After attacks, many Parisians embrace food, wine and friends

A woman holds a flower during a rally outside the Stade de France stadium, in Saint-Denis, north of Paris, Thursday, Nov. 19, 2015. The Belgian extremist suspected of masterminding the deadly attacks in Paris died along with his cousin when police stormed a suburban apartment building, French officials said Thursday, a day after the chaotic, bloody raid.

A woman holds a flower during a rally outside the Stade de France stadium, in Saint-Denis, north of Paris, Thursday, Nov. 19, 2015. The Belgian extremist suspected of masterminding the deadly attacks in Paris died along with his cousin when police stormed a suburban apartment building, French officials said Thursday, a day after the chaotic, bloody raid. AP Photo/Thibault Camus

PARIS (AP) — In France, a glass of wine is many things: one of life’s small pleasures, a civilized complement to food, a source of national pride. Now, it’s also a symbol of defiance.

As vintners release this year’s batch of Beaujolais Nouveau in the shadow of last week’s Paris attacks, “To the bistro!” has replaced “To the barricades!” as France’s rallying cry.

“What would our country be without its cafes?” asked President Francois Hollande, telling his compatriots that life must be “resumed in full” after the Nov. 13 gun and bomb rampage by jihadi militants.

The attacks, which killed 129 people and injured more than 350, have left France in shock. They overshadowed Thursday’s Beaujolais Nouveau Day, when winemakers uncork their latest batch of the fruity young wine, and bars and restaurants hold special tasting sessions.

Jean Bourjade of the wine producers’ body Inter Beaujolais said the group considered scrapping some of the promotional events after the attacks. But it was decided that the wine should flow, because “it is the French culture, it is the French way of life, which has been put in jeopardy.”

Many Parisians are determined to raise a glass — even those who consider Beaujolais Nouveau’s popularity a product of savvy marketing rather than quality.

“The Beaujolais isn’t good wine. But everyone will go out on purpose tonight,” said 63-year-old Lucienne Tavera, sitting with two friends on a cafe terrace near the Bataclan concert hall, where the deadliest of the attacks unfolded.

“Tonight, we won’t care how it tastes.”

Her resolve is echoed across the patch of eastern Paris where the attacks took place — the 11th arrondissement and the neighboring Canal Saint-Martin area in the 10th.

When the Islamic State group took responsibility for the attacks, it called Paris “the capital of prostitution and obscenity.”

The militants did not hit the city’s high-profile tourist attractions, gleaming buildings and neighborhoods of freshly washed streets. They chose an eclectic, slightly scruffy area where destination restaurants, hip bars, art galleries and designer boutiques sit alongside corner stores, kebab shops and bakeries.

It’s also a place where a mosque, a church and a Jewish school occupy the same few blocks — a diversity that many residents treasure.

“There are Jews, Muslims, young people, old people in this neighborhood. It’s a family,” said 28-year-old Charlotte Pagnoux. “This is the heart of Paris, the soul of Paris. This is why they came here. They struck at the heart of Paris.”

It’s also an area — like parts of Brooklyn or east London — that first has grown edgy and then affluent.

The district’s longstanding working-class residents have been joined over the decades by immigrants from North Africa, young creative types and — as social cachet and property prices rose — by well-off “bourgeois bohemians” or “bobos.”

On that unusually warm November evening last week, gunmen rampaged through the area, firing automatic weapons at packed bars and cafes and storming the Bataclan concert hall during a performance by the U.S. band Eagles of Death Metal. Eighty-nine people died at the Bataclan, and 40 elsewhere.

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