Author’s Note: When you want to cause a stir in politics, bring up government spending.  No one is right and everyone is wrong.  We are taxed too high, spending’s too low, too much money goes to parks, not enough on research… the shouting will never subside. If you want to stir up controversy amongst everyone else, bring up bread.  The ultra fit, meathead marathoners will tell you to eat as the cavemen did.  The le pain snobs will tell you about the ONLY boulangerie where you can find a decent baguette.  Then there are the folks who like their bread fluffy, airy and tasteless and would sooner eat dirt than multigrain. I loved this column because ever after 30,000 years, bread is still sexy as hell.  My lifelong love affair with it burns like the fire of a brick pizza oven.   I am not really a fan of dieting. I usually gain five pounds in the first week because my brain and body become convinced I am secretly conspiring to starve myself to death, so they conspire to send me into insatiable pizza and ice cream urges. But like it or not, dieting basically becomes a must at some point after you hit twenty five and everyone’s metabolism hits the wall. Whilst having dinner with friends last week, one of my dining companions regaled us with ins and outs of his newest low carb fad. The idea is to deny yourself of all carbs so on your one day off, all you want is strawberries for your cheat food. Thinking about it, I said that was pretty much how I naturally gravitate in my eating. I focus on healthy proteins and my indulgences are generally a bunch of grapes here and there. I sat...

France took the Christ out of Christmas long, long ago. The word Noël comes from the middle French nael, which comes from the latin natalis [dies] which means [day] of birth. To wish someone a Merry Christmas, one would say Joyeux Noël. There is no all-inclusive “Happy Holidays” greeting in France, but in keeping with the French (at least the French I talk to) denial of any religious connection to their many religiously scheduled and named school vacations and national holidays (All-Saints, Easter), wishing someone a Joyeux Noël is merely wishing them a good vacation. In that way, it can be said to anyone whether they celebrate or not. This year, I scoured Paris for something Christmas-y to write about, but beyond a lot of blue and white lights (I know, counter-intuitive, right?), it seems the best things we have going here are the display windows at the big department stores, and they are a little scary. Then I realized that what I was looking for was all happening in my back yard. I live in a somewhat boring suburb of Paris, but the powers that be are good with community events, and every year there is an adorable Christmas Market. Maybe this is what you expect a market “in the old country” to look like? With chickens and rabbits (bottom right) and a veritable cornucopia all spread out on hay. Well sorry, this is just a display. The bananas are plastic.But the geese are real. There were lots of animals in attendance, professional show offs: geese, goats, sheep, cows, even a donkey. Seeing all these agricultural animals gives you a sense of plenty and makes everything feel more, I don’t know, wholesome… Lots of vendors sold the traditional foods you would buy at...