INTERESTING OFFER among our back page personal ads this week, where a company called "Balzac Brassiere" is proposing a "Table d'Hôte Menu [for] only €25". I'm no expert on women's lingerie (despite the rumours), so I can't say what this menu might involve exactly. But the fact that the offer is "available all night" only adds to the intrigue, writes FRANK MCNALLY
The ad reminds me of an even more interesting proposal I came across on a travel website a while back, on the subject of dining in Paris on a budget.
“For a real flavour of the city, there’s no need to follow the guide book and pay the inflated prices of tourist hotspots such as the Cafe de Flores,” claimed the writer. “Great food is available everywhere, whether it’s a single oyster, bought from a street vendor outside the hotels in the Latin Quarter, or a three-course meal from one of the bustling brassieres around the Hotel de Ville.” Phew! I’m all for saving money. And I know anything goes in Paris. But even so, I think that suggestion might be carrying things a bit too far.
WE WERE discussing here recently the (to journalists, at least) annoying tendency of the letter “l” to absent itself from the word “public” in news stories, unnoticed before the paper goes to print, with embarrassing results. Clearly the brasserie/brassiere issue is another problem that bedevils proof-readers.
It is some consolation in these parts that, of its nature, the problem is worse in France. But the global popularity of both the brasserie and brassiere concepts means the confusion is also global. The Irish Timesarchive suggests we have escaped lightly enough – touch wood – apart from last year suggesting that celebrity chef Richard Corrigan had just secured the lease of "Browne's brassiere" (with her consent, one hoped) on St Stephen's Green.
Whereas, in other publications, I have read – among many similar cases – about a cafe in New York that “exudes the look and atmosphere of an aged Parisian brassiere, with pastel colours, oversized mirrors and powdery homemade bread”. God help us.
It’s no wonder the French in their wisdom do not use the word “brassiere” for the same garment we do. It means only “vest” in France; whereas their term for a bra is soutien-gorge: literally “throat support”.
No, this is hardly an accurate description of what bras do (except, I suppose, for the most aggressive push-up versions). But the French can be forgiven for erring on the side of euphemism, because they know the trouble English-language publications get into over this issue.
It’s all right when the typo is obvious to readers. Unfortunately this is not always the case. I have seen the suggestion at least once, for example, that Ernest Hemingway used to drop into a brassiere in St Germain: which would have been just like him. And as for Joyce, I have been told he haunted brassieres all over the Left Bank; especially when he had drink on board.
It’s Nora I feel sorry for, to be honest. What that poor woman had to put up with over the years doesn’t bear thinking about.
GETTING BACK to the “Balzac Brassiere” and the man it evokes, Honoré de Balzac was an extraordinarily productive author. With his penchant for detailing the lives of the poor, in particular, he was known as “the French Dickens”. (Whereas Dickens was known as “the English Balzac”.) But when he wasn’t being a prolific writer, he was a prolific eater too.
In an amusing tale told by the food historian Giles MacDonogh, Balzac once invited his publisher to lunch in a very grand Parisian restaurant. His guest thought the choice of venue a bit extravagant. So, assuming Balzac was paying, and wanting to spare his pocket, the publisher restricted himself to “a bowl of soup and a chicken wing”.
Balzac had no such inhibitions. He ordered “a hundred Ostend oysters, 12 Pre-Sale mutton cutlets, a duckling with turnips, a brace of roast partridges, [and] a sole Normand”. And those were only the main courses. There were also unspecified “hors d’oeuvres, entremets, fruits etc”. All accompanied by expensive wines and liqueurs.
When he was finished, Balzac asked a question that must have chilled his publisher’s blood: “By the way, my dear fellow, you wouldn’t have any cash on you, would you?” The horrified man had 40 francs in his wallet: a considerable sum in the early 1800s, but not nearly enough to cover the F62.50 total, which he had to pay the next day.
His enormous appetite would explain why Balzac might have a brasserie named in his honour. On the other hand, a surviving photograph suggests the rich diet was also reflected in his girth. So it would be no real surprise if someone had named a brassiere after him, either. I will have to watch the personal ads page for developments.
fmcnally@irishtimes.com