Bon Appetit

Two headlines in the news caught my attention this week – the first dwells on the on-going obesity epidemic in the UK and the second talks about the ever-decreasing foreign language skills of our youngsters. It’s true that we Brits are certainly not renowned for our linguistic abilities, and our culinary reputation, perhaps rather unfairly, is not our greatest claim to fame. I believe the two could be linked. I have a sneaky feeling that a greater knowledge of foreign languages and culture could help demonstrate the importance of food in different countries.
I start to listen more closely to Nina and Pierre at the table, as they flit and fly between French and English.
“Bon appetit” they chorus
“Bon appetit” I answer back politely.
“How do you say bon appetit in English?” asked Pierre
I thought long and hard before giving up.
“I don’t think we have a bon appetit in English” I replied sadly
Perhaps this is part of our obesity problem. Maybe we should start developing a more food friendly language. We should have a bon appetit equivalent.
Bon appetit is an instinctive French phrase that everyone, young and old, will say before picking up their knife and fork to eat. If someone walks past a table of diners, they will offer a “bon appetit”, naturally, instinctively.
“A table” shouts Stephane as he switches off the oven and serves up dinner.
Everyone comes scurrying in to the kitchen as those two simple French words – a table (aah taah-bl) - echo throughout the house. Come to the table is the English translation but it doesn’t have quite the same appeal or effect. It doesn’t work either if used to get Pierre to come to the table to do his homework.
I’ve noticed that French is full of food related phrases and terms - aperitif, digestif, amuse-bouche - and then there are all those culinary terms such as coulis, puree, vinaigrette. Surely this has become essential vocabulary for interpreting the menus of many of our city centre restaurants!
Yes, learning how to cook and speak a foreign language does go hand in hand.
“I can speak Italian” Pierre announced proudly
“Minuti” he spurted out in his very best Italian accent.
“Well done” I said encouragingly.
I was used to Pierre’s eclectic conversations.
“I’ve been making pasta” he went on, thrusting a packet of tagliatelle in my hands.
4 Minuti tempo di cottura.