Page in Paris

Cracking the French Code

2012-03-02T04:15:00.000-08:00

It's finally happened. I got in the system. After 3 visits, half dozen phone calls to the US and France, and many pieces of mail with different codes on different days, I now have a bank account in France. The best part is that I now am a holder of the elusive debit card with the magic chip. The chip that has stood between me and charging tickets in the metro and train stations, amongst many other things, is now in my possession. I also now have official mail from the bank with my name and French address on it and that mes amis, is now opening many doors.

As soon as I got this documentation, I ran to my nearest Orange store, the AT&T of France. The lone man working in the store didn't know what he was in for, but between his bad English and my bad French, we got me on a cell phone plan. This may not sound like a big deal, but I've only been able to use prepaid phone cards, which after one call is nearly all used up and you have to go out and buy another one. I'm better served taking any friend I want to speak to for lunch since it's the same price as a phone call. I'm in now - bank account and cell phone plan. There's no stopping me.

I can't say that I've had as much luck getting my well dressed handyman back to my place. Last I saw him he said he'd be back with my repairs by the end of the week. That was 2 weeks ago. I called him yesterday because now I don't have to hand select who gets my precious cell phone minutes, and for the first time, I heard a proper Frenchman cuss, in English. It was actually quite humorous. It went something like this.

Me:         Hi Charles, it's Kelly
Charles: Oh no. Shit, shit.
Me:        Ha!
Charles: Oh boy. I forgot. I have a lot of jobs right now. How about Monday?
Me:        Sure, great. See you then. Au Revoir.
Charles. Au Revoir. Shit

I'll be curious to see if the parts he brings will be in a similar plastic bag to the one he brought last time.

I gathered with a few friends on Monday night to watch a delayed taping of the Oscar's. I successfully made it through the day without listening to any news or getting any winner or dress updates. When we all met at my friend's house, she had just received bad news that there would be a several day delay in airing the Oscar's through her US cable provider. We couldn't let all the food and drinks we brought go to waste, so we indulged and dished on who won and who rocked the red carpet.

There may have been whisky too

Steph's fab WA vodka

We did eat!

Tuesday was a wine tasting with a British group - luckily focusing on big French reds, not the wine of England, though some will try and tell you they're making some good stuff now. It was a blind tasting competition where they poured 6 wines and you had to name the appelation, primary grape, secondary grape, year, alcohol content, and region. Yes, it was harder than my Cordon Bleu wine test, but suffice it to say my team won, though the prize was a bit lackluster of finishing our favorite bottle. We also won the last tasting we went to with this group, so we're on a roll!

I capped the week with some culture by going to the George Pompidou Centre for the first time. I think the building is such a monstrosity and an eye sore to the beloved, beautiful Parisian skyline. I've been resisting stepping foot inside, but I had heard about an interesting exhibition there, so I figured it was time.

While the outside of the building isn't much to look at, they do offer beautiful views of Paris from the roof, cloudy day and all.

The exhibit, Danser Sa Vie, dance you life, was innnttterestttting. The premise made sense talking about the relationship between dance and art. There were videos every 2 feet showing this relationship in a variety of ways. The body was more often than not clothed in a very colorful, geometric pattern, or not much at all. The dancing in the videos took place everywhere you could imagine - in offices, fields, leaves, oil, paint, sweat, and hallucinagenic states. Half the fun was watching the small children stare mesmerized at the half naked gyrating ladies with only feathers extending from the derriere. Those kids either went home with nightmares or dreams that their parents may not want them to follow.

I had several articles published this week. Part 2 of the story of my apartment search was published on HIParis here. You can also read my full review of the great meal and evening I had at La Cantine du Troquet Dupleix , along with my review of my favorite Mexican spots in Paris to date. I also wrote an article on making friends in foreign countries, which was a big help to me too.

Bon week-end to all!

A Week-end in the Country: Bordeaux

2012-02-29T06:06:00.000-08:00

I had the good fortune to be asked to go to a friend's house just outside St. Emilion this past week-end. One might not need to think I need to "getaway" from anything right now, but the city moves at a much different pace than the back roads and villages in the country. So, after a few days of poking around St. Emilion, Bordeaux, and all places in between, I feel refreshed and ready once again for bustling Paris.

My friend Doni's place is right on the Dordogne and after one glimpse, I saw many of my favorite French books come to life, and pictured this place as a lovely and likely setting in which to write one of these stories on the fabulous, yet frustrating, life in the country.

Our first night, after the 3+ hour train ride from Paris, we went into "town," which is really just a few small shops each selling a very specific item as is the case in most of France. We grabbed flowers from the flower shop, bread from the boulangerie, cheese from the fromagerie, and even got milk and eggs from another small shop where the owner asked how many eggs we wanted and then dropped them in a small bag for us. That began our riverside picnic and drink before we walked into Doni's immediate village center, which consists of a church, a small school and one restaurant.

Luckily the restaurant is quite good so we were treated to some home cooking by a husband and wife team who run the place, and the post office next door by day. They have an open grill in the restaurant where they cook all of their meat. My steak was twice the size of my head with double the amount of blue cheese on top. It made for good sleeping, not to mention, that the house was a tad bit cold because of a delay in getting the fuel for the heat. Luckily there were some electric heaters for the bedrooms and we built a fire every morning in the kitchen so it really was country living.

Delicious frog legs

Warm fish casserole, beets and spiced spinach

Steak with blue cheese

Chef, owner, grill master

The next day I took a run through the small villages, looking into each of the farms to see what they were growing (mostly grapes) and giving the vineyard dogs something to bark about. We then went for a more in-depth wine tour at Chateau Belles Graves in Lalande de Pomerol. The 3rd generation owner took us around his fields and showed us his cement vats, which you don't see everyday in modern wine making. The property also has a 4 bedroom hotel, making for a nice, all encompassing stay.

We tasted some wine, bought some wine, and then went off and meandered through the country on our way to St. Emilion. There are beautiful sites around every corner, and not necessarily on any tourist map, but half the fun is getting lost and going where the day takes you like a random Brocante in a small town.

We then spent the afternoon walking around the "big city" of St. Emilion, ironically where Doni and I first met 3 years ago during a writing conference.

We were treated to a beautiful sunset which made all of the stone shine even brighter and more colorful.

We then treated ourselves to a little vodka at an appropriately named L'Absolu cafe. This was the first vodka based bar I had seen in France, so naturally we had to stop for a glass (or maybe two), and they also gave us a fairly elaborate charcuterie platter for free.

Dinner was another great meal. I went all fish with a sashimi dourade to start and then a scallop risotto, served with the maison's name wine. Delicious.

Sunday we drove into Bordeaux and started our day wandering through the modern art museum. They had a pretty spooky exhibition on secret societies that included an extremely lifelike man playing dead on the floor. The visit is almost worth it alone for their lovely rooftop and cafe.

We stopped for lunch at one of the great markets along the water. The sun was out and so were all the French. There were people everywhere eating, drinking and getting their supplies for the week. We had some fabulous oysters, shrimp and of course a bit of wine.

After a final wander through Bordeaux, we took the last train back to Paris, tired, yet refreshed from a fun week-end.

Some California Sunshine

2012-02-23T15:09:00.000-08:00

I got two great gifts from LA this week. One, blue skies and quasi-warm temperatures came to Paris. Two, my good friend Cheryl came for a visit.

Cheryl used to live in London and has been to Paris several times, which means we didn’t have to do the Paris 101 tour. Instead, we got to wander the streets for hours, and of course eat and drink all of Paris’ goods. There was cheese shopping, wine tasting, a few church visits, and we even caught up with 2 of Cheryl’s friends who up and left LA for Paris.

We met Robin for the world’s largest coffee I’ve ever seen, served at bakery great Poilane’s café in the 6^th. There was a group leaving when we got there at about 10am and they had already each finished off a glass of wine. Now, that’s hitting the ground running.

Poilane's great bread spread

Coffee, not soup!

Cheryl and I at least tried to wait to drink until lunch, where one day we went for supposedly the best croque madame/monsieur’s in Paris at Le Nemrod. I haven’t done enough research to say if they’re truly the best, but they were certainly good.

Le Nemrod's Croque

We slipped into the tiny L’Avant Comptoir for a mid-day glass and also hit one of my local favorite’s Baron Rouge where we joined a lively bunch gathered on a random Tuesday night.

An afternoon glass at L'Avant Comptoir

Double fisting at Baron Rouge

The cute couple from the US who used to host the hugely successful underground dinners in their home, have now opened a restaurant and wine bar called Verjus. We ate in the wine bar one night and had a fabulous meal of spicy fried chicken, rare duck, dumplings and Asian style broccoli. We had dessert and a final glass at Willi’s Wine Bar down the street.

Willi's Wine Bar

Verjus Wine Bar

Cheryl’s friend Richard showed us a great view of Paris from the top of Belleville and then we wandered graffiti’d streets back to the Canal St. Martin.

I’m always intrigued as to what’s happening in some of the outer neighborhoods, especially where some of the hot chefs are being lured there because of cheaper rent. I took Cheryl to one of these restaurants on the fringe, called Le Galopin. While we may have been able to purchase drugs of our choosing on the way in, we ended up being treated to our own mood enhancing meal. They give you a sheet of paper with the night’s menu, but there are no choices. It’s more of a heads-up of what’s to come and let us know if you’re going to break out in hives if you eat any of this. I loved it all, right down to the raw veal. Due to our lengthy and late dinner, we ended up being the last table in the place, so we got to see the 2 young chefs take a seat, grab a beer, and start smoking in the restaurant. I certainly wasn’t going to tell them to stop after the wonderful meal they gave us.

It was a short, but sweet trip and now I’m gearing up for my own trip down to Bordeaux for the week-end.

3 Germans Walk Into a Parisian - Japanese Karaoke Bar….

2012-02-19T13:52:00.001-08:00

It sounds like the opening to a good joke, but instead, it was the open to my Friday night. Between Lisette, Melissa and I, we had meet these 3 German guys and learned that they are fans of karaoke in Paris, and invited us to join them this week-end. First, we had to “get warmed up” over Italian food and beverages naturally, to make sure we were representing as many countries as possible during the evening. The animated Italian restaurant owner was speaking and playing a mix of English, Spanish, French, and Italian music that had us all singing Volare by dessert. It was then we knew we were ready for micropohones.

We headed to La Noche, and downstairs to a cave-like basement with multi-color flashing lights and an empty floor, ready for us to rock.

The Germans covered a gamut of tunes in a variety of languages, and Lisette and I stayed with crowd favorites like Brown Eyed Girl, The Gambler, and Sweet Caroline, songa that transcends country and culture. It was a unique and entertaining experience, and hopefully everyone’s ears have now recovered from our singing.

Prior to karaoke night, I had a fabulous, fine dining experience at the Michelin two star restaurant, Passage 53. New friend Shauna has started a fun new social and dining group called The Inimitable Liver’s Society, similar to Anthony and Cleopatra's group of the same name, which translates to 'Those Who Live Beyond Compare.’ The meal we had at Passage 53 was definitely beyond compare.

We dined at lunch for a more affordable indulgence in their tasting menu, but then splurged on a truffle course since it was the end of the season and we needed to bid a proper farewell to this fabulous forest creature. I’ll let the pictures do the talking, but suffice it to say it was a decadent, sublime meal with astute service and enjoyable company. I’m already looking forward to the next Inimitable outing.

Saturday, I caught up with my friend Doni who just got to Paris for a 2 week stay. I met her in Montmartre and we tried a fun, fully French bistro, Le Miroir.

My appetizer was a combination of ingredients I’d never seen on the same plate in Paris, or anywhere else in the world. The sashimi like light trout melted in my mouth, but it laid on top of a soy marinated broccoli salad. The salad was delicious on its own, but too powerful to eat with the fish together. Doni had a wonderful foie gras with sweet onion compote, followed by veal, which I didn’t think was as good as my wonderful cod.

My quenelle chocolate was rich and fun, as what I thought was simple sea salt on top, was really a type of pop rock that sizzled in your mouth. The 3 course menu was a very reasonably priced 33 euro. Great value for the money.

Sunday, I got myself back to a French conversation class. This is the café conversation group I did last year where you sit and speak in French about whatever you like with a few folks for 2 hours. There’s a moderator who serves as a guide to help with vocabulary and grammar. I was glad I went if for no other reason than to learn the proper use of when to use the words, "your first time." I will not be using this phrase as regularly as I have been due to my renewed understanding of the intimate nature of the phrase.

On my way back from class I heard some music in the distance, off of the monster square, Republique. Naturally I had to investigate and I was fabulously surprised at a large, musical, drum beating parade going for miles and miles. Evidently it was a Carnival de Paris - a local Mardi Gras type celebration filled with people in costume playing music.

I capped the week-end by checking out a North African restaurant in the upper Marais with Lisette and Stephanie called Chez Omar. I loved the family style serving of couscous and the large vat of steaming hot vegetables which accompanied our various meats that were all perfectly cooked.

We were going to pass on dessert until we saw this interesting display go by, so then we had to partake.

As we weren't ready to say goodbye to the week-end yet, we had a nightcap at one of our favorite Mexican spots, Candelaria, that has a fun cocktail lounge just past the grill, and behind an unmarked door. The young Parisians were all out, quenching their Mexican and cocktail cravings. We joined them and then called it a night and the end to another fun week in Paris.

Diving Deeper into Parisian Life

2012-02-18T05:43:00.000-08:00

St. Sulpice during a moment of sunshine

As promised, the weather did warm up to the 40s this week, but intermittent wet weather came with it. It feels practically summerlike with the 20 degree temperature increase. It’s actually perfect walking weather and I’ve taken to the streets the past few days.

Monday I went to the Doisneau exhibit with my neighbor Beth, who looks to be a neighbor no more as she’s semi-permanently moving to Germany. Most people probably know Robert Doisneau for his black and white Parisian photos including the infamous couple kissing on a city street, amongst many others that you can find on postcards around town. His collection currently on display at Hotel de Ville focuses on shots he took over 30 years of the once bustling food mecca, Les Halles. The pictures exuded life and energy around the day to day happenings in the active food stalls. You can see the mass amount of people, transportation and commerce that once went through the lively area. Unfortunately with that activity, also came some less picturesque action like drugs, prostitution and crime, which Doisneau wasn’t quite as keen to cover. It was more of an homage to what once was. Les Halles was closed in ’69 and 10 years later it was replaced by a wretched underground mall and metro that is now again under construction for an ultra-modern facility that screams more George Jetson than classic Paris.

I also went to an art exhibit in a friend's home this week. He got his visa here by starting a business where he paints a new piece every day, and he's married to a wonderful chef, making for a nice evening of art, snacks and champagne.

Tuesday brought a new Parisian experience when the “handyman” came over to fix some odds and ends in the place. I’ve never quite seen a fix-it guy like this one. He spoke near perfect English and was impeccably dressed; collared shirt, sweater, pressed pants, belt and leather, buckled, wing tip shoes. All he brought with him was a clear plastic bag with a few cleaning products in it, though I will say he diagnosed one toilet issue quickly, but he has to come back with a new part. He also believes that he can reset the bathroom fan that runs for 45 minutes after you turn it off, but he didn’t have the right tool in his plastic bag. He was very polite and eloquent, and said that he’d be back by the end of the week. Seeing as the week has ended, I wish I would have asked him which week he meant. Hopefully he’ll return sometime before the end of the year.

Random shot I got at the foot of the Eiffel Tower this week

In other news of the domestic, I attempted to open a bank account here this week. The Parisians are teaching me patience and to have really low expectations of things. I knew I wouldn’t get an account open on the first try, or even the second. I knew there would be multiple visits, and that at the end of all of that, I may still not have an account. So I went in this week thinking I had a 50/50 shot of getting an account.

My first visit with every paper I could round up with my name on it and Paris beneath, was a quick one, and perhaps more of a passing through introduction. They could set up an appointment for me for the next day, but not today, even though I looked at people sitting alone at desks. Of course though, tomorrow it is.

I came back the next day, more papers in hand, and also apprehensive to see if there would be any English spoken. The woman I met with did end up speaking decent English and she couldn’t have been nicer. We were cracking jokes with each other by the end. I signed many, many forms and gave her more information about myself than I think most of my family knows. I had a small moment of panic after signing a form and talking about Interest, taxes and declaring it to the government. I always feel like I’m doing something illegal or incorrect here. I remember having a similar wave of nausea when signing all of my loan documents when I was buying my condo, but then I realized all I want is an ATM card to avoid major fees, and to be able to pay for train tickets, which require a chip in the back of the card and the US cards don’t have this. It appears a chipped card and new international checkbook will be mine come next Thursday, but again, I’m prepared to go next week and receive a different outcome.

Le Rouge et Le Verre

I checked out a few good new restaurants this week. Stephanie and I tried Le Rouge et Le Verre for lunch. It’s a local spot in the 9th that is part wine store, part restaurant, as is becoming quite the rage in Paris. They had a great 17 euro lunch menu and inexpensive, but good wines by the glass. I had a wonderful “Parmentier de canard gratine,” with perfectly cooked duck under a blanket of mashed potatoes. The charcuterie and fromage were also excellent.

Parmentier de canard

I also had an excellent dinner this week with my college friend Jen at La Cantine du Troquet Dupleix in the 7^th. It’s a new spot and worthy of a return visit.

We were placing our order when a friendly Frenchman next to us told us how good (and rare) the couteau was, razor clams, and that he had come to this place specifically because they had this item on the menu. Ironically, I had just eaten couteau the week before, and thought it was fine, but who am I to disagree with a Frenchman. No one has time for that kind of debate. Well he was right.

Aubergine terrine

Couteau

They were fantastic, served in a garlic, tomato, olive sauce that was a happy companion to the great, crusty bread. Jen’s aubergine terrine was also lovely, but of course needed a little kick, which we did get when the Frenchmen shared his Piment D’Espelette, a wonder spice with peppers and punch. I had a nice, smoky sausage called Xistora for dinner and Jen had a really nice Cabillaud. Great meal.

Xistora

Cabillaud with bacon and beans

I went to an interesting panel discussion this week called, “What’s Eating Paris?” On the panel was my new friend David Lebovitz, along with the writer of Paris blog Lost in Cheeseland, the Yelp Paris community Manager, and journalist and food writer, Ann Mah. It was an interesting conversation about blogs, websites, readership, discovering restaurants, and the differences between French and American attitudes towards food. Good “food for thought.”

What's Eating Paris panel

Lebovtiz

I reviewed Les Affriches on Girl’s Guide this week, here.

I hope everyone is having a great week-end!

Warming to Winter in Paris

2012-02-13T10:26:00.000-08:00

Ice Skating rink down the street from me at Hotel de Ville

I’m trying not to focus too much on the weather here in Paris, even though it’s so drastically different than my last few glorious sun soaked weeks in LA. Now if only Angelenos could off-set all of that warmth for their road rage, but I digress. I woke up most mornings in Paris last week with the temperature in the teens. That’s not right, but I’ve decided it’s not going to stop me from enjoying all that Paris has to offer, and I would find creative ways to stay warm.

That’s how I convinced myself that I MUST go out Tuesday night to a large international party at Alcazar in St. Germaine. Turns out this bar/restaurant is also home to the taping of Top Chef Paris, so I knew was in the right place. I met a lot of nice people from all over, but also from right here in Paris.

When we walked out of the place, snow was falling and there was a thin layer of snow on the streets. I literally gasped. It’s still a novel site for me, and if you think Paris is beautiful on a sunny day, it’s even prettier with a dusting of snow.

My friend Stephanie, who also has a flexible schedule, yelled, snow day! Evidently that meant we had to go out for more drinks because there was no school tomorrow (aka work), not that there usually is for either of us. Next thing I know we’re in a bar called Prescription and since my symptoms are an ongoing chill, I found myself ordering my first Armagnac. Unfortunately, I liked it, a lot, and it will be a survival mechanism for me in Paris if this winter game keeps up beyond this week.

Wednesday I rallied to join a new dinner group at an Alsatian restaurant in the 15^th called Schmidt L’os a Moelle. I wasn’t sure if we were going to get a whole lotta ‘kraut and sausage, but it ended up being quite the opposite. It was an interesting 6 course journey through unique flavor combinations like a lovely crayfish bisque with silky foie gras and chestnuts, and a satisfying escargot, mushroom, bacon, egg casserole. A formal review to come. Speaking of which, here’s last week’s review of Le Pas Sage on Girl’s Guide to Paris.

I got myself back into a French conversation class at Alliance Francais this week. As painful as it was, I know it’s the right thing to do, but just not nearly as fun as a winter prescription of whisky. I did enjoy that we were at least talking about more interesting topics than last year’s baby announcements and engagements. We actually had some philosophical “discussions” on whether life is better now or when our grandparents were alive. I realized I used a lot of charades and hand gesturing when I spoke and words elude me, but people seemed to enjoy the game night atmosphere I brought. At least, that's what I'm going to go with, and I hate to say it, but I'm now on a 2 week class hiatus while I have visitors and other events going on. I will get back to it though at the end of the month.

After class Friday, Stephanie and I hit a free wine tasting, “Le Wine Down,” at La Derniere Goutte, a St. Germaine wine shop that’s been around for over 20 years. The people were very nice, and not just because they were pouring free wine for us. There was complimentary cheese too!

We had a wonderful dinner afterwards at Jeanne A, a sister epicerie and casual resto to big boy, Astier. I had a lovely terrine with avocado and small shrimp, followed by their black chicken specialty. Delicious!

Then I was invited to a celebration of nuptials between an Irish gal I had met last year and a Frenchman who owns a couple of wine stores in town, so we packed into one of them to toast their wedding. Champagne, macarons and Irish songs seem like a fun way to celebrate almost anything!

Saturday, a friend of mine was craving Mexican so we tried Hacienda del Sol, which is owned by the same folks as last year’s favorite, Anahualcali. They did not disappoint with cheesy queso, chunky guacamole and really nice tequila sautéed shrimp.

Afterwards, we walked a few doors down to a fun, little jazz spot called Swan Bar, where there was an African American woman singing showtunes, Motown and disco in a combination of French and English.

I rounded out the week-end by going to a cooking school where David Lebovitz was promoting his new Paris Pastry App. David worked with Alice Waters at Chez Panisse for over 13 years and has since moved to Paris and is quite the celeb in town with ex-Pats and Parisians alike.

His homemade hot chocolate tasted as good as it smelled, and how can I turn down more macarons?

I came home inspired to cook and fired up Big Red to make a tasty lamb stew filled with potatoes and olives, braised in spices and Rose for a few hours. It warmed me up head to toe, and I thought, I can take on this Paris winter, no problem. I now have many coping mechanisms.

This week promises warmer temperatures in the 40s, but Paris’ notorious wet weather comes with the package, so we’ll see if I can not only continue to think of ways to stay warm, but also dry!

A BRRReturn to Paris

2012-02-07T05:48:00.000-08:00

Flying to Paris last week was the third time I've flown here in the past 7 months. The first time was to find my apartment, the second was for a 3 month trial, and now I'm here for potentially up to a year+, with a summer visit home sandwiched in between. Each time I'm on the plane and getting off and going through customs, I experience a range of emotions. Excitement is usually a constant, but that's mixed with different doses of fear, anxiety, and what-on-earth-did-I-do-quitting-my-job-to-live-in-a-foreign-country.

This last entree into Paris introduced a new feeling I hadn't expected. It was a feeling of familiarity, and comfort in a coming home of sorts. I found myself nearly skipping down the street after I landed to pick up a few things at the grocery store. Last time, the grocery store was a major outing. Why are the shopping carts all locked together? How can I tell if this is yogurt or pudding? This time I walked confidently down the street and was excited to see the local boulangerie still thriving with a line out front, and the produce stands on the way selling even more colorful fruit than I last remember. I was in and out of the Monoprix practically with my eyes closed and without having to phone a friend for help to check out.

The 1st snow of the year dusted the farmer's market

This is also my first foray into winter weather in quite some time. I hate to state the obvious, but it’s cold. Really cold. Freeeeeezing. I don’t recognize myself when I come home after a day of wandering the streets. I feel like I’m in one of those suomo wrestler costumes with all my layers. The moisture has all left my body. I’m a suitable stand in for Rudolph, assuming he has a cold, with a running nose he's unaware of since his top lip is numb. All that said, I really don’t mind the temperature. Don’t quote me on that in another 3 months (or even 3 weeks), but right now it’s novel and different.

The winter is also giving me a new view of Paris. The leafless trees extend the gaze for miles longer. There are no flowers and only a smattering of green in the patchy grass of the Luxembourg Gardens. It’s a new kind of beautiful. I can’t wait to see the change of seasons and to watch the gardens and trees come back to life. I can only hope this will take place next month. The huge reduction in tourists also helps extend the gaze even longer and gives the city a different kind of quiet.

So I’ve had a nice re-entry into Paris. It’s been fun reconnecting with my friends here, as well as continuing to make new ones. Sunday was the first snow in Paris of the season, and after a nice brisk walk with a friend, we found ourselves warming up in the always energetic Le Baron Rouge wine bar. It was Sunday afternoon, and there were more than a few people unable to stand up, or keep their mouths shut. It's a happy place.

One of the overly happy, random imbibers at Baron Rouge

I managed to take in some culture already and visited the extensive Sempe exhibit at Hotel de Ville. He's a French cartoonist some may know best for all the work he did with the New Yorker.

I also made it back in time for the latest wine club pick-up at Spring, and of course there were several restaurants visited this week-end, as well as a new (to me) cocktail bar where there was a whole section of the menu dedicated to vodka. I may survive winter afterall. Now that I’ll be writing weekly restaurant reviews for Girl’s Guide to Paris, I’ll spare you some of the details on each and every meal I eat, but I’ll include links when they’re posted.

Le Secret cocktail bar

I’m happy to be back, and excited to see where the next chapter takes me this year!

A Tale of Two Cities

2012-01-31T11:07:00.000-08:00

As I end my extended holiday stay in LA with a few months in Paris under belt, I realize I have fallen in love with two cities that are the yin to the other’s yang. Paris and LA couldn’t be on more opposite ends of the city spectrum. I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel returning to LA after having spent the last 3+ months in Paris. Would I hate LA? Would I love LA and not want to return to Paris? What I did find was some pretty major differences, made more pronounced when returning to the west coast.

Cityscape

Sometimes I feel like I’m watching a classic black and white movie when I’m walking through Paris. You can almost hear an old soundtrack playing as you pass one architectural wonder after the next. It’s such a beautiful city, full of history, stories and a real romance. LA feels freshly created from a modern rom-com Hollywood movie set, and in some ways, it actually is. It’s hard to even use the word architecture when describing anything in Los Angeles as it seems like the paint is barely dry in some places, but then there’s the beach backdrop that produces its own allure and serenity that is often lacking in a big, bustling city. The beach also attracts a certain type of person and lifestyle, which bring me to…

Woman grocery shopping at Bristol Farms

Peoplescape

Paris is a formal city. Perhaps the stunning architecture has led to the people wanting to look as nice as their city’s backdrop. People are very well put together when they leave the house. You won’t find anyone in sneakers and SPAM T-shirts walking around town trying to be ironic. Outfits are well thought out from scarves to their designer shoes. LA’s beach attire is swimsuits and flip flops, so that carries onto the streets around, as well as into the heads of the residents who often don’t think it’s necessary to change out of their pajamas when going to the grocery store. I will admit to missing throwing on my yoga pants to run errands sometimes, but I much prefer seeing men in suits - business, not bathing, at least off the beach.

Attitude

In Paris you never walk into or out of store without a proper Bonjour Monsieur and an Au Revoir, Bon Journée. Again, it’s formal and there’s rarely small talk while you’re in the store. In LA, you’ll get a, “hey there, how’s it going, love your top – is that hemp?” I do realize I live in the hippy, happy capital of the world where people are medicated or on a newly changing 7 day road to bliss regimen, but after experiencing the opposite, I realized I missed the warmth and laid back attitude of the loopy locals.

This also extends to restaurant service. In Paris, it’s polite and polished. They take your order, bring it, and are never to be seen again. They don’t want to intrude, which can be nice if you want to sit in a café for a few hours and only drink one cup of coffee while writing your next screenplay as 1 in 10 are doing in LA. They encourage the linger in Paris, but if you want a check or the correct order, be prepared to get out of your seat to do some hands on hunting. In LA, you get a lot of attention and , “how’s everything tasting? Don’t you love the tartare. The tuna is sung to as a child to make the best tasting fish.”

Tres Grand

Then there are the portions. Leave it to the US to invent the words, “Super Size.” I’ve ordered a few salads this month, and they were about 3 times the size of a salad in Paris.

The grocery stores in the US have snack AISLES. There is an entire aisle, with shelves 6 stories high dedicated to the fried, salted, and processed snack. In Paris, you’re lucky to get 3 ill tasting BAGS of chips in a grocery store, with 3 boxes of crackers that unfortunately include hard, cardboard like melba. Because of this and the fact that I love the salty snack, I did end up coming home having lost weight, much to the shock of those around me who read about my each and every foie gras laden meal I consumed.

I think the French are a petit people because of the fact that they’re not big snackers, because who really wants to eat dry melba anyway. Let’s see what happens if I introduce the Cheeto after a Parisian wine tasting. There just isn’t a lot of processed food available. They thrive on the open markets where you can find the farmers selling their freshly picked produce nearly every day on a street somewhere in Paris. They shop daily, visiting their butcher, the fish monger, and yes the fabulous fromagerere, but they’re also walking to all of these places, and yes, perhaps smoking too, but all of this leads to a pretty healthy lifestyle, minus some bad nicotine habits.

I love being able to experience these two totally different cities and cultures. They feed different parts of me, and I feel different in each one. I do feel more at home in LA, but with family, friends and an ability to talk about hemp made T-shirts in my native tongue, I think that’s understandable. I will say that I’m looking forward to going back to Paris and diving deeper into the city, the architecture and the culture that makes the City of Light, but I will miss the sand and soul of LA.

LA Restaurant Round Up

2012-01-30T17:13:00.000-08:00

For all my local LA friends who are tired of hearing me talk about restaurants in Paris that they may never go to, here's an equal opportunity overview of some of the new restaurants, and old familiar favorites, where I enjoyed dining in LA this past month.

Lazy Ox
I had never been to this Little Tokyo find during the daylight hours, but I highly recommend coming for lunch or brunch, as I did. The ricotta fritters lightly drizzled with honey were a crunchy - sweet sensation. The asparagus with shaved manchego on a bed of romesco was purely delicious, and the signature Lazy Ox burger wears the name proudly.

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
This quasi pop up restaurant on Abbot Kinney in Venice is temporarily taking over the old Capri digs through February with some very inventive food. Mismatched chairs and brown paper cover a variety of multi-colored tablecloths, giving the place a more relaxed, kick back feel.

Who doesn't love a well cooked biscuit, but add in apple butter and pimento cheese and life is good. As Paris is a kale free zone, I will take a Kale salad any day, and this one did not disappoint with apples, cheese, nuts and a light walnut vinaigrette.

The big winner was the hanger steak with anchovy butter cooked to perfection and simply dissolving on the tongue. You had to work too hard on the sand dabs to avoid the bones, but end on the chocolate, maple, pecan pie and all will be right with the world again.

They're only open a few more weeks, so get it while you can, and save me a slice of steak and pie. They don't take reservations, so try and get there early so you don't have to wait.

Eatalian
I hesitate to even mention this totally random, authentic Italian gem as it's in Gardena, and I know most of you won't even go east of Lincoln, so your car may not be capable of heading that far south, though you will be rewarded for the drive. The owner comes from a tiny village in Ventosa, Italy, and he set out to make out cheese and bread for local restaurants in this solitary shop in a former textile factory. By request he ended up setting out a table or two to see if people would want to eat there, and next thing you know, Eatalian is born.

They make everything by hand there - pizzas, pastas, bread, gelato; it's like an Italian Disneyland. They could use a dimmer switch in there as it's lit up like a basketball court, but there is much action to watch around you at the various stations. No reservations, and no booze, but I know how creative my friends are, so that shouldn't stop you from having a good time.

Of course you have to start with one of their uber thin, crisp pizzas like the simple, but perfect mozzarella and mushroom.

Next try a homemade pasta such as the spinach and ricotta ravioli with butter sage sauce, but save room for the gelatto bar. With so many flavors, be happy you can mix and match. It's cheap and cheerful, and worth a drive out of the comfort zone for a little taste of Italy.

Ink
For those that play the Top Chef game, the heavily tattooed winner of season 6, Michael Voltaggio, opened up Ink on Melrose to much fanfare late last year, and hard to get reservations. The night we went, Voltaggio was there in the kitchen window, so I got to watch him, but not in a stalker way. After 3 hours, I never saw him look up once. That guy was in the zone. He never yelled at anyone, and honestly, I never even saw him talk to any of his kitchen staff. He was definitely focused, but just not sure if he's all smoke and nitrogen, or something more.

I reluctantly started with the waitress' recommendation of the carrot appetizer, which was described as, "carrots, coconut ice, cardamom soil, carrot juice curry." I definitely raised an eyebrow with the cool coconut bits reached my mouth, but it was offset by an ethereal carrot taste. This was not something I had ever eaten before.

The beef tartare was not one like I had seen on many a menu in Paris. The horseradish and chimchurri lent a unique pop to the beautifully presented plate.

There was crab and avocado with a whipped fish sauce, a salty squid ink spaghetti, pork tenderloin in a caramelized cider vinegar, and deconstructed apple and chocolate desserts. Everything was good, but nothing was that memorable. I think you can wait on this reservation.

Sunny Spot
Roy Choi of Kogi food truck and A Frame fame is slowly taking over the westside with his newest creation n the old Beechwood spot at the end of Abbot Kinney. He's brought in high top, first come, first served tables for the bar and outdoor area, along with a long, social, communal table. There's still a dining room in back that takes reservations, but the action is up front.

He's brought a fun, Caribbean vibe to the place, and some unique food for beachgoers. Our over enthusiastic waitress loved everything on the menu and steered us to the diablo prawns with a rum glaze and hot kick in the pants. It paired well with the yellow salty rice, and Fleur-de-Lis gin, hibiscus, honey, chartreuse, lemon concoction that was very refreshing. They're in on the cocktail craze like everyone else, and they make their own syrups for drinks that are displayed on the bar.

I loved, but can't pronounce the, Muh-F*K*N Mofongo with overripe plantains, bacon, garlic and black pepper. Again, something I have never eaten before. We were convinced to get the day long, slow roasted goat, served with lettuce and pickled mango. It was good, but not mandatory.

This is a fun spot to come with a group and sit out by the fire pit and share some Caribbean food and drink.

Batch
Batch is giving it a go in the cursed restaurant location in Culver City formerly housing Sublime and Wilson. If I were a gambling girl, I'd put my money on these guys sticking around for a while. While the space isn't the warmest with its marble bar, concrete floor, and floor to ceiling windows, the food and drinks will defrost you quickly.

They had me at the amuse bouche, which was a creamy, meaty gravy, and a homemade biscuit stopped me from drinking the gravy like a soup. That warmed me right up and prepared me for a great meal starting with a perfectly cooked squid, and a quinoa squash salad - both excellent.

We had a side of brussel sprouts with chorizo that were a great accompaniment to our entrees. My friend's scallops were expertly prepared, but it was the hanger steak with mushroom bread pudding that won my heart.

I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the food, and hope these guys are here to stay.

Miscellaneous
There were many other dinners filled with great friends, authentic Mexican food, fresh sushi, a whole lotta wine, and many dirty martinis. I'm carrying it all back with me to Paris - quite literally, as some of it is sitting like a 10 pound brick in my belly. Thanks to all for sharing meals, drinks and great memories with me during my holiday stay in LA!

Brussel sprout, bacon pizza - I will miss you

An Afternoon with Jeffrey Saad

2012-01-29T12:30:00.000-08:00

If you don’t know Jeffrey Saad, you will and you should. He was runner up on “The Next Food Network’s Star” (totally should’ve won), he’s a partner and chef of The Grove Restaurants in San Fran, and he’s now hosting “The United Tastes of America” on Cooking Channel, which is a fun show where he runs around tasting similar dishes in different cities. When he tires of that, I will happily jump in to replace him.

No, I’m not working for him, yet, but I did have the good fortune of spending an afternoon with him and his lovely wife in their home in LA cooking, eating and well, throwing back a little tequila. Accompanying me were my dad (the mastermind of this culinary experience) and 4 of my girlfriends, who are not a shy or quiet bunch, so we tried to return a little in the entertainment department.

Jeffrey started us off with a little pan y tomate so our stomachs wouldn’t growl and probably to get us all to shut up for a second. The true blue way of making it is just by rubbing a little garlic and sliced tomato directly on toasted bread, and voila, a delicious side.

He then moved into egg land, a land we all know and love, and thanks to Jeffrey, will love even more now. There are some basic, but impactful little tricks like adding water to scrambled eggs which causes some steam, leading to fluffier eggs. You can juice them up even more by sautéing a little bacon, because everything is better with bacon, with some radicchio, and a splash of lemon, fold it into the eggs for a fabulous fresh and salty combo, livening up your day to day eggs.

We made a spice filled chicken masala sandwich, and when I say we, I mean Jeffrey did, and we ooed and ahhed and tried to make sure his shirt didn’t catch on fire with his multiple pans going and multiple stories to our multiple questions. He’s an entertainer for sure, but he’s so passionate about what he’s doing that he sucks you in. If he was selling a line of Tupperware, we would have all bought the set. He did give us some of his new spice creations and a cookbook is on the way, so you too can get in on some of the Jeffrey action in your home soon.

The afternoon flew by, and next thing we know tequila is open, except of course this was no ordinary tequila. He put a habanero pepper in overnight, giving it a fabulous kick that hits the back of your throat, but in a very loving way. We could have emptied about 3 of those bottles, but luckily Jeffrey (or actually I think it might be his wife, who appears to have an appropriate leash on the never say no host) knew better that one glass was more than enough for this crowd, or we’d be staying for dinner.

We ended the day by making crepes, a nice nod to my new home. We each made our own and spread Nutella on it like it was the last ingredient on earth.

It was delicious, and a fun afternoon with a chef and true “personality” whose star I hope continues to rise like the perfect egg souffle.

The Visa - it's not just for shopping

2012-01-25T18:27:00.000-08:00

My biggest job to tackle while home was acquiring a Visa so I can enjoy Paris longer than the 3 month time period where you can legally stay without additional paperwork. I went with the long stay visitor's Visa, which requires tracking down a variety of paperwork from random places where people work who don't like paperwork, including a police clearance from my local sheriff's house, which isn't so local. While trying to find the office, it seemed like there was never an absence of people asking where I was going and why I needed the sheriff. People look at you a little suspiciously when you talk about getting your police record, and the more you say, the more guilty you sound, but luckily after a few hours spent in a strip mall, I got what looked like was the right sheet of paper.


The Visa office was right next door to my old french school

I took this sheet, along with bank statements, applications, bad looking mug shots, insurance information that I was pretty sure wasn't what they wanted, but after 3 calls and attempts to acquire the correct paperwork, my time was up and my appointment was here, so off I went to the French Embassy. There were several people standing around the door outside when someone told me to ring the bell and don't be afraid of the mean man who comes out to collect some of my fat folder of paperwork. I feared not and waited about 45 minutes before making it in the door past the not so mean man, into a tiny, stifling hot narrow room that had 2 bank teller like windows with French woman sitting on the opposite side of 2 others pleading their case. One guy looked like he had been there all week begging, and he was speaking fluent French which was a bit disconcerting.

After 30 minutes of literally sweating it out, I took my turn at the window, papers at the ready. The French woman started firing out forms for me to give her one after another. I forgot a signature in one place, pure stupidity, which I was sure meant they wouldn't let me in their country. She went through them, checking things with a red pen, and then she got to the insurance paperwork and she hesitated as I feebly tried to explain how this could possibly be the right paperwork, which garnered a shrug and a check mark. C'est bon! Next thing I know she's taken my passport, papers, more ugly mug shots, finger prints and tells me they'll have "an answer" for me in the next week or two.

I walk out feeling like I just ran a marathon, uphill, barefoot with a ski parka on, except now I no longer have a passport, and that worries me just a bit, as I do have a return ticket to Paris, not to mention a love for traveling. 'Twas the night before New Year's Eve when I returned home to see a FedEx envelope on my doorstep with my writing on it. Thick or thin? I see my passport, which is a good sign, but no note. There's one of my applications with a new stamp on it in the middle of the passport where my new Visa is inserted.

While I wish I could say that I'm now home free, alas, there is a bit more legwork involved. I need to "register" in my arrondissement, which I hear can take the better part of the day as the lines wrap around the building and can be a bit confusing. Then there's a medical test I need to take, which I've been told some interesting and embarrassing stories about, so stay tuned for the next chapter, but at least my country doesn't mind me leaving. We'll see what the Parisians think!

Page Not in Paris

2012-01-24T18:44:00.000-08:00

I'm brushing the dust off my keyboard as I've had a lovely, extended holiday break back in sunny LA and I'm gearing up for my return to Paris next week by spending extra time in a tepid shower to prepare for the cold, damp winter ahead. LA has spoiled me rotten with sunshine and 70 degree days, not to mention a plethora of authentic Mexican foods and dirty martinis. Before I get into my thoughts on being back in LA and returning to Paris, here are a few highlights from the break.

I got lots of family time over the holidays with fun meals and merriment with the extended family. I was treated to some special French delicacies, lovely Champagne and wine, and it was said that we ate $1,000 of caviar Christmas Eve, which seems a bit obscene, but let me tell you it was worth every penny - every penny that did not come out of my pocket. This was also the Christmas Eve where whisky was introduced after dinner and it went over almost as well as the caviar with people duming it into their desserts and down their throats. If this was all a ploy to get me back for the holidays again next year, it worked.

Post whisky and a trial with my new camera's self timer

The annual Page family volleyball tournament happened with only a few minor injuries, but a grand reveal that my dad now cooks, and I don't just mean over microwaved hot dogs. He treated us to ceviche and bruschetta - both big hits, and now there's no more hiding for him during meal time.

Family fun time reached a fever pitch as most of participated in Rose Bowl parade activities since we had a connection to one of the floats and 2 family members got to ride and give their best princess waves. We got to see the painstaking way the floats are built.

The night before the parade, we all crashed my cousin's house and enjoyed the "taco man," who I might kidnap and take with me back to Paris. I'm pretty sure I can get his cart in my suitcase.

We were up in the dark the next day, but got great seats to enjoy the parade and give our best waves back to our float family. Was a fun experience, and one that I won't need to repeat anytime, no, make that ever, again.

My dad and I also took in some theatre and saw the booty shaking Fela at the Ahmanson, which made me rethink those front row seats during audience participation time. Oh yes they did, and no, it was not an option to sit out the dance moves. Was actually a really fun show.

We also saw Our Town starring Helen Hunt, which is not an edge of your seat type play, but my booty needed a rest and it was fun to be in kicking distance of Helen.

Of course I had to go to the movies, for the popcorn alone. Compare and contrast the concession stand in Paris vs LA. I left with a big, greasy smile on my face.

Paris' tiny popcorn "stand"

LA's multi lane, digital LCD menu boards

We even have a topping bar in LA

I managed to even do a little work while I've been home. I wrote my first article for HiPParis on finding my first apartment in Paris, and there's talking of me doing a series of articles for them. Girls' Guide to Paris published two of my articles on shopping in Paris here and here. I also was on the Overseas Radio Network with the Girls' Guide's new weekly radio show talking about some of my favorite restaurants of last year. When I get back to Paris, I'll begin writing the restaurant reviews for them too, so lots of good stuff in the works.

I know you're probably wondering where the talk of food is in this post, and of course I didn't forget, or go on a detox cleanse here anything. I just thought it deserved its own post, so more to come as I start getting back into the groove!

Ending with raw deer, pigs in a blanket and French food

2011-12-18T13:27:00.000-08:00

I think I covered most important food groups during my final week-end in Paris for 2011. Thursday night I went big and wintry with an evening described as the “Night of the Hunter.” 4 well known chefs in town, including Aizpitarte from Chateaubriand and Camdeborde from Relais Saint Germain, were assigned to cook up some game. You buy tickets to exchange for food and drinks, only the tickets were actually empty, gun cartridges to get you in the mood.

The first room we walked in had a thick terrine and an enormous slice of rustic, crusty bread, with a shot of Single malt whisky to wash things down and warm things up, and man, I got warm quickly.

The venue was a really interesting old, wooden home and you got to wander through as you searched for your next bite or drink.

There was some big game as you can imagine, like a warm rabbit stew with a hint of chocolate in the sauce, but my favorite was the deer tartare. Yes raw Bambi. It was a nice break from some of the other heavier items and had a good sweet sauce with a little kick.

There was wine and whisky being poured, and sometimes you’d get the whisky in a flask, that we assumed you get to take home with you?

After big game night, I shifted, and did a complete U Turn to some down home Jersey shore treats as a friend and her husband are moving to NJ and wanted a theme.

You can imagine my delight at seeing pigs in a blanket next to a large vat of Velveeta cheese dip. There was popcorn, jello shots and lots of Bruce playing.

Little did I know, but an entire new dinner spread came out around 10pm with customized sliders, meatballs, RIBS, and MAC and CHZ.

I was in heaven…at least until I ate so much I couldn’t move. My friend moving is also in the wine business, so there was much wine to drink to help lighten her load home. Needless to say, my load was pretty heavy leaving her place.

Last night was my holiday farewell with some of the friends that I’ve been lucky enough to collect during my stay, and it’s probably no coincidence that these folks love to try a new restaurant and go for a drink, so that’s what we did on our final night together. We started our evening with dinner on Ile St. Louis. The main street on the charming island was all decorated with sparkling lights and decorations, making for a fitting and festive adieu.

We dined at the vegetable laden, farm to table French restaurant, Mon Vieil Ami. It was a small, but warm room, and the 6 of us got to share the end of a long, communal table.

The presentations were lovely like my deep bowl of colorful beets with caramelized chicken.

Then I had a perfect round of fall off the bone lamb shoulder, perched in a sea of beans, that were slightly al dente for my taste.

2 of the girls shared a beautiful breast of pork with mashed split peas.

My dessert was a pear, which honestly tasted canned, with a whole lotta cream and caramel.

I’d say the company was better than the food, but sometimes that works just as well.

After dinner, we set out for some cocktails at Curio Parlor. The dark, hip den is painted all black inside, and had stuffed forest creatures peeking out from various corners of the bar.

Seeing as this was a true “cocktail” bar where the bartenders spend 10 minutes making a drink, I was feeling confident that I would be having a proper dirty martini. I started describing it, and the waitress gave me the oh yes, of course, we can make that. Well, yes of course there was too much vermouth or Martini Rosso in it (I’m still determining if those are the same things here). The next drink (and there had to be a next drink for educational purposes) I told her to hold the vermouth, Rosso, and any other little tidibts that weren’t vodka or olive juice. This drink was much better, and much stronger. Voila.

Today is Sunday, and I’m doing the final pack and clean today before I fly out in the morning. This should be easy, but some stuff is staying in my apartment here, but needs to be put away while the landlady and possible renters are here. Then there’s stuff coming home, never to return, and then I’m wondering if I have anything appropriate to wear at home for the few weeks I’m there. I’m going to assume and hope so, or I’ll be wearing a collection of misfit clothes that didn’t make the cut here.

Ironically, my final meal in Paris was with friends from the US who are visiting and staying down the street. I chose this as a good opportunity to revisit a nice, casual, neighborhood bistro that I had been wanting to get back to, Café des Museés.

I ordered mushrooms stuffed with escargot, which were equally as good as the garlic sauce they were served in. My pheasant pot pie was a home cooked, heart warming, fabulous dish, but Lori did walk away a winner of both the biggest beer and plate of fries.

I ended on a high note of a crepe with not one, but two, sweet sauces - chocolate and caramel to create the perfect combination. A great final meal, with two great people.

Now as I do my final pack, I’m filled with anticipation, like a kid on Christmas Eve. It’s interesting to love Paris so much, but to also be so excited to go home. The two cities couldn’t be more different than each other, but perhaps that’s why I appreciate both. I’m looking forward to some sunshine, lots of time with family and friends, and of course a little food and perhaps a real dirty martini!

French Farewell Week

2011-12-16T05:18:00.000-08:00

I can’t believe my time in Paris for 2011 is already coming to a close. While I am planning on coming back next year, that hasn’t stopped me from trying to cram in as much as I can into this final week.

Monday I gathered with the 2 Jean-x’s and 1 of the Stephane’s for a farewell lunch and a final glimpse for me on how men should dress and what they should put on their feet. They did not disappoint on this day. The treats didn’t stop there. When asked if they wanted an appertif, all 3 heartily agreed. Need I remind you it was MONDAY at lunch, and they were all going back to work, and Stephane was also fighting off a cold. I’m sure I don’t even need to tell you that there was also a bottle of wine ordered with lunch. I must also remark on how the French are a whiz with the fork and knife. 3 of us got a special chicken dish which was comprised of small parts of the chicken with the bone in. I was doing my best not to fling the wing off the table with my utensils, and I look over to the other 2 and their bones are licked clean, and I know they didn’t pick anything up with their hands. They have superior knife skills. And of course all 3 had frilly whipped cream desserts at the end and then we bid adieu until next year when there were threats of a French only speaking lunch. Better do some studying over the holidays.

After running errands that same day and passing right by Maison du Chocolate, I had to reward myself for not having dessert at lunch with a macaroon the size of my head. Ironically I had that in one hand, and then went to buy a scale with the other, but not for weighing myself (we won’t be doing that for a loooong time), rather, for weighing my suitcase to make sure my nearly fake Air Tahiti airlines will take it to LA with me next week.

I’ve spent a good portion of the week sorting, tossing and packing for the trip home. Since I’m returning to the same apartment, it should be easier, but then I need to decide what stays and what I’ll need at home, and what won’t be coming back. I’m actually pretty pleased with the pack job I did here, but there will be some items not returning, to make room for some more sweaters to get me through the winter.

This may come as a shock, but I’ve accumulated some wine since my arrival. I’ve been looking into methods to get it home, and honestly the easiest and cheapest is in my stomach, but seeing as I would like to share a few bottles with people, I’ve been trying to see what my options are. Here’s what you can pack in your suitcase: ice pick, axe, saber, sword, bow and arrow, spear gun, flare gun (but no flares), cattle prod, throwing stars, and stun guns. You know how much wine I can pack? 2 litters. 2 litters is what the 3 well dressed/shoed French men had while reviewing what bottle to get with lunch. You would think that if I actually agreed to keep my cattle prod and sword at home, they would allow me to bring another bottle or two. Wish me luck.

Wednesday, I had lunch with a new friend of a friend from home. Yes, I still have some on the list, and she was just delightful, and a near Parisian after having been here for over a decade and a half. She also brought me to a new neighborhood, which I wandered, including the beautiful Park Monceau. We had talked about the Diane Arbus exhibit at lunch, so I found myself checking it out later that day. Diane had some demons and some very specific subjects she liked to shoot like twins, nudists, mentally disable people, transvestites, and the list goes on. It was an interesting exhibit of her work, as well as a good look at her life, and I’m glad I went.

I may have had to reward myself with another giant macaroon, because the one I had the day before was chocolate, instead of caramel, and well, I simply needed a farewell caramel macaroon before leaving. Mission accomplished.

Wednesday night, it was time for a drink. I met Stephanie and Lisette and a British group for a champagne tasting of 6 different varietals that turned into 7 or 8, and maybe even 9. The group ranged from interested in the information the teacher had to share, to just thirsty and wanting more boozy bubbles in their glass.

We did get a nice range of blends from Chardonnay and Pinot Noir to all Chardonnay, and even a really smooth Grand Cru Blancs de Blancs, all from independent vignerons who grow and make everything themselves.

At the end there was a contest to guess the last bottle, and of course my table got it right, which gave us even more champagne. Somehow I ended up with a martini on the table in front of me when it was all over. I get excited when I see martinis on a menu so I thought I should try it in the name of research. It was ok and at least drinkable, but here’s what I saw on the bar when I was leaving, so I’m thinking my ol pal Martini Rosso was present.

The final week-end is ahead, and then I'm home next week!

Final Cravings of Mexican and Sushi Checked

2011-12-11T12:07:00.000-08:00

Knowing that I’m going to be hopping back on a plane home a week from today, has oddly kicked all of my US food cravings into high gear, starting with Mexican food. My friend Lisette had all of us girls over for a Mexican style holiday party. She spoiled us with homemade guacamole, queso and Stephanie brought “ugly dip,” which was nothing but cheese, cilantro, olives, tomatoes, and Italian dressing to bring it all together. Quite beautiful if you ask me.

We went through not 1, not 2, but 3 bottles of champagne, and then Stephanie started whippin’ up some butt kicking margaritas with a wonderful aged tequila. Olé!

Lisette made fabulous and flavorful pulled pork, served on tortillas from her US home stash. I was in foodie heaven, and then out comes little nuggets of pecan goodness, which I will attempt to try at home – the home that I’m returning to with my long lost oven. There were also delicious little chocolate bites, and I almost can’t even tell you what happened next.

A simple jar was presented, and we were each given a spoon. Suddenly there were grown women all digging into said jar. I may have gotten an elbow. I may have given an elbow, but really, I was given the gift of what is called “crack in a jar on speed,” aka Speculoos. There’s a caramel sweetness to it with a hint of ginger, and a whole lot of addiction. I kept asking what you should serve it on, and the only answer I got was your spoon, which isn’t true as I think you can also add your fingers, depending on the company. It was a Mexican merry Christmas indeed.

A few days earlier, my college friend Jenn asked if I could take her to one of my favorite Mexican spots in town. It turns out Jenn has been living in Paris for almost 10 years and has never once eaten Mexican food here! I think I only made it two weeks for my first French Mexican experience, and I don’t usually go more than three weeks without.

The big decision was where to take her – the down and dirty Candelaria with a tiny counter for fabulous little tacos and tostadas, but just beer, or a true sit down meal at Anahuacali with many menu options, including that of the margarita. The latter won out. Chips, guac and margies kicked things off, and Jenn was a believer before our mains even arrived. She had delicious enchiladas, and I couldn’t decide so I pretty much had every meat they had in taco form. We left very full and very happy.

Earlier in the week, I decided it was finally time to try one of the sleek looking sushi takeout spots. Sushi Shop delivers to your door, but I couldn’t wait that long, so I went in and picked up my own. The menu is a beautiful, heavy, glossy directory, worthy of a Saks Christmas catalogue. There were many of the usual suspects, but then some sushi roll stuffing I hadn’t seen before like eggplant with spicy miso sauce and taboulé with coriander, mint and lime juice. I went with a spicy scallop cut roll, and was not disappointed. The packaging was just as beautiful as the catalogue, right down to how they serve their soy sauce. This will hold me over the next 7 days.

The week was topped by a little taste of home with some time with Brad Pitt – unfortunately just on screen, just like home. Moneyball was playing, or La Stratege, at the “Publicis Drugstore.” I wasn’t sure what to expect from the name of the theatre, but it sits right on the Champs-Elysées, and they have a wine shop, food and gift boutique, and even a sit down restaurant. The theatre was wide open on a Friday night and I couldn’t have been happier, except when I found out there was no popcorn. Can you even call a movie theatre such if they’re not serving popcorn? I can’t. Luckily Stephanie shared her non-popcorn chocolate chip cookies with me to get me through, and of course there was Brad. The movie was a little slow, but Brad tends to speed things up, so all wasn’t lost.

The week was good, but also prepared me for some great things to come when I get back home –fabulous Mexican, Sushi, Movies and my family and friends!

A Feverish Week with BACON bonuses

2011-12-05T09:58:00.000-08:00

I was in denial that I was sick this past week. I originally thought I was going through some sort of pork and carb withdrawal after returning from the Alsatian Christmas Markets. When the sweating while seated continued each night, along with an overall body ache, I thought, huh, maybe I’m sick. I tried to take it easy, but living in such a small place, I was going stir crazy spending more than 24 hours straight here, so here’s what my abridged week looked like.

Frenchie

Saying that this is not an easy reservation to get would be an understatement, but showing up and writing your name in the book a month in advance turns out to be easier than trying to call at the right time on the right day with the person in the right mood.

I do understand how they never have any tables available because there’s only about 10 of them. It’s a petite little spot down a random, unmarked alley, with exposed stone on the walls and a little open window to the kitchen for order pick-up. They only serve one 3 course prix fixe menu a night with just 2-3 choices. The 3 of us each got one of the 3 starters offered. There was foie gras that you can never go wrong with, scallops with green apples and pomegranate, and an open faced mushroom ravioli, which I could eat every day until Christmas, and after, I’d just take the sauce and do shots. Won-der-ful!

For the main, we all had a red trout with baby bok choy, spinach, and fingerling potatoes that was perfectly cooked and warming to the soul. There was a duck dish also available that night, but after the carb-a-pig-a-palooza week-end, we needed some lighter fare.

We also split the 3 desserts - super rich chocolate tart with bacon sprinkles and creme fraiche (yes you read that right - bacon sprinkles!), a lemon and butternut squash mousse, and a poached pear with stilton and nuts. Clearly, the chocolate tart was the winner, but the mousse was a sleeper hit - light and refreshing with an unusual, but pleasing flavor.

I’m now a full-on Frenchie fan, even despite their resistance to make the reservation process easy. I love their wine bar across the street that is serving food from the same kitchen, and their restaurant is tops without overly fussy fare, and really solid cooking.

Reuan Thai

There was a day of recovery and sweat after Frenchie, and before Reuan Thai. I was anxious to try out some good ethnic food in France, if it was possible. This dinner group was being hosted by the Candanian who cooked my pre-Thanksgiving meal, so I knew I’d be in good hands. Eight of us met in the 11^th and this long standing Thai restaurant and we were at a perfect large round table in the back with lazy susan ready to rip.

There was a collection of interesting salads of different textures with fish and vegetables and a tangy sauce. The fish cakes were a little fishy, and the fried egg rolls, well, were fried so they were good with a nice sweet dipping sauce.

There was white rice, sticky rice, curries - the red curry with chicken was the winner. The pad thai was delivered as a little egg wrapped gift with some assembly required for mixing in sugar, spices and vegetables for your perfect taste, and perfect it was. The whole fried fish was also delicious.

It didn't seem possible, but yes, there was room for dessert on the lazy susan, who wasn't being so lazy after the previous 2 hours. We had a tapioca, slimy banana concoction that wasn't as bad as it looks, but I won't be ordering it again. There was a deep fried pineapple, which again, you can't go wrong with the deep fried, but not sure the pineapple was the best treat for the inside. The warm sweet, sticky rice with nicely ripe mango was my favorite, and the perfect note to end on, before I had to remember that I was sick again.

Friday - Fever Be Damned

La Gazzetta, Cezanne at Luxembourg, Spring, Les Fines Guilles

After another day of rest, I was sure I was better and ready for the week-end. It started with a lovely ladies lunch at La Gazzetta. I had enjoyed a very good dinner here a few months back, but was thrilled with the great prix fix lunch that I will definitely be revisiting.

The menu most of us ordered came with a collection of 3 of the cutest, tastiest little starters: a creamy pumpkin soup, a slice of cheese, onion, ham pizza and a cold, salty sardine salad.

I then had a warm dourade served with a perfectly cooked and sweetened, grilled eggplant. All of this for under 20 euro was quite the deal, and quite the meal.

After lunch, we boarded a bus to go see the Cezanne exhibit at the Musee du Luxembourg – 2 firsts for me, taking the bus and going to this museum on the edge of the gardens. The exhibit was small, but good. Cezanne spent most of his time in the South of France, but he did travel quite a bit to Paris to paint, and some of those works were housed here, including his evolution from student painting nature to nudes to still life’s and portraits. There was many Cezanne lovers there, packing the place on a Friday afternoon.

After a quick break, I got on the old Velib and headed to the monthly wine club pick-up at Spring. Our selection this time included a Pouilly Fume Aubaine from Domain Jonathan Pabiot in Pouilly-sur-Loire. The Domaine is a family run operation for several generations, and just became a fully certified biologique winery. The grape used in this bottle was Sauvignon Blanc, which gave it a perfumy, floralness, which wasn't my favorite, but of course still drinkable.

I enjoyed the Monthelie red better from Domaine Matrot in Burgundy. It's not one of the big shot names, but that also means you don't need to pay the big shot prices to still also receive quality wine from a prestigious area. This family has been making wine for 5 generations and is more known for their whites from Meursault and Puligny, but if there whites are half as good as their reds, then I'm ready to try the whole line.

Afterwards we checked out a wine bar and restaurant called Les Fines Gueules. They change their wine and food menu each week based on the latest in the fields. To make it easy, they keep their menus on chalkboards and bring each over to you when you’re ready to order.

It’s a concise list, but once I saw foie gras ravioli, I knew I didn’t have to look any further. Unfortunately my excitement was quickly dashed once the overcooked escargot in the bland broth arrived. Luckily mes amis shared their cheese and charcuterie platters and I was quickly revived.

I had another appetizer for my main of shrimp on a dressed bed of grated celery. This cold dish had more zip to it and I looked to be happier than some of my scallop ordering friends who thought they were a bit overcooked.

The place was bustling on Friday night and I might return here for a seat at the bar and some charcute with a nice glass of wine from their unique and reasonably priced wine list.

By the end of the meal I was not feeling well, and it wasn’t just because my dinner wasn’t the best, so Saturday was a day of rest and reading, which actually wasn’t too bad. The rain had begun, and I was happy to be indoors, but by Sunday, I was ready for more Paris.

I wandered down in the drizzle to the Village at St. Paul, which is a great collection of artist studios in the neighborhood. There was a food fare held in the open spaces between their ateliers this week-end. I bought some nut oil that is now adding a lively twist to my salads.

Paris' First Food Truck

The week-end finale was a visit to the first “real” food truck in Paris. The owner was a woman from LA who had trained at a French cooking school in Paris and is now doing a burger truck here. Her location changes daily and you have to be “socially” in the know by checking facebook or twitter to find out where the burgers are being flipped and when.

She has 5 burgers on her menu and I had the barbeque, which was full of bonuses like a deep fried onion ring in the middle of the sandwich, as well as real live bacon, which they don’t serve in Paris, except on Frenchie’s desserts of course.

My burger was everything I wanted it to be, but something I wasn’t sure could be pulled off in Paris, because my burgers to date have very much been lacking in real beef flavor. She does use French meat, bread and cheese so no Parisians should be hatin’ on her. In fact, many of them were lined up alongside of us, or actually trying to push to the front as they’re not known to queue well.

The frites were thick cut and very good with the side of ketchup. I’ll be back to try her pork sandwich and mac and cheese when it’s ready. She’s off to a great start, and has propelled me to finally feeling 100%. Looking forward to getting back to a full schedule!

Carbo-pig-a-palooza: Potatoes, Pork and Vodka in Alsace

2011-11-29T11:57:00.000-08:00

I've heard much about the infamous Christmas Markets celebrated all over the world, but I was excited to experience them for myself this year in one of the places where it all began. I have 3 friends who have been to the markets several times so I knew I was in good hands as we set out on our week-end trip.

Lisette and I took the easy 2 hour 20 minute train from Paris to Strasbourg and met up with Melissa and Brad who did the longer, but more scenic drive north to the border of Germany. The Strasbourg market started in 1570, making it one of the oldest in France. It was originally created to distribute presents to the children, and then eventually they thought to throw in a line about celebrating Christkindel, the Baby Jesus. Nice after thought to buffer the commercialism to come.

Local merchants used the markets as an occasion to sell their handmade food and crafts, but now you'll see an errant angry Rock N Roll Santa and snow globe.

The markets are only open until 9pm, so Friday night, Lisette and I met the other 2 at a restaurant for my first onion - carb product, accompanied by a lovely dry Riesling. The French Riesling is a nice dry white wine, where the Riesling's Germany produce are a sweeter taste that most people don't like as well. Most of the wine glasses in Alsace also have this pretty green stem, making the contents inside pretty and tasty.

After eating, we wandered the streets of Strasbourg looking at all of the spectacular Christmas lights and decorations. It really was like walking through a fantasy, make believe land that Disney created to celebrate Christmas, though I guess it was the other way around. Walt or Mickey, whomever is older, must have taken a trip here and then went home to create picturesque sets and theme parks based on the color and charm of these towns.

With most of the town shut down by 10pm, we returned to the hotel where we were happy to see the bar still open. After drinking wine, I was ready for my vodka fix. Lately I have been having no luck getting my dirty martini, and this bar was no exception. The bartender looked at me like I asked if he had peanut butter to mix with my vodka, but he rebounded nicely with a lemon twist. It did take him close to 10 minutes to make it, but it was refreshing and citrusy, so I was happy.

The next day, we started with a solid breakfast at Kirn, which is like a mini-Whole Foods but no one is wearing Uggs or carrying a yoga mat. One of the butchers was taunting me and my need for a Thanksgiving sandwich as he was preparing a turkey with stuffing, and the rest of the counters had amazing displays of cheese, salads and of course wieners, but more on that later.

We went out to explore the markets, which are little log cabin looking booths set up all over the tiny town that is encricled by water. I needed to come up with another word for cute, because I must have said 72 times, "Oh my gosh, that's sooooo cute."

People couldn't have been nicer, but that may have had something to do with the tradition of drinking vin chaud, or warm wine with spices, throughout the day to stay warm. You pay a 1 euro deposit for a cup, or a mug in some parts, and then they fill you up with red or white spiced wine, which was pretty much Christmas in a cup.

The little chalets sold everything from candles to jewelry to homemade honey, cheese, chocolates, and of course Christmas accoutrement. I've never been the person to stop into a Christmas store to look at ornaments, but I was drinking the Christmas Koolaid here, and again, everything was soooooo cute. So I now have "the cutest" set of 3 snowmen and a matching wooden, white washed Christmas tree, that I'm sure one of the Alsatian elves made in their workshop around the corner.

The cathedral in the center of town is truly spectacular, and not just because it makes a good landmark if you're lost or in need of more vin chaud. It might just be the most beautiful cathedral I've seen to date. Its first iteration was built in 1015 and there were fires and rebuilding projects, and for 4 centuries, it was the tallest building in the modern world.

This elaborate astronomical clock was built by a team in 1842 and legend has it that they wanted to blind the lead designer after construction was complete so he'd never create anything this beautiful again. At 12:30 each day, the clock puts on a show, but unfortunately we missed it. There was food to eat afterall.

I'm a big "when in Rome" type gal, so even though I don't even like sauerkraut, I had to strap in for a plate full of not 1, not 2, but 5 different pig products on top of sauerkraut. Sounds daunting, huh? Well yes, it was. This was not cute. This was slightly obscene, and maybe even pornographic, though I have to say the sauerkraut was really tasty.

I barely made a dent in my plate, but then I saw the woman next to me ordered the same thing and there wasn't one drop of pork to be seen on her plate when she was finished. She was not an amateur. Lisette had the pork knuckle, which was also intimidating, but extremely flavorful, no doubt due to a multi hour braising process.

Then there's the various forms of let's just call it a German pizza. It could be on a toasted French bread with creme fraiche. That's right, I said creme fraiche, and then there's lardon and cheese on top. And you have to have it "gratineed" with grilled onions in the mix. Or you can have a thinner crust with the same toppings. Or no crust, but the same ingredients in a bucket on top of sauerkraut or potatoes. No matter how you slice, you will enjoy it, and not be able to stop eating it, and once you do finally step away, you'll never be able to look at another pig or carb product again.

Traditional Alsacian garb and grub

The usual pork, cheese, onion, carb suspects

We all drove about an hour north to Colmar Saturday afternoon and did more of the same - pig, carb, vin chaud, Christmas cuteness, while ooing and ahhing at the fabulous scenery set amongst the canals of Colmar. You can see how the markets are different by day and night, but both spectacular.

On Saturday night, I needed a drink to cut through the strong tastes and mulled wine, so naturally, you all know what I went in for. The waiter was very nice, but said there was no olive juice so I attempted just a regular martini with vodka. What I got is still a bit of a mystery, but good enough that I had 2. When the check came, I looked and my vodka was listed on there, as well as a separate line item for "Martini." When I asked the nice waiter what that was he basically said it's Martini Rossi, who makes a vermouth, though this particular drink did not taste like just vodka and vermouth. He explained to me that my order is not something anyone orders in France. Who knew the mark I'd be leaving on France is how to make a martini. My quest continues.

Sunday we started in the markets of Colmar and ended back in Strasbourg where 3 of us were grabbing a train back to Paris at the end of the day. We all picked up more treasures, pork products, crepes, and then I had to throw in a "Bretzel" at the original pretzel shop in Colmar where you can get cheese, chorizo, or any of the aforementioned ingredients.

And now I can safely say I'm carbed and totally pigged out on the Alsacian Christmas Markets...until next year. Here's the article I wrote for the Girl's Guide to Paris talking about the experience, and another one giving my own walking tour of some of the Christmas Lights in Paris.