Travels in France: Rue de Buci Cheese Shop

During my first trip to Paris in March of 2018, I had a mission to procure cheese and sausage in addition to whatever wine I could carry home with me.

Technically speaking, it is illegal to bring cheese and sausage into the USA. But, since there was a woman back home I was trying to impress, I fell into Smuggler Mode.

There is no dearth of cheese or sausage in Paris, let alone France. But I was most interested in finding an outdoor market through which to have the real Parisian experience. My youngest, who lives in Paris, was eager to see me engage with the locals.

She was not to be disappointed.

An Open Air Market

On Rue de Buci, we found this incredible little market. Under a dark green awning, little tables covered in red and white checkerboard, displayed savory wares of cheese, bread, and cured meats. A small crowd of Parisians poked and prodded, smelled and squeezed, the farmer's fare.

A large, burley man turned to me, stared a moment, and then cut off a sliver of sausage he held in his hand with a small, but deceptively sharp knife he gripped in his other. He passed the slice to me with a grunt as my daughter told him, in French, that I was from America, did not speak French, but was interested in making a purchase to take home. He watched me take a tentative bite if sausage, and he nodded again as I signaled my approval.

With an agility I was not expecting, he quickly carved another slice from a different stick, and it was just as suddenly in my hand. But before I could take a bite, he was hacking away at another meat, and proffering another bite to sample. My daughter giggled as I wrestled with the samples. The farmer gave her a quick wink.

They spoke in French. He explained that he owned a small farm outside of Paris where the cheese was made and the meats cured. And every few weeks, he would come to the city to sell his product to the locals who appreciated the authenticity of his output.

As I struggled to swallow, the cheese parade began. Just as nimbly as before, the farmer carved thin slices from several blocks. And just as with the meats I had little idea what was what. If I liked something, I nodded and smiled. If not, I shrugged. No translation was necessary. No offense was taken.

Fait Accompli

Once I had made my selections, they were packed up in paper and stuffed into a plastic bag. I settled my debt, and the farmer game me a slight bow. I thanked him with a poorly accented 'merci!' and we were on our way. I had successfully navigated an outdoor market, selecting fine cheese and cured meat, and receiving an edible education in the process.

The happy ending is that I was able to sneak both the sausage and cheese through customs. And the woman waiting at home was, indeed, impressed... Oooh, la la!

Cheers!