I felt your presence going to the party...
As well as going home...
Please don't go anywhere. I could really get used to having you around.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Summer, is it really you?
And are you here to stay?
I felt your presence going to the party...
As well as going home...
Please don't go anywhere. I could really get used to having you around.
I felt your presence going to the party...
As well as going home...
Please don't go anywhere. I could really get used to having you around.
A contagious perspective
"Nothing can compare to Paris."
- Eustache Deschamps
(Except, well, maybe, New York...)
- Eustache Deschamps
(Except, well, maybe, New York...)
Just when you thought he couldn’t get any cuter
A few weeks back, while I was traveling, Milo was so lucky as to have visitors. My good friend, Jo, brought her mom ’round to my treehouse so she could paint some Parisian rooftops. Lo and behold, Milo charmed is way into one of her darling watercolors.
Merci, Erin!
Merci, Erin!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
French word of the day: grignoter
Def: To nibble or eat away
This is me to a T lately. Insatiable. On a tear. Eating anything and everything and needing to do what I can to avoid grossir (putting on weight) and getting grosse (big) and grasse (fat).
This is me to a T lately. Insatiable. On a tear. Eating anything and everything and needing to do what I can to avoid grossir (putting on weight) and getting grosse (big) and grasse (fat).
Moderately gaga for Gaya
I don't necessarily object to being called a restaurant whore. I love dining out. I keep up on restaurants. And when I go to a party, I’m happiest when the conversation turns to food and restaurants and who’s been where and what everybody’s best meals have been. I love it all. So to be living in Paris, where you can have incredible experiences like the one Michael and I had at Le Grand Vefour a few months back is pretty perfect.
But that lunch at Le Grand Vefour set the bar pretty high. We’ve been inspired to indulge in a grand dejeuner every month or two and recently set our sights on Gaya Rive Gauche, Pierre Gagnaire’s modern fish bistro. We went on a nice and balmy June Friday (yes, we’ve had one or two of those), which was perfect for the restaurant’s aesthetic. Metallic “fish scales” along one wall, periwinkle chairs that contrasted against grey carpeting, and a crisp, bright, organic feeling all around that made me happy I was wearing my mariner stripes. After we ordered a carafe of chilled Valfalunes Blanc, I was happier still.
Bread and butter and olive oil and sea salt (how often do you get one or the other, much less both in this town?!)...
...served in charming and appropriate containers—along with amuses bouches that included a gorgeous octopus salad which we speared and sparred with toothpicks—accompanied us as we read through the menu. But it was nontraditionally, and, to us, incoherently, organized into groupings such as “Unusual” and “Modest Tide” rather than “Entrées” and “Plats”, so we had to ask for guidance. But if the menu’s structure was confusing, at least the food was obviously delicious.
Building on the bread I had already demolished, I started heavy on the carbs: with ravioles printanières. Hidden beneath lots of green veggies—broccoli, snap peas, zucchini—I told myself it was as nutritious as a salad.
(At least it was healthier than Michael’s pork terrine. Well, maybe.)
For my main plate, I got the pavé de cabillaud (which was, I think, filed under “The Essentials” on the menu), deliciously and decadently poached in god knows how much butter and served with a julienned salad of carrots, apple and seaweed.
Michael’s poisson was an enormous filet of féra, a white fish from Switzerland.
Being loathe to leave without dessert, no matter how much our bellies protested, we decided to split dessert. Behold…
...a beautiful chocolate praliné cake, served atop rhubarb and accompanied by salted caramel ice cream a few hazelnuts.
By now, we were lounging and lazy and had befriended our neighbors, two lovely women from LA who were vacationing and, with their tales of dining, shopping and French Open viewing, clearly living the high life. By chatting with them, we stretched lunch to three hours—which gave us enough time to also demolish the petit fours—mint macarons, mini strawberry financiers and caramelized sesame brittle—delivered with coffee.
We were utterly filled to the gills. (Oui! Je blague en francais!)
But that lunch at Le Grand Vefour set the bar pretty high. We’ve been inspired to indulge in a grand dejeuner every month or two and recently set our sights on Gaya Rive Gauche, Pierre Gagnaire’s modern fish bistro. We went on a nice and balmy June Friday (yes, we’ve had one or two of those), which was perfect for the restaurant’s aesthetic. Metallic “fish scales” along one wall, periwinkle chairs that contrasted against grey carpeting, and a crisp, bright, organic feeling all around that made me happy I was wearing my mariner stripes. After we ordered a carafe of chilled Valfalunes Blanc, I was happier still.
Bread and butter and olive oil and sea salt (how often do you get one or the other, much less both in this town?!)...
...served in charming and appropriate containers—along with amuses bouches that included a gorgeous octopus salad which we speared and sparred with toothpicks—accompanied us as we read through the menu. But it was nontraditionally, and, to us, incoherently, organized into groupings such as “Unusual” and “Modest Tide” rather than “Entrées” and “Plats”, so we had to ask for guidance. But if the menu’s structure was confusing, at least the food was obviously delicious.Building on the bread I had already demolished, I started heavy on the carbs: with ravioles printanières. Hidden beneath lots of green veggies—broccoli, snap peas, zucchini—I told myself it was as nutritious as a salad.
(At least it was healthier than Michael’s pork terrine. Well, maybe.)
For my main plate, I got the pavé de cabillaud (which was, I think, filed under “The Essentials” on the menu), deliciously and decadently poached in god knows how much butter and served with a julienned salad of carrots, apple and seaweed.
Michael’s poisson was an enormous filet of féra, a white fish from Switzerland.
Being loathe to leave without dessert, no matter how much our bellies protested, we decided to split dessert. Behold…
...a beautiful chocolate praliné cake, served atop rhubarb and accompanied by salted caramel ice cream a few hazelnuts.
By now, we were lounging and lazy and had befriended our neighbors, two lovely women from LA who were vacationing and, with their tales of dining, shopping and French Open viewing, clearly living the high life. By chatting with them, we stretched lunch to three hours—which gave us enough time to also demolish the petit fours—mint macarons, mini strawberry financiers and caramelized sesame brittle—delivered with coffee.
We were utterly filled to the gills. (Oui! Je blague en francais!)
Monday, June 21, 2010
My Vegan Mondays
Can quinoa continue expanding after it’s cooked and is inside your belly? I woke up twice last night with the most horrendous stomachache. The only culprit I could think of was the quinoa salad I made in anticipation for Vegan Monday (right? It wouldn’t have been the cherry clafoutis I had from Carette?!). Alas, it was a pretty boring eating day.
Morning
Coffee and soy milk
Fresh strawberries
Wheat toast with raspberry jam
Granny Smith apple
Afternoon
Tossed salad
Pretzels
Chocolate
Banana
Evening
Another banana
Toast with hummus (I eschewed more quinoa)
Carrots with hummus
Dried apples
Morning
Coffee and soy milk
Fresh strawberries
Wheat toast with raspberry jam
Granny Smith apple
Afternoon
Tossed salad
Pretzels
Chocolate
Banana
Evening
Another banana
Toast with hummus (I eschewed more quinoa)
Carrots with hummus
Dried apples
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