Here’s a picture of McDonald’s on the Champs-Elysées. I’ve heard it’s the busiest McDonald’s in the world, which makes sense because Paris is the most visited city in the world. But is going to McDonald’s okay in a city known for its gastronomy?

When I first got here, my answer would be no. I used to be embarrassed to be an American at McDonald’s in Paris. But after four trips there throughout my semester abroad, I recommend a meal at a foreign McDonald’s to any American.

Before I tell you why, let me give you a bit of background about the fast food empire and myself. McDonald’s has been very good to me over the years. When I was little and at the peak of my picky eating ways, I never wanted anything on the McDonald’s menu. I hated hamburgers, and I refused to try chicken nuggets or any other normal choice. Instead, I wanted a grilled cheese. It didn’t seem like too much to ask. Just a bun with a piece of cheese. But, apparently, McDonald’s didn’t see it that way. The chain thrives on its world-changing assembly line, and for anyone to ask for something different is not supposed to happen.

Still, my caring parents always went to the cashier and ordered my grilled cheese. Most of the time the cashier had to call a manager. The real good ones knew to put it in the computer as a cheeseburger without the burger. It was an annoying request I had no problem making because, as Meg Ryan says in “When Harry Met Sally,” “I just like it the way I like it.”

As I got older, I discovered Chicken Nuggets and salads, and started ordering like a normal McDonald’s customer. So now, as a fan of McDonald’s, I’m fascinated every time I dine at the Paris version.

Things you’ll find in a Parisian McDonald’s that you won’t find in the U.S.

1. Beer—Yes.
2. The Croque Monsieur—-The closest thing to a grilled cheese I’ve ever seen on a McDonald’s menu. A croque monsieur is a traditional French sandwich which is basically a grilled cheese with ham, but its structure is different. It starts with the bread, then the ham, then the cheese is melted on top of that. I haven’t tried the McDonald’s version… yet.
3. A slightly less efficient staff—For some reason, the McDonald’s in France are not as quick as in the U.S.
4. Potato wedges—They have the usual fries, too, but they also offer potato wedges.
5. Messy French people—Americans know that when you’re done with your tray at McDonald’s, you bring it to the trash can. I’ve noticed not everyone knows that here.
6. Much better salads—I’m not a huge fan of McDonald’s salad, but they’re better here than in the U.S.

This story caught my eye today on Time.com:

Does Extreme Picky Eating in Adulthood Signal an Eating Disorder?

I didn’t know there was a support web site called PickyEatingAdults.com. According to the web site, the group has more than 1000 members. They should all come to Paris!

P.S. You may notice my blog looks weird. I’ve been having technical difficulties. Will fix soon.

One of the best things about living in a different country has been finding temporary replacements for my favorite foods in the U.S. For cereal, I’ve found this:

It’s the perfect mix of granola, and dried fruit, and it’s inexpensive. I’m thinking of sneaking some into my suitcase. Hopefully it’s TSA friendly.

Sorry I have not been blogging as much as I did at the beginning of the semester, but internet issues in my apartment have made Tumblr annoyingly slow. However, I should try to deal with the slow connection because I’m running out of time in France. I say au revoir to Paris on Dec. 17, so I’ve made a list of 11 things I want to accomplish before I’m back in the U.S.:

1. Eat a macaroon.
2. Climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower. This would have been smarter to do in the 60-degree weather I arrived in, but oh well.
3. Visit Victor Hugo’s house.
4. Visit Napoleon’s Tomb.
5. Have one last Nutella crêpe at 1 a.m.
6. Go inside Versailles.
7. Go for a run in the Tuileries, the gardens outside the Louvre. Another thing that would have been better in early fall…
8. Go to the restaurant in Montmarte that serves wine in baby bottles.
9. Spend more time in Montmartre.
10. Learn how to tie a scarf like a French person.
11. Study for finals.

Also, here are a few photos from the last week. Not really a lot to do with food, but my food experiences have become less adventurous because of the need to save money and a desire to eat all my favorite meals before I leave.

This week has been covered in snow.

Apparently, in Paris, it’s rare before January, but it has snowed five times already.

Another highlight of the week was the Musée de l’Orangerie.

This is my friend, Margaret, at the museum dedicated to Monet. It’s dedicated to him because he requested it. He painted these large paintings of his waterlilies on a curved surface, so the round rooms on the main floor of the museum were designed to fit the works of art. The museum is located in the Tuileries, and is small enough that it’s not overwhelming. And it’s not all Monet. You’ll find paintings by Renoir, Matisse, and more in the basement.

While at the Musée de l’Orangerie, my friends and I spotted some kids on a field trip. We decided French kids have much more sophisticated field trips than American kids.

In the days leading up to Thanksgiving, I observed that the French know what Thanksgiving is, they have a vague idea of what happens on the day, and they know it’s a good conversation starter with Americans.

First, it was my French film teacher. “Happy Thanksgiving?” he said on Wednesday with a hint of inflexion in his voice, like he wasn’t exactly sure the greeting was appropriate.

Later that night, my host mom commented on the holiday.  “That’s a pretty big deal for you, isn’t it?” she asked.

And on Thanksgiving, when I sadly had to go to class, there was a news brief in the free metro newspaper about President Obama pardoning a turkey.

But other than these moments, I found Thanksgiving has nothing to do with France or its people, so it goes largely unnoticed. This can be hard for Americans in Paris. Thanksgiving is usually a day off with family, friends, and food, not a school or work day to be treated like any other Thursday.

Keeping this in mind, my study abroad program planned a Thanksgiving dinner at a nice restaurant. I was curious about how French chefs would tackle the meal. My friends and I received the menu in advance, which included typical items, such as turkey, pumpkin soup, and cranberry sauce. But despite the familiar menu, the Thanksgiving meal wasn’t typical.

It started with velouté de potiron, a creamy pumpkin soup.

I thought this was gross. It was cold, and too creamy and buttery. I’ve never been a big fan of soup or any other liquid food, but I tried it. I’m still not a fan.

The main dish was what I was looking forward to: turkey with chestnuts, cranberry sauce, and mashed sweet potatoes, or, in French, dinde farcie aux marrons, sauce canneberge, et purée de potates douces.

The turkey, cranberry sauce, and chestnuts were delicious. The mashed sweet potatoes, however, were not. The side is usually my favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal, but the French version wasn’t the same. The potatoes weren’t as sweet as my mom makes them, and they had a different textured than what I’m used to.

Next came cheesecake, which is the same in French, for dessert. It was yummy, even though none of us understood why cheesecake was included. It wasn’t pecan pie, but it was still good.

It’s not that the French meal was bad, it just wasn’t Thanksgiving. I’m used to heaps of mashed potatoes, three types of pie to choose from, and second-helpings of all of it, sandwiched between the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and Black Friday plans. I understand that the goal of studying abroad is to learn about a different culture, but another part of it is gaining a better understand of your own. I found that to be true this week. Sure, Americans aren’t known for their cooking skills like the French, but we take pride in our Thanksgiving feast. Thanksgiving is best in America, where it started and where it should be.

Last week was my program’s fall break, so two friends and I headed south to Barcelona. We arrived Tuesday night around 9:30 p.m.—after traveling by airport shuttle then plane then bus—so food was on our minds. Our hostel happened to be right off La Rambla, one of Barcelona’s main attractions, so we had plenty of restaurants to choose from.

Through traveling and experimenting with new foods, I’ve noticed that I am quite ignorant about the cuisine customs of certain cultures. Before I went to Barcelona, I asked a friend from my program, who has family in Spain, what the country’s traditional food is. “Is it like Mexican food?” I asked.

He looked at me like I was a dumb American, then sympathetically laughed, and said, “No.”

He then told me I had to try tapas and paella, so on my first night in Spain, that’s exactly what I did.

That’s a photo of the paella, partly eaten, at La Zarzuela. It consists of rice, vegetables, and seafood, a combination that can only lead to something good. It was a little bit spicy, and very filling, but delicious. The paella also came with tapas, or Spanish appetizers, and Sangria, one of my favorite things about Spain. Another favorite thing? Cheap prices. We each paid less than 12 euros for this whole meal. While Parisian food is good, it’s definitely not cheap.

The next day, my friends and I went to La Boqueria, a huge open market off La Rambla. It was full of fresh produce and good eats, but the best part was all the different colors. Look at the “Natural Juices” sign… You don’t get color like that in Paris.

For the last dinner of our trip we decided on tapas and paella again.

It was the perfect meal to end our Spanish getaway. While I loved the Spanish food, architecture, and palm trees, the city did make me appreciate Paris more. Maybe it’s because I don’t speak Spanish, or because our hostel room had 24 beds in it, but I was happy to return to the City of Light.

I will miss those prices, though.

Last Monday, I went to L’As du Falafel for dinner in the Marais, my favorite French neighborhood. The Marais is Paris’s historically Jewish neighborhood, so there are falafel joints everywhere, but L’As du Falafel is famous. It’s a favorite of Lenny Kravitz, whose picture hangs in multiple places in the restaurant, and in 2006, Mark Bittman wrote in the New York Times,  “the falafel is so good that this is the one culinary destination in town I never skip.” 

That’s the restaurant. You may think it doesn’t look too exciting, which is true. The actual décor is simple, but it’s not known for its street appearance. Instead, it’s known for this:

Le falafel. The meal doesn’t look like much either, but don’t judge it by the mess. The actual falafel balls are the perfect mix of a little bit of spice and a familiar fried food taste. You’ll find falafel all the way to the bottom of the pita, along with a generous helping of vegetables. The sandwich is served in a pita, but if you eat inside, the waiter gives you a plate so you can put down the overflowing sandwich and avoid messy hands. If you get it to go and eat outside, take a bunch of napkins. You’re going to need them all.

I didn’t try a falafel until I got to Paris. It was one of those foreign foods I chose to stay away from because I didn’t understand exactly what a falafel was. But when my friends in Paris told me a falafel is ground up vegetables, it didn’t seem so scary. The sandwich doesn’t look like the most appealing dish, but I’m glad I didn’t let that stop me.

And if it’s good enough for Lenny Kravitz, it’s good enough for me.

If you want to go, here’s what you need to know: L’As du Falafel, 34 Rue des Rosiers, 75004 Paris, Metro: St. Paul