Can France's Culinary Heritage Endure Through Lockdown?

Aside from the masks, hand sanitizer at every table, and contact-tracing forms accompanying menus, last Wednesday felt like a typical pre-COVID-19 lunch hour at Paris's Ibrik Kitchen, a beloved Balkan Mytoury. Regular patrons filled the cozy dining area without hesitation, enjoying chiftele and baked feta, pondering if this might be their last meal out for some time.

'See you in a month, maybe?' was the common farewell from Ecaterina (Cathy) Paraschiv, the owner of the four-year-old restaurant and its accompanying coffee shop, as diners buttoned their coats and ventured back into the city now once again gripped by the pandemic.

That night, President Emmanuel Macron would address the country, announcing the latest measures to curb the virus's rapid spread. For weeks, restaurant owners had been anxiously sharing rumors and predictions in industry WhatsApp groups; this tension shifted to resignation when their fate was disclosed: a nationwide lockdown lasting at least until December 1, allowing only essential businesses—bakeries, pharmacies, supermarkets, and wine and tobacco shops—to remain open. Just like in March, restaurants had less than 24 hours to prepare for closure and adapt to takeaway operations, if they chose to do so.

“For the past three weeks, we’ve been on high alert. Much of this stems from unclear communication from our leaders,” Paraschiv stated from a banquette in her restaurant the day after the announcement, as her team readied for their last day to sell off as many dishes and ingredients as they could. For weeks, she had been facing shortages from suppliers who were scaling back due to rumors, disrupted deliveries, and uncertainty about what to order and prepare. “It’s been a nerve-wracking experience,” Paraschiv reflected. “On top of that, our staff naturally look to us for guidance and protection while we, as owners, question whether the government truly has a grip on the situation. Honestly, I see this news as a form of liberation.”

In some ways, Ibrik has been lucky: Staff have been placed on temporary “partial unemployment” (a government initiative to avert mass layoffs), and unlike many average-sized restaurants in France, Ibrik met the complex criteria — related to the number of employees and revenue losses from 2019 — to have payroll taxes waived. However, the challenges of rent and ongoing construction for Paraschiv’s upcoming Balkan deli, set to open in February 2021, remain, and she insists she won’t pursue takeaway or delivery. “You can’t transform your business overnight, and I don’t want to enrich the usual food delivery companies,” she stated, referring to Deliveroo and UberEats, both of which have faced multiple investigations for exploiting couriers, many of whom are migrants, throughout Europe.

Food delivery apps have sparked more than just ethical concerns in France. To many, they represent a cultural challenge to the essential role that dining and gathering at the table hold in everyday French life. With numerous food establishments unable or unwilling to adjust to the pressures of an Anglo-style delivery culture, the lockdown seems to heighten the ongoing tensions in France between preserving local food customs and adapting to a modern gig economy.

Still, while the owner of Ibrik seems unfazed by the uncertainties ahead — concerning cash flow and the future of the industry after this round of confinement — she attributes her calm to a personal mantra. “Life is neither fair nor unfair; we are at the mercy of nature, and some things are beyond our control,” she remarked. “Keeping that in mind helps me to move forward.”

Laura Vidal, the sommelier and co-owner of La Mercerie, located 483 miles south of Paris in Marseille, has found it increasingly difficult to remain optimistic, a struggle compounded by the sense of uncertainty leading up to the latest lockdown. In response to the rising COVID-19 cases in the region at the end of September, the French government mandated that only restaurants and bars in Marseille and nearby Aix-en-Provence close for the second time this year. The immediate backlash was palpable: some restaurants defied the order and continued operating, while others protested against the enforced shutdown in the streets.

“This is my first time participating in a protest, but I felt I had no choice,” said Vidal, who has managed the Mediterranean neo-bistro with chef Harry Cummins and Julia Mitton since February 2018. “The decision felt unjust, as if the government needed a scapegoat for the surge, so they targeted the restaurant industry, almost to say, ‘Look, we’re taking action!’ Yet, there haven’t been any inspections to verify our compliance with health protocols since the easing of restrictions in May. None of our colleagues were checked, either.”

The shutdown targeting Marseilles's restaurants was lifted two weeks later, but the damage to local trust was already done, leading many in the industry to view the measures as politically motivated. As Vidal suspected, the industry’s reopening in October was fleeting. “Immediately after the announcement, Cummins began considering what ingredients could be preserved, pickled, or frozen, and what we could provide to our staff,” Vidal recounted. “Since we anticipated this, we weren’t overwhelmed with supplies like last time.” However, the restaurant still faces fixed costs and what Vidal describes as the greatest challenge for her and her partners: sustaining themselves.

“As restaurant owners, we’re not eligible for any financial assistance. During our closure, we didn’t pay ourselves, but that approach isn’t sustainable for long,” she said. In the background, Cummins and the team are busy cleaning the kitchen and rearranging bottles in preparation for their new temporary venture. To generate some income, Vidal and Cummins have started offering wine packs and plan to collaborate with their suppliers to deliver fruits and vegetables directly to consumers.

They’re also relying on a unique aspect of French culture to help them bounce back. “I’ve always believed that the French view dining out as a form of self-care,” Vidal stated. “I hope we can count on them returning in large numbers, just like they did during the summer.” While she recognizes that no place is completely risk-free from contracting the virus, including restaurants, she worries that the narrative from officials regarding the “danger” of dining out may convince consumers that restaurants are inherently unsafe. “If the government continues to mislead people into thinking they’ll catch the coronavirus at restaurants, it will be very difficult,” she added.

For Stéphane Jégo, the outspoken chef-owner of the long-standing establishment L’Ami Jean in Paris’s 7th arrondissement, the effects of this constant opening and closing may be irreversible. The impact is not just financial but psychological as well. “This situation is even more challenging than before,” Jégo commented. “The government provides health and hygiene guidelines—removing seats, spacing tables, disinfecting, wearing masks, training staff, tracing—and we do everything to comply and keep our doors open, only to find ourselves taken for fools again, having to adjust our operations overnight.”

Taking a short break from preparing the first batch of Jégo-to-Go orders, I can hear the whirring and clattering of delivery motorcycles in the background. With 12 employees, down from 18 at the pandemic’s onset, and an average annual revenue that barely exceeds the threshold for assistance, Jégo does not qualify for any payroll tax relief. Additionally, he’s still waiting for the compensation he lobbied for (and won) from his insurance company during the spring lockdown.

“The government has promised entrepreneurs 10,000 euros for loss of business this time — that barely covers one day for me. It’s nothing! I need to generate 9,000 euros daily to cover expenses, pay my staff, and maintain cash flow,” Jégo said, on the brink of tears. “In the past two months, a good day would yield around 2,700 euros. To truly receive help, you need to be nearly bankrupt. But we don’t want handouts or empty promises; we want to work.”

Jégo believes that France's failure to enforce fundamental health and safety protocols during the summer and early fall makes the current shutdown particularly difficult to accept. Like Vidal, he voices his frustration over the absence of inspections and penalties for restaurants that have ignored the rules. “Instead of closing the establishments that have consistently flouted the protocols, the government has penalized all of us equally. But which is better: letting us continue working under strict guidelines and assisting with tracing, or allowing clusters to form in homes? I can tell you I’ve delivered orders for groups of 10 in individual households during the curfew, and that’s no safer,” he states.

Jégo is not just concerned about his own situation; he worries about the broader implications for the entire industry. “This is not solely about restaurants; it encompasses the entire ecosystem, the survival of unique French expertise and the gastronomic heritage that France claims it wants to see preserved by UNESCO,” he explains. “It affects the farmers and producers collaborating with chefs, the dishwashers and cleaners dependent on this work, and even the students who rely on these jobs to fund their education.” If action isn’t taken, Jégo fears a complete decline of the nation’s culinary heritage. “What will remain is uniformity, driven by investor-backed entities, chains, delivery apps, and ghost kitchens. Is that what they envision for this country?”

After the last egg was fried and the final slice of pistachio-rose cake served at Ibrik Kitchen on Thursday, Cathy Paraschiv pulled down the shutters and returned home to her husband and two young children. The following day, she and her team would come back to tidy up and prepare for at least a month at home. During this lockdown, schools will stay open. Without needing to juggle the roles of teacher and boss this time, she hopes the next few weeks will provide her with some rest and an opportunity to strategize. “I’m consciously choosing to focus on my next project,” she says with a smile. “This isn’t the end.”

Lindsey Tramuta is a writer based in Paris and the author of The New Paris as well as The New Parisienne: The Women & Ideas Shaping Paris.