Freedom Fries and Cafe Creme by Jocelyne Rapinac Read Free Book Online

the time.’
    â€˜So no move back to your beloved France planned?’
    Anne-Sophie shook her head.
    â€˜Not like the Latina prima donna going back to hernative Sicily, then?’ Mary-Whitney pulled a sad face. No more horse-like laugh.
    â€˜No.’
    Mary-Whitney seemed to be thinking. She had tried to warn off the little French lady, but that was clearly not going to work since the fault was all her Spaulding’s. When she spoke again, I realised that she’d decided to work with the situation.
    â€˜Fine! What should I do now then? Have a French haircut, wear French clothes? Buy some healthy French food – if such a thing exists?’
    â€˜Of course it exists,’ Anne-Sophie and I chimed in unison, both of us surely thinking about the fabulous French caterer that had opened the previous year in Central Square.
    â€˜But no takeout food – you’ll have to cook yourself!’
    And hopefully far more interesting stuff than tofu casseroles! Oh, please!
    â€˜But I don’t have time to cook! I work late almost every night!’
    Do you want to rescue your relationship or not? We’re giving you good advice here, so take it or leave it!
    The balance of power had shifted and now I was really starting to have some fun.
    â€˜But I always buy healthy takeout food, most of it made from whole grains and veggies. That’s why we stay so thin in our family.’
    But you’re hardly the picture of health , I wanted to tell her, observing Mary-Whitney’s uneven sallow complexion.
    Mary-Whitney scrutinised Anne-Sophie’s figure suspiciously. ‘Look at you – even with all your scrumptiouscooking, young French lady, you’re still quite slim.’
    Anne-Sophie smiled enigmatically once again, feeling a twinge of pride at being French.
    â€˜The French don’t eat foie gras, meat and heavy dishes with sauce every day, you know,’ I couldn’t help telling Mary-Whitney.
    I was tired of hearing my fellow Americans say they didn’t understand how the French stayed so slim in spite of their rich, fatty diets. They didn’t eat rich, fatty food all the time; they consumed a lot of fruit and vegetables, and they didn’t eat constantly, either! But when they did, they sat down and ate slowly to appreciate what they had on their plates. I wanted to scream this vital piece of information at her, but managed to restrain myself.
    â€˜Really?’ sighed Mary-Whitney.
    Mary-Whitney’s sighs had now taken the place of her strange smile and laugh. Since learning that Anne-Sophie intended to stay in Boston, Mary-Whitney’s fighting spirit appeared to have waned considerably, maybe because she knew she was really going to need help to save her marriage.
    â€˜Then it’s … er, well, I’m sure you’ve heard of the French red wine paradox,’ Mary-Whitney ventured in a subdued voice.
    â€˜Yes, there was a show on TV about it a few weeks ago. Pretty funny, actually, don’t you think?’ I said, looking at Anne-Sophie.
    Her brief fierce glance reminded me of a witch considering what kind of potion to prepare in order to poison the asparagus-shaped superwoman.
    Mary-Whitney continued, ‘Er, I don’t know. I worked in France for six months, tried their food, drank red wineevery day at lunch and dinner, like them, and gained around twenty pounds. Of course, I lost it all when I came back, thanks to the Slender Quick diet, and if—’
    â€˜It’s in the genes,’ Anne-Sophie declared, smiling. ‘It’s in the genes. And there’s nothing you can do about it!’
    â€˜Of course! I don’t see any other explanation,’ Mary-Whitney agreed, letting out yet another big sigh.
    â€˜There is a further explanation,’ I offered. ‘It’s not only genetic, it’s what is actually consumed, and how the eating rituals are followed, so it’s also cultural.’
    â€˜Of course.