Op-Ed Contributor

Bon Appétit? Not So Fast

PARIS — You know how a lovely family dinner can turn poisonous at the drop of an innocent comment? That happened at my house the other day. And it was as simple as wishing my wife and son a time-honored sentiment: “Bon appétit.”

As all American expats here know, the French expression “Bon appétit” literally means “good appetite,” or more to the point, “enjoy your meal.” It’s a nice, friendly expression, the pre-meal equivalent of “have a nice day.”

Yet when I offered these words at the table just before starting in on a terrific stew that my wife had prepared, her offhand response was that “bon appétit” is not an expression used by people who are “well brought-up.”

I’ll say this: If you want to turn a cozy kitchen into a divorce court in seconds, just suggest to your spouse that he or she is not well brought-up. My mind flashed to the old gangster movie “Public Enemy,” specifically the breakfast-table scene where James Cagney takes half a grapefruit and rubs it into Mae Clarke’s face. I shot a glance at the fruit bowl to see if we had any grapefruits. Yes! “You want well brought-up, I’ll show you well brought-up,” I heard the native New Jersey voice inside me say.

My teenage son then piped in to say he’d never use such a common expression. Which made me wonder how he could be sufficiently well brought-up (kudos to me) to never say “bon appétit” when I, who co-brought him up, was not.

“Wait a second,” I said. “There’s a magazine called ‘Bon Appétit.’ I hear the expression every day at the local bistro. I’ve lived in France for 22 years. I think I know the language.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t born here,” said my son with a smugness backed up by his birth certificate.

Things then went downhill as fast as a bobsled in Sochi. I maintained that “bon appétit” was a perfectly correct expression and that they were both snobs. Not only were they insulting me, they were insinuating that my waiter and bartender friends at the local bistro were riff-raff.

When they then suggested that I was “culturally ignorant” I glanced at the fruit bowl again and made a mental note that each grapefruit has two halves.

O.K., both of them are native French speakers. I conjugated my first French verb at the age of 31, nearly 30 years ago. But I passed the language exam to become a French citizen with flying colors.

No matter. The more I defended “bon appétit,” the more they rolled their eyes. They trotted out another example: “au plaisir.” Often said in response to “merci,” it essentially means “my pleasure.” But in proper French, or so my wife and son suggested, it’s the grammatical equivalent of “I don’t know nobody.”

They polished off their desserts as I brooded. In lieu of emulating James Cagney, I decided to turn to a higher authority: a French couple I know, both retired professors of languages and linguistics. Their response came in the morning email.

“The subject is indeed delicate,” they wrote, “and would deserve a symposium involving linguists, socio-linguists, teachers of good manners, specialists of customs and traditions, plus a few duchesses. It is indeed quite normal for waiters to use the expression. But it would NOT be used at the beginning of a formal meal. The problem is not the same as ‘au plaisir,’ which is a strong social marker. ‘Bon appétit’ is a social marker too, but not as strong. So, what is the right thing to say? Nothing. The hostess starts eating (delicately) and the guests, who have been eagerly expecting that signal, can now grasp their knives and forks or rush to their glasses.”

Well, I guess I was wrong on the fundamental point. But it made me wonder whether President Obama said “bon appétit” to François Hollande during the French president’s state dinner at the White House. Would Mr. Hollande have cringed?

Anyway, I’ve learned my lesson. Never argue points of language with native speakers. And keep those grapefruits handy.

Philip Crawford is a writer living in Paris.