In 2009, Chicagoan Jane Bertch began establishing a culinary school business in Paris, which is raison d’être for her debut memoir. Readers who come for the food, know this: Puff pastry secrets are not disclosed, and the book’s title does not refer to butter.
The author’s revelations deal with much broader issues, some of which might be beneficial to those considering a move abroad during, say, the next four years—like how to adapt to the culture, and how to move forward in life.
Bertch landed in Paris in 2006 as a banker equipped with minimal French language skills. She had been working in London and felt familiar with a European vibe. Yet she found it challenging to deal with her new boss and navigate the quirks of human interaction specific to citizens of the French Republic. Initially, she noticed how long it took to simply make friends. Fellow ex-pats moved in and out of the picture. Relationships with coworkers did not naturally occur. What happened outside the office was not shared at chatty lunches.
She set her sights on befriending an older woman there, nonetheless. The effort takes months, and—spoiler alert—she succeeds. While this serves as an early indicator of her penchant for perseverance, it might be wise to remember the author’s disclaimer that names and scenarios have been changed to protect the personal privacy so prized by the French. As described, Claudie sounds like a friend worth having.
Among her travails, Bertch becomes attuned to the bat squeaks of French social cues. The "smell look," as if disdain literally reeks. Praise, if given, is always understated. Career changes raise an eyebrow about one’s intelligence and commitment to professional training. In the book, her coping mechanisms are offered as frequent gifts of diplomacy called astuce or "tricks," such as how to shop at a fromagerie and be a proper dinner guest, i.e, never arrive early.
She credits crisis for her shift to entrepreneur. An underlying discontent, the deaths of three loved ones back home in the States within a short time, and a subsequent "what-if" session with her Paris pals prompted owning a "high-quality cooking school" as the antidote. Bertch loved food, sure, but she was no kitchen wizard. Her marketing and managerial smarts proved far more crucial to the endeavor.
She held close her plans as she navigated red tape and found a suitable spot for La Cuisine Paris, with the support and financial backing of Olivier, who remained her business partner even after their romance ran its course. The school would be warm and welcoming, she pledged, with an emphasis on creating memories rather than haute cuisine. A friend of this reviewer who has taken classes there confirms this is what happens.
Tryouts for La Cuisine’s chef instructors make for some of the memoir’s livelier passages. Bertch has to weigh the merits of technique, tolerance, personality. In the same way that the final candidate turns out to be the best in filmic auditions, "last-up" Clotilde wins the day. Bertch compares her to the rotisseur chef Colette in the animated movie Ratatouille: efficient, quirky, and tough as nails.
In this, the owner-heroine strikes a blow for égalité. She writes: "The cuisine world is as tough for women in France as it is in the United States. … Those women who have made it tended to have a family history in cuisine—and even then it’s harder than you think." (This reviewer found stats from 2021 that show women make up 25 percent of the "chef" job workforce in the United States, with 91, 90, and 88 percent of the corporate chef, chef de cuisine, and executive chef jobs filled by men.)
Even if Bertch the author is prone to over-rely on pop-culture similes, Bertch the businesswoman deserves respect for recognizing a niche in the French market; for building, losing, and regaining a customer base as well as a second home for La Cuisine Paris; for pivoting through extreme weather and COVID; for creating synergy with local purveyors; for remaining defiant in the face of terrorism; and, mostly, for maintaining her all-American moxie.
La Cuisine Paris is going strong, by the way. Its four-hour market tour with cooking class costs a reasonable couple hundred bucks. Its website offers a range of services including a newsletter, blog, online classes, etiquette lessons, and guides to French wine and pastries. Bertch recently told her story on CBS Saturday Morning, where it was reported that her school now hosts 10,000 students a year.
She ends the book not only accepting French ways but admiring Parisians’ work ethic and their time and care dedicated to joie de vivre. Bertch admits she has more lessons to learn from it all, not the least of which is that she will "never be French." Good for her.
The French Ingredient: Making Life in Paris One Lesson at a Time
by Jane Bertch
Ballantine, 304 pp., $30
Bonnie S. Benwick, formerly of the Washington Post Food section, is a freelance editor and recipe tester. You can find her on Instagram and Threads: @bbenwick.
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