Published on June 6th, 2017 | by Ann Rickard


Simple Food in France

Every time I arrive in Paris – and I have done so every June for the past 12 years – the first thing I do is go in search for two things:  a glass of pink wine and a Croque Monsieur.

Now this is not the norm and it is certainly far from exciting, I know – especially when you have some of the world’s most famous icons waiting for your patronage. Paris

But having been to the top of the Eiffel Tower, queued for three hours to get into the Louvre, eaten and drunk my way around the Latin Quarter, mingled with all the other tourists at Montmartre, stood in awe before Notre Dame, done the length and breadth of Pompidou, gazed up at The Thinker in Rodin’s Gardens, walked the length of the Champs Elysees, mounted the steps to Sacre-Coeur and driven around the chaos of the Arc de Triomphe, I feel I have paid my respects to Paris more than once.

So, it is straight to the pink wine and the Croque Monsieur I go the minute I disembark the plane and get into the city.

I love the pink fruitiness of a rose and try as I might I have not found one in Australia to match any French rose.

Of course, we can buy French rose in Australia, but being stingy by nature, I don’t like paying more than $20 for a bottle of wine – $10 is more my limit, ($5 if I’m being truthful) and I can’t find a good Aussie rose for around $10, although Jacobs Creek do a reasonable one for about $12.   Some of our Australian roses are more red than pink, but I will continue the search for the perfect Australian rose.

Wine Paris

In the meantime, when I hit France it is straight into the rose.  And I love it that most French cafes and bistros serve it freely by the glass, or better still, by the pichet.   A pichet is a lovely French word for a carafe.  While I wouldn’t be seen dead drinking a carafe of wine in Australia (does any restaurant serve it a carafe now, anyway?), I love a pichet of vin de maison in France.

On our first day in France my man and I go for the modest 50 ml and work our way up from there to the litre pichet (we are big people with big appetites.)

As for the Croque Monsieur, well frankly speaking it is nothing more than a ham and cheese sandwich.   Not something you usually associate with la haute gastronimie in France.   But it’s a fancy ham and cheese sandwich.  The ham is in the middle of the bread but the cheese is on the outside, all melty and gooey and smothered with a béchamel sauce.

I believe it began life as a quick snack, sort of cheap peasant food, but it has hung in there and it can be found in any bistro even if it is not on the menu as we found out yesterday.   “You don’t have Croque monsieur on the menu,” I almost wept to the waiter in the modest bistro next to our hotel.  (We were only about an hour off the plane and my craving was intense.)


“But we can do one, of course,” the waiter said and off he went and approximately three minutes later there it was in front of me.

Wikipedia tells me Croque Monsieur translates to ‘Croque’ (to bite) and ‘Monsieur’ as we all know means Mister.

Biting Mister sounds a strange name for a ham and cheese sandwich but who are we to question?

Some bistros serve the Croque Monsieur just as it is, a sandwich on a plate, while others will bring it out with a little pot of mayo and a bucket of fries and a neat little salad.   I love all versions.

If I am feeling particularly frisky, usually on the second day in France, I go very upmarket and upgrade to a Croque Madam.  I cannot speak highly enough of a Croque Madam.  Oh, the deliciousness of it.

It is the same ham sandwich with the gooey cheese and béchamel on top, but this time with a big fried egg plonked in the middle of it.   Gourmet Paradise and don’t let anyone say otherwise.


After a few more days in France when I’ve settled down and got over the jetlag and the Croque Monsieur attraction, I do eat good food: lots of duck and plenty of salads.  I don’t know what it is about the French but they make even the simplest of salad sing with flavour.  It’s all about the vinaigrette.  They don’t mess with it.  They use olive oil, vinegar, mustard and garlic, and that’s it.   Get the quantities right, season it a little and you have a thing of culinary magnificence.


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About the Author

is a Noosa (Australia) local and author of six successful books, all humorous travel narratives. In 2005 Ann won the prestigious ASTW’s Australian Travel Writer of the Year and in 2007 she won the ASTW Travel Book of the Year. Ann takes a culinary tour to the South of France in June every year . Ann writes travel, dining and columns for the Sunshine Coast Daily and is the Life editor of the Noosa News. Ann also maintains a well read and popular blog site. Ann’s travels have seen her explore cuisines all over the world.

2 Responses to Simple Food in France

  1. Cherry Presser says:

    Please, could we receive via email, your articles and blogs, etc. we have bought and read your travel books and loved them. They now have a place on our bookshelves at home in south west Victoria. As we are book readers (and Noosa is our special reading time) we have no hesitation in recommending them to our friends.
    We come to Noosa for 10 weeks every year, have travelled to Europe several times over the years and love reading your articles!
    Ev & Cherry Presser

    • Ann Rickard says:

      Hi Eve and Cherry, just go to my website often, my columns and blogs will be on there. Also if you go to Sunshine Coast Daily website you’ll find my travel and columns there. Thanks for reading.

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