The old grey goose is dead...

I stand corrected. Mint and licorice are not the ingredients I dislike the most. Foie gras and duck are - hands down - the two dishes I never, ever want to see or taste again. And, trust me, I have seen them a lot the past several days. I am sure our hosts think they are being generous and providing us with an outstanding cooking and dining opportunity. But I was (literally) getting a little sick.


















They did inquire about food "issues" when we arrived and i confessed we were not meat eaters. They nodded their understanding, saying that was important since we would be eating what we cooked. That night, we were served duck for dinner. We both took one, tiny bite - followed by discreet little heaves - and left the rest. Fortunately, there were potatoes and dessert. The next day, we arrived at class to find the starter we were preparing was foie gras (the liver of a goose, fattened specifically for the purpose of consuming the liver) that was cigar-rolled in - what else - duck breast. Okay. I do think I should win an award of some type for the most creative cutting of duck breast to hide the fact that it has not been eaten..at all. The following day, duck and foie gras were served again. I feel horrible about it. I know they consider this a delicacy and an extravagant meal and we are really not weird Americans with neurotic eating habits or an uneducated palate. But it was time to be more direct. If for no other reason, to avoid wasting food. (that, and we had run out of creative cutting techniques and our fellow hotel guests from the Netherlands had stopped bringing their dog to dinner with them. Mademoiselle Fifi, as Susan and I refer to her, seems to eat everything dropped on the dining patio.). As it turns out, the chef had finally caught on himself and fish and vegetables became the focus during cooking classes and dining options. Just to be clear, duck is seen frequently at Le Cordon Bleu...and you do take what you cook home with you after class. But you can give it away to a meat-eating classmate and stop at the local cafe for a dinner of your choosing. Here, what you cook is what you eat -- or you don't eat.









The lesson learned: the French clearly put a different emphasis on animals than Americans...or maybe it is just Susan and me? While I definitely would agree that extravagant birthday parties for pets are a little over the top and privately laugh when I see dogs in elaborate sweaters and outfits, I have a real attachment to my dog. One of the reasons I became a vegetarian at age 28 was a concern for animals. Over the past several years, I have added chicken to my diet, but fruits and veggies are my preference. The French, on the other hand, seem to consider most animals a potential meal and each sighting of a bird, horse, or other furry friend prompts a story of how that animal is best cooked. It can be a wee bit disturbing. As Susan put it, "the whole fatten up the goose, just to kill it and eat it, is a little Hansel & Gretel-ish for me".


















Duck/goose issues aside, I have cooked and eaten some great food this week. One standout, papeton d'aubergine, a dish made with roasted eggplant, olive oil, garlic, and cream and served with a tomato and pistou sauce. Wonderful! My favorite culinary experience in Provence: learning to make macaroons. Ours were not quite as pretty to look at as those at Laduree, but they tasted almost as good. Best dining experience was outdoord at a small, family-owned restaurant in a setting at the base of one of the Alpilles mountains, surrounded by olive trees and lavender. I had a delicious fresh fish, daurade, cooked with herb d'provence, fresh veggies, perfectly turned, and a dessert of dense chocolate, presented with berries and cream.



















We are on the TGV headed back to Paris after an enjoyable stay in Provence. The cooking classes were not quite as organized or intense as I had expected. But I came away with more experience. The staff at Domaine De Valmouriane is the best and were our favorite part of this part of the trip. They treat guests the way any business owner hopes his or her staff will treat customers. They make you feel you are their only guest and seem to take a personal interest in assuring you are enjoying yourself. If you ever find yourself headed to St. Remy, it is worth your time to stay there.

Real men wear lavender...

Whew! We started our day at 9am with a short drive to reach the market in l'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. The village is best known for it's maze of canals, earning it the nickname "Venice of Provence". It is also regarded as the best place in southern France to shop for antiques. Philipe tells us he once ran into the actor, John Malkovich, and has also seen the director, Ridley Scott, shopping for antiques for his home here. I am not certain, but it did not seem Philipe was particularly happy to have Ridley as a neighbor. (Something about Mr. Scott's constant objections to the roosters crowing each morning?). They do have an amazing assortment of antiques with some wonderful old iron pieces, long ceramic tile tables I would love to have, and great cabinets and linens. Believe or not, most of these items were not priced in the "tourist price range", but were quite reasonably priced.


















I'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is quaint and friendly and how I imagined a small town in Provence might look. Narrow, cobbled streets, foot bridges, cafes, and flowers amid terra cotta buildings with sun-washed shutters. The number of options made it a little overwhelming with vendors selling fruits and vegetables, meat and fish, olives, spices, cheese, bread of all kinds, as well as clothes, flowers, and linens. I could have spent two days just walking among the carts and trays. But Philipe had us on a bit of a schedule, so we did not pause long at any one vendor. I did manage to buy a few small pastries and a cotton sundress. I feel compelled to explain this purchase. I did not go to market this morning on a mission to buy clothes and, considering my suitcase (a superb purchase on my part) is bursting at the seams and zipper already, I should have walked away. Unfortunately, most of the pieces I brought along for the trip were based on requirements for cooking at Le Cordon Bleu (long sleeves and closed-toe shoes). It was also around 65 degrees in Paris, while I now find myself in 105 degrees. I left for market this morning in a long-sleeved denim shirt.). Thus, the cotton sundress. Philipe, on the other hand, was on a mission. During the drive, he kept mentioning it was time for a summer purchase. His son, Max, was along again and agreed they had something important to buy.









One of the things you have to love about French men is their lack of self-consciousness about showing affection toward other men, sitting side-by-side with another man, wearing certain colors, etc. The cart Philipe and Max were determined to locate was the shoe vendor where an assortment of espadrilles were being offered. Espadrilles are normally casual flat, but sometimes high-heeled, shoes originating from the Pyrenees. They usually have a canvas or cotton fabric upper and a flexible sole made of rope or rubber molded to look like rope. In the US, espadrilles are typically worn by women. If a man WERE to wear them, it would likely be in a shade like black or brown. While Susan and I were checking out the bread, the guys went to make their purchases. I had to smile when they returned, happy as could be, with Max wearing espadrilles in pastel stripes and Philipe in bright lavender.


















During our post-dinner briefing last night with Marianne, I must have missed something in the details about our plans for today. I thought we were going to market only, with the goal of purchasing produce and protein for our cooking class this afternoon. Au contraire. A big day was planned with a side trip to one of the family's favorite places, Fontaine-de-Vaucluse. I am certainly not complaining. It was beautiful!! Situated around a spring a valley at the base of the mountains, there are wonderful water falls and majestic mountains and cliffs. Visitors can hike up the mountain to the source of the spring. The water is completely uncontaminated in this area and crystal clear. The foliage is breathtaking during the ascent to the top of the mountain. I only have one, tiny complaint. In an ideal world, I would not have been making the climb in a pair of Cole Haan sandals. Evidently, "Voulez-vous de gravir une montagne?" does not translate to, "Do you want to go to the market?", which I should have known. Market = du marche. du montagne = mountain. Regardless of the slight shoe inconvenience - and kudos to Cole Haan sandals, by the way - this is an idyllic location with a view that must be seen.









I cannot get enough of the bread in France. But then, carbohydrates have always been my closest friend. The two types offered at Domaine de Valmouriane are a wonderful round, yeast-based roll that looks a little like a drop biscuit and a sliced brown bread with delicious seeds/grains. I hope the French will forgive me for this comparison, but it looks a bit like the bread at Outback (the color from the use of molasses) but it is served sliced and not by the loaf. Dinner tonight was duck, so let's just say Susan and I were both very, very happy to have the bread!!

From Paris to Provence

The cooking continues, the food continues, and the view just gets better and better.

As much as I love the farmer's market in Carrboro, it cannot compare to the numerous outdoor markets in France. The variety and amount of produce, meat, fish, and flowers is just staggering. In France, meat of any variety is presented in, shall we say, the natural form -- not butchered and cut into pieces as we are used to seeing it in a supermarket in the US. Rabbit is sold totally intact, fur still on, head on, etc. As our instructor pointed out, this is to ensure the buyer he - or she - is getting what they asked for for and paid for. In the case of the rabbit, the consumer can relax knowing he is actually getting a rabbit...and not, as chef explained, a cat. If the visual weren't disturbing enough for this animal lover, the rationale was the clincher. Does one actually NEED to be assured one is not purchasing cat?? Has someone actually made a purchase of "rabbit" at the market to discover it was, in fact, cat? (un chat in French). I decided it was best not to inquire about what other mistakes one could make purchasing meat at the market. The biggest concern I have shopping at the Carrboro Farmer's Market is whether the mini muffins will be gone before I get there.



We took the TGV train from Paris to Avignon, in Provence, yesterday afternoon. Although I need medication (right now) just thinking about my flight back to the US, for some reason I was not disturbed to find you can walk into the train station in Paris 15 minutes prior to departure and hop on board - with all sorts of luggage and packages - without benefit of passing through any type of screening or security. I am sure that should be very, very frightening on many levels. But it was such a great experience, it seemed easy not to think about that little detail. Modern, clean, friendly, well-organized. The couple traveling across from us was from Paris, traveling to their weekend/summer home in Provence (yes, I was slightly jealous). They were kind enough to assist when I ran into a rough patch translating what the conductor was trying to tell me when she came around to punch tickets. (The Rosetta Stone program did not adequately cover train terminology, obviously.) They were also wise enough to bring food from a gourmet market in Paris for the train trip. When they realized Susan and I were splitting a bottle of water and sandwich au poulet et aux legumes (chicken and vegetable sandwich) - purchased in the train station - they offered us one of their beautiful salad nicoise and some of their eclairs. Just so we didn't seem totally without provisions, Susan and I broke into our box of Laduree macaroons as an offering.



Avignon was not my cup of tea. I am sure I will hear from some of you who disagree, but it was a little "creepy" as Susan put it. The meal we had was expensive and bad and not really what I would call French cuisine. The bread was even bad, for goodness sake! Aside from a few historical structures, it seemed totally over run with tourists. Actually, I am not sure I would describe them as tourists so much as, perhaps, loiterers? It is hard to describe. But I am hopeful that our hosts will take us back before we depart to show us a side of Avignon we may have missed.



Philipe and his 9-year old son, Maximus, picked us up at the hotel this morning and transported us to Domaine Valmouriane in St. Remy de Provence. St. Remy is about 12 miles south of Avignon and the Alpilles Mountains run just to the north. It is the birthplace of Nastradamus and is where Van Gogh lived when he painted his famous "The Starry Night". It is a beautiful area with a warmer climate than Paris. Although the temperature is probably more than 80 degrees today, it feels cooler due to the mistral, a cool, dry regional wind in France that blows from the north or northwest and accelerates as it pass through the valleys of the Rhone and Durance rivers to the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. Nice in the summer, but it can mean quite cold temperatures when it passes through in winter. Philipe's wife, Marianne, is great and they have been wonderful hosts so far. Our "light" lunch of melons, vegetables, and homemade sorbets (apricot, cocoa, and raspberry) was one of the best meals yet. All of the produce is local and the olive oil was produced just down the road. Everything is organic and very fresh.






We just returned from dinner and, my goodness, the food is exceptional. The cuisine of Provence differs somewhat from what one finds in Paris where meals are prepared with emphasis on cream and butter. The cuisine of Provence has a Mediterranean influence and is much like what you find in Italy where olive oil is used far more than butter and a lot of vegetables are used. Fresh fish is also a common protein in main course dishes. Our meal opened this evening with an eggplant "caviar" with tomato coulis on top, served in a shot glass-sized container. Our appetizer was the best dish I have had since I arrived; shrimp, lobster, and white asparagus pieces in a light tomato-fumet sauce inside a puff pastry shell. I have photos of this one! Our entree was grilled sea bream on a potato "hash" with a small portion of carrot puree and diced eggplant. THEN...a cheese course where three small servings of cheese were presented - all local. Dessert was a licorice semifreddo with a mint syrup, all on a delicate coconut-shortbread biscuit. Now, those of you who know me well know that there are two things I do not eat: 1) mint, and 2) licorice. THIS, however, was just exceptional and did not actually taste of LICORICE. And the mint was not peppermint, it was just a lovely, fresh, delicate mint syrup. I am sorry I cannot show photos of the entree and dessert. By the time those were served, the dining location was full of people and I had to weigh my options: take photos with an iPad and hope everyone realized I was writing a food blog (a stretch) or take photos of the food with my iPad and look like I was taking my first trip outside of Arkansas. I ordinarily do not worry too much about what others might think in these situations, but I did have Susan's feelings to consider as well.



The one cultural difference I am still struggling with here is dinner hour. As we all know, my ideal dinner time is 5:30pm but I can live with 6 or 6:30 if my dining companions prefer it...and I have been known to agree to 7pm if I am a guest in someone's home. But starting a meal at 8pm - when you know it is going to last 5 courses and 3 hours - is tough, especially on my 53-year old digestive system. In Paris, I just walk to dinner and back home with an extra mile thrown in. In Provence, it would be a dark and treacherous situation if one chose to take a walk at midnight with this hilly, rocky terrain.






I am off to market early tomorrow morning with the chef. After enjoying two of his scrumptious meals today, I am really looking forward to cooking with him and learning from him!

Chef's Secrets at Culinary Boot Camp

Most classes at Le Cordon Bleu begin with a demonstration by the Chef. After this two hour demonstration and lecture, we (the students) are expected to recreate the dish on our own. The "recipes" in the program binder consist of only the ingredient list -- no instructions. So, one should be taking thorough notes and, as you've seen, I take photos whenever possible. Something as normal for the American cook as the temperature for preheating the oven is NOT on the recipe. If you did not get it when Chef started the demonstration, then you just didn't get it. There really is a logic to this approach, I am sure. I just haven't figured it out yet.






Our dishes for class today were entree: (here, that is the appetizer) zucchini blossoms stuffed with crab meat, oven roasted tomatoes, which appear often since they make a nice garnish/presentation, and nicoise salad greens. The main course was sautéed veal medallions with mushroom, rosemary and cream sauce and potatoes with caramelized onions. I think I have mentioned, students are given whatever they cook each day (after it has been graded) to take home to eat. I was EXTREMELY thankful for that appetizer and the potatoes since I knew the veal was not going home with me. A few "secrets"/rules from Chef: 1) a perfectly cooked potato should be the same consistency as a wedge of butter just out of the fridge when you insert a knife in them. This explained a lot about why my potatoes are usually a little dry and mealy, 2) NEVER put sauce directly on meat, 3) for a perfect sauce, your roux (most sauces begin with a roux) must be cold and your liquid hot--or vice versa, 4) cut an onion thru the root (end to end) not around the middle. The root keeps the onion intact for easier slicing and dicing and there are actually less tears this way because less oils are released. Last, but not least...5) they WASH mushrooms! They just do it quickly and dry them well and contrary to my years of worry about it, did not absorb the water. This will certainly save me time since I have been gently rubbing each mushroom with a paper towel for years.

Another important thing I have learned -- I do not want to work as a demonstration assistant at Le Cordon Bleu! Class is stressful enough as it is without this thankless job. It is already a little like the military with students expected to respond to each comment with, "Oui, Chef". But the assistants, if they drop something or, heaven forbid do not understand the request spoken in French, they become the center of attention and it is not a good position to be in!



Susan and I took time today to go to tea at the famous patisserie, Laduree. What fun, how filling! We ordered what I thought were moderate dishes for lunch. (Susan had the Champs-Elysees Salad (wonderful, moist crabmeat on top of a thin pastry wafer drizzles with a balsamic reduction and served atop a mound of diced nectarines, passion fruit, and watermelon with a nectarine puree). I had the Club sandwich Laduree, which came on a brioche-type bread and had a filing of avocado, crabmeat, and sundried tomatoes...and the most amazing French fries I have ever eaten. Admittedly, I am not a fry eater. But this could convert even the most disciplined. They were square cut and HUGE and roasted/fried in such a way as to be crispy, but not at all greasy. Anyway, a moderate meal. Yet the waitress became bug-eyed when we suggested she bring an assortment of sweets, which Laduree is most famous for producing, for our dessert. "Oh no, Madam! It will be too much!". Adequately humbled, we ordered a plate of MINI macaroons in salted caramel, pistachio, rose petal, vanilla, and lemon-thyme.
















Tomorrow we are traveling by high-speed train (TGV) to the south of France to visit and take an intensive 4-day cooking course on the cuisine of Provence. France and much of Europe are far ahead of other countries with their public transportation system and the high-speed trains allow you to travel across France - or to Switzerland, Italy, or Germany - in a matter of hours. Our train is a double-decker and we are on top, so I am excited to watch several regions of France pass by. I have always wanted to go to Provence and I am anxious to see if the reality is anything at all like I have imagined.

We will lug a bag or two down our wooden, narrow, winding steps tomorrow. I adore my apartment, but the tiny wooden steps were not made for my size 9.5 (okay, size 10) feet and it is quite a balancing act each time I make the six flight trip down to the street. Susan likes to go behind me -- just in case I miss one, she does not want to become collateral damage.


I will post photos from the road! Bonne nuit de Paris. (good night from Paris)

Food...Wine...Chocolate...Expatriates. PARIS!

Folks in Paris tend to stay up late, at least in our neighborhood, especially on Saturday night. The result, Sunday mornings tend to be quiet - and this Sunday, Father's Day, was no exception. Susan and I had our restaurant of choice to ourselves for the first hour. As I wrote in my last post, Un Dimanche a Paris is a concept restaurant featuring chocolate. Each dish has cocoa used as an ingredient, even when it is done very subtly. This was brunch, so it was interesting to see how cocoa/chocolate was incorporated into breakfast dishes. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I will simply attach the photos. And I truly wish I could take credit for creating each dish as they were beautiful as well as tasty. The brunch option I had chosen was a progression of dishes chosen by the chef. I could have sworn the menu listed pastries (note PLURAL). However, when it was time for my dessert course and I was lead to the case to choose, they told me to select ONE! Horrors! So, I did what any self-respecting foodie would do...and insisted on three. My choices, a chocolate cake with hazelnut praline, a citrine (lemon) meringue tart, and a raspberry eclair with pistachio creme. We waddled home.






Oh, yes, CLASS. Yesterday was a Wine Master Class. Have I mentioned the French take their wine very, VERY seriously? One poor student made the mistake of saying he preferred Italian wine...let's just say this was "une terrible erreur". The class was several intense hours of learning each element of a French wine label, food/wine pairings, wine texture, and wine regions and appellations, which is how the French typically make wine choices rather than by the grape as most Americans do. In other words, they think of Bordeaux or Alsace, or Burgundy, which are regions of France and do not choose their wine based on whether it is a Pinot Noir or Chardonnay, etc. It was very interesting and very complicated...and we were reminded AGAIN, lest any of us might forget, IT CAN ONLY BE CALLED CHAMPAGNE IF THE GRAPES AND THE ENTIRE BOTTLING PROCESS HAIL FROM THE CHAMPAGNE REGION OF FRANCE. Otherwise, it is JUST sparkling wine.






If I had to name one thing I love most about Paris, it is the people. Not just Parisians, but the interesting, eclectic group of expatriates -- individuals from other countries who are living in Paris. Some for short stints and some for decades. Last night around 9pm, Susan remembered she had finished her book and decided we should walk to the bookstore for a new one. (it stays light outside until nearly 11pm here. And I do mean, light, like it could be 6pm light.) We set out for the ultimate in Paris expatriate experiences: the bookstore "Shakespeare & Company". Shakespeare & Co. Is an independent bookstore in the 5th arrondissement. It was originally established in the 1920's by Sylvia Beach and was considered the center of Anglo-American literary culture and modernism in Paris. Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, and F. Scott Fitzgerald all spent significant time at the bookstore, which was mentioned in Hemingway's novel, "A Moveable Feast". In modern times, as it did decades ago, the bookstore is a place where writers, students, and the random ex-pat can spend the night, volunteer to work a few days, eat a meal, etc. It makes for a very interesting mix of people. A must-see for anyone visiting Paris. So...while Susan was making her selection and I was waiting outside the store to watch the world pass by, a group of five men and women ranging in age from 45 - 80 asked if I wanted to join their conversation. (Seriously, where else does that happen?) Although I was not sure I wanted to, I could not quickly think of a graceful way to decline. So I went over. All five were Brit or American expats who've been living in Paris for 15 -20 years. One was a physicist who travels frequently to the US and China for speaking engagements. The oldest man was a writer; quite interesting and well-read. When Susan joined us with her latest purchase (ironically, an F. Scott Fitzgerald book) there was a 15-minute lively debate on Fitzgerald and William Styron, who wrote Sophie'S Choice. When I said we needed to head home, we were immediately invited to join the Sunday "soiree" they attend each week at the home of Jim Haynes; writer, producer, newspaper owner and the man who, for 30 years, has hosted a Sunday dinner in his home for 50 people, including some total strangers (as I would be). Who knows if we will go. But it is a great example of what makes Paris exciting and unique. There is really a sense of camaraderie that might surprise many. I have been to two dinners hosted by ex-pats and locals since I arrived in Paris and it has been a wonderful way to meet interesting people and to learn more about life in Paris.






Tonight was a relaxing night with a wonderful, rustic French meal - complete with chocolate souffle for dessert. Hope everyone enjoys the pictures of brunch, the bookstore, my wine class, and my dinner this evening. A nice compilation of the past few days.

There is one in every group.

As anyone who has ever taken a class or attended a professional conference as an adult knows, there is always one (or two) in the group who turn out to be, well...I'll just say it...annoying know-it-alls. Le Cordon Bleu is no different and I got lucky today when three of these "experts" (yes, they knew each other and came together) joined our class to observe a demonstration. You can probably picture them: the two men had polo shirts with popped collars, snappy slip-on loafers, finely groomed hair, Ray-Bans, and Rolex watches and the woman had her cashmere sweater draped around her shoulders just so. (If I am also describing any of you, my apologies. But these items have no place in a professional cooking class.). I am not sure why they paid money - and a lot of it - to watch the demonstration when they so clearly knew more than the Le Cordon Bleu instructors! After we finished hearing about their extensive wine cellars and a lengthy discussion on whether or not the wooden-handled knives they had purchased in the Cordon Bleu shop would match their new cherry cabinets, we had to sit through a barrage of questions that had more to do with wanting instructions for social gatherings than wanting to learn to be better cooks. I won't bore you with anymore details since I am sure it was one of those, "you had to be there" situations. But to quote my 21-year old classmate, "Thank goodness they are not here every day!".

Odd, but entertaining visitors aside, classes today were the best yet. My favorite chef/instructor (Chef Franck) taught and he does a wonderful job watching, correcting, praising, and teaching. Dishes today were a dandelion leaf salad with bacon and warm soft-boiled egg, pan-fried sea bass filet on a carrot puree with cumin, red wine sauce and herb salad, and lemongrass-infused milk panna cotta with red berry jelly. One of the best parts of each class is the pride (and expectation) each instructor has for plating, keeping work stations clean, and producing a great dish with amazing products. High standards - I like it! Excuse the food photos today. I forgot my iPad 2 and had to take pictures with another student's phone.

I had another one of those "learning as I go" moments today when I prepared to shave my legs with supplies purchased at the local store. What I thought was shaving cream turned out to be some sort of feminine deodorant spray. Imagine my surprise when I sprayed THAT in the middle of my morning shower! Of course, I spent the next hour embarrassed, trying to recall who'd been behind me in line at MonoPrix (the Paris version of Target) when I bought it. I know...I will never see these people again. But good grief!

Another night last night without much sleep. I knew it was too good to be true when last Friday was so quiet in the neighborhood. This weekend has been busy and the number of people on the street has increased. My apartment is located in a wonderful area full of artists and writers. The intersection down the street is where 4 streets converge to form a town square of sorts with cafes, restaurants, and clubs. There was quite a party going on last night at the intersection and it must have been a good one. I swear some of the revelers were still there when I left for class early this morning -- laughing and drinking coffee (?) on the corner. My goal is to be in bed and asleep before midnight tonight.

Another good day in Paris. I do regret I won't be home to spend Father's Day with my Dad tomorrow. In his honor, however, Susan and I are going to brunch at a place he would love. "Un Dimanche a Paris" is a chocolate concept store where EVERY dish - even the savory ones - has chocolate as an ingredient. Can't wait to share the photos.

It is nearly midnight here so it is almost Sunday. Happy Father's Day to the best Dad in the world! Wish you were here!!

Americans in Paris.

The last few days have been some of the best since I arrived in Paris; creating great dishes, learning new techniques, meeting new people, and learning more about French culture.

First, and perhaps foremost, the great dishes. Prior to landing in Paris, I believed I did not care for cheese and turned my nose up at any dish containing cheese. Until I tasted the delicate cheese wafers created by food instructor, Shelley. They are a serious cross between cracker and cookie, with a definite lean toward savory. Most of the cheese crackers I have felt obliged to try in the past have been some sort of dry, strong, American sharp cheddar sort of thing. These were moist, did not scream "cheese", and were, literally, melt-in-your-mouth wonderful. Did I mention they were served warm with tequila red pepper jelly? Made from scratch, of course. The French like to serve them as an appetizer with a drink that is half orange liqueur and half champagne.

Classes today were also exceptional. The dishes were created based on market produce and the morning was geared toward learning to choose the freshest meat, fish, and produce at one of the many wonderful markets one can enjoy every day in Paris. With our purchases, we learned to make roast monkfish with basil-infused potatoes and a creamy garlic and parsley sauce, white asparagus with mousseline sauce and salmon roe and, cold strawberry and ginger soup with yogurt sorbet. Now, speaking as a nut/chocolate dessert girl, I'll admit I was initially disappointed by our choice of desserts. But - and excuse the pun - I am eating my words. If I do say so myself, the yogurt sorbet may be the best thing I have ever eaten. And though we learned during the presentation portion of class to present the "soup" and the sorbet separately, when we enjoyed the results of our work, we served the sorbet in a bowl of the strawberry soup...a creamy island in a moat of ginger-laden strawberry puree. (A few photos are attached here and the rest are on Facebook.)

A lot was learned about Parisian/French culture the past few days. We attended a Paris Meet-up with a great group of people - an international mix of men and women who are in Paris for a variety of reasons and timeframes. Most have lived here for 15 months or longer and hail from Germany, Denmark, Canada, and the US. Most spoke French fluently, of course, and were able to share insights and information that will prove helpful to me during my stay. It was a great night with great fellowship and wonderful food.

And, finally, there were the inevitable learn-as-you go / learn from other's mistakes (if you're smart) situations.
1) If you want to make sure everyone knows you're American, be sure to wear your North Face vest around town and ask for Diet Coke every chance you get. Fortunately, I did not do either of those things.
2) White pants, colorful tops, and a Vera Bradley backpack are a neon sign saying, "I'm American". Wait, that isn't strong enough. They SHOUT "American". And, yes, I was guilty of that one...twice. Have you ever looked around a foreign city Metro train and realized - I stick out like a sore thumb? It is a humbling experience. Who knew Parisians would all be dressed in black, gray, and other neutrals?
3) Parisians do not eat before 8pm at night. So for those of us used to a Lean Cuisine around 5:30 well, we have just moved past it and walk home from dinner in an effort to at least start the digestive process before going to bed.
3) Someone needs to remind the people of Paris - or at least arrondissement 6 - that horn honking at night is illegal. Yours truly is going to get very cranky without sleep and, since I do not have air conditioning, my windows were open last night. Someone had NOT gotten the no horns memo...so now I have a fan and the windows are closed.

With the amount of food I have just finished describing, you might think dinner would be the
furthest thing from my mind. Wrong. I am off to eat again.

Bonsoir!

Golden effervescence

Though I have enjoyed the occasional glass of champagne over the years, I can't say I am an expert or a devotee. But my trip to the Champagne region yesterday was interesting indeed! These folks were SERIOUS about their bubbly.






We traveled with approximately 50 people to the region, approximately 100 miles east of Paris. I should have realized early on it was a serious journey for some as a I watched an 80 year old man from Italy battle his way past the guide and the women to be first on the bus. Interestingly, though he HAD to be first in line at every stop along the way, he was LAST to get back on the bus to come home at the end of the day - making us quite late returning to Paris.

Our tour took us to the Mumm's cellars in Reims and Moet & Chandon in Epernay. Both of these villages were lovely and every home seemed to have a well-tended, lush garden. The cobblestone streets were my favorite and I remain amazed each time I see a cathedral or monument and realize how very difficult it had to have been to create these structures stone-by-stone without benefit of modern equipment.

At both champagne houses, we were able to tour the cellars with an informative guide. The
guides explained the tedious process of taking grapes from fruit to bubbly and some of the
reasons a particular champagne is more expensive than another. Moet & Chandon creates Dom
Perignon though, not surprisingly, they did not pop open a bottle for our tasting. However,
there was an opportunity at the end of the tour to purchase a bottle (or two) ranging in price
from 350euros to 6000 euros. As you may have guessed...I passed on that generous offer. As I
mentioned earlier, my interest in champagne has been lukewarm at best and I am not embarrassed
to say it has always included asking for a sugar cube and bitters to make it a champagne
cocktail. But it was difficult not to leave impressed by this process, which is really a
combination of science and art. In many ways, the elaborate process continues to be accomplished without modern equipment and the only slap of reality came in the form of a short film they showed featuring the "face" of Moet & Chandon, Scarlett Johannsen - and her overly sexual descriptions of "golden liquid" and "effervescence".

Susan and I took a walk around Reims - away from the cafes suggested by the guide - and had lunch at a wonderful creperie where no one spoke a word of English, but the food and hospitality were amazing. The waiter was so nice and he was incredibly funny. We had savory crepes made with vegetables and cheese with soft cooked egg in the middle and ended by sharing a pear and Nutella dessert crepe. Excellent. One of the great things about France is the importance they place on food and dining. While many Americans leave thinking the waiters were rude, it is usually far from the reality. In fact, they simply believe you should not rush through a meal and leave you to enjoy your wine, main course, and dessert...as well as an espresso or two afterward.

After the ride back to Paris - and dealing with rush hour traffic thanks to the delays caused by our Italian friend - we were exhausted. Thankfully, the gelato cafe I love is just a few doors down, so We found the energy to stroll over for a cup of pistachio and noisette for our "dinner".

So far, we have met only lovely, helpful people and our neighborhood is friendly and lively with just the right amount of activity mixed with considerable ambience. The best part continues to be our wonderful balcony where we have breakfast each morning and plan to share a
bottle of wine tonight.

I am writing over lunch break today, rather than my usual midnight entry.

Je dois aller manger et en apprendre avantage. I am off to eat and learn.

Language and laundry

The next time you all see me, I will be wearing a size 0. Unfortunately, that won't be because I have lost weight. It will be due to my inability to adequately work the washer/dryer in my apartment. Actually, I may be using it correctly - but I am navigating a machine that both washes AND dries...all in one machine. You put your clothes in, choose a cycle, and a few hours later your clothes have been cleaned and dried without moving them from one machine to another. The cycles are rapide, taches dificiles, soin, sechage, froid, or rapassage facile. You can see my dilemma. I do know what those words mean. But considering what happened washing jeans on soin (care cycle),you can imagine the problem when one accidentally chooses taches dificiles (difficult stain) cycle...size six becomes size zero.

Last night we were guests in the home of a French couple and the evening was a delight! Monsieur and Madam Billy were so accueillant (hospitable) and we enjoyed experiencing France with Parisians. The conversation was good and, not surprisingly, Monsieur Billy and I had a lively discussion on the Bush administration and the Iraq war. (Yes, some of us are still having trouble moving past it.) Monsieur (Allan) is retired from a job in international finance and they have lived all over the world and have traveled extensively. We did learn Parisians are not that different from Americans, although one area stood out. They do not refer to their pets as a he or a she. They are an "it". As someone who carries a photo of her pup in her wallet and calls home just to say "hello" to her pet, you can imagine my
dismay. But it was a great evening with wonderful wine and good food and, if I do say so myself, Susan and I did an adequate job of disguising the fact that we do not eat red meat, even when a plate of veal was placed before us. (Fortunately, there had been A LOT of wine.) The best drink of the evening, however, was Kir. It is a French cocktail made with a portion of creme de cassis (black currant liqueur) and topped with white wine. I was hesitant at first, but it was delicious.



We had some down time late today and went to see the new Woody Allen movie, "Midnight in Paris". It was already pretty amazing to be watching it in Paris. But during one of the opening scenes, there is a lengthy shot of a movie theater in the St. Germaine des Pres neighborhood in Paris, and it happened to be the exact theater we were sitting in watching the movie. The audience all got a great thrill over it, Susan and I included.

It is 8:30pm here -- and it has been another great day. I am looking forward to a day off tomorrow and a side trip to the Champagne region. I have not seen that part of France, so I am eager for the ride there for a view of the countryside almost as much as the visits to the champagne cellars.

For some reason I am still unable to upload my photos to the blog, but have posted them on Facebook and hope everyone enjoys seeing a bit of our day.

Bonsoir.