Guess Who Came To Dinner?

Ever since France's President Valery Giscard d'Estaing announced on New Year's Eve that he would like to have dinner with a typical French family once a month to keep up with "the problems that concern Frenchmen of all professions," the Elysee Palace has been swamped with invitations. The very same night, one woman telephoned and told the duty officer at the palace: "Oh, please, tell the President to come right over. We're having oysters and turkey and would love to have him." Other offers were less polite, including some from Frenchmen who said that they would be only too delighted to have Giscard to dinner so they could give him an earful about his policies.

Last week Giscard finally did go to dinner, and the first family selected to play host to France's First Family turned out to be that of Claude Cucchiarini. A Parisian picture framer, Cucchiarini had done some work for the President and casually invited him over. Still, he could not have been more surprised when one of Giscard's top aides phoned three weeks ago and advised that the Giscards had accepted. The only request: keep it secret, keep it simple and don't hire any outside help.

Champagne Aperitif. Promptly at 8:30, Giscard, 48, and wife Anne-Aymone, 41, knocked on the door of the three-room Cucchiarini flat--a fifth-floor walk-up on the Left Bank. They were greeted by Claude, 46, his wife Louise, 44, and eight other friends and relatives. After a champagne aperitif 'in the small yellow living room, the guests sat down to a dinner of potage de cresson, bass en mousseline, cote de boeuf with jardiniere de legumes, salad, and cheese (including a Cantal and a Gouzon from Auvergne, Giscard's home region). It was topped off by charlotte aux /raises for dessert and three wines--vin d'Arbois, St. Emilion and Sauternes.

Not exactly the scrambled eggs that Giscard had flippantly said would be sufficient when he first announced the plan. Well no, Mme. Cucchiarini conceded afterwards. But, she added, "it's not every night that the President comes to dinner." She insisted that she, her sister and sister-in-law had prepared all the food themselves, except for the bass, which came from a deli around the corner.

Amusing Anecdotes. And did the President hear any gripes? Mais, non. "He was formidable. He was very relaxed and told lots of amusing anecdotes," she said the next day, still beaming as she finished up the last of the St. Emilion. Although she had missed a lot of the conversation hopping up and down serving dinner, she said, "it was like sitting around a table with friends. We talked about children and vacations." The only discussion about politics was a brief talk about the last days of President Georges Pompidou and the presidential campaign that followed. After a few snapshots "for the family album," the Giscards departed at midnight.

The dinner with the Cucchiarinis was only the latest in a series of moves that Giscard has made to make the presidency more informal. The day before Christmas he invited four garbage collectors into the Elysee Palace for breakfast and gave each a bottle of champagne and a turkey. Then on New Year's Day he showed up unexpectedly for lunch at an old-age home.

After the remoteness of De Gaulle and Pompidou, the French are still a little bewildered by this sudden egalitarianism. But there are signs they may be learning to like it. A new poll showed 83% supporting Giscard's folksy ways, including his penchant for late-night forays about town. The big question now: Who will he have dinner with next?

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