I know that Parisian waiters are not rude. Well, there are some that are, but no more so than elsewhere on the planet. And frankly I prefer a savory Gallic tongue-lashing to having someone spit in my soup. But being a waiter in Paris is a profession, and there are a few different customs and styles that seem to set tongues wagging Stateside.
Because they are the professionals and you are merely the client, waiters assume that you rely on their expertise. So when you go to a restaurant and request salmon, with the pepper sauce that is on the menu but that is destined for the steak, the waiter may say non! He is sure that these flavors do not mix well, and he feels responsible for your enjoying your meal. Which can be frustrating. Especially if you know that you love this dish, and there ends up being a 20-minute argument between the waiter and your date.

But it can also be an education, like the time a girlfriend and I ordered white wine with the pressed duck at La Tour d’Argent. The sommelier refused to participate in such a crime. We were students, and it was painfully obvious that we’d starved ourselves for months to afford this meal, so he offered to comp us a more expensive bottle of red, which was a revelation for two Californians who had thought zinfandel was something chic. At the end of the meal, our sommelier arrived with two sheepskin vests and an invitation to follow him down into the historic cellars, where we saw treasures that included an Armagnac from the Napoleonic era.
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