French Cuisine

It has been about a month since I have arrived in Paris, and I have done little to no cooking since I have been here. Why bother when breakfast consists of a baguette, butter, fruit, and yogurt? For dinner, we either go out to eat, order pizza, or buy food that doesn't require much more than heating it up. If anything, my laziness has been continually rewarded as everything has been delicious.

But, I am finally taking the plunge, and intend to start making dinner from scratch. Since ingredients are different here, I cannot make what I would cook in California, so I have spent some time on the internet compiling recipes that a novice like myself should be able to handle, for which the blog chocolateandzucchini.com has been invaluable.

Tonight, after going out to dinner (Japanese), we will go to Monoprix and buy ingredients. Let's hope that I can convert grams to ounces and pounds successfully. I am not to worried though, so far it seems that French cooking is surprisingly simple. It is the presentation that makes the food look so complicated. Nonetheless, wish me luck!

Mille-Feuilles

The boyfriend brought me to Rue Sainte-Anne the other day for authentic Japanese food. There are multiple restaurants all grouped together, and all were packed during lunch hour. Luckily, we came right before lunch, so we were seated right away. Otherwise, we may have had quite a wait. 

We ended up at Sapporo Ramen (37, Rue Sainte-Anne 75001 Paris, France), and it was delicious. I had Miso Ramen with Katsudon, and he had Miso Ramen with Gyoza. So much food, I tried to eat it all, but it was an impossible task. Of course, the boyfriend managed just fine.

(As an interesting side note, restaurants do not offer "doggy bags" in France. You either finish it, or you don't.) 

After which, despite my tummy's misgivings, we split a Mille-Feuilles (custard, thin slices of pastry dough, and powdered sugar) at the Patisserie (I cannot find the name) across the street. I find a new favorite dessert weekly, but this one was so good it was a bonafide mouth-gasm. My boyfriend spoils me, and I love it! 

Quick Sprite

 

Quick is a fast food chain that originated in Belgium, but is now French owned. It is essentially the equivalent of a Wendy's, Burger King, or McDonald's, and is so prevalent that the boyfriend's mom was surprised to hear that we don't have the franchise in the U.S. as well. Besides having pink toilet paper in the public restroom (I know, I cannot get over colored toilet paper), there isn't anything particularly special about their products. They do not salt their fries, and they sell Fanta without bubbles. What is strange, at least from an American perspective, is how slow Quick is. Fast food restaurants in France do not have automated ordering systems. In the U.S., you order, pay, get a number, and wait for your food to be called. In France, you order, stand in front of the register, watch your cashier assemble your order on trays, and then pay. The food is pre-made by workers in the back, but the system puts a lot of stress on the cashier, and the line can get rather long. That said, Quick will always have a soft spot in my heart because they gave me the sweet elixir that is French Sprite (the BF ordered it and offered me some). It tastes nothing like American Sprite as it isn't very sweet. It leaves me breathless, thus I am to inept to put its carbonated greatness into prose. Just do yourself a favor, if you come to France, order yourself a Sprite.

The US Embassy in Paris

Today while dilly-dallying as I waited for the boyfriend to complete his visa paperwork, I decided to take a picture of the US Embassy because, as you can see, it is very pretty. I was then promptly rushed my three men in blue who were waving their hands in the air, and yelling at me, "Non, non, non." It was very alarming. I cannot remember if "le flic" (low level slang for police officer), spoke to me in English or French, but nevertheless, as he stood over me, he made it very clear that I was to delete the picture on the spot. Indeed, I had forgotten how to do so, but he waited quite patiently (laughing when I cited being American in an effort to demonstrate my innocence and U.S. of A. pride). When I showed him the next picture on my camera, some ritzy hotel next door, smiling he said, "C'est bon," and sauntered off. I decided to retreat to the nearby park to wait, so as not to arouse any more suspicion about my intentions. So, in case you were concerned, the US Embassy is very well guarded, and no pictures are allowed. Unless of course, you do a quick wikipedia search. Then you will find the photograph the heads this blog entry. But, admittedly, mine was a much closer shot, too close for comfort. 

A&F Polos

I have been seeing men's Abercrombie and Fitch shirts everywhere lately. All the shirts have the letters A&F emblazoned on the chest, and most are polos in neutral colors. Interestingly, the majority of men I have seen them on are in their mid-thirties, and tuck their shirts in. The result is very fitted and body-conscious. Furthermore, with dark rinse jeans, a belt, and loafers, surprisingly non-casual. I am generally not a fan of A&F, but dapper French men are providing a compelling argument, and I may be changing my mind.

Pizza and Paris

 

When I learned for the first time that I would be coming to Paris, I imagined romantic dinners over candlelight at bistros and creperies with my boyfriend. Pizza parlors never figured into my reveries. But they should have, because pizza is just as beloved in Paris as it is in the United States. In addition, my boyfriend loves pizza with such fanaticism that I am bereft of the skills to the express the depth of such a love.

I am fairly certain, that in a perfect world he would eat pizza every night for dinner (gnocchi for lunch). As it is,we eat pizza roughly three times a week, and I am an accomplice to my own culinary overdose.While he was writing his thesis, he deserved to eat whatever helped keep him in a positive frame of mind. Now that he has finished his thesis, it seems unfair to withhold his just desserts, pizza or otherwise.

Last night, we went to Del Arte, an Italian chain restaurant that is very popular on a Friday night. His orders show just how creative toppings are, and thus why it is easier to be a pizza addict in France. For the main course, he ordered a four cheese pie with two sunny side eggs on top. For desert, he had another pie, this one topped with warm bananas and chocolate.

Tonight, we will be ordering delivery from Speed Rabbit Pizza, which we do fairly frequently. One of the BF's friends is coming over tonight to play video games, and pizza is the perfect no-fuss, fast dinner in between Guitar Hero and Final Fantasy (or whatever they will be playing). So when in France, do as the French do, and eat pizza.

Fashionable Toilet Paper

We know that Parisians are all about fashion, fashion, fashion, but until today, I did not know how far reaching fashion can be. Hello color coordinated toilet paper! At our local grocery store, colored toilet paper abounds. There are pink, peach, black, floral, and even scented papers. I spent a considerable amount of time weighing my options. First, I rejected the scented rolls, for fear of cloying fragrances. I then began to debate the colored papers. I can foresee misplacing the black during a sleep haze at three in the morning, which should be avoided at all costs. Peach seems tacky, which is a no. And finally, given our light green bathmats, pink would be too preppy. Ultimately, we selected soft white rolls with a light blue floral pattern subtly imprinted upon the sheets. The fashion lover within is pleased, but my eco-friendly self is perplexed. Aren't dyed toilet paper rolls bad for the environment? And if so, dare I say it, should Paris be a tad less fashionable?