L'Appart: The Delights and Disasters of Making My Paris Home

by David Lebovitz

Bestselling author and world-renowned chef David Lebovitz continues to mine the rich subject of his evolving ex-Pat life in Paris, using his perplexing experiences in apartment renovation as a launching point for stories about French culture, food, and what it means to revamp one's life. Includes dozens of new recipes.
 
When David Lebovitz began the project of updating his apartment in his adopted home city, he never imagined he would encounter so much inexplicable red tape while contending with perplexing work ethic and hours. Lebovitz maintains his distinctive sense of humor with the help of his partner Romain, peppering this renovation story with recipes from his Paris kitchen. In the midst of it all, he reveals the adventure that accompanies carving out a place for yourself in a foreign country—under baffling conditions—while never losing sight of the magic that inspired him to move to the City of Light many years ago, and to truly make his home there.

• ISBN10: 0804188408
• ISBN13: 9780804188401
• Publish Date: 6 November 2018 (first published 7 November 2017)
• Publish Status: Active
• Publish Country: US
• Publisher: Random House USA Inc
• Imprint: Bantam Books Inc
• Format: Paperback (US Trade)
• Pages: 368
• Language: English
• URL: https://penguinrandomhouse.com/books/isbn/9780804188401

Reviews

[MurderByDeath]

If you are secretly (or not so secretly) fascinated by the sight of car wrecks (where no one is injured, of course), you might really like this book.   That's not why I bought it, or course; I thought I'd be reading a breezy memoir about moving to Paris and buying a fabulous, though a tad run down, old apartment and the joys of renovating it.  I imagined living vicariously through the author as he haunted the flea markets and found fabulous old doors, lamps, hardware, crockery, etc.  Sure, the title says "disasters", too, but they're probably the run of the mill disasters everyone faces when building/renovating, right?  Someone painted the kitchen the color meant for the baths, or switched the hot and cold taps.    Not even close.  In fact, looking at the title, I'm not at all sure where the "delights" come into play.  Maybe book 2?  Because I gotta tell you, after reading this, I have a lot more sympathy for people who burn the house down for the insurance money.  I also have a new appreciation for just how much worse Australian real estate could be.  I've always tried to be positive or, at least tactful, about my current home country, but I've never held back on how bent I believe their real estate industry is, particularly Melbourne's (I'm not wrong either: Victoria has been cited numerous times for fraudulent real estate practices; not that it slows anybody down).  But boy howdy, Paris makes it clear Aussies are in the minor leagues.   But the buying dramas (did you know you need a medical examination to get a home loan?) were just the amuse bouche; the real nightmare, the one you can't stop reading because it's like a train that just keeps on wrecking itself, a metal snowball gaining mass and spreading destruction, is the renovations.  There. are. no. words.   This is where I stop to give a heartfelt thanks to my Daddy, an electrical engineer, and for the grace of god that I was born curious.  Foreign country or not (and you can't discount how big a difference that makes - even if the foreign country speaks your language), I'm fortunate that I know enough about electricity, plumbing, and (very) basic building construction to suspect when something isn't right, or safe.  Lebovitz was not so blessed and neither was his partner, although he was at least Parisian, and so was able to bridge the language - and sometimes the cultural - gaps, as well as throw well timed fits of temper.  But even so, what happens, what they end up with... nope.  Still no words.  I cannot imagine what I'd have done in his shoes, but it probably would have been neither legal or sane.     It ends well enough, but, though he doesn't give any real figures, one has to assume he had a shit ton of money somewhere because by my rough reckoning, that renovation cost him more than 3 times the original budget.   Throughout this nightmare, he does paint a vivid and gorgeous picture of Paris markets and food, both of which, from what I read here, are better experienced as a tourist.  And most of the chapters end with a recipe; some easy, and some for the experienced baker.  At some point in the future I'll be giving his Swedish meatball recipe a shot.   And Swedish meatballs leads me to this final thought:  there is nothing on this earth that would ever compel me to stand in line for 4 1/2 freaking hours in Ikea.  Nothing.  Not if the kitchen cabinets were made of solid mahogany and gilded in solid gold.  Omg...4.5 hours in Ikea...

[Beth C.]

I have enjoyed David Lebovitz' recipes for years, and always found it interesting that he has successfully made a home in Paris. I remember following his blog when he was in the process of buying his Paris apartment, though the details of what was going wrong are vague - so I was curious to read this. Let me just say - Paris is not for me.

The book is well-written, with an engaging style that those familiar with Lebovitz will appreciate. It is more of a memoir than a cookbook, though there are recipes at the end of each chapter. But the biggest draw was the drama - the absolute chaos that he went through to purchase and renovate an apartment in Paris. As as American, it is simply mind-boggling to me that these things would be happening, and that it would be so accepted as a way of doing business. Frankly, I'm surprised that he survived sanity intact (mostly, at least), and without having beat anyone to a pulp. Lebovitz conveys his excitement, his frustration, his anger, his sadness...I'm pretty sure there is not a single emotion left out during this process.

Overall, it was quite an interesting read - not only for the story itself, but also for the little glimpses into regular Paris living that shine through at the same time.