‘I’m embarrassed by my family on holiday — my in-laws are so chic’

Q. My in-laws are from a wealthy French family — salad-eating, Agnès B-wearing types who have villa holidays somewhere near Nice. My family are reasonably successful farmers from Iowa, where life is more wholesome — home-fried chicken, shopping at Boot Barn and Sundays at church. By some miracle they all got on when my husband and I got married three years ago, but that was just one day, and now my in-laws have booked a weeklong holiday so we can all get back together in the Hamptons in September. Truthfully I’m embarrassed by my family. How can I avert a calamity here (not least over different food choices)?

A. Pairing your Midwest family with your French in-laws is like serving hamburgers with crème brûlée. But you never know — some innovative chefs can fuse together clashing flavours and the end result is surprisingly delicious, so perhaps it will prove the same for your mixed-marriage menu. They did gel at the wedding, after all.

However, the best way to “avert a calamity” is to not be embarrassed by your clan. They are your loved ones and you should cherish them just the way they are. I’d be more worried about shielding your family from the embarrassment of French snobbery.

Generally speaking, the French suffer from high self-esteem. They have a proud tradition of looking down on absolutely everyone. Our Gallic neighbours don’t need a traditional army; they can simply bore their enemies to death with a crack team of philosophers spreading ennui. The opponents they don’t succeed in smugging to death they could wipe out with passive smoke inhalation from their Gitanes.

Well, that’s my experience anyway. In my early twenties I had a French boyfriend. When I met his family I thought that they were going to have me arrested by the Chic Police. As we were backpacking, the only requirement I made of my attire was that it be flame-retardant. When I commented that haute couture was a big fat nothing with its nose in the air, the look that his parents gave me screamed “Never darken our Dior again”.

You’re right to worry about a clash in food choices too. It sounds as though your Midwest family are more at home in restaurants with giant wall-mounted salad forks and pepper grinders the size of fire hydrants. But your French hosts are likely to nibble ecstatically on radicchio while gushing knowledgeably about Normandy endive.

Oh, and be sure to pack lots of extra food for yourself, because French women tend to order one crouton then share it, washed down with a cup of skimmed air.

In case your in-laws insist on serving French food, warn your clan that it exists chiefly to be criticised by refined palates. But just because they have a fancy word for snails, it doesn’t mean that you’re not eating pond life — “Hey, garçon! A snail and a frog in a mosquito marinade please.”

Worse than the main course may be the discourse. Your in-laws will no doubt spend the entire holiday talking about obscure existentialist philosophers. In preparation I suggest that you get your family satirical T-shirts reading “If nobody is observing this T-shirt, does it exist?”

Good luck, and here’s hoping for an entente cordiale.

• ‘My husband earns more than me — but insists we split holiday costs’

Should we holiday at his late wife’s favourite spot?

Q. My partner is a widower, his wife having died about five years ago. They always used to holiday at a resort town in the Languedoc region of France. He loves the area and has fond memories of the village, but hasn’t been able to face going back, until now, and he has suggested that we go there for a week next summer. I feel quite uncomfortable about the idea and don’t think that it will be good for him either. What should I do?

A. I cannot emphasise just how bad I think this idea is because I don’t know how to do a triple underline on my keyboard. Why put yourself through such a nail-gnawing ordeal? This trip will make the Big Dipper rollercoaster look like Disney’s teacup ride.

There’s just no way that this excursion down memory lane won’t end in tears and I predict a Kleenex shortage in the whole Languedoc area. You say that you feel quite uncomfortable about the idea. Well, of course you do — you’d have to possess the eyesight of an earthworm not to see what’s coming.

There are so many other wonderful places in the world. Could you ask him what it is that he loves about the area then find a similar destination? If it’s the rosé wine, for example, try Provence instead. If it’s the sandy beaches, look west to the Médoc region outside Bordeaux. If it’s the northern Med climate, consider heading over the border to the Spanish province of Girona, with its forested hills and medieval villages.

Of course your partner shouldn’t pack away the memories of his dearly departed wife, but you two should be making new memories together. So, yes, let him talk about her a lot, but also find time to talk about finding a new holiday destination for the two of you, without having to lug along all that excess emotional baggage.

Make it happen

Skip PTSD in the Languedoc and look west for wine and small-town charm. The Médoc region has fine-sand beaches, pine forest, ample châteaux for wine tastings and plenty of authentic, low-key hotels where you can hide away. Sawday’s is great at tracking down picturesque, family-owned properties in rural settings — try Villa La Tosca, a boutique hotel on Arcachon Bay with sea views, a swimming pool and tranquil gardens. There are eight Michelin-starred restaurants within a 40-minute drive, not to mention the history and architecture of Unesco-listed Bordeaux nearby and beautiful oyster-farming villages to visit. Room-only doubles are from £137 (sawdays.co.uk).

Do you need Kathy’s help with a travel problem? Email us at [email protected]

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