On France

A photo essay 18 years in the making.

Hello and welcome to the Tuesday post for all subscribers—the first photo essay of 2024! Also, considering it’s now March, I’m going to stop announcing firsts of the year. On Friday, paid subscribers will receive a recipe for a charred lemon and broccolini galette. As always, learn more about my food photography here.

I turned 30 this year, a milestone that I was happy to reach. My go-to quip here is: I have felt like I was in my 30s for most of my teens and 20s, so I’m finally the age I have always felt. I’m charming and old at heart, okay?

I am not a great birthday celebrator, and I’ve gotten worse over the last few years. I hate being sung to—unless my nieces and nephew are involved—and the thought of opening presents in front of an audience makes me nauseous. I have felt this way for as long as I can remember, ever since my grandpa requested a birthday cake at Disney World and then had to run to the kitchen and beg them not to sing because I had burst into tears at the very thought.

Despite this incident, which I consider one of the brattiest things I’ve ever done, he was always a champion of my birthday. He would remind me that it was coming for weeks beforehand and badger me about what I wanted for my present. It was always an occasion, even in the understated way I craved, and he made sure that it wasn’t overlooked.

When I was facing this watershed birthday, I couldn’t help but imagine him asking me what I wanted to do to celebrate, pushing me to do something special. One thing led to another, and all of a sudden, we were boarding a plane to France.

I took French classes all through high school and college but somehow never got around to going. Visiting a place that I had read about for so long was absolutely surreal, and I could have stopped at every street corner to capture how gob-smackingly charming it was there. In six short days we spent there, my jet-lagged brain was in overdrive at all times—from speaking a language that was buried in deep in the archives, yes, but from the pure miracle of it all. I will never not be astonished that a few hours jammed into a too-small seat on a metal bird can transport you so far from your reality. Between Lyon, the hills of Beaujolais, and Paris, there was too much beauty to capture in one trip.

That being said, I am nothing if not stubborn, so I tried my best. Enjoy these snaps, and for more travel photography, you can peruse my portfolio or check out the photos that accompanied my thoughts on Italy here, here, and here.

Voila!

See you back here on Friday for galettes! I’m a sucker for charred lemon, so I’m extra excited about this recipe. Thanks as always for reading—you’re making my writer dreams come true.