Ten Things My Kids Say They Will Miss About Paris

I've asked my kids many times to reflect on their experiences and it's a little bit like pulling teeth. And now that school is out, while they're happy to read for pleasure, writing is not high on their list of priorities. I'm sure one day they'll look back on this experience and be amazed by their good fortune.  Perhaps, they'll even be moved to write about it.  But for the moment, when asked what they'll most miss about Paris, the best I could do is this.

1. Bread, bread, bread
2. The métro
3. Watching the searchlight of the Eiffel Tower reflected in the courtyard outside my bedroom window when I'm falling asleep
4. Going to movies on the Champs-Élysées
5. Salted butter and speculoos spread
6. Being able to walk everywhere
7. Shopping on rue de Passy
8. Pastries
9. Going out to eat at L'Entrecôte
10. My friends

Rough life, huh?

Heat Relief for the French Palate

The French adventure in Mexico during the 19th century pretty much ended in disaster.  Perhaps it was inevitable given the clash in palates.  This latest product by Old El Paso, which dominates the international aisle of most French supermarkets,  has the tag line: toutes les saveurs du Mexique sans piment.  I'm trying to imagine the reverse campaign:  all the flavors of France without the wine and butter?

Luncheon in the Palais Royal

With all the end of year festivities, going away parties, and general panic about trying to experience the best of Paris before my count down timer runs out, I've been way overindulging. Because I can always diet when we get back home, right? And because when it's 98 degrees Farenheit with 98 percent humidity in Washington, I won't feel like eating anyway. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

This week's episode in gastronomic excess was lunch with the French ladies at Le Grand Vefour, a restaurant that's been operating in the Palais Royal since the 18th century. (Okay so it was closed during the first part of the 20th century but there's no reason to get technical.)   Guy Martin is the chef and while it was a huge scandal when the restaurant went down from 3 Michelin stars to 2, it's certainly not lacking in character and showmanship.  And for my money, the main dining room is among the prettiest you will find in Paris. 

The place was quietly buzzing with a crew of black and white attired waiters and sommeliers, and every time you turn your head, someone's there offering you something more to eat. The cheese tray was half the size of my dining room table, and the dessert I ordered as part of the luncheon menu morphed into three with the addition of the mignardises (little bites that normally accompany your coffee) and a special cake from M. Martin's native Savoie.  And if it wasn't the most transcendent meal I've had, it certainly was attractive, each course being its own mini work of art.


My dessert was a concoction of strawberries and rhubarb (and vanilla ice cream) inside a hard candy tube and topped with cotton candy.

The only problem with going out to lunch with the ladies is that my family still needs to eat come dinner time even if the cook has already had quite enough.

Seriously?

This New York hot dog stand is parked outside the oh so chic Publicis Drugstore on the Champs Élysées.  I have to admit that a merguez in a baguette is no substitute for a good street dog.  But I still think I'll pass.

Jour du Macaron

Yesterday was the annual Jour du Macaron, another excuse for those crazy for the little almond-based sandwich cookies to go whole hog.  A number of the top macaron makers in Paris were offering a taste of their wares for free, and I'm willing to bet that there were lines out the door at Pierre Hermé's various locations.  (For the record, Laduree was not an official participant in this global celebration.)  For my part, I took a long walk up to the 18th with one of my kids to the shop of Arnaud Larher where we were treated to a strawberry yogurt flavored confection.

And you know what?  That pretty much satisifed my craving for macarons for this year. Which brings me to this confession:  I'm not really all that wild about a lot of the pastries in Paris.  Now don't get me wrong. I love the boulangerie -- the yeasty smell of baking, the crunch of a still warm baguette, the sinfulness of a still warm flaky pain au chocolat or croissant, and even the occasional tarte citron or one piled high with fresh strawberries or raspberries.  But the rest?
 
The thing is I'm not a huge chocolate person (which is something of a sacrilege in these parts) and those mounds of gooey cream that you'll find in an eclair, millefeuille, or Paris Brest don't really do it for me either.  And while I freely admit that the cakes in the window often look spectactular, the visual artistry usually outweighs the actual taste.   If you don't agree with me, that's fine.  Look at it this way -- that's one more pastry for you.

Irresistible

Is it any wonder that my jeans are just a bit snug?

Pan European Cuisine

I am sure that this is exactly what Jean Monnet, architect of the European Union, had in mind when he was doing his post World War II brainstorming.  No?

Who comes up with this stuff anyway? When I showed this photo to my kids, they reminded me that we had seen a restaurant called Paris Fried Chicken while riding the elevated portion of line 2 through the northern part of Paris.  Since trekking out there is not on my agenda at the moment, you can have your own little virtual visit here: http://whereisjon.com/2009/03/paris-fried-chicken/

And for the record, I did not try the Euro fried variety.  It was closed when I walked by, resolving any need to indulge.

Changing Times

One can imagine many scenarios as to what happened on this spot.  Did the proprietor of the Boulangerie de l'Hotel de Ville pass away and there was no one willing to take on his business?  Or was it more sinister than that -- a new concept of fast food and faster profits comes in and sweeps out the old tenant?  I can only hope, sad as it may be, that it was the former.   I learned after taking this picture that this was the first location of Pomme de Pain, a French chain that now serves over 12 million customers annually.  I guess they knew their market.

Topinambours

It's midwinter at the marché.  Although you can still find strawberries, grapes, and figs, it's certainly not the season for them.  You'll pay a pretty penny plus have the guilty conscience of knowing that they've had to be shipped and trucked long distances, using plenty of fossil fuels, to get to you.  If you're trying to eat locally, then your shopping list will likely have a lot of root vegetables, including topinambours, otherwise known as Jerusalem artichokes or sunchokes.

Jerusalem artichokes are native to the Americas, brought to France in the 17th century by the great explorer Samuel Champlain.  I'm told that the older generation stays as far away from these as possible.  During the war years, when food was scarce and people were hungry, root vegetables were a staple, day after day.  Worse, the occupying Germans took all the potatoes.  Once the privations finally came to an end and the variety of fruits and vegetables available diversified, some of these folks decided that they had had quite enough topinambours, parsnips, turnips, and rutabagas for one lifetime.  These vegetables are only now becoming popular again.

As for me, I had my first taste of topinambours this week in three variations, one boiled and then fried up with bacon and onions, tossed with leafy greens, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar; the second being raw, sliced paper thin and paired with arugula and a citrus dressing.   The third dish was served up for dessert at a chi chi neo bistro in the 2nd, covered with a cloud of whipped cream and dusted with chocolate and hazelnuts.  Thumbs up for the salads.  Nice try but no cigar for the dessert.



Points for creativity and presentation; regrettably none for taste



Galette Harley Davidson

In the category of things I just don't understand comes this:  the Galette Harley Davidson, on sale now at any locations of the celebrated Parisian bakery and traiteur Lenôtre.  Oh sure, why not have a special cake for the Epiphany, something more exciting than the usual old combination of puff pastry and almond frangipane filling.  But Harley Davidson?  What does that have to do with this pastry, a gussied up baba au rhum with whipped cream and vanilla pastry cream?  That sounds like sissy food to me.  Although come to think of it, it does sound better than a Budweiser chased by shots and stale biker bar pretzels.

For the hard core collectors among you, if buying the cake for 53 euros and change isn't enough, you can also buy the set of collectible Harley Davidson feves (you know the little trinkets that go inside the galette de roi).  If you want either, you'd better hurry.   They'll only be around until the 15th of January. 

What's for Dinner

If you're in Paris and your dinner arrives via scooter, then it's a good bet that it's either pizza or sushi.  This fleet of scooters belongs to Pizza Hut.  And the pizza du moment?

La Nordique with crème fraîche , mozzarella, and smoked salmon.  Oh, that's okay.  I think I'll just do my own cooking tonight.



El Nopal

Paris has a serious problem when it comes to spicy ethnic food, in that, there isn't any.  Or rather there isn't much that's any good.   It's no problem finding a good Vietnamese or Moroccan place but heat? Forget it.  It's not in their blood.  So for the most part when it comes to spicy ethnic treats, the best bet is to eat it elsewhere -- Indian food in London, Thai food in Sweden, we've done that and more.  And almost without exception it's been better (and cheaper) than what we could have found in Paris.

So when my husband mentioned that he'd read about a good Mexican place near Gare de l'Est, let's just say I was a bit skeptical.  But the review was by American foodie Barbra Austin and our dance card was pretty much empty so I figured why not?

Austin wasn't kidding when she said that El Nopal was just a hole in the wall.  There are two stools there but if they're occupied, there's scarcely room for anyone else to breathe, let alone order.  So I let my husband do the talking, while I stood out on the sidewalk with the kids, stamping our feet to stay warm and making up corny jokes, each one worse than the last.

By the time we got our food, got back on the metro, made a few changes and walked back up the stairs to our apartment, the whole ordeal had taken a good hour and a half.  But fortunately, we were not disappointed.  Still warm, the burritos, quesadillas, and tacos were a hit all around.  I don't know where they find the ingredients (especially the cactus that was in my quesadilla) but they certainly shine.

We'll be back, but maybe next time, we'll wait until the weather's warmer and we can just take our goodies out to the Canal St. Martin for a little Tex Mex picnic.  El Nopal is a keeper, even if you're not hip enough to live in the neighborhood.

And to those who question why eat Mexican food in Paris, I can only say, live here for awhile and then ask that question again.  If you're here as a tourist, it's a different matter altogether.

Read Barbra Austin's review here.

El Nopal
3 rue Eugène Varlin
Paris 75010
Metro:  Chateau Landon or Colonel Fabien

Open: Mon-Fri: 11:30 am -3:00 pm; 6: 00 pm - 10:00pm (Fri.until 11: 00pm)
Sat: 6-11 pm
Sun: 11h30-9pm non stop

Read the Fine Print

You may have heard tell that a baguette does not usually come with a bag.  Instead. you get a wispy piece of wax paper wrapped around the middle, just the size of your hand print.  After all, you're going directly home, right?

On the other hand, a baguette tradition, which is more my cup of tea, generally comes in a paper sleeve.  From time to time, I've noticed that the bag is a canvas for advertisements or public service announcements.  The bag my tradi came in yesterday is much more than that.  It is a legal document.  The text here is an extract of the 1993 defining the essential elements for any bread sold as pain de tradition or pain traditionnel.

You do not mess around with bread in France.  If you've got other ideas, you may want a lawyer with that sandwich.

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

Nat King Cole made the line famous but I'm pretty sure the tradition predates him.  I've never seen chestnuts roasting on street corners in the U.S. (maybe they do it in New York?) but here it's a definite sign of fall.  The sight's a little prosaic -- a grocery cart, an old metal container to hold the coals, and what looks like the top of an oil drum for a stove and almost always a fellow of South Asian background doing the honors of continually turning the nuts so they roast perfectly on all sides.  I had to wait a bit to catch this photo as Monsieur here spent a good five minutes folding a newspaper into the right shape for use as a cooking utensil.

The French are pretty crazy about chestnuts.  Me, I think the smell is lovely but the texture turns me off.  (Now the creme de marron that goes into chocolate cake...that's another story.)  So it works out perfectly.  I get to enjoy it without ever shelling out so much as a euro for a paper cone of roasted nuts.  Sweet.

French Gastronomy: Worthy of UNESCO Recognition?

There's a UNESCO meeting going on in Nairobi this week that French chefs and politicos are sweating:  whether or not French gastronomy should be added to the organization's list of intangible world treasures -- endangered languages, oral traditions, crafts, dance and music, and rituals -- worthy of protection.  If it makes the  list (and apparently the odds are strong), it will be the first gastronomic tradition to be so recognized.  Its competitors include the Mediterranean diet  (being championed jointly by Spain, Italy, Greece, and Morocco) and the maize-based traditions of  Mexico.  

When I first heard about this campaign, which has been both longstanding and high profile garnering strong and vocal support from President Sarkozy and many Michelin-starred heavyweights, I couldn't help rolling my eyes.  Sure at its best, French cuisine has the reputation for excellence and finesse.  And yes, I know, that for many years, perhaps centuries, it has been held up as the model, a bar which other cuisines could never seem to surmount.  But how can you compare an aligot and a risotto? bouillebaise and menudo? quenelles and dumplings?  That I really don't get.  And are these traditions so threatened by the pace of change and globalization that recognition by UNESCO will change how the French eat or how the rest of the world sees them?

Interestingly, the latest dossier for French gastronomy focuses not on what's on the plate but everything around it:  the art of planning the menu, setting the table, pairing the wines, and of course, the endless conversations about food before, during, and after.  I'm guessing that this concept was a political maneuver, an effort to move past two previous failures for the UNESCO decisionmakers to fish or cut bait.  And while all those things are critically important to the French and the French way of life, it seems to me, well, a bit watered down and lacking a certain bite.

If France gets the thumbs down, I suppose it's back to the drawing board.  But if it wins, what does it all mean anyway?

To learn more, read Agence France Presse's English language account.

Update:  C'est fait!  France 24 has all the details on the UNESCO decision to put French gastronomy on the list.

Foraging

French cuisine gets major points for finesse and delicacy.  What it lacks, however, is a certain spirit of adventure.  And while I don't like to complain, I have to admit that after awhile, a constant diet of thyme, oregano, salt and pepper, lemon, and creme fraiche kind of wears on you.  But if you're looking for any of the following, better strap on your running shoes and stock up on metro tickets.

• scallions
• chipotle salsa
• lemongrass
• chili peppers, dried and fresh
• molasses
• Fontina
• jicama
• brown sugar
• chili powder
• ground cloves
• mango chutney
• mustard seeds
• wonton wrappers
• black beans
• peanut butter
• pickled beets
• sweet potatoes
• orzo
• blueberries
• bulgur
• pomegranate juice
• anchovies

 All of these items, old friends called for by the stained and tattered 3 x 5 cards in my recipe box , are available in Paris.  But while finding them in DC was a snap,  they're not all in the corner market here nor even necessarily in the open air market in my quartier.   So if you're planning a meal with hints of Latin America, the Far East, or India, better plan ahead and make sure you have time to get to the 10th, 13th, 15th, 19th, or other ethnic market in an arrondissement other than your own.   And since that's not in the cards for me today (especially since it's both Monday -- a day when many food shops are closed -- and a holiday to boot), I'm thinking it will be either onion soup or roasted chicken for dinner tonight, once again.  Although honestly, that's not such a bad second choice after all.

Works of Art

Art is everywhere in Paris, even if you never step foot inside a museum.    Just walking down the street offers a feast for the eyes.  Here are a few items that caught my eye recently.

Pastries for sale

Mosaics on the exterior walls of Prunier

A florist sets up shop

Stone work

Beautifully crafted doorways

Sushi à La Française

Instructions for French cooks on how to make sushi with correct proportions (readers beware:  I read this tip in a fashion magazine so take it with a grain of salt):  the amount of rice should be about the size of a cork for a wine bottle; the amount of fish should be roughly equivalent in size to a metro ticket.

I've been thinking about the advice for American cooks but haven't come up with any suitable, culturally appropriate ideas.  Suggestions?

Parade

This weekend was the Fête des Vendanges in Montmartre, a slightly over the top celebration given that the remaining vineyard there is only 1500 square meters, not much bigger than a football field. Nonetheless, wine is serious business in France and even if the variety made here is widely acknowledged to be utter crap, that doesn't keep the locals from pulling out all the stops. I decided to skip the tastings and the art installations and instead opted to go up the butte for the grand parade on Saturday.

We arrived at the Lamarck Calaincourt metro stop well ahead of time, and watching the crowds gather was entertainment itself. For some reason, the few police present hadn't bothered to completely block off the parade route to traffic and there was a continuing drama as cars and motorcycles came east on the rue Calaincourt only to be told to back up and turn around. A fellow with a large camera hopped out of a small car to plead with the policeman. No dice. Despite the nattily dressed groom and fully decked out bride in the front seat, they too had to reverse tracks. The crowd started building and simply could not be contained on the sidewalk. The paraders pushed their way through even though the route was precariously narrow at many points.

I wasn't sure what to expect from a French parade. The only other parade I've attended is the show of military might on Bastille Day. But this one did not disappoint. There were representatives of the different wine growing regions of France in their traditional garb (many pouring wine for the crowd), marching bands, colorful papier mache characters, and lots of good cheer. The batteries on my camera died before it was all over but I did manage to squeeze out a few shots to share.

These kids were at the head of the parade; they were the unhappiest bunch of musicians I've seen in a long time.

This little boy was so excited to have a dolphin balloon.







Representatives from Champagne

And yes, there was even a beauty queen with her court.

Leeks

I've got a hunch that the French eat more leeks than Americans but regrettably I can't find any data to prove that this is the case.  They keep popping up everywhere, especially at this time of year: in stews, tarts, and soups, served with a vinaigrette or au gratin. Searching the Internet I found many bizarre and interesting items related to leeks like the fact that while rabbits can eat leeks, they don't enjoy the flavor, that leeks are the national symbol of Wales, and that Roman emperor Nero used to eat them on certain days of the month (while abstaining from all other foods) in order to improve his voice. But whether the French eat more leeks than the rest of the world?  It's just a guess.

And for those of you who care:  it seems that the French do in fact eat more vegetables than Americans but both are falling far short of the recommended five a day.  (And amazingly, five a day is actually the recommendation in both countries.) A study at the National Cancer Institute found that Americans eat fruits 1.04 times per day (compared to 1.33 for the French) and vegetables 1.98 times per day fruits versus 2.29 for the French.