GourmandeMom™

France / Food Reverie / Detoxing

On day 12 of this cleanse/detox regime that I do twice a year (and usually after a France trip), I am acutely aware of how much of our television diet includes intensively evocative, sexy images of food.  As I am apart from that world right now, eating organic only, extremely low to no carb, and drinking about a gallon of spring water a day amidst a ton of vegetables, it's a good time to think back on that food-laden time just three and one-half weeks ago, not just in Angers but also the Paris part.

I bet you were not expecting this.  These are jelly beans.  Something I would not ordinarily be interested in, but a friend hanging with me at the Bouvet Ladubay bar/lounge insisted they were amazing.  They are hand-crafted, thus the uneven roundness, at the Q&K Confiserie in Angers.   They were not icky.   They were very delicious.

I enjoyed so many things about my stay at the Hotel Mercure right there next to the Centre des Congres.  Breakfast, absolutely.  The lighting in the rooms.  The proximity to Premiers Plans film festival.  And some of the business lunches there were quite lovely. I had to get this little dessert from the buffet bar just to get a picture of it.  Adorable.

To get one of those many official lunches for us off to a right start, there was this array of amuse-bouche.

I wanted one, very badly. They were so cute.  But I was in professional mode, and there were just too many interesting people to meet and talk to over this lunch.  

There was local fine wine of course.  I had some of that.

At a chamber of commerce new year's wishes event over at the stunning Greniers Saint-Jean, it was finally cocktail time after the speeches and power points  There was this non-alcoholic piña colada.  I had serious doubts about having anything like this in France.  It was delightful. Not too sweet. Just nice and delectable.  I did not need a second one though.

Once I found the very local, fresh and tangy cheese offerings, I did need more than just one bite of those samples. The Mayor caught me on my fifth little bite.  This cheese...the cheese is seriously my downfall when in France.

No trip to Angers is complete without a lunch or dinner at Chez Rémi at 5 rue des Deux Haies.  The hot savory soup with spicy crunchy chorizo did not disappoint.

It was soon back to Paris to finish up a work project.  There were chocolates waiting for me in the apartment (an upgrade I lucked into).

I finally made it out the next morning to do some shopping for basic foodstuffs so I could make some breakfast of protein at the apartment.  This routine only lasted for one morning.  I ended up always meeting Maureen in the morning for coffee at the St. Regis on the Ile St. Louis, where she would deliver a print-out of a document I needed.

The new favorite beverage: double espresso with a pitcher of hot milk on the side.

After that one, and after about an hour into our stay there at the St. Regis, she says. "I think I feel like another one of these."  Oh, she so read my mind.  I had one too. It was a 4-espresso morning.  I was on fuego for that day, as friend Mollie would say. Lots of work done that day, followed by a run along the Seine in the late afternoon.

And then you know what? I was tired of French food.  Yes, it's true.  I needed Italian food for a change.  

This polenta fritta seriously hit the spot, with this rocket salad with pine nuts.  But the best was yet to come.  This was not a bread-heavy trip at all, but this bread was out of this world.  The combo of bread and this heavenly pasta dish...probably why I felt a couple of pounds heavier on the trip back.

The restaurant was Bafo - cannot find anything on it en anglais.  But our server could not have been cuter in telling us to come back closer to 10pm, when we stopped by at 9pm thinking to sit right down.

We killed time in this, uh, interesting cafe down the street.

 With the electronica music blaring we started in on more red wine.

Funny how quickly a 45-minute wait goes this way.

And let this be a reminder.  

If you need to wait for a while before you can be seated, you do not just hang around the venue as in the US at most places.

There is just no room.  

You just leave and come back.  This works out fine when there are venues at which one can wait it out of course.

The next night we ate at Au Petit Fer Au Cheval.  It is friend Maureen's favorite watering hole in the Marais, as it is for many other regulars there.  I had no idea they had that tiny salle back behind the bar area.  It helps being with regulars.  We were seated right away. I had confit de canard, preceded by a giant crudité salad, which I desperately needed to get something from the vegetable food group into the day's food intake.

Then I was stuck inside the whole next day, Monday, and before you know it, with my deadline made 4 hours before the taxi came to get me, I was en route back to Austin.  Even on 3 hours sleep I could appreciate the beautiful restroom facilities at CDG airport.  

Note: there is no one at CDG at 6am in the morning. Will get there at 6:30 next time for that early BA flight to London.  

 

The Elegant Paris Business Lunch - for one (or, "dorky moments for this Paris trip, part 1 of many")

It is a bad idea, I knew this, to arrange for more than two meetings in one day in Paris. But time was limited after the Easter holiday, which included Monday. I had only two business days available before I left, Tuesday and Wednesday, so I pushed the envelope. 

Tuesday's schedule included meetings at 9am, 11am -- then a 1pm lunch meeting and a 7pm apéritif.  It was risky to so heavily schedule, but I carefully planned all transportation routes the night before.  It would be do-able: leave the house at 8am to get up north to La Villette; leave around 10:15 to get to Batignolles for 11am, then use the same metro line from edgy Batignolles to super chic Avenue Matignon for a business lunch about international technology collaborations. No problem.

After much emailing the night before the 9am meeting, the 9am interlocuter could only do 11h30.  Alas, that last-minute schedule change, after weeks of planning the day, just could not work.  Desolée.

So at 10am, I skipped down the rue de Bièvre into the sunny and cool Paris morning, enjoying the ample time I had to soak up Paris on the walk across over the Seine to the Hôtel de Ville métro stop. 

It is not a short walk, but it is an awesome and very familiar walk.  I descend the steps into the métro stop, confident in this familiar routine on a familiar route, use my last métro ticket, and await the train.

Odd.  Why are the times for the next trains on the info panel all X'd out. Then I see the sign.  Line 1 closed, and for a critical part of it.  Dang.  I knew it was closed the day before; just did not register that it would still be closed on Tuesday.

Well, there goes that time cushion. I think not enough to time to get an Uber. I think taxi.  But where?  

I briskly make my way to the only potentially sure thing that came to mind: the taxi line at Boulevard St. Michel near the quai.  I am no longer feeling chic.  Or cheery. Walking, walking...walking briskly over across the bridge, back to the Ile de la Cité, where just minutes before I had been so light on my feet for a perfectly planned day of perfectly executed optimal transportation routes.

What luck.  A taxi, just sitting there, not in a taxi line at all. I leap in, expresssing great relief, and tell him the street name. 

I did not understand hardly anything from this chatty delightful driver.  He was speaking a mix of French with something else with a non-discernible accent.  The scenic drive took us down the rue de Rivoli, up around l'Opéra, through the streets named for Europe in the 8th.  He shared his opinions with me on (1) God; (2) man's inabilty to accept the lack of control in life (the weather); and (3) the power of music for man's soul (he used to be a violin player).  At a break in that line of thought, he pointed out a café he almost bought. 

I arrived at the most charming (albeit with grungy edge) little corner of Paris on the Place Docteur-Félix-Lobligeois, in front of the appointed meeting place.  

I am enchanted by this new littler quarter.  [See article about Batignolles here.]

It was soon 12:30, time to get to the 1pm meeting. The lunch venue selected was The Berkeley, an elegant but not intimidating little restaurant on the sublimely quiet Avenue Matignon.  

It was easy and so fast to get there.  I sigh with satisfaction, pleased with my transportation successes, overcoming adversity.  Yep, look at me, manhandling Paris. And here I am, nice and early, at this little slice of dreamy Paris elegance.  

I speak with the hostess. I do not see his name there for a reservation, but she says no matter.  I can seat you. Why, yes, thank you, that would be lovely. She offers to take my coat.  Why yes, thank you. Lovely. 

I am ensconced at a table for two and sink into the comfy chair. The front windows of Le Berkeley are all open to the street on this gorgeous day.

There are business persons all around, not surprising as the area is full of law firms and venture capital firms.  The women have superb shoes.  The men look so relaxed and urbaine.  

If I had had enough life experience back when I was 14 in San Angelo, Texas, when I was dreaming about what Paris must be like, and what some imagined version of me might be like in Paris someday, this is exactly the type of place I would have imagined. 

The first person to inquire of my needs asks about my water order.  I go for the carafe of water, per usual.  But no one is keen on getting me free water.  Fine.  But I am not paying for water.  I will pay for wine though.  I order a nice glass of white wine to wait for the other person.  That order arrives quickly.

It is now 1:15.  I call the business lunch date on his mobile, which was on the last confirming email.   

As soon as he heard my voice, I could tell.  He had forgotten.  He was appalled.  We schedule for the next day: same time, same place.  He was so horrified.  I say no worries.  A demain.

But what to do now.  

Leave?  Ask for the check after just one glass of wine, though I am sitting at a table at which one may only dine, not just imbibe?  

Does it appear so obvious that I was, you know, sort of stood up--even though sort of accidentally?  

I decide to stay for lunch.

I send a lot of emails during my non-business meeting lunch for one, while enjoying this entrée of quinoa and tuna.

When I was done, I got the coat myself, used the lovely ladies room yet again, and headed out.  [We did reprise that business lunch the next day.  The conversation was much better.] 

That 7pm apéritif meeting, at a certain club on the Champs Elysées?  I was right on time.  Only one problem: They would not let me in.  At first.  To be continued. 

 

Odd Duck Austin * Mark's Bread Ovens v. Poilâne

With the next Paris reconnaissance trip a long few months away - in April 2014 - and with budget constraints limiting shipments of Poilâne bread straight to me, I anxiously sought out the sur place resulting from the in-house bread program overseen by Mark at Odd Duck.  Ever since the Outstanding in the Field event with Bryce Gilmore at the helm and Mark at the bread oven, I've been anxiously awaiting Odd Duck's opening for a ready source of crusty, exquisitely textured homemade bread.  

Dinner there last night on December 30 - at the embarrassingly early time of 17h30 - met this longfelt need.  As I had dreamed it, bread was on the menu.  For $5, and I did not mind that at all--though a Poilâne miche -- 4 times the size of these sweet little loaves of carbohydrates --  is 9.05 euros last I checked (just now), which is about $12.30, making Mark's bread fairly pricey compared to the humongous size of a Poilâne miche. No matter.  Eating just the crust of this bread, with this butter, is a meal in itself.  With red wine of course.

Do I mind paying $5 for this bread, served alongside a huge gloppy delicious mass of homemade butter?  Non.  Though at Arro I was highly offended by the idea of having to pay for bread, I am getting used to the idea now.  

For Mark's bread, this bread made in those cozy warm bread ovens -- where we were seated last night, with views out through the glass out into the West, looking back over my left shoulder, as the sun was setting and the sky all orange and hot pink -- I will gladly pay $5.

On a scale of 1 to 10...the scorecard.

Vibe/Decor : 9.3

I arrived at 5 pm - so excited about feeling better, finally - and being out and about. I looked forward to having a glass of wine at the bar.  This was not to be.  No open seating there.  This is a dommage because the combination of glass, rich wood tables, the burlap on those oversized light fixtures -- it all cries out for hanging out and chilling.  

The cheery hostess helped mitigate my bitter disappointment at this: she promptly brought me a glass of wine.  And she was not troubled, as she had a healthy attitude to constructive criticism, by my pointing out the typos on the Deux (spelled Duex) Anges Côtes (spelled with no "s" and no circonflexe) du Rhône  Villages (spelled with no circonflexe) on the wine menu.  

Love the iconic 1950s dishware that reminds of CorningWare. 

Business Model - 9.8  

I love the reservations scheme.  It's my French alter ego thing.  Reservations are de rigueur, mostly, in France, as I hope I am getting across -- see the articles on this -- to anyone thinking about going to France. Though just as this is changing in the US (Austin, i.e., Odd Duck), France (Paris) is changing on this front as well.  I'd give it a 10, but for wanting to hang at the bar and that not being available.  Even at 5pm.  

Food - 9.6   

Hits included:

• Field pea fritters, almond, cumin

• Kohlrabi soup, bacon, romaine, cheddar

• Goat rolled in pasta, mole sauce, butternut squash, mesquite

The Field Pea Fritters.

The Soup.

The Goat.

Folks are raving about the chicken fried egg; I couldn't go for it.  That goat though. A pleasure.  Austin's French friends, in our sister city of Angers, already won over by Barley Swine in their past visits, will no doubt love this place as well.

The miss:

• Chocolate pudding, verjus, malted barley

I wanted that carrot panna cotta so badly, but with France nostalgia setting in, I went for the chocolate pudding.  It did include in its ingredient list "verjus" after all, one of my super fav restaurants in Paris (Verjus), a restaurant whose food is quite reminiscent of what Bryce Gilmore is doing.  See such national reviews of Verjus as this one in Saveur last year.  This choice was nothing special for me.  Just chocolate. A shell, some foam. I didn't get it.  But with expectations so high for all things coming out of the kitchen here, a single miss is not a horrible thing.

South Lamar used to seem way so very far away.  Mild crankiness set in anytime I had to venture south of Town Lake.  But with South Lamar bubbling over with gastronomic goodies these days, and Austin growing by leaps and bounds, south of Town Lake no longer seems like a trek.  

And reserving a bar seat at Odd Duck for a casual solo session of crusty bread and Côtes du Rhône may well become a new much-loved routine for me in 2014.  

 

 

What Gives, France? Or, Why Le Bistrot Paul Bert's "petit faim" offering is food for thought

What is happening to France, its food culture, its very identity.  Talk of lower bread consumption.  More people going to the gym.  More snacking.  More bad food habits. The loss of the closed-for-lunch to enjoy something more satisfying than a quick sandwich.

Nothing to do with France per se; but I had a lovely sit-down lunch at Mettle last week.  Frank, our server, was a rock star.  He did not even mind my detailed order about how my double espresso should arrive (piping hot).

And now I learn that one of the most talked about restos in Paris, le Bistrot Paul Bert, is offering a snack time food offering in the late afternoon, which they are calling “un petit faim” (for those being just a little hungry/with a little hunger).  From 2 pm to 6:30 pm, Tuesdays through Saturdays.

Paris!  France!  What has gotten into you?!

Don’t get me wrong. I LOVED this idea immediately when I first saw Wendy Lyn’s posting it on The Paris Kitchen this weekend:

"UPDATE: Great news! In addition to lunch & dinner Tuesday – Saturday, Paris’ favorite classic bistro Le Bistrot Paul Bert will now stay open throughout the afternoon offering a “Petit Faim” menu (little hunger menu) from 2pm to 6:30pm.

A country terrine (9€), Jambon de Paris with salad (12€), omelette (10€) with cèpe mushrooms (15€), duck foie gras on toast (16€), sauteéd eggs and ham (9€), cheese plate (9€), a daily-changing hot plate of the day (14€) and desserts like their famous Paris-Brest, crème caramel and Baba au Rhum (8€)."

I love this offering because as I map out my eating-out calendar for only 4 November days in Paris (arriving on a Sunday, leaving the following Thursday), that leaves only two full days of eating at many of the worthwhile eating places in Paris.  This is because, of course, many restaurants/bistrots are closed on Sunday and Monday, making those days challenging (but by no means impossible) if food is a priority on your Paris stay. 

This news then, finding out that I can get in for a little taste of something at this much-praised old school-ish food heaven that is le Bistrot Paul Bert  (and right down the street from my rental digs in the 11eme) and avoid worrying how to work it in on the limited lunch and dinners on two days...well, it's a huge relief.

And what timing to see this bit of food news--about institutionalizing (high-end) snacking--just as other changes to French culture are underway, or at least talked about with more frequency.  I learned this tidbit from The Paris Kitchen just one day after we discussed in my Business French class the forces that are underway to do away with the (currently almost complete) ban on Sunday openings for retail stores in France (including Paris). Again, what is happening to France?!  [This is part of an immense demographic, cultural, socio-economic shift, as this recent article on this same topic notes.]

Sure, it’s annoying that the shopping paradise that is BHV is closed on Sundays.  But I appreciate more the why it is closed and what that means as a metaphor for the pace of Sunday life, even in such a huge and cosmopolitan city as Paris.  The very limited retail activities that are allowed to exist on Sundays in Paris, and all of France, means the day has a tranquility to it than we in the US do not even realize we are missing.

I try to plan trips around being in Paris on a Sunday.  It is, in theory, a day for family.  For cycling.  For meandering.  Or sitting in the park.  Not running to Target to get a headstart on the week. The pace just seems slower.  I relish it.  I deal with the restaurant "situation," with many/most being closed on Sundays and Mondays, by embracing the structure this provides to restaurant planning.

So although I love that I can knock Bistrot Paul Bert off the list for a meal (if I could even get a reservation), because I can stop in and get a “duck foie gras on toast” snack one afternoon in between meetings, I still have to wonder. 

What has gotten into France.

I get that change is good.  Change and iterations thereof in all facets of daily life are inevitable.  But those changes that wreak havoc with the very core of one’s identity...those changes I’m not so sure about.   Once BHV is open on Sundays, I will know the end of the world, or France as I know it, is nigh.

 

Austin Psych Fest On The Road To Its Sister City of Angers (France): GourmandeMom's Visitor's Guide to Angers (Part 1)

Austin's Psych Fest has had its sights on Angers, France for some time - and now, Psych Fest will officially go global with Angers' independent music venue, Le Chabada, doing a French twist on Psych Fest as "Levitation."  The festival is September 20-21, 2013.  

It also just so happens that Austin and Angers are “sister cities” since 2011.  

If you're heading to Angers for Levitation, and you've never been to France before, some basic tips to streamline that adventure follow.  Those tips include practical advice on purchasing train tickets in the web-based world we live in.  The train tips are included, in Part 3, because you'll most likely be taking a train from Paris to get to Angers.  If you've never been to Angers, some of my current favorite things are described in Part 2, along with more general information about dining out, including wine and beer ordering, and some of my favorite places to eat in Angers. 

But before heading to France to get your reverb vibe on, with such stellar groups as the Black Angels, at Levitation over at Le Chabada, some sister city vocabulary is in order, including how to pronounce "Angers":  The r is silent; the s is silent; the g is soft (like "awn-zhay") (disclaimer: this is just a close approximation).

ville jumelle  - “sister city” ; but literally, “twin city”

un jumelage - the “sistering” or more a propos in French, a “twinning” of the two cities

 l’Anjou – the name recounting the historical origins for this former province, ruled by powerful counts in the Middle Ages, then annexed to the French crown in the 1480s.

les Angevins – like we are called Austinites, the folks that inhabit this beautiful region of vineyards, rivers, and châteaux are “angevins”

l’ardoise – Angers is one of the principal regions in France for this dark blue-gray rock mines for centuries in the area: Anger’s distinctive tiled roofs are of this material, inspiring a local delicacy, the highly addictive Quernons d’Ardoise, a nougatine covered in blue-tinged chocolate—a not-to-miss crunchy sweet sensation.

le Chabada – music and concert venue for independent music scene in Angers: the major partner and dominating force behind Austin Angers Music and Angers’ SxSW presence.

Why Austin and Angers?  It's a good match.  The capital of Texas and this town in the heart of the Loire Valley have much in common.  

• A keen interest in sustainability: Angers is the European Capital of sustainable development

• A large student population: Angers has 33,000 students — in a city of 283,000 — at 2 large universities on 4 campuses; and it has a very young population: 48% of the population is under 30.

• A rich cultural life full of museums and music, art, and film festivals: Angers hosts an international European film festival in January - les Premiers Plans; a music festival “Tempo Rives" (in its 50th year) in the summer – with free concerts along the Maine river;  a magical Christmas festival, “Soleils d’Hiver,” November 29 to December 29 this year (artisanal regional crafts, Christmas trees, carousels, hot mulled wine); and perhaps the most festive community-building festival of all — les Accroche-Coeurs, a huge city-wide cultural arts festival where les angevins participate in plays, theatre of all kinds throughout the city — ranging from serious to silly — a festival attracting 100,000 visitors each year. 

• An emphasis on outdoor living: Angers has 350 kilometers of backpacking and hiking trails; bike trails start in the heart of the city and then run along the Loire into nearby vineyards.

• Recognition for a unique quality of life: Angers took the number one spot as best quality of life for large cities (between 200,000 and 300,000) in France 2012 and was featured on the front cover of L’Express, a news journal, in a special May 2012 edition.  (Angers has an ambitious multi-year master plan to bring nature right up close into the city by removing the traffic lanes from along the scenic Maine river to create parks, islands, public art spaces and installations.)

• A river runs through them: Angers has the Maine, which turns into the Loire; Austin has the Colorado, also known as Lady Bird Lake and formerly known as Town Lake.

• Well-known local libations: Angers is the home of Cointreau (margarita ingredient!); Austin has its home-grown adult libations, such as Tito’s, Deep Eddy Vodka, Dripping Springs vodka.

But like all relationships, the differences keep things interesting….

• Angers has a 13th-century medieval château right in the middle of town.

• Angers is located in the Loire Valley—a UNESCO World Heritage Site (along with other such sites as the Great Wall of China and the Statue of Liberty)—which boasts some 21 châteaux.

• Angers has high speed rail: thanks to the TGV, Angers is a short 90-minute comfy train ride to Paris.

• And, well, les Angevins speak French. 

First time to France?

The stereotypes about France are not going to hold up well when you get to Angers.  If you have been to Paris and had a bad experience, or even a good experience, know that getting out of Paris and into French country side of rolling green hills, rivers, and vineyards will show you what all of the rest of France knows is true and repeats often: "Paris is not France."   So take everything you’ve heard or thought about “the French” and throw all (ok, just some) of that out the window for getting to know Austin’s “ville jumelle,” Angers.

When I do boot camp-type classes for people going to France (mostly to Paris), a few of these tips on customs and rituals have proven to be helpful.  Knowing a few customs should go a long way toward making your visit a good one.  (And remember, the "first floor" in France is what we know in the US as the "second floor."  The ground floor of any building in France is not the "first floor."  The first floor has a special word: rez-de-chausée.) 

Politeness

Yes, the French are very polite.  Greetings of “Bonjour Madame/Monsieur”; “Au revoir Madame/Monsieur” are critical to your being culturally fluent and making any experience anywhere in France much more enjoyable.   These greetings are customary when entering a restaurant, and even when entering a retail establishment of any kind – be it for clothes, bread (at la boulangerie), or pastries (at la patisserie).  It does not have to be a big production. It’s just about acknowledging the person. It's just the way it is there.

Patientez-vous

Relationships are very important in France—in business but also just the everyday tasks of daily life. Be prepared to just patientez-vous (patient yourself/be patient) when the woman or man in front of you in line for your pain au chocolat for that morning, or a baguette for a picnic, is carrying on a nice little conversation with the person behind the counter.  These types of relationships are critical to an individual’s quality of life.  So let those conversations unfold and take their time.  Patientez-vous and wait your turn. 

More Politeness Issues (Eating out)

Dining out is a very different experience in France.  We will leave out for the moment the distinctions between what in French culture is a "restaurant" (generally more formal, structured dining ritual with more "rules) and a café (less structure, informal, quicker dining experience). 

For the American visitor, the difference in the French attitude about the eating out experience can be shocking, and easily misinterpreted for bad, rude, or terrible service.  Sure, any restaurant or café at any time may provide a bad service experience, in Austin or in Angers. But the experience that is the ordinary and typical ritual of dining out in France should not be interpreted as “rude” and “inattentive” just because it’s (very) different from the US.

L’addition, s’il vous plaît…

Do not expect a server to check on you, much less keep checking on you, for whether everything is ok with your meal or your experience.  This is considered patronizing in a gastronomic, self-help culture such as France, and just plain silly. The philosophy here — and a major cultural difference — is that your experience of enjoying the company of friends, or your solitude, should not be interrupted for a gratuitous inquiry as to your well-being.  If you want something that has not otherwise been provided to you (which is typically already done), just ask for it. (And, no, it's not the 1950s or 60s: no one calls a "server/waiter" garçon anymore...it's "Monsieur" (or "Madame") for your server).    Otherwise, you can rest assured you will be enjoying your meal, coffee, or apéro, pretty much uninterrupted.

• What this means:  You will need to ask for the check (“l’addition”) when you are ready for it. It will not be handed to you, unless you are perhaps at a café and just ordering a coffee or apéritif and the café is busy.

More details on meal times and libations to follow in Part 2.  

Just remember:  If you really want to profiter (benefit) from your stay, get to know the terroir: Drink Local (wines)!

 

 

Austin Psych Fest On The Road To Its Sister City of Angers (France): GourmandeMom's Visitor's Guide to Angers (Part 2: food, wine, restaurants)

Welcome to Part 2 of this GourmandeMom (Beginners) Guide to Austin's sister city, Angers, France.

In Part 1, I mention one of the biggest differences between French and US eating out culture and rituals: the philosophy in France of leaving you alone to enjoy your meal and the company of your friends or colleagues.  In this Part 2 we delve into more (but still basic) details about dining and some of my favorite places to eat in Angers. Part 3 includes some practical details of dealing with le train and the SNCF web site, and highlights just a few of the best cultural sites in Angers -- just to whet your appetite for getting out of a Paris rut and checking out Angers, and Levitation of course.

Le Petit Dejeuner (breakfast)

Everyday life in France may not include much of a breakfast at all.  Yes, it is true. Les français do not have croissants or pains au chocolat every day for breakfast.   It may well be just coffee.  Or, if home, it may even be cereal, or perhaps—my favorite French breakfast: the ritual of une tartine (sliced in half chunk of baguette, butter, jelly to spread as indulgently as you wish.  And once you check this out, you will know exactly what I mean.)

Sorry, this photo not from a breakfast in Angers, but from the lovely spread at the Hotel la Perouse in Nantes.

But you, en vacances, you can indulge.  If you are going to do so, feel free to ignore the hotel breakfast and just grab a coffee and a croissant or pain au chocolat or pain au raisin at a nearby café.   I am fond of La Parenthèse, a little ways down from the Hotel Mercure next to the lovely Jardin des Plantes.   The barista there makes an exemplary café crème.

Some of the typical hot beverages at a café:

• un café crème; un café au lait  -These are basically the same thing a French friend finally told me, but I still always order the café crème. And a double, if they have it. If the café crème is not served is piping hot, I find another café for the next day.  That’s just wrong. Please do not even think about trying to get this with soy or almond milk or skim milk. Ordering this in the afternoon is a little weird, but have a try at it.

• un allongé  -  Way popular now.  This is pretty much what you want to order to get something close to what we consider “American” black coffee.  It’s like an Americano at Starbucks: a shot of espresso with additional hot water added. 

• un exprèss - If you want straight up espresso for your quick petit déjeuner, that’s fine too.  Definitely get this as a double (“un double exprès”); it is first thing in the morning after all.  If you walk into a cafe and just order "un café s'il vous plaît" - you will get an "express."  (While we're on the coffee subject, les français typically have coffee after dessert.  A little weird to have coffee with dessert, but it is done more and more.  And that is why you will see the "Café Gourmand" as a dessert offering at meals: it combines your postprandial espresso with a sampling of tiny desserts.)

• Une noisette  -  A piping hot (should be) "express" with a drop of hot milk; sometimes the hot milk is served in a tiny pitcher on the side for you to add yourself (i.e., at the Café St. Régis in Paris).  I could drink these all day long.  

But if stepping out into the day at that hour is just not your thing, enjoy the hotel breakfast.  It will probably include some cheese, meats, fruit.  Just be ready to pay more than the quick bite at the café.

The other meals of the day

Europeans eat at later times than we do. 

In France, this means that prime lunch time (le déjeuner) is 1 or 1:30 pm.  A prime time for dinner is 8 or 8:30 pm or later.  Earlier seating times are available, but typically not before 7 pm.   But this timing issue applies only for a “restaurant.”  A café or a brasserie will be open pretty much any time you are hungry, with the typical café fare (the croque monsieur, an omelet, probably a hamburger, etc.…and while we’re on the subject, you know that anything prepared “tartare” means it is not cooked., right?  This includes steak tartare.  If you’ve been hanging out at Justine’s in Austin, you know this already.  They make a good one.) 

With a French meal typically including an “entrée” (not the main dish; this is a starter (appetizer) in French dining-out terms) and a “plat” – or main dish, you will see everywhere at restaurants and cafés the option of a “la formule” or “le menu.”  It is usually a bargain: for the price indicated, you select an entrée –sometimes from a particular list – and your choice of a plat –and you get those for a certain price.  Or you can mix it up, depending on what “formules" are offered and have a plat and a dessert.  Sometimes a glass of wine might be included in the formule.  Even the local boulangerie that offers some lunch items (sandwiches usually) to go will include a "formule": sandwich, drink ("boisson") and dessert (like slice of a fruit tart); or sandwich and boisson.

Drinking

• l’eau

Yes, there is even a routine on how to get a glass of water.   After one run-through of asking for it and getting it, you’ll be a pro.   Water comes in flat (l’eau plate) and sparkling/bubbly/“gassy” (“gaseuse”).  You can of course always order a fancy bottle of water, just as in the US, such as Vittel, Badoit, or Evian—depending on what the venue offers.  But tap water is just fine—and free.  The way to get that free water is to ask for “une carafe d’eau.”  They will set a pitcher of water on the table for you.  I became hooked on this "blue" Perrier all over France now.  The bubbles are finer, not so ... bubbly.

• l’apéritif

Ah, the ritual of the “apéro”—the short, more “familiar” form of “apéritif.”  This is that magical time before that later dinner hour where friends meet up for a drink.  Sure it could be called “happy hour,” but that would be so wrong.  “Happy hours” do exist in France, but the apéritif time is the prelude time to a meal.  It embodies for more than what we think of as “happy hour.”  It can happen at a dinner party as well.  It refers not just the beverage but the ritual itself.

• Classic apéritif beverages include: the “martini” (Vermouth, not to be confused with how it sounds in English), the Negroni, the Kir (not so trendy these days for the "bobo" set, but it remains a classic: white wine and (typically) splash of cassis).  Another good option is a glass of Chablis, or just any glass of wine you feel like at that time of day.   

• le vin
  • It may help you to know that the French (generally) are very confused about wine when they come to the states.  They are (so some tell me) just as confused as the uninitiated may be when in France trying to order “a merlot” or “a cab.”   Without getting into a lecture on the nuances of the AOC system in France (the system that control, tightly, how and whether a certain wine merits the label “Bordeaux”—to indicate its provenance in Bordeaux), all you need to know is that the French are used to ordering and referring to wine by region (Bordeaux, Beaujolais, Burgundy, Chinon, Brouilly, Bourgeuil, and on and on).  In the US, we are accustomed to ordering a glass of wine by the grape—i.e., a merlot, a pinot noir, etc.   

The “ardoise” or slate chalkboard with the wine selections probably are more specific and may have several Bordeaux from which to choose.   You can always order a glass or two (my preference, to sample more local wines), but a bottle, and a half bottle are options as well.  For a house wine, you can always order – for sharing purposes – a nice little carafe, which can come as a “pichet” (a little pitcher) or “un quart” (.25 liters) or a “démi” –double that, and way too much for one person, even me.  

• la bière
  • Sure, France has beer.  Craft beer is making waves in big cities such as Paris, but it’s just not too widespread just yet.   Nevertheless, some fine French beers are going to be available.    Asking for “une pression” – a draft beer – might lead to the barkeep asking you which one.  Those choices will probably include “un Kronenbourg” or more specifically, the 1664 (“mille six cent soixante-quatre”).   If you want that beer in a bottle, that would be “en bouteille” – and many international beers may well be available, such as Heineken.  As Kronenbourg is said to have about 40% of the market, that may be all you need to know.  But for more details, check this out.  

For more details on French menu and French dining, along with pronunciation help, see my favorite French grammar site.  

•  Tipping

Whether you like it or not, no need to tip because it is already taken care of for you.  The bill (l’addition) at a restaurant, café, wine bar, or bistro will include the gratuity.  But it is customary that if you had nice service to leave a little extra change. 

GourmandeMom’s Short List for Eating (and Drinking) in Angers

As in all of France, even Paris, check the websites of these places for the latest days and times the restaurant is open.  Many are closed Sunday, Monday – and sometimes both days.

Chez Rémi (and Saignant (opening September 24, 2013))

Chef Rémi Fournier is only 33 years old and is well on his way to changing the Angers food scene—and including a little bit of Austin along the way.  Rémi made a splash in Austin with his pop-up brunches via Justine’s during the Austin-Angers Music presentation during SxSW 2013.   

Rémi has had the original location of Chez Rémi closed for renovations, but that original location, on Boulevard du Maréchal Foch, will re-open as a burger place/steakhouse (no reservations!), on September 24, 2013 -- as Rémi himself tells me. It will have out-of-the-ordinary burgers, complete with artisanal bread, a house ketchup, vegetables straight from their garden -- and some specialty-of-the-house frites.  The steakhouse part of the vibe will include such items as a black Angus bavette  and a fine entrecôte of Charolais beef--and of course a beef tartare.

The new location for Chez Rémi is 5 rue des Deux Haies.  It will no doubt have the charm of the original's consistently delicious, unpretentious market-fresh food that exemplifies Rémi’s culinary philosophy—and a fine wine selection, including of course the best of the region’s natural wines.  Check out his boudin for sure, but just keep in mind: "boudin" in the US (Louisiana) is not the same thing as this French boudin. That boudin is usually "white" boudin, with rice, pork, and vegetables (i.e., no blood).  The excellent boudin of Chef Rémi is blood sausage.

Provence Caffé

Located on the main square, the place du Ralliement, opposite the elegant Le Grand Théâtre d’Angers (built between 1867 and 1871), is an array of cafes.  Tucked away in one corner is a real gem of great eating, in a very nice but not stuffy restaurant: the Provence Caffé.

Efficient service, lovely well-prepared food -– it is a favorite for business lunches but also perfect for after-theatre dining. 

Au P’tit Resto

Just as “apéro” is the short, jargon-like term for “apéritif,” so too “resto” is the analog to “restaurant.”  Just across the Maine River is more of Angers and a whole other world to discover—in a history-rich neighborhood called La Doutre, and this is where you will find Au P’tit Resto.   

It is just steps away from the Museum of Contemporary Tapestry, on a quiet, shady boulevard close to the Maine.   

Un Brin Folk

Check the times carefully to make sure you catch a prime seat in a cozy settee in the corner to kick back with a beer or wine and listen to some music. 

This very informal but well-done “living room” type décor may be described to you as a café like the coffee shop in Friends.  Well, no, it is much cooler as it is more up to date in terms of what passes for hipster eclectic urban space these days.  Check for hours (as with all these places).  

Le Cercle Rouge

The natural wine selection is great, and the gruff guy behind the bar pretty much incomprehensible sometimes with his French, but there may be no better ambience -- though not necessarily quiet—for kicking back for a glass of wine and Spanish jamón.  As Le Fooding describes it:  "Bedecked with wood, old rocks and beams, this red den opens when the town sleeps. Out comes the wine, pata negra, potted meats…in a spot soaked with atmosphere."

Le Favre d’Anne

If I had a country manor in France, this is the décor I want.  Eclectically sophisticated, casually elegant but warm, with a light-hearted, even fun, aesthetic—this describes the setting for le Favre d'Anne in a 19th-century mansion.  This is a Michelin-starred restaurant, but do not let that scare you away. 

Dessert course

Window seat at le Favre d'Anne 

It is not stuffy at all despite the exquisite and beautifully presented food.  Pricey – but worth the splurge, especially to pretend for an hour and a half or so that you are living in your chic country manor, with attentive warm service.  The wine "list" is a hefty book.  (Note: at fine French restaurants, lunch is always a more economical option -- and easier to get a reservation, which is generally a must for lunch or dinner.)

Le Bistrot des Deux A

Just off the main square, on a side street and right close to the Provence Caffé, is “les Deux A."

The two initials “A” represent the first letter of the owners’ first names: Alain and Alexandra.  A warm, welcoming service; good wine selection from very knowledgeable helpful staff.  Food offerings are on the very average side and simple: tartines, which are open-faced sandwiches of many different toppings.  Let the friendly staff guide you into enjoying some glasses of wines from the region: they know their stuff.  You may order, with their help, not just any wine from nearby Saumur (always a great choice for a regional wine), but they may guide you to, say, this particular wine they just tasted the other day with the producer who stopped by to chat.  That kind of thing. 

Osé

Lunch in a medieval part of a French town should be in a light and airy venue – part tea salon, part unpretentious restaurant, with large windows onto a quiet street near a museum with old stone walls (the Musée des Beaux-Arts) – and carefully yet nonchalantly displayed wares by local artisans for purchase.  There is just such a place in Angers:  recently opened (December 2012) Osé.  Owner Catherine Pasquet with her architect team created a space for local and organic offerings in a soft grey and cream space infused with natural light.   All the better to show off those ceramics by local artists.

Mets et Vins Plaisirs

The fact that well-known and respected Jean-Michel Monnier selected this venue for a lunch gathering—after I attended one of his intense-wine tasting classes at the Université d’Angers sommelier program—speaks volumes.   Inside, the walls are stone—slate of course: this is the land of the ardoise after all.   Another set of walls, in the foyer, are lined with hundreds of bottles of wine it seems.   An elegant, not stuffy setting for very reasonably priced fine food.  A lunch time formule is typically 16,5 euros (the French use that comma where we would expect to see a decimal point).  With all this wine expertise and wine emphasis, it is worth asking for some guidance for a nice wine to accompany that formule if a glass of wine is not included. 

Remember: When in Angers, or anywhere nearby, drink local (wines)! 

French Food Rituals and Etiquette Dining Out (in general and in Paris) (le 6 Paul Bert delivers; Day 8, Trip No. 18)

A well known tip for eating very well in Paris, at the cool raved-about places, is to check out those places at the lunch hour.  This does not mean that you do not have to reserve.  You do.  It just means (1) you have a really good chance of actually getting in; and (2) it will be less expensive than the evening menu.

And so it was that I opted for le 6 Paul Bert with foodie/wine guru lawyer friend Brendan.   We had the optimal reservation time of 13h00.  Noon or even noon-thirty is too early for the French appetite.  I arrived just in time after a 20-minute walk from my dodgier part of the 11eme to this lovely little corner of the 11eme where two "Paul Bert" restaurants are located on the rue Paul Bert.   One, the Bistrot Paul Bert I thought would be just too too much for lunch.   I picked the 6 Paul Bert, which all my favorite respected Paris food bloggers were really gaga over.

I walk by the Bistrot Paul Bert.  It is indeed charming.  I keep walking a little further along rue Paul Bert to get to the number 6 address, which is where the little restaurant called le 6 Paul Bert is located. 

After dallying in the small foyer to the restaurant, surrounded by little wood shelves and cubbies of food stuffs like a very well-stocked high-end epicerie, I was led to my table.  As I was led there, I swooned and gasped silently to myself. It is so lovely in a cool way.  Soft gray-washed vertical wood panels, like an old shabby chic beach house.  Contrasted against modern bright red tables.  It is cute yet sleek in a warm, well-done, modern way.

I get a table next to the sort of open kitchen.  It is sort of open in that all the diners can see, if they even glance over there, is the very thoughtful plating being done on the counter.  

1:10 comes and goes. 1:15 comes and goes.  I'm still sitting there alone, waiting for Brendan.  I get an email from him asking me to remind him of the address - he got hung up on a conference call (he's a lawyer remember).  1:20 comes.  I order a glass of wine.  I am also given to go alongside the glass of wine a saucer of thinly sliced charcuterie.

1:30 comes and goes.  The restaurant is packed now.  I'm still hanging out alone, checking the email on Brendan's status.   He is in taxi, he emails me.  Traffic is terrible.  I should have another glass of wine, he says.  Lunch is on him he says; he feels terrible as I should be eating by now.   Glass No. 2 of wine arrives.  With more charcuterie.   He says 10-15 minutes.

1:45 arrives.   Now the server is really looking at me funny.  I tell her: "Really, he really is coming. He's a lawyer.  He's late."   She looks at the clock.  She tells me: "Ok, 10 minutes is ok.  The kitchen closes at 2pm.  But 10 minutes is ok."  

As 1:50 comes around, still no Brendan, I start to panic. I cannot miss this meal.  

I ask the server, out of desperation, knowing what I am about to ask will seem weird: "Well, I am really hungry.  May I go ahead and order the gazpacho as the starter, and then we can put orders in now for the plats, even though he is not here yet, but he should be there by the time those come out?"

This requires a conference with the kitchen on this unconventional interference with the proper timing and plating and serving of this fine food. 

They agree I can at least get the gazpacho order in.  

Just then, Brendan rushes in.  Sweaty and breathless.  I tell the server:  "I know you were thinking I just had an imaginary friend.  But here is.  He really exists.  Let's order!"

We both get gazpacho and the brandade de morue (a brandade of cod, which says absolutely nothing to reflect how exquisite and tasty this mix of perfectly flavored textures of grilled bread and spring array of vegetables was alongside the brandade).

Brendan does not like the wine I am having and selects something else for himself. Things starts to calm down (i.e., me).   The gazpacho arrives.  It is a gazpacho of cucumber and coriander, and it is beautiful.

Next is the brandade de morue.  In cleaning my plate, I leave not a single morsel on the plate.  

Another server/helper comes by, again, and this time scoffs with frustration  and mutters something under her breath.  Well, not so under the breath.  She was visibly, and audibly, annoyed.  With me.

She was selectively enforcing a rule that is not always enforced in my experience.  I had not done the special signal with the cutlery to indicate I was done.  It is not just a Paris thing, but an international sign of good manners to indicate you are done with the course.  In my heathen laidback food world, this rule is not enforced all that much.  I am duly chastened.  Now I know.  And so do you, in case you did not.

Put the knife and fork at 4:00.

Technically, the knife should be with blade turned inward.  My bad.  Again.  And, to reiterate, it is not just a Paris thing.  It is an etiquette thing more studied research shows.  

None of the table manners reprimand prevented me from enjoying dessert. Grapefruit, creamy milk sorbet, and chocolate crunchy cookies covered in a chocolate ganache.  

We ended up being there so late and so long that there was not a single other person left by the time we finished.

We were there so late the pork delivery came in for artisanal butchering for the evening service.

Brendan did pay for lunch.  

I would go back in a heartbeat.  Casual yet fantastic fresh, pretty, inventive food, in spirit and taste. And I will bring my best table manners when I go back as well.  And maybe get an earlier uncool reservation time.  Like 12h30.  

More Refined Palate Gets Picky About Dining Out in France--but I probably need to stop helping all the Americans in Paris who are eating badly (Le Relais Gascon; Montmartre)

Last night while "dining" out in Paris (loose term; so not good--it was just consumption of food for energy...but I knew what I was in for), I realized not everyone cares that they are eating badly in Paris.  

I also get now why my French friends seem so, at first glance, or a first interaction over food, "critical."  Critical here mean discerning, analytical.  A huge cultural difference between "the French" and "Americans" is how we deal with analytical methodologies.  In France (generally), it is appropriate and expected and part of the cultural fabric to opine on the cheese, the bread, the meat - and call it bad when it is bad.  Or simply offer a suggestion that perhaps it is a little too ripe, or not ripe enough, or a little overdone on the baguette.  Etc.

We in the US tend to be, generally, more polite.  We agree sometimes for the sake of polite conversation.  Sometimes.   But now I get it on the food part.  Once you have been immersed -- and I feel that way going into week 3 -- into eating a different way, in a region (Loire Valley) overflowing with exquisite local, local produce and wines, you start to discern fine differences.  Differences between this wine and that wine; differences between this wine with that fish, and that wine with this charcuterie, etc.  And of course the astounding differences between good bread and bad, factory-produced bread.

 Terrace at current favorite restaurant...outside of Paris: le Favre d''Anne.  Rainy noon time so could not dine outside.

I know this is because of such meals at Le Favre d'Anne in Angers, beautiful sparkling wine appreciation time at Bouvet Ladubay, and surprisingly great service and food at the Provence Caffe in Angers after the theatre.   Last night I realized I finally understood what the foodie French call "industrial" cuisine.  

I did not get into the nearby really good restaurant, MIroir, for dinner here in Montmartre (the no reservation thing).   I knew it was a longshot. I went early and tried to use the "une personne, toute seule" (this really is what they ask me; it is translated literally as "just you, all alone?"), as a selling point.  No go.  Off I went to select a random place on the Rue des Abbesses.

I like to think of myself as the French culture wiki for foreigners.  I hope to be a good ambassador for Texas and the US in being a good tourist in France -- even in hard-to-please  Paris -- and I hope to help make France -- even Paris -- more approachable, manageable, and enjoyable for the uninitiated.

And at this time of year in Paris, there are many uninitiated.   

The Saturday flea market "brocantes" in the Place des Abbesses.  Photogenic wares.

I randomly selected for dinner Le Relais Gascon.  It had a cute, lively outdoor terrace area.  All I wanted was something in the red meat category to keep up the iron and protein intake. 

On my left, I see a woman having French Onion Soup for a starter.  That's never a good idea.   It is way too heavy to include over there in the "entrée" column. It makes sense though when I figure out she and her hubby are American.  And next to them, another couple, super happy, without a word of French, using all sorts of US colloquialisms that I know have to be impossible to understand for the server.

My food arrives. It is industrial cuisine.  I expected this.  Nothing special.  Just meat, some type of reconstituted sauce, and some onions thrown in for good measure.  I am not outraged.  I am just glad for tasty enough red meat and vegetables.

I look over, and the woman who started with the French Onion Soup is having served to her one of the enormous salads that I have seen coming out of the kitchen to many people.  The whole top layer of it is covered in thinly sliced (yummy-looking) sautéed potatoes.   I then later hear the woman on the left starting to discuss with her husband her choice for the French Onion Soup before the big salad.  

I just have to intervene in their conversation now. I am really concerned about the quality of their food experience in France and their impression of "French food."  I do not want them going home to the US thinking this meal was an example of French cuisine.  There is good cause for this concern because the hubby was having a "cassoulet" that did not even have a crusty top layer on it.  It was all soupy with some sausage floating around (I was looking on in horror). This is so wrong.

I tell them, once I apologize for butting in, as I could not help overhearing the conversation: "You realize, right, that this is not good French food?  I mean, places like Miroir over on the nearby street, that's the good stuff.  You generally need a reservation."   And yes, typically with a big main dish salad like that, it's too much if you are having onion soup as a starter. Usually not done that way."

Oh, he says, "What I had was good: I had the cassoulet."   [I figure out quickly that I need to cool it and not say, uh, yea, I saw that nasty thing you were eating and let me tell you, that was not cassoulet.]   

Ok well, ok, as long as you are having a good time, I say.  We talk some about what they have seen and done.

Realizing they don't know what a cassoulet is, and do not realize or seem to care that they are having bad food, but are having a good time in Paris nonetheless, I am relieved. But I am alarmed because I am a little shocked that people come to Paris not really caring or thinking about the food.   

The sweet little Place Charles Dullin, Montmartre, with its theatre, just across the street from my building.

Their meal ends.  I watch as they try to settle up the bill without a word of French.   They are told no credit cards.   But how can this be. Surely the server is being really awful and giving them a hard time for the no-French thing.

But no.  The French woman on my right also gets the same rejection when she hands the server her VISA ("carte bleue" here).  She is stunned, rightfully so, and indignant when they say no credit cards.  She wonders where on earth they have this displayed to show their customers.  The server points to a tiny chalkboard sign behind the bar and some writing at the very bottom of the plastic menu. I am indignant as well.  This seems sketchy this cash only thing.  I chime in on this conversation as well.  

To make a point, I pay my bill mostly in change.  Good chance to get rid of most of those annoying centimes.  

The American using the colloquialisms says to the owner, when that couple learns this same information: "That's bullshit."  Very not effective to use American comebacks when you are in a foreign country. 

I have a nice conversation with the French woman.  I ask her where she is from (i.e., which part of Paris; whether she is from the quartier).  She is from the 15eme. She came over to this part of town to get some fabric.  

So you may want to avoid Le Relais Gascon if you are running low on cash.   Go hang out at Le Sancerre (not as "funky" as it used to be....but very "bobo" as they say: see here, e.g., or Le Vrai Paris.  (They take credit cards, surely.)  And I will try not to eavesdrop on your conversation and correct your dining experience.

 Apero time over at Le Sancerre, with good vantage point at the bar; no room on the terrace outside.

 

 

 

 

The Paris Tourist's Dilemma: Sundays, Mondays, and Restaurant Reservations (CheZaline, 11th; Day 5, Trip No. 18)

Paris can be tricky for food adventures because of the need to make reservations at most really good restaurants (keeping in mind "restaurant" does not include wine bars (many of which are fantastic eating options) or the omnipresent cafe). 

If you are serious about your food experiences in Paris, and you have been studying the blogs because of this interest, you need to just get over it and deal with the fact you have to make a reservation and plan your day accordingly.  Or just take your chances.  (As Wendy Lyn of the Paris Kitchen reports, some places are so difficult to get into they are not even answering the phone anymore to take your reservation---we're talking like 300 calls a day.)

[One reader of a certain blog complained on line about this practice in Paris.  She complained about how can she possibly know what she will be doing and when on a certain day to make a reservation in advance.  Another reader responded:  "When in Rome...when in Paris..."  Well said.]  

Take this reservation issue, and combine it with many cool places being closed on Sundays and/or Mondays in Paris, and you need to have a Venn diagram drawn up to figure out what to do and where to go and how to get a decent meal. 

Paris by Mouth, my go-to guide for where to eat in Paris depending on where I am on a particular day (it includes a nifty list of their favorites in each arrondissement), is indispensable if it is Sunday or Monday.   I look for where I am, or want to be, and check out what my limited range of choices is for that day.

And so it was on Monday, June 17, I found myself late, again, getting out of the apartment.  Emails took some time; the coffee ritual took some time; shopping down the street took some time.   Thus, I was still there in my eclectic hood that is the 11eme at the lunch hour.   The super hip elite spots of the 11eme were out of the question because of the day and the reservation thing (Bistrot Paul Bert, le 6 Paul Bert, Septime).

As I consider Le Verre Volé, over near Republique/Canal St. Martin, I realize I did not care to walk over there, and I recall they might require a reservation (that darn reservation thing again), even though they are "just" a (great) wine bar.  

I notice a never-before-read-about place on the Paris by Mouth list for the 11eme: CheZaline.  Sandwich place, unique, casual, the write-up reads: but what sold me was that (1) it was owned by a woman who was previously at the well-loved Le Verre Volé and (ii) it was about 45 seconds from where I was sitting in my apartment. Done.

When I arrive, nobody is there pretty much. Noon is rather early for the French lunch schedule.

This is no ordinary sandwich place I notice straight away.  

The case is full of abundantly fresh items -- evident from the fresh herbs overflowing out of practically every item in the case.  There are two very young, darling, quick-moving, efficient women running the show in this tiny place.  I am transfixed by the sandwich one of the women is making.  She makes a second one.  Hoping I can frame my question without drooling, because I was starting to salivate just looking at the sandwich prep, I ask her which sandwich it is that she is making.  She tells me, and I say when she has a moment, that is exactly what I would have as well.   It is escalope de veau - or breaded crispy veal scallopini - but this translation does not come close to describing how mesmerizing this sandwich is:  it just looked pretty.  Exemplary bread, fresh green lettuce and herb salad....

Did I mention the Paris by Mouth guide also touts the place for its simple, yet lovely and small selection of natural wines.  Another plus. And the New York Times reported on this little sandwich place's opening in glowing terms, as many other French foodie writers have as well, confirming just how lucky I feel to be living right around the corner from this place.  I love how the Paris food resource, Le Fooding, reports as a "plus" for this place the fact it is open on Mondays.  The Monday thing is an issue for Parisians as well.

Things I love about this place immediately:  sit at the counter inside, serve-yourself water from a pitcher that looks like an awesome vintage Saturday morning garage sale find, and a stack of clean shiny glasses for the water.  

But this sandwich.  One Paris write-up in Le Figaro of the place and what Delphine Zampetti, its owner, has done within the tiny confines of what used to be a small butcher shop, calls her sandwiches: "des sandwichs d’une nouvelle génération."   A whole new generation of sandwiches/sandwiches for a new generation. Indeed.

Bread is the ideal, for me, of a great baguette: crusty, chewy, richly colored baguette tradition on the outside, super crispy, yet thin crust.  The insides are perfect for absorbing the garlic and olive oil stuffs that are part of the mix of what makes this sandwich great.

The meat is an escalope de veau, as mentioned, but the secret "sauce" here is a mystery mix of tabbouleh, fresh herbs, garlic (lots), and finely, finely chopped hard-boiled egg.

I am not alone in my praise of this sandwich. In this blog by Rachel Khoo, she says this is the best sandwich she has had in a long time in Paris. 

As I sit at my prime seat at the counter (there are only 4 bar stools - get there early at an uncool hour as I did to get 1 of them), I watch the line form out the door around the outdoor tables.  Obviously the place is a huge hit.

Next time you are annoyed in Paris by the Sunday/Monday/reservation dilemma, consider it a challenge to think more creatively about where to eat.  

You may end up having the best sandwich you have ever had.

Parisians Cooking For You In Paris - In Their Homes: Paris Startup "Cookening" (Day No. 4, Trip No. 18)

Imagine the Airbnb platform.  Imagine if Airbnb were applied to the dinner party concept.  For those of you who don't know or don't do Airbnb (and frankly I'm not all that keen on it; have never figured out how to work it), this is Greek to you.  But this new non-restaurant dining-out concept in Paris can still work for you.   If you are a certain kind of world traveler, as in an interested-in-the-world-and-people traveler, then Cedric Giorgi's Paris-based food startup Cookening may be just the thing for you.  A friend and I checked it out this past Sunday night.  And it just so happened that the BBC was doing a piece that night for a technology show -- and filming us at a Cookening dinner -- about the "cookening" concept.  

(Paris, late June 2013)

Cookening, which just launched four weeks ago, is the brainchild of Cedric (and his co-founders).  The company, whose name connotes "cook" and "cooking" and "evening," has created a platform for travelers to enjoy a home-cooked meal, in a Parisian person or couple's home, with other guests from other countries.  Part of the magic here is the multi-cultural interchange and dialogue that occurs over dinner, including lessons about French gastronomy and the traditions that infuse everyday eating in France.  But of course a common language is necessary, or none of that can happen very well.  As our BBC friends did not speak French, English was spoken at our dinner.

Signing up for the dinner is easy.    

1.  Go to the Cookening.com web site.

2.  Note the countries and cities in which you may find a host at whose house you may dine.   There are possibilities in Spain, the Netherlands, and Italy.  Paris is the only city I am familiar with for this procedure, so I will refer only to how this works for Paris. 

3.  Once you pick the city, then you get to see the selection of various hosts.   There are profiles.  This is part of the "sharing economy" after all, where trust is important (as in the Airbnb culture), so it is important for folks to feel comfortable about where they will be eating and with whom.  There also are costs for certain types of meals at certain hosts' houses listed.  The hosts decide what type of meal they want to prepare, and then price it accordingly.  I knew I wanted to try out Cookening.com with Cedric and his adorable wife Jennifer, so I did not shop around at all on price.  The price for a dinner with him was 36 euros, total, per person (including the 6 euros per person administrative fee).  

There are other types of dining options, including brunch, a "tea time," or a simple "apero" (apertif time), with the simpler formats (such as tea time) available for a lower range of prices.

4.  Pick a few potential dates that work for you from the ones the host has indicated as available. 

5.  Wait to hear from the host and whether he/she "accepts" the invitation.  It is not a done deal for dinner until the host accepts.

6.  Once the host accepts, the payment logistic become relevant.  I was able to pay with a credit card, not just PayPal.  

7.    Contact information for the host will be given upon payment.   No binding agreement is reached, however, until you read the fine print and agree to the terms and conditions, of which there are many--not surprising, and for good reasons.  

Now the really good part:  the meal.  Dinner hour in France is more like 8 p.m., and believe me, when in France this seems very ordinary, and on the early side actually for restaurant dining. 

We began with an aperitif, a lovely tradition in the French culture of a before-dinner drink and some small tasty items.   It is culturally ingrained in the French that you do not drink without something to eat.  

Cedric and Jennifer had selected a Loire Valley sparkling wine, of Domaine de Portaille, which allowed for conversation about sparkling wines in various countries, this particular wine, and the beauty of the Loire Valley region. 

(Host and Cookening.com co-founder Cedric Giorgi...regaling us with a story about the meal preparation as we are about done with aperitif time)

Cedric had the menu written on a chalkboard and brought it out, post aperitif, to give us some history and context for the dishes.

The first course was lovely, light, elegant - yet rich.  A bavarois of salmon and asparagus.  The bavarois refers technically to the creamy fluffy interior, but there was a very fresh piece of thinly sliced but still substantial salmon molded over it to form a classic and very "French-looking" presentation.  Tasting proved it divine: rich and creamy, yet light and fresh at the same time. 

One of my very favorite French foods made it to the menu: confit de canard, or duck confit.  (There is an option on the site to select the foods you like and to indicate any food dislikes or food allergies.  I mentioned I liked foie gras and confit de canard.)

Cedric makes a beautiful presentation of of the confit and the accompanying potatoes, on this platter that we learn he and Jennifer purchased during a trip to Morocco.

More conversation ensues.  Including about the red wine especially selected -- whereupon we discuss the challenges to les Francais when they order wine elsewhere.  French wine is organized and named by region (Bordeaux, Beaujolais, Bourgogne).  In the US, ordering a wine requires identifying a particular grape (Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Grigio).

The topics of conversation ranged from history of food markets in London (I invited a food historian, Robyn, to check out Cookening with me) to the French attitude towards foie gras and the making of a confit.

It is appropriate that portions are moderate because a French dinner has many courses.  I could have had more of that tender, tasty, moist duck, but pacing is necessary.  I did help myself to a small second helping of steaming hot ratatouille.

Next came the cheese course.  This generated a completely new converation, including learning about what types of cheese Cedric and Jennifer like and why, and how they selected the cheese for this cheese plate.  From another dinner guest we learn childhood stories about Middle Eastern food traditions and his own cheese-making experiences.

Still not done with the dinner!  There is dessert.  

Dessert is simple yet heavenly.  Strawberries.  But not just any stawberries. These are Gariguette strawberries, smaller and with intense sweet flavor.  They are prepared simply, with fresh lemon juice and mint.  The result is a tart, faintly herbal yet charmingly sweet little sauce over the berries.  (If you see these strawberries at a market in France, run, do not walk, and get some. Even if it means being a little pushy and overly assertive at the market.  They are really something special.)

Alongside the fresh Gariguette strawberries, a huge bowl piled high with freshly made madeleines.  I am reminded I should get out that madeleine bakeware at home.

More conversation, and slowly the evening winds down.  The BBC team sets up for some final scenes they need.  We start saying goodnight all around.  We all promise to catch up and follow up some other time.  And I am pretty sure we actually will.  

 

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