One of the most wonderful things about France (aside from the fact that people speak French, even the children!) is the bread. In America, we think we know what bread is; some of us even make a pretty decent loaf. But there is nothing this side of Heaven to compare to biting into a piece of fresh French bread. It's crunchy on the outside and oh, so soft and chewy in the middle (reminds me of a few people I know). Flakey, soft, just waiting for a slice of good cheese or ready to sop up a wonderful French sauce--nothing better.
At the little restaurant where I ate dinner on Saturday night in Paris (Parnass 138, near my hotel), I watched the head waiter cutting loaves of fresh bread. His cutting board was a bit wobbly (it had lost one of the feet)--so he calmly sawed the end off the loaf of bread in his hand, slid the bread-end under the cutting board, and continued to cut away! Many, many uses for French bread!
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