We’re all familiar with baguettes and croissants, but it’s less widely known that they also enjoy munching shark fillet on the other side of the channel. Having spent her childhood entrenched in the culinary customs of Toulouse, Olivia Vaile reveals the weird and wonderful world of French cooking.

French cuisine is often credited as the most venerated in the world, serving as a benchmark for modern chefs across the globe. When you think of French cooking, you may think of sunlit cafés on cobblestone streets, where the buttery fragrance of flakey croissants mingles with the earthy smell of artisanal cheeses coming from a nearby fromagerie. You may think of cosy bistros tucked away on hidden corners where the air is thick with the aroma of a caramelising onion soup . 

The techniques sauté, confit and flambé were pioneered by French chefs and are now fundamental practices studied in culinary schools. The french Michelin star system has shaped the culinary landscape worldwide by setting the standard for excellence.

For me, French food should be revered, not for its global prestige and romanticism, but for the customs it holds dear. Having spent eight years of my childhood living in a small village near Toulouse, I learnt to adopt and love the importance French people place on communal eating, experimentation and fun – far from the elegant portrayal people paint it to be.

Breakfast and disordered utensils  

For breakfast, the French forgo utensils, using food instead. Firstly, coffee and hot chocolate are drunk from bowls. While the wide rim may lead to chocolate-stained lips, it serves its purpose for dunking in tartines (yesterday’s leftover bread), spread with butter and jam. 

Knives don’t partake in this activity, as the back of teaspoons is used to spread. On the rare occasion that there are croissants in the house because, contrary to their global branding, they aren’t that popular amongst natives, a knife will be poked in the side to turn it over the hob’s flame. The result is a charred, slightly warm pastry, with delicate flakes peeling off.

Baguettes

Introducing what the French like to use as a fourth piece of cutlery: the humble baguette. It’s a stereotype that is undeniably accurate. Used to dip, snack, and wipe the plate clean, it’s a staple item on every dining table. In fact, if you were to bring home food from McDonald’s (because even fast food is enjoyed as a sit-down meal), you’ll still have a piece of baguette on the side. Leftover baguettes are covered in a tea cloth and popped in the fridge to stop them from going stale, and eaten as crusty tartines for breakfast the following day.

“Children are not just given good food, they are taught how to eat well.”

Patrick Bray

Queue the culture-shocked

I remember queuing up for canteen lunch and, to my shock, seeing shark fillet and chips on the menu. I once watched in disbelief as my friends all ate a piece of rare steak, whilst I pained through each chewy mouthful. We were eight – which, in other countries, is an age for a diet of smiley faces and turkey dinosaurs. Being served duck hearts on a skewer at a local community fête taught me that as a child in France, there is no allowance for picky eaters.

Patrick Bray, Director of French and Francophone Research at University College London, says: “When I enrolled my six-year-old son into French school, I was astounded at the quality of food served to all schoolchildren. Each meal was accompanied by a description of the ingredients and the culture it came from. Children are not just given good food, they are taught how to eat well.”

Three-course meals are a big affair. Every day.

The French honour the three-course meal etiquette by having set hours of their day carved out for dining. School days finish at 5pm to accommodate a two-hour lunch break and long colleague lunches are a daily norm, rather than a corporate treat.

The idea is that food is to be enjoyed collectively rather than simply a source of fuel. Taking a two-hour lunch break is far more socially acceptable than scoffing a meal deal at your desk. 

Even at home, no matter the occasion, three courses will always be served. You can expect a small starter to begin, whether this is grated carrots and vinegar (yes, really) or cured sausages and mini gherkins. Not forgetting homemade pâté: any respectable French mum will have a homemade batch of pâté in the fridge, typically combining minced liver, butter, garlic and herbs. As unappetising as it may sound (and look), it goes down a treat as an after-school snack. 

To lengthen their meal time further, their plat principal (main dish) is broken up in a particularly interesting way. By this, you will first be served chicken, beef or another form of seasoned protein, which will be eaten and mopped up with a morsel of baguette. On the same plate, the accompanying side of ratatouille or buttered pasta will follow, served amongst topical chatter and laughter.

A palate cleanser of salad will ensue – and it is rarely anything fancy. Typically, it will consist of some washed lettuce leaves and a homemade mustard vinaigrette. 

Then comes the cheese: the stinkier the better. It is always bought fresh from a local market and served on a large wooden board for all to tuck into. It is even considered rude to discard the rind – which I learnt from an early age after removing it from a slice of local Toulouse Brebis (a hard cheese with a tough rind), much to the disapproval of my friend’s parents. Because when it comes to cheese, the French are highly protective, as reflected in their PDO (Protected Designation of Origin) system aimed at safeguarding regional cheeses.

Bray says: “For French people, food exemplifies this connection to land, culture, and history, and is fundamental to who they are. So much political effort has been put into elevating French cuisine which has, since 2010, been placed on the list of intangible cultural heritage.”

Dessert also plays its deserving role – even if it only consists of fruit or yoghurt. But the best part is that the notion of guilty foods and diet culture simply does not exist in French culture like it does in the UK. As a child I wholeheartedly embraced this approach, relishing it as a reward for my evolving taste buds.

Beneath the glamour of their culinary prestige lies an important takeaway: the heart of French gastronomy beats strongest at home where food is celebrated, a moment for family, for fun eating and receptive palates. Because food in France is more than fuel – it’s a cultural experience, enriching life with every bite.