Drinking French

On the darkened streets and sidewalks of France, the flicker of lights in corner cafés signals the start of the day. Whether you re in a city like Paris, Lyon, or Marseille, or a village in the countryside, once the lights are on, the next order of business is to flip the switch on the coffee machine. With that simple action, the day begins.

While the machine is warming up, the beige ceiling lights cast a warm glow on wicker chairs stacked one on top of the other, along with the café tables, waiting to be set up on the sidewalk outside. Baguettes picked up at the local bakery on the way to work are propped up against the bar in a paper sack, and will eventually be sliced for breakfast tartines, served with butter and jam. But first things first: coffee.

Le barman (or woman) releases a sputtering blast of steam from the milk-warming wand, an indication that the machine is ready to go, as people start to wander in. In the wintertime, the warmth is definitely part of the attraction, as are the free morning newspapers on wooden spindles. But any time of the year, locals gather at their neighborhood bar to stand and drink a short, dark café express while reading the paper or catching up on commérages (gossip) in the neighborhood. Most of the customers have just woken up. Others are heading home after a long night of work or play. But it doesn t matter: There are no judgments in a French café; everyone is welcome to gather there, whether you spent the night sweeping the streets (or working the streets), are on your way to a business meeting, or are a timid tourist, hoping to get your first taste of France.

I fell into the latter category. On my first visit to Paris, zonked after the long flight from California, I walked into a nearby café and ordered a coffee at the counter. After the barman strong-armed the filter holder into place, he hit the switch and the espresso machine dribbled a trickle of murky dark liquid into a cup placed underneath the spout.

David Lebovitz

In the canon of drinking, there has been a conspicuous absence of information about how the French, undisputed masters of all things gastronomique, imbibe at home and in that hallowed social space, the café. David Lebovitz is certainly the most qualified person I can think of to write this book, and he does so with deft precision. I knew this book was written with someone like me in mind equal parts Francophile, food, and beverage enthusiast when I opened to the very first recipe in the book, my beloved morning ritual: the café au lait. Jeffrey Morgenthaler, author of Drinking Distilled

I can think of no one I'd rather meet for a drink than David Lebovitz. In his authoritative yet always approachable style, Lebovitz expertly guides us through the often-unspoken rituals, customs, and traditions of properly drinking French whether it's a morning café au lait, a mid-afternoon Picon bière, or a late-night Boulevardier. Lebovitz uses his years of experience as a baker and pastry chef to apply his keen understanding of ratios, formulas, and balancing flavor to seamlessly shift from the sweet life to the spirited life, with inventive recipes for café drinks, liqueurs, aperitifs, cocktails, and irresistible apéro snacks to accompany them. Brad Thomas Parsons, author of Bitters, Amaro, and Last Call

Anyone who has had the privilege of visiting Paris would certainly concur with David Lebovitz s observation that There is no shortage of rules in France; they even extend to beverages . Thankfully, we Francophiles have this seasoned expat to conduct us through the idiosyncrasies of café culture. This handy recipe and resource guide doubles as the modern French handbook for cocktail party hosts. Jim Meehan, author of Meehan s Bartender Manual and The PDT Cocktail Book
 
In France, drinking is more than a national sport . . . it s an art! From our petit