There wasn’t any sunshine or barefoot kids or beer pong, but I found that the French have their own distinct and very cool way of throwing a barbecue, with just as much grilled meat to please even the most skeptical of Americans. Living in the city, I haven’t had many chances, or any chances really, to travel to the periphery of Paris, where the city calms into neighborhoods reminiscent of Stateside suburbs. While the houses are still charmingly historic and distinctively French, walking the quiet streets reminded me of being home and walking the alleys to go to different friend’s houses. We arrived at the house a little past 10, to find his friends standing over the BBQ with a hair dryer to stoke the coals, sending sparks and flames flying everywhere in the moonlit garden.

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