{"id":69569,"date":"2025-08-03T05:46:02","date_gmt":"2025-08-03T09:46:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/?p=69569"},"modified":"2026-06-24T10:29:14","modified_gmt":"2026-06-24T14:29:14","slug":"trip-to-paris-2025","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/le-voyage-a-paris-2025\/","title":{"rendered":"Trip to Paris"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

The first Cora restaurant opened its doors on May 27, 1987, exactly on the day I turned 40. Life up until then had been difficult and much later, I\u2019d realize that this birthday would mark a dramatic break, like a revolving door sweeping away a submissive woman\u2019s bleak resignation with one strong turn and replacing it with a liberated woman\u2019s confident hope. That morning, when I opened the small diner with my name on the front, my kids and I were a thousand miles away from knowing it, but we were in fact celebrating the burial of our unhappy past. Year ONE of our reconstruction began when we greeted our first customer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If, by any chance, you were among those who visited us back then, you may have noticed to what lengths we went to delight our clientele and how much we truly cherished them. I confess today that I and the kids were the ones starving. In the kitchen or behind the counter, we were the ones who needed love, who were slowly learning to accept tenderness and affection. Working hard, we were so desperate to have normal lives that a small compliment felt as if we were being handed a gold bar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s perhaps because of this deep gratitude towards our customers that I can still remember today these large chunks of life floating in my mind like glaciers making their way out to sea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I worked tirelessly. I devoted myself to the venture for 14 months solid, 7 days a week, without a single day off. I put all my energy into the restaurant and our customers: finding new recipes, designing the menu, placing orders, washing uniforms and then did it all over again. I was anxious about leaving my baby, anxious that a customer might swallow a chicken bone, anxious that a violent wind would take out a window. And especially anxious that it would all go awry and customers would receive poor service if I wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAfraid that the world would stop turning,\u201d remarked my daughter Gigi.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first time the kids forced me to take a break from the restaurant\u2019s kitchen it was for a weeklong trip to Paris. \u201cA room with a view of the Eiffel Tower and a $300 traveller\u2019s cheque for spending,\u201d they added in a matter-of-fact way, placing the envelope in my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They bought the airplane ticket and chose Paris because they had overheard me say to the plumber that it was my dream to visit the city one day. Just the thought of leaving the following Saturday kept me awake for four nights in a row.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 \u201cTrust me, Mom. The tickets are not refundable, you have to go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saw nothing for the first few days, incapacitated by exhaustion in the small room with a view of the Eiffel Tower. In the little time I had left, I walked the streets like an unplugged robot. I suppose that Paris is splendid when one\u2019s eyes are able to contemplate its beauty, but mine were directed at the malevolent crows flying over my little diner. How did I let myself be convinced that I could abandon it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 \u201cSo you can rest, Mom! Take a week\u2019s vacation and unwind. Don\u2019t worry, we bought the package with money that our older brother gave us. Relax and enjoy yourself. We love you and we\u2019re going to take care of the baby.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How could my poor little chicks understand that it wasn\u2019t the restaurant that needed me but I who needed it? How to tell them that even in my sleep I flipped eggs on the gridle? How to explain to them that I was a part of the diner\u2019s furniture? That when customers came through the doors, it was they who nourished me. My love of books had evolved from literature and poetry to recipes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the window of the plane that brought me back I saw the world wrapped in cotton. I couldn\u2019t wait to touch down, to see the kids, to put my apron back on and cook a French-style cream of pumpkin soup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the baggage hold, my suitcase overflowed with new recipe books for extra-thin cr\u00eapes extravagantly garnished and folded. I was so excited to tell the kids about the delicious fruit coulis I\u2019d tasted, the mocha coffee and the extraordinary flavour of the pure butter used in pastries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At 5:45 p.m. local time in Montreal, the huge metal bird touched the ground and all the passengers aboard applauded. I was hoping to be greeted by the kids, but it was Platon, the dishwasher, who was waiting at the arrivals gate. His white jacket, splattered with egg yolk and ketchup, stood out clearly from the crowd that was waiting with arms outstretched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 \u201cLet me take your suitcase, Boss. I came straight from the restaurant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 \u201cDid something happen? Where are the kids?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 \u201cDon\u2019t worry, Boss, I just finished the dishes. Everything is running smoothly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our dishwasher confirmed that the world had not stopped while I was away. Business was brisk, and sales, according to the lovely Gigi, continued to rise, even after I left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next morning, I briefly had the impression of entering a movie that had already started. Everything was humming. Gigi was at the gridle, the youngest was pouring the cr\u00eape batter and Marie, the waitress, was heading towards the large round table at the front carrying three generous plates of food in her diminutive hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello? I\u2019m back!\u201d I wanted to shout out. But I held it in. I made my way across the busy dining room like a tiny mouse on a big cheese platter, trying to make as little noise as possible. I went downstairs and sitting on an upside-down margarine pail, I released the ocean of sadness flooding my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I repeated to myself the sentence that Platon had said without wishing to spare or hurt me: \u201cEverything is running smoothly.\u201d My little chicks no longer needed me to place bits of food in their beaks. They had grown up. They were right; I was no longer as indispensable as I had thought. And suddenly, as if the universe had heard the echoes of my suffering, I heard my daughter scream \u201cMOM!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 \u201cMom, the meat guy wants to talk to you about a new cut of ham. Are you interested?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everything in the kitchen interested me, especially everything to do with our morning specialties! The very next morning, we started to practise all the wonderful ideas that I had brought back from the City of Light, and the world began to spin just like it had before my visit to the Old World. The only change was my new habit of leaving earlier, just after the lunch service. No one objected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was only then that I started to realize that our breakfast specialty was quickly eclipsing our small diner, becoming more independent and more important than the cook at the griddle. The kids had offered me a wonderful gift and made me realize that they too were now more independent. Together, we could operate more than one restaurant. And with that miraculous epiphany, I started to criss-cross the city looking for a new location.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As you know, I went on to found more than 125 across Canada. So many that I have never thought about returning to Paris. But it\u2019s never too late to change one\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cora
\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The first Cora restaurant opened its doors on May 27, 1987, exactly on the day I turned 40. Life up until then had been difficult and much later, I\u2019d realize that this birthday would mark a dramatic break, like a revolving door sweeping away a submissive woman\u2019s bleak resignation with one strong turn and replacing it with a liberated woman\u2019s confident hope. That morning, when I opened the small diner with my name on the front, my kids and I were a thousand miles away from knowing it, but we were in fact celebrating the burial of our unhappy past. Year ONE of our reconstruction began when we greeted our first customer. If, by any chance, you were among those who visited us back then, you may have noticed to what lengths we went to delight our clientele and how much we truly cherished them. I confess today that I and the kids were the ones starving. In the kitchen or behind the counter, we were the ones who needed love, who were slowly learning to accept tenderness and affection. Working hard, we were so desperate to have normal lives that a small compliment felt as if we were being handed a gold bar. It\u2019s perhaps because of this deep gratitude towards our customers that I can still remember today these large chunks of life floating in my mind like glaciers making their way out to sea. I worked tirelessly. I devoted myself to the venture for 14 months solid, 7 days a week, without a single day off. I put all my energy into the restaurant and our customers: finding new recipes, designing the menu, placing orders, washing uniforms and then did it all over again. I was anxious about leaving my baby, anxious that a customer might swallow\u2026<\/p>","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":68859,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"Ouvert le jour de ses 40 ans, le 27 mai 1987, le premier Cora a chang\u00e9 la vie de Mme Cora. Elle raconte son voyage \u00e0 Paris.","_seopress_robots_index":"","_seopress_robots_follow":"","_seopress_robots_imageindex":"","_seopress_robots_snippet":"","_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_robots_breadcrumbs":"","_seopress_robots_freeze_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_custom_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_canonical":"","_seopress_social_fb_title":"","_seopress_social_fb_desc":"","_seopress_social_fb_img":"","_seopress_social_fb_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_height":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_title":"","_seopress_social_twitter_desc":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_height":0,"_seopress_redirections_value":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled_regex":"","_seopress_redirections_logged_status":"","_seopress_redirections_param":"","_seopress_redirections_type":0,"_seopress_analysis_target_kw":"","_seopress_news_disabled":"","_seopress_video_disabled":"","_seopress_video":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas_manual":[],"_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable_all":"","_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas":[],"footnotes":""},"categories":[42],"class_list":["post-69569","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"blocksy_meta":{"styles_descriptor":{"styles":{"desktop":"","tablet":"","mobile":""},"google_fonts":[],"version":8}},"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69569","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/414"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=69569"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69569\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/68859"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=69569"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=69569"}],"curies":[{"name":"WP","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}