The secret of eating for pleasure

Despite its title, French women don't get fat isn't a diet book. Quite the contrary. And even though it has recipes, it's not a cook book, either. It's part memoir, part cultural expose, but mostly it's a bicultural woman's manifesto on making the rituals and traditions of her culture work with the world in which she has chosen to live.
The French attitude toward food is only one manifestation of a rich, fairly homogenous culture that evolved over hundreds of years. When you're a country for that long, you have lots of time to figure out the perfect combination of physical labor, fruits, vegetables, proteins and other nutrients to produce healthy people in a given environment. In contrast, the US is a such a hodge podge of uprooted cultures, we've lost the balance that our more settled ancestors cultivated over the course of history. It is probably impossible to undervalue the impact of the automobile on this fragile caloric balance; French people and other pedestrians (including New Yorkers and many Washingtonians) can eat richer foods because we're on our feet all day long.
One of Mireille's most important precepts is that cooking and eating should be an everyday celebration. The French are universally shocked that so many Americans don't know how to cook, or if they do, think of it as an elaborate, difficult process reserved for special occasions. In France, the transformation of ingredients into tasty meals is just as much a part of daily routine as brushing our teeth or checking the mail. For example, just the other day Boyfriend seemed slightly amazed by my ability to whip up an omelette aux herbes de Provence et fromage in less than 10 minutes, and other friends are shocked by my complete lack of interest in following recipes (i call them cheat sheets or just"inspiration"). Conversely, I'm always amused by people's insistence on measuring the four quarts of water in which pasta will be boiled and the exact two tablespoons of butter to be added to the Mac'n'Cheese. I'm a big believer in eyeballing .
Mireille and I both agree on our least favorite American cultural value - the persistent Puritan belief that anything that feels good is sinful. In France, we frequently enjoin one another to fais-toi plaisir - give yourself some pleasure and find delight in the small things in life. It's all about cultivating not the guilty pleasure but the ritual treat - for exampple, my father eats two squares of dark chocolate every night before bed. I've adapted the concept to my American life: I always have my Monday night mid-class dinner from the McDonald's dollar menu (small fry, four chicken nuggets, and a McChicken sandwich) to the initial shock and now great amusement of my classmates and my professor.
We French believe in pleasure but also in moderation, which is easier for us to maintain because we know this this isn't our last chance to eat cake or do whatever it is that brings us joy. A fe months ago a friend of mine was utterly shocked that i could have three bites of cake, or one drag off a cigarette and be satisfied.
Speaking of which, my one fault with this book is that it omits the controversial fact that French women are much more likely to satiate their oral fixations by smoking than by overeating - both are bad for you, no doubt, but in France it's more socially acceptable to smoke than to overeat, whereas it's the opposite in the States. I only have anecdotal evidence to support this, but I am convinced that many overweight Americans would be trim smokers if they lived in a cultural context where that was acceptable. To the French mind, the American division between Smokers and Non-Smokers is pretty artificial - to most French people, especially the young, smoking is an activity, not an innate characteristic. You can be an occasional smoker just as you can be an occasional eater of red meat.
Nevertheless, un grand merci to Mireille for putting her experience into words.