Def: cheekbones
Sometimes French words are as cute as they should be.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Weather check: February flurries
I was just going to say (okay, complain, really) that it would be really nice to wake up and not have it grey and drizzly. And then I saw the flurries. Oui, it's still magical when it snows in Paris. But, enough with the cold already. Give a Velib-loving girl a break!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Move over, bacon
Veal’s head (tete de veau) is a delectable dish here in Paris, that I knew.
But baby pig’s heads?
Can you imagine??
But baby pig’s heads?
Can you imagine??
Oh, to write like him
"In the raw veiled spring morning faint odours float of morning Paris: aniseed, damp sawdust, hot dough of bread; and as I cross the Pont Saint Michel the steel blue waking waters chill my heart... Tawny gloom in the vast gargoyled church."
—James Joyce
—James Joyce
Scallops, crystal meth and veganism
I thought my body was rebelling from all the eating I’ve been doing as of late. But I think what it was telling me is that I’m allergic to scallops.
For the second time in about a month, I woke up in the middle of the night, horribly sick to my stomach—with chills, sweats, weak knees and all. On both nights that this has happened, I had scallops for dinner. But this weekend was much worse (I also ate more scallops).
It’s been a long time since I’ve been sick like that. I just slept for 27 of the past 34 hours—an extraordinary feat for this girl. I had no strength or appetite; no focus or motivation. And I was utterly exhausted. So I slept, and slept. (I could and would have slept even more if it weren’t for a certain feline always nudging me for his kibbles…)
When I wasn’t sleeping, I was plowing through Under the Dome. Yup, still reading the Stephen King tome; I have about 150 pages to go. As always with King, it’s a strange story. There are the obligatory paranormal bits, but this one also has religion and crystal meth sub-plots. And then last night on the couch, I started watching Breaking Bad, also about crystal meth. I don’t think the descriptions and visuals of either are doing anything for my upset stomach.
Whether it’s the scallops or the meth, I still have no appetite. And since I only ate an apple and some toast yesterday, and don’t foresee eating much more today, well, there you go: two vegan days without even trying! I just kicked off my veganism experiment.
I’ve been keen to try a vegan-week ever since hanging out with Craig for New Year’s. I think this is the week. No eggs, cheese or yogurt. No smoked salmon quiche, roasted chicken or chevre chaud salads. No baked goods. And definitely no more scallops. It won’t be easy, but it just might be enlightening.
(I know this was a really appetizing post. But if you've ever thought of giving up meat, seeing as today is Monday and all, I'd encourage you to check out Meat Free Mondays.)
For the second time in about a month, I woke up in the middle of the night, horribly sick to my stomach—with chills, sweats, weak knees and all. On both nights that this has happened, I had scallops for dinner. But this weekend was much worse (I also ate more scallops).
It’s been a long time since I’ve been sick like that. I just slept for 27 of the past 34 hours—an extraordinary feat for this girl. I had no strength or appetite; no focus or motivation. And I was utterly exhausted. So I slept, and slept. (I could and would have slept even more if it weren’t for a certain feline always nudging me for his kibbles…)
When I wasn’t sleeping, I was plowing through Under the Dome. Yup, still reading the Stephen King tome; I have about 150 pages to go. As always with King, it’s a strange story. There are the obligatory paranormal bits, but this one also has religion and crystal meth sub-plots. And then last night on the couch, I started watching Breaking Bad, also about crystal meth. I don’t think the descriptions and visuals of either are doing anything for my upset stomach.
Whether it’s the scallops or the meth, I still have no appetite. And since I only ate an apple and some toast yesterday, and don’t foresee eating much more today, well, there you go: two vegan days without even trying! I just kicked off my veganism experiment.
I’ve been keen to try a vegan-week ever since hanging out with Craig for New Year’s. I think this is the week. No eggs, cheese or yogurt. No smoked salmon quiche, roasted chicken or chevre chaud salads. No baked goods. And definitely no more scallops. It won’t be easy, but it just might be enlightening.
(I know this was a really appetizing post. But if you've ever thought of giving up meat, seeing as today is Monday and all, I'd encourage you to check out Meat Free Mondays.)
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Multi-course madness
It was a big week for eating. (Wait. Haven’t I said that before? A little too often?) Well, I went to three restaurants that had pretty irresistible prix-fixe menus, so the gluttony exceeded the norm, in a very good way.
Sud Ouest et Cie: 39, boulevard du Montparnasse, 6eme
Went with: Lionel & Sylvia and the gang
On: A Saturday night
Had: Three-courses, including wine and coffee, for 36 euros.
Impressions: It’s a big, casual restaurant right near Gare Montparnasse that offers a huge menu of specialties from the southwest of France: foie gras, cassoulet, duck, etc.
I started with a simple green salad with big, toasty chevre croutons; followed by magret de canard in a sweet honey and spice sauce; and, for dessert, a lovely little croustade (hollowed-out pastry dough) with Armagnac-soaked apples. Being with a large French group, it was a classically long and leisurely dinner and after nearly three hours of eating, drinking and trying to follow French, I was sated, felt stoned, and ready for bed.
Les Papilles: 30, rue Gay-Lussac, 5eme
Went with: Michael
On: A Wednesday night
Had: Four courses for 31 euros, plus a bottle of wine, none of which are terribly cheap.
Impressions: Wow. This was a kickass meal. It started with a white bean soup
which was delivered in giant porcelain terrine, that could have fed four and that we ladled ourselves into bowls of whole white beans, homemade croutons, parsley and crisp bacon (my bacon promptly went into Michael’s bowl. Bob.) Shocking how good soup can be.
The second course was beef, but luckily I could get a tuna steak (there is just one daily menu offered here). It was enormous, cooked medium-well and beautifully seasoned with slightly sweet spices.
Then came a generous slab of cheese, served with caramelized onion and greens.
And after all that sublime food, we still had the best to come: panna cotta on top of small pineapple chunks and topped with a beautiful caramel foam.
This is up there as one of my favorite meals in Paris. Every course was generous, fresh, creative and incredibly delicious. One thing I will say, though I’m not fussy and don’t often like fancy, the casual atmosphere felt a little incongruous with the level of cooking. I think I would have liked it even better in a more intimate and cozy setting.
La Gazzetta: 29, rue de Cotte, 12eme
Went with: Jo and the girls
On: A Thursday night
Had: A five-course vegan feast for 38 euros, plus fantastic wine
Impressions: Another charmer, another winner! Of the five of us, one was vegan, one was fully vegetarian, two of us were seafood and poultry-eating veggies, and one was a carnivore. The full-veg and the vegan had indulged in this special feast cheffed up by Peter Nilsson before and called ahead to arrange for us to get the planet-friendly feast.
First course: pizza. Sans cheese, obviously. But the crispy crust and roasted red peppers and onions were full of flavor.
The second, third and fourth courses included different constructions of veggies, grains and starches—grilled endive topped with sweet yellow lentils; thinly sliced turnips served in broth with more lentils and a scoop of nutty ground legumes, and the most buttery vegan mashed potatoes you could ever dream possible, layered with broccoli and spinach. Sound boring? Trust me, it was anything but.
The only course that failed was dessert: pineapple carpaccio dusted with a gunpowder-y spice. The flavors and textures just didn’t go together.
All in all, though, I would go back in a flash and I would gladly go vegan again. The service was some of the best I’ve encountered in Paris: so friendly, accommodating and always there, but never cloying or annoying. The wine list and our Rioja choice were fantastic. The Art Nouveau atmosphere was fresh and contemporary, and the crowd was cool but casual. I loved it.
Sud Ouest et Cie: 39, boulevard du Montparnasse, 6eme
Went with: Lionel & Sylvia and the gang
On: A Saturday night
Had: Three-courses, including wine and coffee, for 36 euros.
Impressions: It’s a big, casual restaurant right near Gare Montparnasse that offers a huge menu of specialties from the southwest of France: foie gras, cassoulet, duck, etc.
I started with a simple green salad with big, toasty chevre croutons; followed by magret de canard in a sweet honey and spice sauce; and, for dessert, a lovely little croustade (hollowed-out pastry dough) with Armagnac-soaked apples. Being with a large French group, it was a classically long and leisurely dinner and after nearly three hours of eating, drinking and trying to follow French, I was sated, felt stoned, and ready for bed.
Les Papilles: 30, rue Gay-Lussac, 5eme
Went with: Michael
On: A Wednesday night
Had: Four courses for 31 euros, plus a bottle of wine, none of which are terribly cheap.
Impressions: Wow. This was a kickass meal. It started with a white bean soup
which was delivered in giant porcelain terrine, that could have fed four and that we ladled ourselves into bowls of whole white beans, homemade croutons, parsley and crisp bacon (my bacon promptly went into Michael’s bowl. Bob.) Shocking how good soup can be.
The second course was beef, but luckily I could get a tuna steak (there is just one daily menu offered here). It was enormous, cooked medium-well and beautifully seasoned with slightly sweet spices.
Then came a generous slab of cheese, served with caramelized onion and greens.
And after all that sublime food, we still had the best to come: panna cotta on top of small pineapple chunks and topped with a beautiful caramel foam.
This is up there as one of my favorite meals in Paris. Every course was generous, fresh, creative and incredibly delicious. One thing I will say, though I’m not fussy and don’t often like fancy, the casual atmosphere felt a little incongruous with the level of cooking. I think I would have liked it even better in a more intimate and cozy setting.
La Gazzetta: 29, rue de Cotte, 12eme
Went with: Jo and the girls
On: A Thursday night
Had: A five-course vegan feast for 38 euros, plus fantastic wine
Impressions: Another charmer, another winner! Of the five of us, one was vegan, one was fully vegetarian, two of us were seafood and poultry-eating veggies, and one was a carnivore. The full-veg and the vegan had indulged in this special feast cheffed up by Peter Nilsson before and called ahead to arrange for us to get the planet-friendly feast.
First course: pizza. Sans cheese, obviously. But the crispy crust and roasted red peppers and onions were full of flavor.
The second, third and fourth courses included different constructions of veggies, grains and starches—grilled endive topped with sweet yellow lentils; thinly sliced turnips served in broth with more lentils and a scoop of nutty ground legumes, and the most buttery vegan mashed potatoes you could ever dream possible, layered with broccoli and spinach. Sound boring? Trust me, it was anything but.
The only course that failed was dessert: pineapple carpaccio dusted with a gunpowder-y spice. The flavors and textures just didn’t go together.
All in all, though, I would go back in a flash and I would gladly go vegan again. The service was some of the best I’ve encountered in Paris: so friendly, accommodating and always there, but never cloying or annoying. The wine list and our Rioja choice were fantastic. The Art Nouveau atmosphere was fresh and contemporary, and the crowd was cool but casual. I loved it.
La Clique
It was definitely worth a try. Cabaret! Acrobatic acts! Fire and nudity! It’s billed as a risqué, only-in-Paris experience and, well yes, I think that’s a fair description. For better or worse.
I had read pretty good things about "La Clique" so when Sylvia solicited interest from the troops, I threw in my 49 euros and marked my calendar for a Saturday night adventure.
It was fun and silly, but very uneven. My favorite three acts were the two “Brits” who manhandled each other while also defying gravity (I tried covertly taking pictures (below) but it didn’t go over so well); the androgynous trapeze artist, and the curvaceous cabaret singer, who hammed it up with a sadistic German shtick and dragged Lionel on stage (oh yes, there is audience participation).
But, oh, my, god, the comedy and the magic acts were cringe-worthy. I mean, the woman who pulled a hankie out of her kooch wasn’t bad, but there was an old-timer magician who just made me sad. And the American who played the kazoo with her kooch was embarrassing. And I just will never understand French humor—too slap-sticky for me—which was one of Muriel’s favorite acts. I think what you laugh at is definitely a cultural thing.
I had read pretty good things about "La Clique" so when Sylvia solicited interest from the troops, I threw in my 49 euros and marked my calendar for a Saturday night adventure.
It was fun and silly, but very uneven. My favorite three acts were the two “Brits” who manhandled each other while also defying gravity (I tried covertly taking pictures (below) but it didn’t go over so well); the androgynous trapeze artist, and the curvaceous cabaret singer, who hammed it up with a sadistic German shtick and dragged Lionel on stage (oh yes, there is audience participation).
But, oh, my, god, the comedy and the magic acts were cringe-worthy. I mean, the woman who pulled a hankie out of her kooch wasn’t bad, but there was an old-timer magician who just made me sad. And the American who played the kazoo with her kooch was embarrassing. And I just will never understand French humor—too slap-sticky for me—which was one of Muriel’s favorite acts. I think what you laugh at is definitely a cultural thing.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Attention, shutterbugs
Mel’s friend, Catherine, is organizing an international photography competition for undergrad and grad students. If you fit the description, and think you know your virtues and vices, step right up for your chance to win some valuable equipment and acclaim.
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