dad seemed to hold.

Many years (and GCSEs) later I returned to the City of light and found the buildings, art and food as delicious as I remembered and the gold, yellow, red and brown trees and mid-autumn sun, bathed the city in a cheery, chilly glow.

Comfy shoes on and much mooching commenced. Anyone who reads this column with even fleeting regularity will know that one of my passions is food, eating it, cooking it, reading about it and shopping for it. I was quite spoilt in the French capital.

The heady stench of cheese grabbed my nostrils at each Fromagerie; my eyeballs popped as I gazed at the rows of cakes at each Patisserie; my mouth watered at the variety of meat on show in every Boucherie; my curiosity roused with the selection of fish in every Poissonnier. I was spoilt, indulged, wallowing in a gastronomic assault on every sense.

It got me thinking about food shopping, specifically how and where we do it. Of course France has supermarkets, there’s the mammoth Carrefour chain, it has its far share of Aldi’s and Lidl, just as we do and there’s even a food hall in the M & S on the Champs Elysees.

But it struck me, as I meandered through main streets and back streets, in affluent areas, poorer areas, arty, student and touristy areas, that good food from independent or at least small-chain suppliers was available to all. It wasn’t exclusive, fine food being the privilege of a few with cash to splash on an artisan loaf or organic cauliflower. It appeared to be a meritocracy.

I thought of so many towns that I know in the UK with streets lined with identi-kit chain stores and massive edge of town supermarkets. Like most people, I use them.

Time and money make them a convenient option for most of us, much of the time.

But I was so happy to think I live near Penarth, a place that still has fab butchers like David Lush; amazing pizza from ‘Pizza Pronto’; great books at ‘Griffin Books’; goodies and gifts galore at ‘Hamptons’, ‘Barnums’ and ‘Shore’; children’s clothes at ‘Funky Monkey’.

Not just for food, but for life, we have a high street full of unique, independent, artisan, different and we should cherish it because places, like people, should be celebrated for their individuality, it’s what makes them special and worth taking time to discover.