Winter Warmth

Pont d'Alma on a Sunday evening.

Here we are on day 18 of the new year and things are going swell.

The Irishman and the doge just get more lovable by the day. I'm enjoying my new job as Personal Assistant to a Head of Division who knows a thing or two about leadership. Since my big New Year's resolution post, I'm down 1.6 kg. And even though winter has finally arrived, Paris can be quite cozy -- chocolat chaud at Cafe de Flore, anyone?

I'll do an honest-to-goodness cleanse before January wraps up, but in the meantime I thought I'd share this four-ingredient (six if you count the garnishes) soup that's as delicious as it is warm.

Butternut Bliss Soup

If the soup doesn't warm you up, there's always Armagnac.

Ingredients:
1 large butternut squash, peeled and cut into cubes
2 medium white or yellow onions, chopped
2 tablespoons butter
2-3 cups broth (chicken or vegetable)
chives and creme fraiche to season

1. Heat the butter in a large pot and add the chopped onions. Sauté until translucent
2. Add the squash then the broth. Cover and boil over medium heat for about 10 minutes until the squash is tender. Really, you should be able to cut it with a spoon.
3. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the squash and onion from the pot to a food processor or blender. Blend until smooth. 
4. Stir your puréed veggies back into the broth. Serve with a dollop of creme fraiche and a sprinkle of chives.

Bon appetit :)

Parcours Gourmand at the Galeries Lafayette

   Psst... Here's a secret that's sure to get out:

4th à la française

For the past three years, the Irishman has taken me to Le Georges restaurant on the roof of the Centre Pompidou to celebrate America's birthday with a view on the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame.

The food is summery, the waitresses slinky-chic, and the view unmatched. Don't miss the angle on Sacré Coeur on the way back down the outside escalator. Ask for a table outside for the best ambiance. Reservations encouraged.

Dress, Kookai; ballerines, André.

Le Retour

Here it goes!

The city's still a dream in sandy stone and wrought iron.  This time there's a charming Irishman around to make everything more fun. In the evenings we cook and walk around the 16eme; on the weekends we vow we'll stay in and rest and then don't. Work doesn't start until October 1st so I have loads of time to roam around and search for an apartment of my own as well as play the femme au foyer in the teeny kitchen of the Irishman's flatshare.

One of the best parts of returning to the sprawl of sandcastles on the Seine has been revisiting a few old favorites. Now-Former Host Mom greeted me with a big hug and tizane in the same chic apartment, having just returned from my old nemesis, la piscine. Another highlight was finally bringing the Irishman and a friend to Le Temps des Cerises (31, rue de la Cerisaie, 4e) my favorite little bistro tucked away in the Marais. They've raised their prices (about 19 euros for a main, 8 for appetizers or dessert) and added a vegetarian option to the menu (yay!), with the same cozy ambiance and friendly staff.

The settling in process is a bit of a drag as I search for cheap, furnished accommodation. One problem I keep running into is the necessity of a French bank account to do just about anything.  HSBC already rejected my request saying my salary as a teaching assistant will be trop juste to make me worth their while. Quels snobs! Trying again with Société Générale on Thursday. Any bank recommendations out there?

Apart from my continued mission to improve my French, I've now added 3 more goals:

• Not deform any of the young minds that will be in my charge for 12 hours each week,
• Get my cardiovascular fitness up to par with the Irishman so I don't have to stand and pant on the sidewalk while he jogs on all Rocky-like up the Champs Elysées.
• Find gainful employment over here-- gainful meaning something that gets me above the French equivalent of the poverty line.  

Bises, y'all

Crème Glacée

On Tuesday a friend and I had our histoire du livre exam followed by a disastrous dinner at CROUS (student cafeterias throughout the city where you can get a wholesome meal for 3 euros - here's a link). To make it up to ourselves, we decided to get ice cream! Because we were at St. Michel where many of the restaurants are overpriced and/or of dubious quality, we decided to go with Amorino, a chain of gelato shops where the vendeur or vendeuse will shape your scoop into a flower. It's also novel for France because you get to pick as many flavors as you want, even for the small size. We took our frosty treats two blocks down to the river and sat on the quai watching the bateaux mouches go by and reminiscing.

Here is a list of some of my favorite ice cream places in Paris, in no particular order:

Berthillon - Yes, it can cost you about a day's salary (who am I kidding, what do I know about salaries?) for two itty bitty scoops, but I'll be damned if there's a richer chocolate ice cream out there. Their white chocolate and caramel are also too exquisite! Don't even get me started on the sorbets -- sanguine or framboise, anyone?
Original location: 29-31 rue Saint Louis en l'Ile 75004 Paris; available at many other restaurants and cafés.

Amorino - Gelato from an international chain. It's less expensive than Berthillon at 3,50 for a small coppa or cornetto. Amorino's great when you want some creamy goodness that's less familiar than the ubiquitous Haagen-Daz and cheaper than Berthillon. And, did I mention the flowers? They also tend to hire cute vendeurs, especially at the one by Bastille.
Address: 4 rue de la Roquette 75011 Paris, other locations throughout the city and Europe.


Le Bac à Glaces - At this tiny little shop in the 7th arrondissement, a scoop of one of their finely crafted ice creams or sorbets will set you back 3,50 (for much higher quality stuff than Amorino's). Yesterday's parfum du jour was pain d'epices with real bits of gingerbread inside! There's a little park full of joyous Parisian children and their stylish mothers right next door. Settle yourself on a bench for some of the cutest people watching in Paris!
Address: 109 rue du Bac 75009 Paris

Martine Lambert - Le Chef is responsible for introducing me to both Martine and Le Bac. This one's a bit pricier but also very, very good. Plus it's on one of those cute little pedestrian shopping streets.
Address: 39 rue Cler 75007 Paris

Something Beautiful Everyday

Hi all,

I can't believe it's been over a month since my last post! I apologize, family. I know all 5 of you were waiting to hear a bit about Spring Break and see some pictures, but honestly, I just can't find it in me to write about it. (It's exam time.)

In the same vein, I've decided to whittle this project down to its original, intended aim -- recognizing some beautiful new discovery every day. I'll start with yesterday.




My ever-uplifting artist friend Linda and I were standing in line at Starbucks when she mentioned the carrot cake at Sésame. I've heard her talk about it glowingly before, and when I said, "Oh, I still need to try that" her response was, "Want to go now?" Four métro stops and a short walk along the vibrant Canal St. Martin later, we arrived at the rosy-cheeked café. This is not your mama's carrot cake! The heavenly little slices are thin, light, and whisper soft. You can also kind of see the grated carrot! Each slice is topped with a scoop of luscious cream cheese frosting which, if I'm not mistaken, contained slivered almonds. I washed mine down with a "café frappé" (ice coffee hold the ice?). Delectable.

Here's their website :)

C'est (pas trop) dure, la matinée

Meh. Mornings. Joëlle, who's up by 7 o'clock on weekdays has more reason to complain than I do, with my one 9 a.m. class and one at 10:30. Some mornings she leaves me pain au chocolat (two sticks of dark chocolate wrapped in croissant) from Dominique Saibron, a.k.a. my French Lover, officially the baker of the third-best baguette in Paris who also has locations in Tokyo. He just happens to be the corner bakery. No big deal. (He'll get his own post soon.) Anyway, pair that little roll of light flaky joy with a cup of French café out of this little wonder:

And it's already a good day.

I eat this petit dejeuner des champions at the kitchen table. Usually, I forget to turn the light on until after I've finished my coffee, so I sit in the soft light and stare out the kitchen window - the only one with a view of the sky - and look at the blue, or more often indecisive, backdrop. Cohabiting the kitchen with the coffeemaker is the yellow réfrigo.

C'est facile à faire la grasse matinée dans cet apart :)

Strasbourg: Capitale de Noël

On Saturday I joined le Chef, Pomegrenade, and another friend in Strasbourg, Alsace. Christmas markets are a big event here in France, and while Paris has its own on the Champs Élysées, Strasbourg is known for going all out when 'tis the season.

First stop after my train pulled in was a patisserie where we plotted our very stealthy entrance into the hotel. A word to the wise: the Strasbourg Best Western takes its policy of not letting 4 people stay in a double very seriously. While we discussed, I chowed down on a bûchette de noël and some combination of fondue and pastry shell called a frillon (sp?) After a nap we were ready for some shopping! I made few super secret purchases and soon we were all freezing. After searching high and low for salad (veggies were very much in order after the frillon - French for heart attack wrapped in deliciousness), we found some vin chaud which was tangy and spiced and most importantly warm. We took turns holding it in our little mittened hands.



The next day we did more serious Christmas Shopping and made the requisite visit to the cathedral. It was very nice, very large, very medieval. When we got there, a children's concert was just ending. French children singing Feliz Navidad was pretty adorable. For dinner we had couscous, which came in enormous cauldrons that could have fed a family of six. We messed up and ordered 3. After that we wandered around looking for nightlife and admiring the lights. Great lights, no nightlife. The next day it started snowing buckets in Paris.

Cultureshock

Okay, one more week and then it's Christmas Break and this blog will get more exciting. For now though, I'm not doing much besides studying, Facebook, and the occasional pastry with friends (which I will post about later).

In honor of exam week, here is a list of a few of the things I have learned this semester:

1. How to navigate les piscines municipales

For 1,70 students can swim as long as they like and take a warm (though not private) shower in a warm building. A proper swimsuit and swim cap is all that's required. Hop under the requisite shower, walk through the foot-cleaning pond, then just pick a lane in the pool. If you bump into someone, just say excusez-moi and swim away.

Warning: Ladies, everyone who works there is male, and they won't knock before entering the locker room (not that there's a door anyway) There are a few private changing rooms, though.

Click here for more info about public pools in Paris

2. Poireaux, fromage de chèvre, St. Honorés, courgette, café espresso - these are a few of my favorite things

Leeks, goat cheese, the most amazing pastry you've ever seen, zucchini/strange pumpkin-looking squash, espresso.

There are books, blogs, paintings, and movies dedicated to french food, so I won't try to sum up my experience with it in this list, but these are some of the things I had never tried before coming here, and now I don't know if I could make it a week without them.

There are some pretty hilarious and wise food bloggers in Paris right now, two that le Chef turned me on to are David Lebovitz and Clotilde.

3. It is never that simple.

It's all about the logic, baby. All of the assignments I've received in my parisian classes have intimidating names - the compte rendu, dissertation, synthese de texte, résumé, explication du texte. What do they all have in common? They all mean, more or less, "read & summarize." No one in France is interested in your interpretation. It's all about the author's logic, and how well you can keep up.

That being said, not all summaries are created equal. The résumé involves summarizing while keeping the tone and point of view of the narrator. The explication du texte hinges on choosing the right 3 examples to demonstrate the thématique of the text. In the compte rendu you do actually get to state what you did or did not like about the text, but you better have a damn good reason why you found it touchant.

Other things that aren't so simple:

• Crossing the street - Why why why would you have the two walk/don't walk signs on either side of the very tiny median on different rhythms??
• Showering - The claw foot tub is beautiful, but I don't have time to run a bath and there's no shower curtain.
• Staying in the country - Searching every tabac in Paris frantically for official stamp - 3 hours; required stamp for immigration documents - 55 euros; printing costs for a housing attestation signed by my host mom to be attached to an electricity bill from the last 6 months- 10 centimes, stress pimples; being ordered to undress before getting pushed against a wall and zapped with radiation by a public health official in the required TB exam - priceless.

4. Franchement, mon chéri, je m'en fous.

This roughly translates as "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," and sometimes, in a crowded, overly complicated city like Paris, it's a necessary sentiment. The French are generally extremely polite, so sometimes it seems to take a willful oblivion to make it through the forced intimacy of the sardine-can metro, past the hoards of beggars (often with strategically cute animals), through the never-ending queues and home safe without having a nervous breakdown. Also handy for when people make fun of your accent, or you've just done something gauche like swimming into that lady at the piscine - What was she doing in my lane, anyway?

5. Parisians are very, very nice.

Sure, they don't smile at random people like we do in some parts of the States, and they don't particularly appreciate it when tourists assume they speak English, but if you brush up your best "Excusez-moi, Monsieur/Madame. Vous parlez anglais?" you'll almost always get what you need. Ask someone for directions and they may very well lead you where you need to be. Look worried/scared or flirtatious/conspiratorial and the world is your oyster. Just be polite.

6. Romance ≠ Love

One of the things many visitors note on arrival in the City of Love is the rampant PDA. That couple making out between the vending machines and the homeless man in the métro station? The ones that look like they'll elope any second? They could be on their third date. The French are in love with Love, and they are more than willing to fake it 'til they make it (and if all those couples in the métro are going home together, they sure make it a lot).

7. The 35-hour work week is a myth.

True, it is hard to fire a French employee, and they do take longer lunch breaks, but most white collar workers don't get home until 8 p.m. these days. They do take vacations and keep their weekends private, but during the work week, it's a little scary.

8. They aren't all that skinny

My first week here I read an article that cited a statistic about France's growing obesity problem. Le snacking as well as le Macdo (McDonald's) have caught on, and by 2020 French obesity rates will probably equal America's. While it's clear that French women do get fat, there are still plenty of Audrey Hepburn lookalikes running around.

Mireille Guiliano is a wealth of advice on how to avoid becoming grosse

9. "Good advice" is highly subjective.

A sample of questions and responses from recent issues of Femina magazine:

Q: My adolescent son's girlfriend showed up at our breakfast table wearing one of his shirts as pajamas! I don't want share my tartines with her! What do I do?

A: Lay down the law, but you and your spouse should consider clearing out once a month to give the young lovers their space. If your son complains, remind him that if the nest is too comfortable, one never leaves it.

Q: My ex, the father of my 6 year old child, refuses to pay any attention to his little girl. This saddens and confuses my daughter, who doesn't understand why her daddy doesn't love her. How do I get him to take an interest?

A: I sense that you aren't really over your ex. The real question here is: Why haven't you found someone else yet? Find a man who can love and take care of both of you, that's the best way to provide a father figure for your daughter.

Barcelone

The day I arrived in Paris the weather was perfect. Then, fall came a bit late, but come it did and we are in what can only be described as hiver. That is to say yucky weather, and lots of it.

The sun comes up at 7h45 and sets at 17h30. (Oh yes, military time, just to make things exciting, the French like to switch back and forth.) In between it is mostly gray, cold, and pitifully damp. It's like the sky is so depressed it can't even be bothered to rain properly -- either that or it has a cold. It's OK, I keep telling myself, I was prepared for this, but honestly, I've been spending a lot more time on Facebook than I like to admit.

Anyway, my friend Pomegrenade (OK, the pseudonyms are getting a bit tiresome, but switching now would probably get confusing) and I were granted a reprieve from all that last weekend. We originally tried to go to Barcelona Halloween weekend, but with all the grèves, flights were cancelled. So, take two, we hoped on separate Ryanair flights de Paris à Barcelone and landed in the land of sunlight, strange architecture, and tapas.


First Impression of Spain

I arrived first, and found the hotel without trouble, pleasantly surprised to discover that Pomegrenade had wrangled a double room at the 3-star Hotel Gran Ducat for 3 nights for about 100 euro each. Nice. At first I was excited to get to speak the 10 words of Spanish I learned in my year at the Mexican restaurant, but once the concierge had established that he did not want queso with his quesadilla, we were kind of at an impasse. Eventually he just gave me a room key so I would leave him alone. The first thing I did was take a long nap. Then I found some dinner/lunch (it was only 7 p.m., after all) and walked around the square a bit.


First meal: egg and potato "tortilla," grilled veggies, and beef stuffed squid with a tomato sauce.

Our hotel had an awesome location, right next to the Plaça Catalunya, a square with a bunch of lovely statues and fountains, some great restaurants (which I'll get to in a bit) and a lot of young people, since it's near the Plaça Universitat. The square is also a block away from Las Ramblas, which seems to be the heart of Barcelona tourism with street performers, open-air pet shops, little restaurants, boutiques, etc.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Pomegrenade got in around 10:30 p.m. and we went down to the beach to check out Barcelona's famous nightlife, which did not disappoint. We asked some very friendly policemen where to go and they directed us down to the harbor, which turned out to be a gauntlet of doormen literally trying to pull you into their clubs/restaurants/bars. We made it to the end where we sat down for a coffee to recompose before heading back through it (the only way out). Clearly, this was not where we wanted to be. So we tucked our heads and limbs where they were not easily grab-able and dashed out. At the exit, a nice Algerian guy was handing out fliers and when he heard us speaking french, befriended us and escorted us (politely, not forcefully) to a real club, Carpe Diem, which played awesome music and had a cool South Asian vibe. Almost everyone we met that night was French. Strange.

The next day, we woke up early and hightailed it to La Sagrada Familia, Gaudí's chef-d'oeuvre. Started in 1882, the massive cathedral is still under construction. (This is probably why it costs 12/10 euro for students just to get in.) The outside struck me as a little goofy, kind of like a real world construction of Whoville.


The inside, however, is mind-blowing. Walking into the clean, spacious, light-filled sanctuary, all I could think was, "Wow, how great that God outlived the Gothic period!" I don't have anything against the Gothic period, I've just seen A LOT of cathedrals in the last two months. But not like this one. It's beautiful. It is so beautiful. The stained glass, the columns, everything is so clean and un-oppressive. It has been my experience that there are two types of churches: traditional, dark-wood-marble-gold-cross churches and modern, white-walled, if-this-is-God's-house-then-he-moved-to-the-suburbs churches (more commonly "Houses of Worship"). The interior of Sagrada Familia managed to escape the stodgy, suffocating atmosphere of the first without falling into the soulless, painfully simplified style of the later.


















After that we headed over to a cute medieval Spanish town where there were a lot of artisans and awesome hot chocolate. I bought a scarf and some Christmas presents.

That night we got TAPAS!! Deep fried Camembert with red berry sauce. Mini-pan of paella. Stuffed mussels. Sangria. Catalan crème brulée and "Three textures of chocolate with extra virgin olive oil and sea salt" for dessert. We considered never leaving.


Friday, our last day in the city, we walked down Las Ramblas and scouted out Gaudí's Casa Milà, which is very famous for its wavy silhouette and crazy balconies. Leaving that, we stumbled upon his other private residence, Casa Batllo, which might be less famous, but is definitely more awesome.
Casa Batllo. Some people call it "The Dragon House" because the mosaics look kind of scaly and the balconies look like bones.

That night there was more tapas, some more dancing, and a lot of Spanish MTV before our 4 a.m. wake-up call and back to Paris.

One of the best things about Barcelona was all the random wacky art. Examples:

My American Boy

So, a certain someone came to Paris for three days last week and reminded just how wonderful he is.

Because he likes contemporary art, and my knowledge stops short at 1900, I was scrambling to find the right museums to show off, but we made it to the Centre Pompidou (Parisians call it Beaubourg) and the less well-known but equally awesome Jeu de Paume.

The Centre Pompidou is having a very extensive, very intense feminist art exhibit. This stuff is no joke. There's a lot of blood, a lot of nudity, and a couple signs warning that the content of one room in particular "might hurt some viewers' feelings." The Boy didn't even roll his eyes once. What a great guy :)

Even better was that going to see the permanent collection at 5:30 on a Friday, it was free for under 26 year-olds. The museum also houses a library and a very swank restaurant, George, which a friend who went on a date there tells me is delicious and extremely expensive.

Jeu de paume is the old way of saying "tennis" in French. The museum is located in the Tuileries, the gardens of the Louvre, where the royal tennis courts used to be. After wandering through some painfully avant-garde exhibits ("Walking into this small white room affects the dimensions of another white room in Prague" and a 15 minute video of a shack surrounded by trees) and a three story retrospective of one photographer who must have lived to be at least 100, we came to the "Vidéothèque éphémère". It's an exhibit of short videos featuring everything from a made-up conspiracy theory about the Spice Girls, ALF and Princess Diana living in Chile to a silent montage of birds swarming at dawn to Willie Nelson. Definitely one of the most entertaining exhibits I've been to here. Again, under 25's get a reduced tarif of 5.50 euros here.

The Boy is nothing if not a man who knows what he likes, and one of the things he likes is fondue. So after our museum ventures, we warmed up with a big steamy pot of cheese on rue Mouffetard, a low-key little street chock full of bars and little bistros in the 5e arrondissement. A very successful weekend.

Le Pique-nique :)

One of the best ways to save some money and generate some extra melatonin before the sun goes on vacation for the winter is picnics. We had a perfect one, and discovered a beautiful park right by my house last month!



Here we have Pont-l'Eveque cheese (similar to brie) and another soft cow's milk cheese, figs, Louis Bouillot rosé champagne (4,60euros at Monoprix) and bread made from organic flour and a selection of patisseries by celebrated baker Dominique Saibron!

The best part? All of it came from shops on my block! The park where we sat down with our spread, Parc Montsouris, is also no more than a 5 minute walk. It has great walking paths, a lake, and pony rides complete with adorable French toddlers. And of course, it was only fun because I was there with some lovely people. C'est belle la vie. :)


(Photos stolen from Le Chef's facebook page)

Winey Weekend

Last weekend, I was invited on a day trip to the Champagne region! We started the day in Epernay at the Moet and Chandon caves where we learned about the three kinds of grapes that are harvested for champagne (Chardonnay, Pinot Meunier, and Pinot Noir) the Grands vintages (really good years) and Dom Perignon (really good grapes from really good years). We also got to do a tasting!

In the afternoon, we headed to Reims, where we saw the cathedral where Joan of Arc lead Charles VII to be coronated. It was stunning. Of all the cathedrals I've seen in the last month, this one has the most exciting history and the prettiest chapels.




After that we headed to the Martel champagne caves. This one was way less corporate than the Moet & Chandon tour - They keep a lot of bottles for smaller producers, most of which never get exported from France. Our guide at this one looked like he spent a lot of time underground. He was very knowledgeable and showed off the ancient equipment dating back to when women weren't allowed in the caves. This tour was cheaper and came with a tasting of 3 different champagnes! a brut (not too sweet), a rosé, and a demi sec (sweet champagne)




Last week also happened to be the Fete des vendanges a wine and food festival held annually to celebrate the bottling of the Clos du Montmartre, wine that comes from a vineyard within Paris. There are foods from every region of France, traditional performers (clowns, chanteurs, etc) and free wine tastings and cooking demonstrations! Some friends and I spent Sunday afternoon wandering around tasting and enjoying the weather :)

Lagniappe: Angelo Brocato's

Since I started working in Mid-City for my internship this summer, I've gotten pretty familiar with the restaurants on North Carrollton. There are a bunch of good and pretty good ones, but by far my favorite eatery in that strip is Angelo Brocato's (214 N. Carrollton Ave.; 486-1465; angelobrocatoicecream.com).

Okay, it's not a restaurant, it's a bakery, confectionary, and ice cream parlor. It was opened by one Mr. Brocato about a 100 years ago, and the little restaurant with its elaborate neon sign, pink walls decorated with old pictures, heart shaped chairs around (faux) marble topped tables, and little old lady servers, is proud to be a throwback.

It has something for everybody, as long as you enjoy sweet, creamy goodness. (Do I sound like an ad yet?) Momma loves their lemon ice, and my co-intern, Mary, says their cannolis (made fresh to order) are a tradition for her family, but for me, nothing beats the spumoni.

The prism-shaped, multi-colored ice cream wedge comes out on a little plate, resting daintily on top of a doily. Since each brick has a unique distribution of the flavors, each order is a challenge - Which end to start at? Scrape off the top? Oh, the big questions.

Foregoing the the traditional chocolate layer, Brocato's combines pistachio, lemon, and pink ice cream to great effect. The pink layer, which isn't strawberry, remains a mystery to me. Brocato's website calls it "tutti frutti." It bears some resemblance to Maraschino cherry. Whatever it is, it's pink and its delicious. There's also a white layer (almond, perhaps?) that the description on the store's website completely fails to mention.

Anyway, this technicolor dessert is absolutely awesome on a hot day (is there any other kind anymore?) and costs less than a scoop of store's gelato. Gotta love it.