Def: lucky duck
I love this expression in English and it made me laugh out loud when I only recently saw Clover's comment to a post a few months ago...
Merci, Clover!
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Just another dimanche in the neighborhood
I love it. Just walking down rue Saint-Denis (oui, that rue Saint-Denis), outside Ma Cave Fleury, a sweet wine bar next to my Bio market, this little three-piece band played and neighbors just hung out, drinking aperos, lounging in chairs, enjoying the glorious weather; the lovely day.
I keep saying I'm going to try my hand at the leisurely Sundays the French have so well mastered. Next week...
I keep saying I'm going to try my hand at the leisurely Sundays the French have so well mastered. Next week...
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Fireworks over American fare
While the Anglo-eateries keep coming (and coming), there are still the ancient standbys.
As a student at the American University of Paris, I used to keep The Real McCoy in business. At least it seemed like it at the time. I was addicted to their tuna sandwich. It became a security blanket to me; a little taste of home. A reliable connection to my Yankee roots and all-American diet.
The shape, size and flavor of that modest sandwich is something that has stayed with me for 17 years now. I’ve often thought of going back for it since living here, but, well, I guess I’ve been busy eating other things. Until the other day.
There are now two Real McCoy locations; the original one on rue de Grenelle is just a dry goods store. I became a little panicked when I went in and realized there was no sandwich menu until they told me they opened a “café” around the corner. It was really just another store with a couple seats—but I could get my sandwich there so I couldn’t have been happier.
Both locations are like cozy little pantries, stocked floor to ceiling with colorful packaged goods from home. Talk about a nostalgic rush! Talk about temptation! Talk about being embarrassed of our industrial food nation!
As I waited for my sandwich to be made, I ogled the goods as if I were in the Museum of Yesteryears.
Duncan Hines cake mix…
…pancake mix and syrup…
…peanut butter—Jif or Skippy, not some hippie variety from the bio store—and jelly. And Fluff. Miam miam!
Popcorn and Pop Tarts.
They have condiments up the wazoo…
And candy, too.
That tuna sandwich? Of course it was nowhere near as good as I remembered it being. Blame it on my aged or refined taste buds. Blame it on a new sandwich maker (wouldn’t it be sad if it were the same person, slapping on the French’s mustard??). But, really, I think it just goes to show that things are never as good as the first time. That you can’t go home again.
As a student at the American University of Paris, I used to keep The Real McCoy in business. At least it seemed like it at the time. I was addicted to their tuna sandwich. It became a security blanket to me; a little taste of home. A reliable connection to my Yankee roots and all-American diet.
The shape, size and flavor of that modest sandwich is something that has stayed with me for 17 years now. I’ve often thought of going back for it since living here, but, well, I guess I’ve been busy eating other things. Until the other day.
There are now two Real McCoy locations; the original one on rue de Grenelle is just a dry goods store. I became a little panicked when I went in and realized there was no sandwich menu until they told me they opened a “café” around the corner. It was really just another store with a couple seats—but I could get my sandwich there so I couldn’t have been happier.
Both locations are like cozy little pantries, stocked floor to ceiling with colorful packaged goods from home. Talk about a nostalgic rush! Talk about temptation! Talk about being embarrassed of our industrial food nation!
As I waited for my sandwich to be made, I ogled the goods as if I were in the Museum of Yesteryears.
Duncan Hines cake mix…
…pancake mix and syrup…
…peanut butter—Jif or Skippy, not some hippie variety from the bio store—and jelly. And Fluff. Miam miam!
Popcorn and Pop Tarts.
They have condiments up the wazoo…
And candy, too.
That tuna sandwich? Of course it was nowhere near as good as I remembered it being. Blame it on my aged or refined taste buds. Blame it on a new sandwich maker (wouldn’t it be sad if it were the same person, slapping on the French’s mustard??). But, really, I think it just goes to show that things are never as good as the first time. That you can’t go home again.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Bags of books
Pick up some cheap summer reading tomorrow at SOS Help's "Summer Clearance" book sale. Fill an entire bag of books for only 5 euros, and support this great outfit.
SOS Help is a non-profit, English-speaking crisis line in France, open from 3pm to 11pm daily, where you can talk about anything from feeling lonely to concerns about integrating. The number is 01 46 21 46 46.
The book sale is Saturday, July 3, from noon to 4pm.
Courtyard at St. Joseph's Church
50 avenue Hoche, Paris 75008
SOS Help is a non-profit, English-speaking crisis line in France, open from 3pm to 11pm daily, where you can talk about anything from feeling lonely to concerns about integrating. The number is 01 46 21 46 46.
The book sale is Saturday, July 3, from noon to 4pm.
Courtyard at St. Joseph's Church
50 avenue Hoche, Paris 75008
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Hey boys...
Would you mind pulling your pants up?? It's 2010 and the jeans-around-your-waist look is over and I'm sick of looking at your sad underwear.
Heaven... I was in heaven...
Le Grand Vefour: Outstanding. Transporting. Exceptional. 125 Euros.
Gaya: Good. Nice. Enjoyable. 76 Euros.
Saint-Honoré: Amazing. Delicious. Casual & friendly. 39 Euros.
I would gladly pony up the 125 Euros for another Grand Vefour experience. But I would not pay out my own pocket to go back to Gaya. While it was tasty, the value is just not there as last week’s visit to La Régalade Saint-Honoré proved.
There was no fuss with the reservations. A friendly welcome. And it was one of my best meals in Paris.
The feasting started with a country jar of tart cornichons, bread and chicken liver terrine. I enjoyed the crunch of a couple cornichons, passed on the liver and ordered a (well-priced) glass of Bordeaux.
And then it was time to make some declarations from the three-course, 33 Euros prix-fixe menu. Which was really, really tough.
There were at least two, if not three things, I wanted to try for each course. In the end, I was thrilled with my choices.
To begin, thick, buttery white asparagus with Parmesan, parsley and a beautifully poached egg.
Moving on: risotto with peas, topped with chicken and green asparagus. Perfectly cooked and proportioned.
And since I went heavy on the plat, I opted light on dessert: a lovely rhubarb compote with berries, mascarpone and crumbled shortbread.
And as an added bonus, since it's always nice to end a meal with a spot of chocolate, I got to indulge in my friend’s ridiculously rich praliné cake (next to it, my friends, was a scoop of ganache. Ridiculous.)
A third of the price of lunch at Le Grand Vefour? I believe it.
But Gaya costing nearly twice as much as this out-of-this-world meal? That's a little absurd. Maybe I'll just have to go back again to make sure it was really as good as I remember.
Gaya: Good. Nice. Enjoyable. 76 Euros.
Saint-Honoré: Amazing. Delicious. Casual & friendly. 39 Euros.
I would gladly pony up the 125 Euros for another Grand Vefour experience. But I would not pay out my own pocket to go back to Gaya. While it was tasty, the value is just not there as last week’s visit to La Régalade Saint-Honoré proved.
There was no fuss with the reservations. A friendly welcome. And it was one of my best meals in Paris.
The feasting started with a country jar of tart cornichons, bread and chicken liver terrine. I enjoyed the crunch of a couple cornichons, passed on the liver and ordered a (well-priced) glass of Bordeaux.
And then it was time to make some declarations from the three-course, 33 Euros prix-fixe menu. Which was really, really tough.
There were at least two, if not three things, I wanted to try for each course. In the end, I was thrilled with my choices.
To begin, thick, buttery white asparagus with Parmesan, parsley and a beautifully poached egg.
Moving on: risotto with peas, topped with chicken and green asparagus. Perfectly cooked and proportioned.
And since I went heavy on the plat, I opted light on dessert: a lovely rhubarb compote with berries, mascarpone and crumbled shortbread.
And as an added bonus, since it's always nice to end a meal with a spot of chocolate, I got to indulge in my friend’s ridiculously rich praliné cake (next to it, my friends, was a scoop of ganache. Ridiculous.)
A third of the price of lunch at Le Grand Vefour? I believe it.
But Gaya costing nearly twice as much as this out-of-this-world meal? That's a little absurd. Maybe I'll just have to go back again to make sure it was really as good as I remember.
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