Bonjour ça va ?
It’s election time here in France and everyone’s a bit on edge as Marine Le Pen is giving E-Mac a run for his money (again). I haven’t been following much of the election coverage, aside from the results, but I did enjoy this delightful article from The Financial Times deciphering what each candidate’s clothes say about their political intentions.
Before I get into the thick of it, I’d love to say a huge merci to every who bought me a coffee following the last issue! I have been very well-caffeinated and able to power through all of my work!
Writing this newsletter is a labour of pure love so if you enjoy my writing (and are able to) please consider Buying Me a Coffee. It’s a wonderful initiative that allows people to support creatives, like myself, with a small donation at the price of a coffee.
If I were a French politician, I’d spend my days hanging around the tabacs of my neighbourhood to find out the real issues troubling the minds of the people. Tabacs gather such a wonderful cross-section of society and there’s no better way to get the people talking than over a café (or a pint) and clope (cigarette) svp.
In fact, I know I said in my last newsletter that bistros were my favourite French institution, but I rescind my claim! My true love is for le tabac, the real cornerstone of French society.
Tabac Tipples
My love for tabacs (tobacconists) makes me sound like I’m some furious durry-muncher who spends her days chasing the red diamond for a hit of nicotine. But tabacs are so much more than an addict’s haven of smoking paraphernalia and lotto tickets. Most sell all kinds of curiosities— from amyl nitrate to phone chargers to candy—and all offer key administrative services. Certain bills can be paid off at your local tabac (such as school fees, nursery fees, or outstanding hospital bills). Taxes and fines can be réglés. You can even buy SNCF train tickets!
Tobacco was first introduced to France in the mid-16th Century by the French ambassador to Portugal who offered it to Catherine de Medici as a cure for her son’s migraines. The ambassador’s name? Jean Nicot — whom ‘nicotine’ is named after.
The French administration quickly realised that tobacco was going to be a real hit amongst les citoyennes so King Louis XIV’s finance minister, Colbert, made tobacco production and sales the monopoly of the state. The first bureaux de tabacs opened in 1716 and, to this day, buralistes (tobacconists) are the only ones legally allowed to sell cigarettes in the hexagon.
The iconic tabac sign was introduced in 1906 when the French government made it compulsory for every tobacconist to be signposted with a symbol that was once-upon-a-time more carrot-shaped than the diamond that we know today. Popular folklore has it that the shape was derived from the ancient practice of keeping tobacco moist with carrots. It’s more likely, however, that the symbol was inspired by chewing tobacco which was sold in solid carrot-shaped cones in the 17th and 18th Centuries (baci-munchers had to grate the tobacco off themselves).
So sentimental is the symbol that in 2015, when the French government introduced plain cigarette packaging (a great Australian invention), furious tobacconists lobbed tons of carrots at the doors of local government buildings.
Although theywere one of the few essential services allowed to stay open during each confinement of the pandemic (which conflated a popular rumour in France that smokers didn’t catch COVID), it’s not an easy time for the 23,500 tabacs of France. Many are being run out of business by the rising price of cigarettes (which has caused an uptick in the sale of cigarettes on the black market) and as more and more people realise that to fumer une clope is not good for la santé!
It’s perhaps why so many tabacs have now diversified their offerings. On a reconnaissance mission for this newsletter, I noted that my local tabac sells vapes, poppers (not the juice kind), lollies, scratchies, legal weed, condoms, phone chargers, and COVID rapid test kits. It sounds like the ingredients for a big night on the town, if you ask me.
But why I love going to tabacs isn’t for the party kits but rather for people-watching over a bowl of frites (I wouldn’t recommend ordering much else to be honest). They are the true definition of the neighbourhood watering hole, where anyone is welcome for a tipple at n’importe quelle heure of the day.
I truly believe that if you want to see the real France, without stepping outside the capital, then pause for a drink at a tabac and watch the locals stumble in and out after one too many pints or Get27, or scratch furiously at their dédés at a neighbouring table. More often than not, there’ll be a lone ranger hanging about, looking for a good yarn with anyone and everyone, so you’ll probably also walk away with a good story or two. So on your next trip to France, I beg you to make time for a tabac-tipple! You can’t say you’ve truly experienced France until you’ve spent some quality time within a tabac.
Some tabacs are better than others, so I’ll share with you three of my favourites:
Le Progrès: A Parisian institution, perhaps the most famous of tabacs and most certainly the most iconic of bars in Le Marais. I’ve never quite worked out why this tabac is more popular than any of the others in the neighbourhood (they all offer the same shitty food and wine) but I think it’s because its large terrasse is located at an intersection, the perfect angle for people-watching. It’s impossible to get a table here during Fashion Week. They even sell their own merch!
Le Havane: My favourite place to stop for a drink on the bustling rue Montorgueil. What’s so unique about this tabac is that it serves top-notch Vietnamese food! Swap the fries for a plate of nems. But the wine is particularly bad here, so I’d recommend sticking to a spritz or a beer. I’ve encountered some of the most colourful local characters of my life at Le Havane
Café Drouot: Most tabacs invest little in their interiors or upkeep but this one is particularly well-kempt and elegant, making it a cozy spot to pause for a drink if you find yourself in the 9th arrondisment. They also make some killer fries which taste a lot less manufactured than the typical offerings of a tabac.
L’Heure de l’Aperitif
The time for tabac-tipples is most definitely aperitif (or mornings if you don’t want to be judged for a shot of whisky in your coffee) but, for once in my life, I am highly recommending that you do not order wine. This is where you will be served overpriced lighter fluid disguised as wine. So why not seize the opportunity to try a real French aperitif offering? I’m talking Pastis, Suze, and all those slickly labelled bottles that line the back of bar-tabacs.
Pastis: First commercialised in 1932 by Ricard, Pastis is an anise-flavoured aperitif that’s served in a small glass with a shot of water. Although it’s a transparent liquor, once water is added it turns cloudy and milky. Pastis is particularly popular in the south of France (Marseille) where its enjoyed post- (or pre-) pétanque. I personally do not enjoy liquorice-flavoured anything, but many people say that this is a wonderfully refreshing drink on a hot summer’s day.
Suze: Hands down my favourite French aperitif drink, Suze is a fluoro-yellow coloured liquor made from gentian root that dates from 1889. It has a peculiar taste—slightly medicinal, very herbaceous—but any bitterness is softened by mixing it with soda or tonic water. I’ve only seen it served in bars in small-town France, but you can find it at any Monoprix for just 8€ a litre. (I did see it for sale at P&V liquors in Sydney for an eye-watering $70 a bottle but it is definitely not worth that price!)
Get27/Get31: Another fluoro coloured French aperitif, Get27 and Get 31 are both bright green and taste, unsurprisingly, like mint. The numbers refer to the alcohol content, although today they only contain 21% and 24% of alcohol respectively. I’ve noticed that it’s a popular drink amongst teenagers getting drunk for the first time which means that for some adults just the sight of it makes them gag, whereas for others there’s something refreshingly nostalgic about the drink. I find the mint taste rather cleansing but I do understand that for some it’s akin to eating a tube of toothpaste.
Picon: A caramel-coloured aperitif, that’s actually classified as bitters, Picon is usually served with beer (Picon Bière) or white wine (Picon Club). Although it is dominated by a bitter orange taste, there is an underlying sweetness and dry quinine flavour to round it out. This is a difficult aperitif to get your hands on unless you’re in the north of France or Belgium where it’s still wildly popular.
Dubonnet: The drink of choice of Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II (it was awarded a Royal Warrant last year), Dubonnet is a sweet wine-based aperitif containing quinine. Dubonnet was first developed as a way to convince French soldiers based in North Africa to take quinine as a malaria-fighting remedy. Thick and syrupy in consistency, Dubonnet tastes like the child of Campari and sweet vermouth. It can be drunk straight, though it’s perhaps more enjoyable served with soda or tonic water—or mixed with gin, two cubes of ice, and a slice of lemon as Queen Elizabeth enjoys it.
There’s so much more to life than Aperol Spritz so during your next aperitif I encourage you to spread your wings and try one of these uniquely French and very peculiar drinks (at a tabac!)
A la prochaine!