Girls' lunch out at L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon

I went for lunch Saturday at L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon with four of the five other girls from my class, this being the first time I've been to a real "celebrity name" place (albeit unstarred) in Paris... um, or anywhere, actually.
Ridiculous pricing aside (i.e. Astronomical for certain dishes), I had a great time. In particular, service was very very friendly and casual, and the atmosphere made us feel comfortable in being giddy and silly and take a zillion photos. I started with The Most Expensive Ravioli on Earth, otherwise known as La Langoustine en Ravioli Truffé à l'Étuvée de Chou Vert-- langoustine ravioli with foie gras & truffle sauce and braised green cabbage. It was decadent and utterly fantastic, but in my opinion still does not justify the pricetag. Other people's starters included delicious suckling pork chops (cooked sous vide then seared), iberico ham (you can sort of see the whole ham in the picture above) and an eggplant millefeuille. Next I had the glazed foie gras-stuffed quail, accompanied by a teensy herb salad and a dollop of Robuchon's famous Insanity Mashed Potaoes (equal parts butter and potato)-- jazzed up with chives and crowned with white truffle. The quail was quite tasty, but in all honesty reminded me, and my friend who had also ordered it, of Chinese barbeque. Granted, I believe that was the concept, but if I want Chinese barbeque I can walk down to Belleville and feast til I'm sick for probably 15 euros. The potatoes, however, were another story. These were potatoes from the cafeteria of a private school on the top cloud in heaven. As rich in pure truffle flavor as they were in butter, they were incomparable to any other potatoey preparation I've ever had. Other main dishes my friends had, which I did not try, included foie-stuffed cabbage-wrapped pigeon, Rhône valley milk-fed lamb chops and half-smoked salmon with cucumber.
And then of course came dessert. We shared 5 different things, my favorites probably being the tart assortment and the Mara des Bois (both shown above). Of the tarts, my favorite was a rather unusual one which was just a thin pastry crust smeared with a mild, creamy honey and crusted with lots of cinnamon. The Mara des Bois was nothing outrageously special, but the kataifi topping was addictively crisp. I would say none of the desserts blew us away, but the 10 euro price was (amazingly!) reasonable, comparatively speaking, and they were all good.
Despite the sucker punch to my wallet, I had a fun time and I'm glad I went. I daresay I would even like to go back, armed with a better concept of how to order... it was quite clear that certain dishes were much bigger than certain others, and/or cheaper, and/or simply better of course. But then again, there's still so many places I haven't yet been to at all.....

En cours de construction

Thanks to the essentially idiot-proof template of Blogger Beta, I'm freshening things up and restructuring this site. Hope the new stuff is of interest.

P.S. A few dozen new photos up on Flickr.

Chardenoux and The Head

Sadly, I had forgotten my own camera =(

Well, I can now die knowing I've tried tête de veau (note: the link to the left os NOT for the faint of heart!), that venerable French classic that reminds me of an infinitely gringo-downed version of some crazy Mexican voodoo stew from my (over-active?) imagination. But am I better off for having done so? Well, maybe not particularly, but I can truthfully say it was not as ghastly as you may think (however, if you're veg, it was that ghastly and worse). Tucked away on a sidestreet not far from Bastille, Chardenoux is a very lovely little old school bistro which, in spite of what seems to be lots of press, appeared to me to still be very much a locals-frequented hidden-gem spot.
Although the côte de veau with sautéed girolles (chanterelles) and potatoes almost dissuaded me from the tête, along with the knowledge that Ryan and quite possibly the rest of our party would be mildly terrified, I remained steadfast in my decision. This was guided largely by the fact that I knew I would be having the best and most authentic version possible, which turned out to be true. It just wasn't my cup of tea, er, bowl of head... Baddum-shing!! Sorry, I couldn't resist that one. I will say the sauce gribiche was quite good, it's just that I'd rather eat it with some nice fried fish instead. Aside from the tête (which, again, to be fair, was just as it should have been), everything else we had was great: salade de roquette (arugula salad, pinenuts, 2 rounds of St. Marcellin baked on top of cooked slices of green apple), carpaccio of cured salmon with shaved fennel and herb oil, cœur de rumsteack à l'echalotte, pavé de cabillaud (cod) with cabbage and saucisse de Toulouse, and finally a showstopping crème brûlée infused with jasmine tea. It was one of the best versions I've ever had, and I've probably eaten a bathtub full in my day. So, Chardenoux, I give you both thumbs up, the head included.

Welcome to Chinatown/ Des Petites Conneries

At long, long last we have discovered the good Chinese food, and it's a mere 10 minute walk down the hill! Housemade dumplings and buns of many varieties, at least a couple dozen soups, squid sauteed with celery, baby eels with ginger and garlic... real goddamn Chinese food, not the sickly porc sauce caramel and floppy mystery nêms languishing in hundreds of traiteur windows all across the city. We had fresh, juicy little herb and pork potstickers, ma po tofu as mushy as it should be, and a pretty tasty dish of pork with scallions, pickled mustard greens and sticks of firm tofu. We were crammed between two anglophone expats and a Chinese couple; when we were leaving I realized two Italians were at the end of the table. It almost felt like we could have been back in San Francisco.

I was recently able to entertain a long-held and ridiculous fantasy. It would seem as though being at a decent level of profiency in French has made me into kind of an asshole at times... in Paris I rarely want other anglophones to know that I'm one of them. I don't know why this is, exactly. So when Giuseppe and I somehow ended up in the bar of a hostel at Jaurès two nights ago, it's only natural that my aversion to speaking English was all the more amplified by the almost exclusively American and British student clientele. Which, don't get me wrong, is the crowd to be expected in such a place. Cajoled into begging a cigarette for him, Beppe pointed me to a table nearby, who I in a moment discovered were indeed British. So I asked for the cigarette, to which the first guy tried valiantly to remember how to say "sorry I don't speak French." At this point I was faced with the decision to either be an asshole and allow to the charade to continue, or drop it, thereby dashing my fantasy. Although the couple glasses of wine in me would have surely led to the same decision, it was made for me when the girl at the table (being the quickest on the draw of the three) immediately realized what I wanted and excitedly interrupted her boyfriend with "cigarette! She wants a cigarette!" Let me point out to those who may not know: yes, cigarette is a French word. An unopened pack was produced with a flourish, almost triumphantly. Instead of opening it, I started to pack it, recalling hazily the ritual of being a regular smoker some time ago. I was met with slightly panicked immediate protest-- "No, no, is ok, is ok!" Further melodramatic gesturing bade me to abandon this activity, along with a very loud and well-anunciated apology from the girl, explaining "yes, I always do that too, and he gets annoyed." We shared a sympathizing glance. The boyfriend tried to redeem himself by offering me a light, the word for which came out as a strange cousin to "fuego," which is of course Spanish. "Feu?" I offered, the girl quickly chiming in again with "yes, 'feu' that's it! Feu!" Mission accomplished at last, I went back to our table with the guilty little cigarette.

Yes friends, I, too, can be a jerk with the worst of them. Aw, but come on, it's all in good fun isn't it?

Around Western Europe in 12 Days, Ice Cream Technology, The Triumphant Return of Giuseppe Punzo, and Other Amazing Tales

Hello again. I know I've been lacadaisical lately about the blog, but rest assured I'm still alive and eating. Here's an abbreviated rundown of the past month or so:

-road tripped a good portion of Western Europe... castles, rainbows, tripe, spiders, le mistral, caves, black bread and superlative smoked fish all made appearances at one time or another
-took a very interesting ice cream technology class this week with a very hilarious prof... my favorite flavors (of around 30) included sorbet yaourt, crème glacée à la vanille (I actually liked the eggless version the best), banane flambée, sorbet framboise fraiche, crème glacée au cassis et crème fraîche, sorbet ananas vanillé, crème glacée au caramel fleur de sel, crème glacée wasabi, & crème glacée à l'huile d'olive
-one of our beloved former roommates has returned to Paris to continue his studies, making life much more fun again

Fall continues its approach, but has yet to sink the mercury too low or fade the green from the trees. We're starting to discover new places and things to do, which I suppose should not be too surprising, given this is Paris after all. I'm more and more in love with our neighborhood, which is diverse and, although maybe not as lovely as some others, packed with busy little bars, brasseries, markets etc. In addition, we're a brief stroll away from the wonderful Parc Buttes Chaumont, Gambetta, Oberkampf, and the reknowned À la Flûte Gana, a bakery at which the two head bakers are women (something practically unheard of here!). Despite the fact that I have some months left here, I feel time slipping away... more than six months have passed since I left Minneapolis. I'm filled with a desire to absorb as much of this insane city and culture as I can. It can be remarkably difficult, for me at least, to balance the neccessary -and don't get me wrong, certainly also desirable- normality of everyday life with the richness and enormity and goddamn complexity that is this city. Sometimes I almost feel like it's a sin to not go out, that by eating spaghetti at home on the couch with a book is a punishable offense when Paris -by god, PARIS!- is surrounding me with nearly infinite possibilities. To not answer its call can make me feel like a sad fool. But in the end, it's simply not possible to do it all. I'll never see all there is to see, eat everywhere, meet everyone. So, spaghetti on the couch is inevitable. But I'm doing my best in spite of it.

Classes are very good, I've finally altered my schedule to a pretty ideal state. I cancelled on chocolate bonbons and small breads for restauration, replacing them with Entremets de Tradition and a Viennoiserie course. I will hopefully be filling the couple gaps I have with some good stages, but I have yet to arrange them.

P.S. 200 new photos up on Flickr from classes, the road trip and more.

Back to reality

Minnesota represent!!

The city has refired its engine after a month of mass exodus and repose. Our neighborhood is much more vibrant now that shops have reopened their doors, and everywhere there seems to be a desire to be out and about, soaking up the last traces of summer before the inevitable grip of fall and then winter settles in for good. Already I can some mornings see faint traces of breath on the air while waiting for the bus just before sunrise. But upon leaving school, it will be sunny and humid, too warm for the sweater and scarf from that morning.
Like the rest of Paris, I'm back to work. It wasn't as awful as I had anticipated having to wake up early for the first time in over two months. My commute is indeed long and bothersome compared to the extreme ease of where we last lived, but I've using it as an opportunity to read more (and am devising an intricate schedule of cellphone alarms to allow for potential napping). It also allows for meeting people: on Tuesday a business-looking man started chatting with me and we stumbled upon the subject of my recent apartment woes. "Well, if there's anything I could do to help, I'd be happy to lend a hand," he'd offered. I'd replied that that was very kind, but unless he was a lawyer there wouldn't be much he could do... but in fact he is!! He said he would be more than happy to get together and have a look at my contract, which he confirms to indeed contain the illegalities I had suspected. There may yet remain a sliver of hope! But regardless, more than anything it is heartening to meet a stranger who would sympathize, let alone offer assistance. And a Frenchman, no less!
Class is good, although it certainly is a different beast altogether than the first 3 months. This past week we were a modest group of 6: two Korean women (of which one is in my program), three French men, and me. I didn't like my partner terribly much, and luckily the only times we all paired off was to scale ingredients. I immediately tagged him in my mind as a frimeur-- showoff. Cocky, quite young, a wise-ass, and some type of manager at a Lenotre production facility in Dubai, India, he made no real friends of us three girls (nor the other French men, perhaps?) by sometimes mocking our baking gestures or treating us like fools. It's very interesting to be a categorical member of not only the Inept Girls Who Would be Bakers club but also the Clueless Foreigner club. Being frequently patronized, whether intentionally or not and to varying degrees, by teachers and classmates is going to get old, very old. And there's nothing you can do about it. It makes me ponder just how some immigrants manage to tolerate such treatment, in more severe manifestations and for sometimes their entire life. I'm not used to encountering prejudice, albeit not crippling in this case, against me on such a regular basis. It's a curious position. But I can't say it's a great shock, I suppose... I'm some scruffy, bawdy American girl studying a Good Ol' Boys' Club profession in a renowned capital of Good Ol' Boys' culture.


P.S. Many new photos on Flickr, some from this past week in class and also a bunch of old photos from June/July.

La rentrée

I came, I ate, I ate some more, I went back to Paris. And I got really tan. And naturally I saw lots of amazing things along the way. But it feels good to be back "home."

A Finet-free home no less! We saw loony-toons yesterday for what I hope to god will be the last time ever. It seems that fate arranged one last ridiculous confrontation, just for old-time's sake. Upon leaving the building we happened to run into one of the downstairs neighbors, started talking about the situation, I was about to give her my contract and rent receipts for their court case, and who should pop down but the celebrity herself! True to form, she was listening at the window four flights up, and came down, zany guns a-blazing. Lots of rapid French back-and-forth ensued between her and the neighbor, during which I went into a semi-catatonic state from the futility of it all. And right now she's calling me claiming she'll give me back the money for September... later this week, or something, oh, but first I need to come and take the latch off my door because her and her brother can't get it off-- gosh, it seems somebody put epoxy in the screws. Whoops! And I'm telling her no way, not until there's money in my hand, to which she says no, and I'm hanging up. And she's calling back, saying oh, actually my brother wants the apartment for half the month, so we'll reimburse you for that, but you still need to take off the lock, and I'm saying I didn't put the glue in, which she takes to mean I didn't put the lock on, which I'm fine with her believing as well. And she seems genuinely baffled by that, and appears to believe me, which genuinely baffles me. And then I'm telling her that I'll be gone during the middle of September, which is true, and then she says some convoluted thing how she'll call her brother (you know, the one that was supposedly there in the apartment during the last call!) and see if blah blah blah. And thus a fitting interaction to mark the end of the relationship.

But back to the trip! Our first lesson: avoid Florence and Siena in August at all costs. Second lesson: be prepared to sell organs on the black market for the money to rent the car last-minute in Florence in August that will enable you to drive through the backhills of Tuscany. Third lesson: it is very worthwhile to drive through the backhills of Tuscany.
Some other Proven Facts from the past weeks: Trattoria Latte di Luna in Pienza makes the best roast suckling pig in the universe (and they have a talking bird that greets you with "ciao! buona sera! come va!"), grilled eel at Lago Castiglione is very delicious but is almost sickeningly rich, there is some very very bad pizza to be found in Sorrento, Barcelona is a lot cooler than Paris, Spanish wine tastes good, lots of people at hostels are annoying, and Pompeii is surprisingly huge.

All my vacation photos are posted on Flickr, check them out.

I went back to school today after nine weeks of lazing about, which is good. I am already feeling the hurt of my much longer commute, but such is the price I knew I would pay. This week I'm taking Pains de Tradition, which is cool although I'm skeptical of many of the teacher's explanations.
It feels good to be productive again.

BCN-O-RAMA

Well, freshly fattened on Barcelona´s considerable bounty, we are about to take the overnight train back to Paris. Many reports to come on our eating exploits from the past few weeks...

Just want to say...

Italy rules!

Movin' on up!!

I hope you Minneapolitans are taking advantage of the Midtown Global Market. It sounds goddamn awesome.

FINALEMENT!!!

ON A ÉCHAPPÉ!!! We are officially free from you-know-who's zany clutches! It remains to be seen whether I will recuperate any of my cash. Let's just say there is a possibility but I'm not exactly optimistic. At least a lesson has been learned here... DON'T GIVE A PSYCHO A TON OF MONEY UP-FRONT, OR PREFERABLY NOT AT ALL!

But tonight we made a highly, um, idiosyncratic curry concoction (ready-made vindaloo paste, jarret de boeuf [shank-- pretty much only used here for pot au feu], button mushrooms, red pepper and zucchini) on top of Thai sticky rice with sliced cucumber on the side and crème fraîche on top (and with a Portugese wine!), in the very considerable comfort of our new apartment--- faaar from the 16eme. Indeed, we have relocated to the 19eme, which could hardly be further from where we were living before. This neighborhood is much more our style-- multicultural, lots of restaurants, a family feel... it seemed to me that the only non-white folks in the 16eme are either nannies or working at the grocery checkout. And I cannot say enough about how good it feels to wake up (in a real bed, no less-- not a dumpy mattress on the floor) in peace, without a radio blaring through the wall, sopping wet floors, a kitchen sink full of potato skins (or egg shells, or noodles, or chicken bones...), or any number of other unpleasant surprises.

Our vacation is about ready to launch, final preparations are underway. One week of adventure en route to Rome from Milan, then several days there, then "?" for two days (Naples, we hope? Beppe, where are you?), then Barcelona, then back home. And then it's back to school for me! Five weeks off have blown by at tremendous speed. How the heck did that happen, you might ask? Well, one class I wanted was full, another I decided to move closer to the final exam so it would be fresher in my memory, and then my much-looked-forward-to Maîtrise de Conserves (read: High-Fallutin' Pickles) class was cancelled seeing as how I'm apparently the only one out there who wants to spend a week making high fallutin' pickles. Er, I mean, master conserves. And then on a note of double misfortune, the timing has worked out neither for a stage in production at the school nor for a stint at an organic farm. There would be the possibility to push some of my classes back even later so as to make room, but I think they've been pushed quite far enough as it is. My stay here is extending itself a good deal longer than originally anticipated already. My pipe dream of the week is to somehow hustle a stage at Michel Bras' in Laguiole, but I find it pretty much inconceivable, especially given that there's only one week where I'm off classes before they close for the season. But I've slopped together a new resumé nonetheless, and if I can muster up the motivation in the next day and a half I'll send it off into the ether just for the hell of it.

Finetisms, the short list

An abbreviated account of antics perpetrated by this blog's favorite zany antagonist... Helene Finet!!!

>CUE BENNY HILL THEME, HIGH VOLUME<

*dumping water all over the floors and leaving it there... everyday! "It's cleaning!"
*stealing money out of our rooms and bags! Twenty euros from us yesterday, and assorted 1 and 2 euro coins from Cole!
*stealing toilet paper CONSTANTLY, be it from the bathroom, or our hiding places in our rooms (suitcases, empty flowerpots...)!!
*stealing and/or throwing away food! A nectarine from our room yesterday... vanished, without a trace!
*stealing from the neighbors! We saw her take their ladder and then hide it in a weird service shaft!
*telling her 'boyfriend' that she's on Crete and flying to Lebanon by helicopter, therefore he can't return her call!
*cruising AA meetings for dates!
*talking about how she's supposed to find an American to marry her so she can live in the States... just like her daughter! It's their 'plan!'
*bringing home what she claims is a crocodile egg so it can hatch and be a pet!
*showing prospective renters a book which she claims to have authored... as a ghost writer! Ya know, for anonymity!
*loading the dishwasher like, well, a maniac so that nothing gets cleaned!
*dumping food in the sink so it clogs... again and again and again!
*leaving the apartment late at night for a 'conference' and returning 10 minutes later!

>CONTINUE BENNY HILL THEME DURING WACKY FINET SLAPSTICK MONTAGE<

GIVE ME BBQ OR GIVE ME DEATH

Oh barbeque, how thy absence makes my heart grow fonder! And by the way, these aren't BBQ but I hope you bastards in Minnesota will eat here for me: Sea Salt Eatery and Pop's Family Cafe. If I still had a spleen to speak of I would probably tear it out for some good old American food like this right now.

Those of you up to date are well aware of my failure to procure daily food-related entries this week. Yeah, well. I do have much better news, however: I've hustled up a new apartment and even a future roommate for us! The place is super nice with a decent kitchen (by Parisian standards), a pleasant neighborhood, and even hundreds and hundreds of books of English and French literature. Unfortunately it is drastically inconvenient for my commute and I will be losing a barrel-load of money from doubling up on rent between it and Planet Finet for 2 months... you can't win 'em all I guess. The roommate will be an as-yet-unseen Canadian girl who sounds very nice and shares many interests with us.

But returning to barbeque (really, don't all roads lead back to barbeque?)... in the spirit of my previous Breakfast Joint Menu, I now submit my Barbeque Shack Menu-- indeed these are the first in a potential series of menus. The following has been rattling around in my head for many months, as are very well aware ye fellow Aurigans......

THE GOODS (aka PLEASURES OF THE FLESH)
All smoked insanely long, of course.
Spare ribs... just salt and pepper or dry-rub
Beef ribs... just salt and pepper
Chicken... dry-rub or extra spicy
Brisket... Flicker style.
Pulled pork sandwich... choose the sauce

Non-smoked Goods...
Spicy fried catfish with real tartar sauce
The Line Cook Basket: fried chicken livers with fries-- Crystal hot sauce a must!
Cornmeal-fried oyster po'boy
Buffalo wings-- done really well. And killer blue cheese sauce.
Good corndogs. I'm serious.

Sauces
you know, pretty much the standards... thick and sweet; extra spicy; Texas-style vinegar; chipotle-raspberry aioli (ha- JUST KIDDING)

Sides
Skin-on mashed potatoes with chicken gravy
Loaded potato salad... extra pickles, eggs, celery
Spicy jojo potatoes
Skin-on fries
Baked beans with Nueske's bacon
Cider braised collard greens
Coleslaw
Cornbread (northern style)
Best ever buttermilk biscuits
Blackened succotash
Hushpuppies
Very soft white buns

Dessert
Sweet Potato Pie with candied ginger
Pecan tart- like the pie but less devastating
Coconut cream pie
Deep dish apple pie
Very dark chocolate brownie
Seasonal fruit cobbler or crisp

My breakfast joint

If I had a breakfast joint, the menu would surely have things like this...

*Egg-in-the-hole-in-the-bread. House white bread, brioche or pain au levain.
*Buckwheat pancakes with real maple syrup. Potential variations: banana-cocoa nib, wild blueberry, white nectarine-pinenut, candied pecan..........?
*Garlicky sauteed kale. With poached eggs, shaved parmesan, truffle oil and lots of cracked pepper
*Chorizo scramble. With queso fresco, lime, homemade flour tortillas and pico de gallo
*Overnight yeasted waffles with real maple syrup or Nutella sauce or house vanilla bean ice cream or combinations?..........
*House granola with tupelo honey, hemp seeds, dried sour cherries and toasted almonds. With organic milk, or house yogurt.
*Smoked fish platter in tribute to Prune in NY. Many delicious garnishes.
*Super fluffy omelette like at Mickey's in St Paul. Possible combos: extremely sharp cheddar and Neuske's bacon; lox, a bit of cream cheese, red onions; house spicy sausage and the house home fries; roasted asparagus and cambozola.....
*House cuban-style black beans with fried eggs, green onions, creme fraiche, house flour tortillas and sriracha (DUDE THIS IS SO GOOD)
*Soft scrambled eggs with toast and hashbrowns
*'Benedict' with roasted asparagus, jambon de pays and the best bearnaise ever, on top of toasted pain au levain. With hashbrowns.
*Corned beef hash with eggs on top. House corned beef. And lots of onions in the hash!
*Waffle iron brioche french toast, dammit!

Sides would include stuff like....

*Home fries with sweet onion, garlic, rosemary and thyme
*Not-too-sweet yeasted cinnamon coffeecake
*Hashbrowns fried in butter
*House spicy sausage
*Nueske's bacon
*Grapefruit salad with mint syrup. Or pineapple? Both?

Un guêpier?

Well, I have decided to enable comments once again. I'm curious about what feedback might be floating around out there, and also about who cares to keep up to date on our exploits.

So, what's on yer minds out there in the ether??

Note: Lelchuks and Parsons, please take it easy ;-)

Gazpacho

I have had a tremendous craving for gazpacho lately, which I suppose is derived from the extremely hot weather of the past few weeks and the subsequent disinterest in all hot foods. But then again on of the hottest days we had Korean barbeque (which entailed sitting next to a sweltering butane grill and searing my own bulgogi), and the other day we had great big bowls of steaming hot pho, so maybe that makes me a big liar. However, that's because I also have a really crappy cold with a lung-rattling cough, so I've been trying to punish the virus into submission with additional heat. I think it's working..?
But back to gazpacho. Man, that stuff is good. I finally realized my goal yesterday... peel, seed and chop tomatoes; microplane garlic; dice red pepper and cucumber; mince a bit of onion; mix it all up with some salt, a bit of sugar, red wine vinegar and a bit of balsamic to vaguely compensate for the very regrettable fact I have no nice sherry vinegar-- well, any sherry vinegar, period. I didn't add bread because I personally don't really roll like that, not for gazpacho. And we're out of olive oil, but it would be so much better with it, so I think I'll have to to get some. And there you have it. It's awful good, but I could definitely also go for some Gazpacho Fitzgerald (I know, only a couple of you get that reference).
We also tried to go to a new (to us) market, but upon arrival at 1:00 sharp it was almost entirely broken down, which is quite unusual, especially as it was a fairly decent-sized one. Managed to quick snatch up some gazpacho fixins and haggle 3 melons for 5 euros-- heh heh heh. It's too bad it was done with, especially as I had heard one woman sells the normally quite rare fresh (which is to say unaged) camembert, which is twice the height of the normal stuff and eaten like many other fresh cheeses: either sweetened with sugar or honey, or savory with chopped herbs and cracked pepper.

In other news, we saw Life Aquatic last night at La Villette, which I liked much, much more than the first time I saw it. Unfortunately they started the movie too late, or maybe the problem was that they showed a short film first, so afterwards we missed the last metro-- along with probably several hundred -or more- other people. We took a meandering trek through the upper 19eme to Belleville, where we finally caught the Noctilien. All in all, it took us about two hours to get back.

Tonight we have an appointment to go check out this pretty cool-sounding place to live by Montparnasse. We're keeping our fingers crossed!

Joyeux anniversaire, moi!

Well, I am one day older and have completed my 23rd trip around the sun! Above is photo I totally stole from some other guy's blog. This is what you find when image googling "birthday cake eiffel tower." It was a very low-key day. Slept in quite late, hung around, walked near Trocadero and hung around and read, ate pho with a couple of my classmates in the 13eme, and saw a Mongolian film at La Villette as part of the Cinema en Plein Air festival.

I have lately realized that my narrative has veered off course from that of a cook in Paris to one of "ahhh, I'm freaking out about the psycho landlady, oh nooooooooo, my brain is seeping with self-pityyyyyyy," and frankly, the latter doesn't conjoin neatly with the word blog (this is my Clog, right? Wow, I must be like the wittiest damn person on the planet!). No, but really, where did all the love go? And by love I can only mean food. I'm sorry I've given you almost no "dinners lately" or reports on new outdoor markets, or shoddy glare-obscured shots from patisserie displays. Am I growing jaded to Paris? I don't think so, but I guess I am slowing down. I'm acclimated to being here, which is a polite way of saying I'm lazy. So I hereby set forth a goal for myself this week: I will post something about food every day, and take a photo for each day which I'll post later because it's easier that way.

We'll see if I can bring back the love a little bit...

Ces choses me manquent

Today I present a miscellaneous array of things I miss from home. Not included are the obvious things, such as friends and family.

*Golooney's subs on Sunday morning
*The Weinery, especially the fries & Mr Sunshine dog
*Vietnamese food on Nicollet! How can the Vietnamese food here be inferior given the history of colonisation?! Dude, for real.
*Lake Harriet
*Chinese food! It SUCKS here!
*Minneapolis summer, even as hot and buggy as it is
*Cinema Revolution
*bluegrass at Dulono's
*my bike!!
*BBQ, both the availability thereof and the activity
*breaking down the kitchen to Styxx's Greatest Hits
*Loring Park
*a big freezer
*my books
*concerts
*bulk food (especially spices) at the co-ops
*big ol' American breakfast!! Bacon! Eggs! Freakin' hashbrowns, dammit!
*a bed that's actually comfortable
*trashy, sloppy American pizza
*BURGERS! Yes, Ryan and I miss burgers to a very great extent, despite the fact we eat them quite rarely at home. Go figure.
*messing around in my kitchen making random stuff (tamales, bagels, curry, sticky rice, who-knows-what)

Ryan misses pancakes probably most of all. Luckily we can remedy that in France without too much effort.

As for things I anticipate missing about Paris...

*the outdoor markets!!!!!!!! I will be truly, truly sad to leave behind the markets of Paris. The traiteurs, bouchers, charcutiers, fromagers, maraichers......
*the cheese. To be honest, we haven't explored as wide a range as you might think, but cheese is so pervasive and cheap that we eat it all the time. We actually buy the ghetto cheap cheese most of the time, which is pretty funny (perhaps shameful?) given all the better options.
*the monuments and aesthetic that remind you "hey, this is Paris! I LIVE here!"
*THE BREAD! It will be sad to leave the bread-valuing atmosphere of France (well, Europe, really).
*speaking French. I really hope I can maintain (and maybe, maybe even improve) my current level of fluency after I leave.
*the generally more food-valuing attitude. Everybody loves to eat here.

SUCCHIA LA FRANCIA!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! TAKE THAT, FRANCE!!!


So, I had before now neglected to note my (temporary) love for soccer. But I am now coming out of the closet, as a blissfully happy supporter of Italy-- who has convieniently won the World Cup, just moments ago. We're heading to the Champs Elysees right now to celebrate, hopefully we make it back alive.......

EDIT: So, last night I was pretty enthusiastic, huh? Well, I'm still glad Italy won, but I retract my earlier statements professing love, or coming out of closets, or blissfully happy or any of that. We walked to Trocadero, where not much was going on. Ryan and I bailed on Champs Elysees and went back home instead. It was just a bunch of sad, drunk Frenchies and riot cops anyways.

What did we ever do to deserve this???

The situation here just sucks.

We saw a lawyer at the mairie Friday who confirmed our suspicions that A) we signed an illegal contract (it is valid for only 3 months, but Finet had wrote in 5) and B) it would be both stressful and potentially fruitless to try and take actions to recuperate our money.
Finet's daughter is staying here for the time being, who initially appeared to be benign enough but then showed herself to be a horrific beast-monster of biblical proportions. From what (rather heated) conversations I've overheard between her and her mom, we've reached the conclusion that Evil Daughter is just utterly money-hungry and selfish-- it seems clear that she needs the cash from renting this apartment to pay for her stupid wedding. This beastly nature was revealed to me at an impressive and unnerving level after I was flat-out caught warning a prospective future renter to GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HERE, FAST. It turns out that I actually shot myself in the foot in more ways than one with that stunt: the girl was representing a language school that (purportedly) would have rented out ALL the rooms, thereby enabling us to get reimbursed and thusly freed. As much as that sucks that I ruined our way out, I do feel that I did the morally right thing in warning her... and I screwed Finet and Little Beast over bigtime in terms of money! That's rewarding to me.
But now, through my gratuitous eavesdropping I have discovered that big and little Finet are both plotting against me. I do not mean this in a joking or paranoid sense. Phone calls have been made, to whom I have no idea, I believe a visit to a lawyer has been made but I'm not positive, some person is supposed to come on Monday (but to what end, again I don't know). I AM FREAKED OUT AND STRESSED AS HELL. They have NOTHING on me or anyone else living here for that matter, but I am still totally panicked, as I think most people would be.

We are getting the HELL out of here as soon as possible... we've rented an apartment in the 11th for the week that Andrew and Carolyn will be here, during which we'll leave our stuff here, I guess. After that there is a brief limbo period before we leave to travel that remains to be dealt with, during part of which I would like to do a stage in the bread bakery at Lenotre. However this necessitates staying in the motel next door to the school as the bakery shifts start at 3AM. I feel like everything is really, really complicated at the moment. And, while all of this is happening, I am now trying to find some poor soul to taking over the last 2 months of our contract so I don't have to eat the enormous cost of that embarassingly and foolishly prepaid rent. Does this make me a hell-bound hypocrite?? Maybe so. In fact I might well not have the heart to go through with it. I can't help but feel -and HATE- that Finet is winning by succeeding in chasing us from what is supposed to be our home (and quite possibly getting a load of my money in the same blow). However, although we may be losing this battle, Karl pointed out the very good fact that in helping the neighbors with evidence we might enable them to eventually put an end once and for all to this tyranny. By god I really do hope so.