What a week! Last Monday kicked off an impressive food frenzy as if I were never going to see Paris again: Comptoir salads with Opal at Merci’s cantine. Morning pastries from Boulangerie Julien. A divine lunch at the classic bistro, Chez Georges. A pop-in to l’Etoile d’Or. Un chocolat chaud at Café Wepler. Drinks at Chez Prune. Dinner at Le Verre Volé. And a nightcap at Experimental.
I was invited to the maiden lunch at Rachel Khoo’s La Petite Cuisine de Paris. I enjoyed a visit with Chloe Doutre-Roussel of Chloe Chocolat. The troops gathered for drinks (and damn good frites) at Le Perle (merci à tous! And a special merci to Michael for bringing the Jean-Paul Hévin chocolate galette de rois). There was a nightcap at La Trinquette. One last salad at Cosi. And let’s not forget the Nutella street crepe! Double miam. Visits to Franck Kestener and Un Dimanche à Paris sandwiched a pit-stop at Sugarplum. And au final, cocktails—one round too many (sorry, Mel, but we had to do it!)—at Le Carmen.
It was consumption of epic proportions, and I would have had it no other way. They were my last few days in Paris! Needless to say, by the time I doped up Milo for the 12-hour trip and carried my bags down the six flights of stairs, I was done. Exhausted. Fini.
The journey home included a bit of feline angst and mediocre plane food (thank goodness I packed an Eric Kayser galette de rois), but at least I was distracted by movies (The Social Network, You Will Meet a Tall, Dark Stranger, and The American) and my book (Freedom). And then I arrived. Home.
I must say, it feels great. My best friend threw me a party. Within 24 hours, I got to catch up with a dozen good friends over prosecco and American hugs. There was late-night Two Boots, then a taxi ride through Central Park and down Fifth Avenue, one of my favorite rides, which deposited me in my neighborhood, my apartment, my bed. So comfortable and familiar!
I’ve been to Whole Foods and Trader Joes. I went to yoga and got a mani-pedi. I have dinner dates this week, and next week come the concerts (The Drums!) and movies (Somewhere!). I am seeing the city and how it is different today, while remembering eight years of my life, before Paris.
It’s too soon to plot a quick trip over; I’m enjoying being back in New York too much. But I’m thinking of you all, I’m thinking of the city, and I’m wondering what this year of Transatlantic adventures will hold.