Kate, A Broad

Au Revoir to All That.

2010-01-10T17:05:00.000-05:00

The bags are packed, the bank account is closed, champagne has been sipped... it's really time to say goodbye to this adventure we called living abroad. I must say that 2009 was a year to remember, and while it wasn't often easy to be here in Paris, I'm so very glad we were.

I've been formulating this last post of mine in my head for a few weeks. So while I know that I won't get everything, I hope that the following covers the things that have been daily loves of mine for the past 12 months. So, in no particular order, I give you...

THINGS I WILL MISS ABOUT PARIS

The way the special pink of the Paris sunset glints off the dome of Les Invalides.

The smell of baking bread wafting up from the bakery below our apartment.

The coziness of our little place.

My running route over to the Champ de Mars and the Eiffel Tower.

The dogs of Paris.

Walking across the Pont Alexander III in the evening.

Walking across the Pont Solferino to wander the Tuileries.

Macaroons at Laduree.

Oysters and champagne for dinner.

Evening chats at La Marquise.

Dinner at Le 24.

Wandering the Latin Quarter.

Sitting in Les Deux Magots with a glass of wine and a good book...all afternoon.

Walking into any random church in Paris and finding the chapel of St. Joseph.

Looking up.

Taking the #39 Bus to Opera, and passing St. Germain, the River, the Louvre, the Tuileries, the Opera...

Taking friends around town.

Running around town with the friends I've made here.

Shopping at the butcher around the corner and getting teased by him about just how exactly I'm going to make coq au vin.

The saleslady at our neighborhood veggie shop.

Taking the metro up to Montmartre just because.

Arguing with Jon over the proper way to jaywalk.

Killing time at The Bon Marche (especially in the Mercerie and the Grande Epicerie).

The roses in May.

The leaves turning along the Champs Elysees.

Coming out of the metro at Concord and being faced with a view of almost every major Parisian monument.

The lights popping on the evening hours at the Eiffel Tower... and catching a glimpse of that when walking home from a dinner in Montparnasse.

Taking the train.

Walking. Walking. Walking.

I could never really do justice to a list about life and love in Paris. But, the above is my paltry attempt at immortalizing at least a bit of what I found to be the essence of my time here. I am ready to go back to the States, but while I was here, I was here. Or at least I tried to be.

So, au revoir to all that- this life of mine as Kate A Broad. But, the adventure continues Stateside... So, stay tuned.

Until then, this has been the Broad named Kate. Ciao-ciao, mes amis!!

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-24T09:33:00.000-05:00

Even though this happened last Thursday (12/17), I thought I would share it as a kind of Christmas gift for my loyal readers, many of whom live in steamier climes. Thanks for following me this year, friends. I hope you enjoy these images- the only "white" Christmas most of us will have (especially since it's back in the high 30s here)!

"Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved."
~ Augusta E. Rundell

I'm holding you in my heart, loved ones. Merry Christmas.

PS- If you'd like to see all of the snow pictures I took, here's my Picasa album:

SNOW!!!

Christmas in Paris, Part III

2009-12-22T04:00:00.000-05:00

On Sunday, Jon and I headed out in the snow/drizzle mix to visit Bercy Village. It's way east of us on the other side of the river, but I like going over there for two reasons: 1) It's very American in the way it's set up- shops and restaurants nestled in a cute little villagey atmosphere, and 2) The #14 train to get there is very modern, and it feels like we're on Space Mountain when we ride it- very cool.

Once there, we split up for a while to do some shopping for each other, meeting at the Frog Pub for a pint. While there, we heard a commotion out on the sidewalk and learned that it was caused by none other than... Pere Noel!!

Père Noel was not alone, however. He had a friend with him, Le Méchant Père Fouettard. "Méchant" means "mean" or "naughty," and Père Fouettard fit the bill exactly as he looked like a deranged, humpbacked pirate.

He was asking the kids if they'd done all their chores, and demanded the 7 times tables from a little 'un. When the kid couldn't deliver the info, Père Fouettard grabbed him and told him he was going to take him away as an example to the other children. The kid was terrified. His father was cracking up. The French-- what can I say?

After leaving Bercy Village, we headed west to see the Christmas tree at Notre Dame. On the way I took some pictures of the Left Bank from the Right. It was a beautiful evening- clear and cold.

Notre Dame's display did not disappoint. It was particularly striking because we arrived right at 6 pm-- just when the bells calling the faithful to evening mass began to ring. Beautiful.

Hark how the bells,
sweet silver bells,
all seem to say,
throw cares away

Christmas is here,
bringing good cheer,
to young and old,
meek and the bold.

Ding dong ding dong
that is their song
with joyful ring
all caroling.

Someone's Joined the Dirty 30 Club...

2009-12-18T04:17:00.000-05:00

... and that someone would be my lovey hubby, Jon! I was a bit worried that he wouldn't have a very fun birthday because we're far from home/friends/storage for sweet presents. I mean, I got to spend my 30th on a sailboat in the Caribbean with my best friends--

how could I possibly recreate this feeling for Jonny-boy? Thankfully, we've made some pretty good friends here who did some unexpected things and then there was The View (and I don't mean the tv show) to finish it all off. Awesome.

On Jon's actual birthday, we went to Le 24 (you'll hopefully recognize this as our favorite resto in Paris) to celebrate. When I called to make reservations, I mentioned to Guillaume in passing the reason for our dinner not expecting anything. When we arrived, Guillaume had champagne waiting for us followed by our favorite bottle of wine, and the sweetest part? He had gone to a bakery and gotten a cake for Jon!!!!! Such a surprise and so nice! And what made the night just perfect was that Olivier joined us, and we hadn't seen him in a long time. I know that these two guys really made Jon's birthday something special. So, merci nos amis! Merci!

Birthday Boy, Guillaume, and Olivier

My contribution to the birthday festivities came four days later with a miraculous reservation at the Jules Verne-- the restaurant on the Eiffel Tower. I say miraculous because I have no idea how I managed to get the reservation, seeing as how it happened last month and I heard the Maitre D' tell a guy trying to get a table that reservations for Dec are full in March!!! Don't ask how I did it, but I did and Jon was excited because he was mildly obsessed with the JV for a bit and because eating there would allow us to check another gastronomic experience off our list.

The Jules Verne is on the second level of the Eiffel Tower- 125 m up. It has its own elevator which was pretty cool in itself. They even have a little plaque in the lobby that allows you to watch the elevator's progress.

We went Monday night. Now, we're in the middle of a serious freeze here in Western Europe (wait for the post I do on the SNOW), and it really started to pick up steam (or ice rather) on Monday night. Standing under the pillars at the Tower was like being in a sub-zero wind-tunnel, so my dreams of getting a shot of the two of us outside the entrance were squelched. I did get an empty picture, however. Just imagine Jon and I standing there with our mouths open, dreaming of all the things we would see and taste...

Arriving up at the second level was like entering another world-- the quiet and low lighting were obviously intended to highlight the view outside the wrap-around windows, which was breathtaking. Really. I couldn't speak for at least 5 minutes and spent much of the meal staring outside. So, forgive some of the blurry shots, but I was overcome- and did try my best. Behold, The View:

Alain Ducasse's menu looked delicious, but was just okay compared to other starred menus I've had. Really, the highlight of the entire experience was the actual act of sitting with a 180 view of Paris on a beautiful night. It was remarkable, and will be something I remember forever.

We walked home afterwards in the clear coldness of a Parisian winter's night. The tower gave us one last show as a parting gift...

... Aa I hopefully gave Jon a birthday gift he'll remember.

Christmas in Paris, Part II

2009-12-16T03:12:00.000-05:00

My apartment's oven deficiency has been greatly lamented this year, I know, and what time of year could this lack be more greatly felt than at Christmas? No cookies, no pies, no smell of warm baked goods permeating the house??!!! WHAT?! Not to mention the absence of sprinkles, and red hots, and silver dragrees on which to test the strength of one's teeth! It had all the makings of a four-alarm holiday disaster. Luckily, the ladies of my knitting group came to the rescue and while they couldn't instill my apartment with the smell of baking goodness (I bought a candle for that), they could allow me the opportunity to fill my belly (and Jon's) with all the sugar it could handle. Behold the Great Cookie Bake-Off 2009...

Monica (in the middle) hosted the baking party-- we cut, decorated, baked, and ate cookies and drank champagne. And best of all, I came home with a tupperware full of baked treats to carry us through the holiday (well, actually only one week-- they were too good to ration out).

With cookies in the house, it was time to get serious about decorating. After at first thinking we wouldn't, we had a change of heart and got a Christmas tree. We didn't have one last year because of the move, and I just couldn't bear the thought of another Christmas (and our first away from home) without a tree, so... We put on some mulled wine, turned on the Bing Crosby albums, and got to work. Luckily, we picked up some Christmas decor in Germany, and I found some cheap lights and a bag of ornaments at the junk store downstairs. All of this provided us with just the perfect amount of holiday cheer in the apartment.

A real Christmas Whirly-Gig (Actually called a Pyramid) from Germany.

Our Smoking Santa

(He has incense in his belly that smokes out of his mouth.)

Our stockings and the obligatory chocolate Advent calendar.

A Real Tree, complete with yule log holder.

And, of course, no Houston Tree Trimming Party could be complete without a viewing of...

"It Must Be Italian..."

Christmas in... Frankfurt!

2009-12-11T11:23:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday night, Jon and I took the high speed German train (much nicer than the TGV-- it has wood-paneling, people. Wood. Paneling.) to Frankfurt for a quick trip up to see a German Christmas market. This is something I've been talking about doing for months, but I never pulled the trigger on it. Thankfully, my hubby did, and boy, am I glad. It was so much fun!

Sunday morning we got up and took the metro to the main square of Frankfurt. After a cup of coffee, we proceeded to wander the market. Wow-- from ornament vendors to pretzel stands, the atmosphere was one of a giant carnival the lively spirit of which wasn't dampened even by the persistent rain and cold.

We spent the day eating sausages, drinking beer and mulled wine (lots and lots of mulled wine) , and enjoying the Christmas spirit we'd been missing in Paris. Sure, the lights in Paris are great-- but there isn't a whole lot else going on in the streets. Since we Americans adopted a lot of our holiday traditions from the Germans, Jon and I felt really happy to see so many familiar Christmas sights.

All we did for two days was wander the market, buying ornaments and trinkets and having a good time. I'm glad I got to see an authentic Christmas market, and I highly recommend the experience for anyone who has the chance.

Here's the Picasa Album of our trip... fun!

Frankfurt's Christmas Market

Thanksgiving et al.

2009-12-10T02:42:00.000-05:00

I can't believe it's been two weeks since Turkey Day-- and what a day we had. This was our first year away from family for the holiday, but since Jamie and Steve really are family, we felt right at home with them in London. Jamie, the hostess-with-the-mostest,

spent days getting ready for the big day. I was actually amazed by her planning skills. Not only did she manage to get enough dairy products to feed a small army into her European fridge,

she also baked two pies and prepped all the food for a sit-down dinner for TEN, all before the big day! She was so prepared, in fact, that by the time we arrived on Wednesday night, there was nothing to do, but read the recipes she had taped up all over the kitchen,

and play cards... because there's always time for cards when the Houston-Harmons are involved.

Thanksgiving day saw a frenzy of cooking on the part of Jamie and Jon. I arranged the cheese tray, made the Sidecars, and contributed these napkin rings/placecards:

Jamie's friend, Alexandria, brought over an organic, fresh turkey. We named him Alphie. He was good.

Surprisingly, nothing, I mean nothing, went wrong with the food prep, table prep, guest arrival, nothing! We all sat around the lovely table (flowers arranged by Jamie, herself),

to a delicious meal and good company.

I know I felt thankful to be able to spend my holiday with those so very dear to my heart.

The day after Thanksgiving, thank God, had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with shopping. Instead, we trooped off to some far corner of London to catch a Lily Allen concert! Steve loves her and I'm quite the fan myself. We got to the venue early enough to enjoy some space in the pit all together.

But once Lily came out, I had to get out of the crowd and find a cozy nook to stand in. Fairly easy, and from my vantage point I was able to enjoy the music and the Tartlette's costumes, complete with wig changes and a fantastic rendition of "Womanizer." If nothing else, that Lily Allen sure can entertain.

On Saturday, we got a Christmas tree. Jon, Jamie, and I decorated.

Steve helped, too...

That night, we cozied up to watch the FL / FL State game.

Although my dear Gators have since killed their undefeated streak, they had a fine showing that evening. I particularly enjoyed actually getting to see a Gator game, on the t.v., with sound, on a couch, while drinking cheap beer and gazing at a Christmas tree to boot. It was a good night.

On Sunday, Jamie and Steve went with us to St. Pancras in order to give us a proper send-off. It was our last time in London for quite some time, of course. It's funny, but this year has been so much better for having them only a two hour train ride away. I've spent a lot of time with Jamie and Steve in the past twelve months, and am going to notice the absence. But, it was good that we all went to the the station and ended our year together in the way we began it...

with drinks at the champagne bar! I always love a full circle, you know. I can't help it...it's the English teacher in me.

Christmas in Paris, Part I

2009-12-04T06:10:00.000-05:00

The day that I said goodbye to Casey and Amber, I was lucky enough to say hello to a very old friend of mine-- a friend I've known since the 6th grade, yet one I hadn't seen in six years! My friend, Neeli. The funny, quiet, lovely girl of my memory has morphed into a funny, quiet, and lovely woman of today. And, she's a doctor!! A chief resident in Chicago who will be a Cardiology fellow this summer. I'm so proud of and impressed by her!

Champagne and macarons at Laduree

We met in the afternoon for a walk around the Tuileries and a hot chocolate at Angelina. AB will be horrified to learn that I had never sampled the famous sweets at this tea house on the rue de Rivoli, and as Neeli hadn't either, we thought it would be a good place to chat and warm-up. I tried the St. Honore and Neeli had a Mont Blanc, but I have to admit that the chocolat chaud à l'africaine was definitely my favorite part.

Well, we we're having such a good time that we decided to walk around a bit. We wandered up to the Opera district and caught the newly installed light display at Galeries Lafayette just as it came on... fantastic in the half-light so imagine what it must look like in the dark!

I had read in the paper that morning that the official lighting of the Champs Elysees would be that evening. We decided we had to see that. So, we wandered over to the famous street. We passed the Christmas market set up at the base of the Champs and stopped for a quick warm-up.

Mulled wine and hot cider for us!

After our spiked cuppa, we walked up the street and arrived at the lighting platform right at 6 pm- the time when the switch was supposed to be flipped. This being France that didn't happen, of course. We waited with the small crowd until 6:20 and then decided we'd see the new lights better after a few macarons. Neeli had never been to Laduree before, so away we went. A glass of champagne and four macarons later, we emerged to a fairyland of white lights swaying in the wind. People were just standing still with their mouths open, children pointing to the sky, cars stopping in the middle of the street-- the lights are that striking. Here's a before and after shot of the street that unfortunately does little justice to the real sight:

After we stopped oohing and awhing, we headed down to the Latin Quarter for dinner at another of my fav Paris restaurants- Le Petit Chatelet. Snuggled next to Shakespeare & Co, it faces Notre Dame and has a cozy fireplace in the dining room that made for the perfect end to our fantastic day. Riding the metro home after saying goodbye to Neeli, I realized that getting to spend an afternoon and evening with her in the newly decorated city was an early Christmas present I hadn't expected. We both decided that we won't let another six years pass before seeing each other again, a promise I think will be easy to keep.

Stay tuned for more images of Christmas in Paris...

Paris and Burgundy On a Plate

2009-12-02T08:16:00.000-05:00

I knew that Casey and Amber's visit would involve a great amount of good food and drink, and I certainly wasn't disappointed! There were so many great restaurants we wanted to share with them during their visit to Paris, but we barely scratched the surface. I think we hit the major aspects of a Parisian culinary tour, however. From first night dinner at our FAVORITE restaurant in town, Le 24 (obligatory visit for all guests), to a gastronomic experience at the 2-Star Michel Rostang, we ate a lot. And drank a lot...

Pre-Dinner Drinks at Flute Champagne Bar

We did a lot of physical activity to counteract the Roman Holiday that was each evening, however. There were walks along the river to the the Eiffel Tower,

a trip up to Montmartre to see the lights and eat oysters,

and the highlight of their visit (at least in my opinion), an overnight trip to Burgundy!

Jon had Thursday and Friday off, so we caught an EARLY morning train west to the fabled land of wine. I had arranged a day tour involving a truffle hunt and a wine tasting through the company called Burgundy on a Plate, run by the lovely Brit, Sue Boxell. She single-handedly showed us a fantastic snippet of Burgundy that was both fun and informative. I can know honestly say that I now know a little something about Burgundy wines, enough to have gotten excited when I saw a bottle of wine from one of the vineyards we visited in the grocery today. Here's a glimpse of some of the things we did during our Thursday tour:

Truffle hunting with Roxanne and Her Master.

Amber shows off just one of the many truffles found by Roxanne that morning.

Monsieur Postansque, owner of Le Chateau Entre-Deux-Monts where the truffle hunt was held, explains the history of his family's property.

A drive through the Grand Cru vineyards of Romanee Conti, Cotes de Nuit, afforded us a rare glimpse of the horse who plows the fields.

A treat of a wine tasting: sampling the 2007s at the Domaine Michel Gros.

Our intrepid guide, Sue.

We bought four bottles for our cave.

After our tour, we stayed the night in Beaune, the second-largest town in Burgundy. On Friday, we rented a car and took our own drive through the countryside, stopping in Gevrey-Chambertin for lunch and another wine-tasting (we bought two more bottles).

We ended up in Dijon- the seat of Burgundy. Dijon is a great old town with fantastic cathedrals, a ducal palace, and of course- mustard! We had to visit the Maille store-front, there since 1777. I also wanted to try an authentic Kir, made with cassis de dijon.

That evening, we took a train back to Paris, exhausted yet content with our fabulous visit to Burgundy.

All in all, having Casey and Amber here was a real treat. They were more than likely our last guests during this year abroad, a thought which really hit home the fact that our Parisian adventure is almost over. We even have our plane tickets back to the States! Six weeks left means it's time to squeeze in a few more adventures...

If you'd like to see the whole album from our Burgundy trip, please visit here:

Burgundy Trip, November 2009

First Magazine Article!!

2009-11-30T12:23:00.000-05:00

Wow- I had full intentions to sit down this evening and write up several posts to cover the ridiculous amount of adventurous fun I've had the past two weeks, but... this came in the mail today (okay, email) and I can't resist: http://www.needlemagazine.com/issue01/index.html

I'm published!!! Remember when I gushed about meeting Jenny Hart, the embroidery artist? And I mentioned I hoped my meeting would be acceptable as an article topic for a new on-line magazine called NEEDLE? Well, my hopes were met--- I made the first page! I'm so excited!!! The magazine format is so professional and interesting, and the editors didn't butcher my writing during the editorial process like others have done in the past (*cough*Play Shakespeare*cough*). I'm just so pleased!

Seeing my byline on that first page gave me such a rush! Wow. I'll be saying that for a while to come. Wow.

Chef Jon

2009-11-24T08:02:00.000-05:00

Oh My- it has been a while since my last post! I apologize, but life has lately been a whirlwind of activity Chez Houston. Jon's brother, Casey, and his girlfriend, Amber, just spent a week with us. We had SO much fun, and rest assured that more than one post will come of our adventures. But before that, I wanted to fill you in on the most recent event in Jon's French culinary career- the reception of his diplôme.

The ESCF, being a bastion of French bureaucracy and inefficiency, finally notified Jon that his diploma was ready for pick-up... last week! Never mind that he finished course work at the school in JUNE or that he has been successfully working at The Ritz since August. And ignore the fact that it took a myriad of ever-increasingly urgent emails from Jon to the program director. The important thing is that Jon has the diploma in hand. I was so proud, I made him sign it for my camera.

I like to think about the progression he has made from his days at Chew, where it all started, and Bistro Aix, where it continued, to today. I think my favorite thought is how happy he is with his new found skills.

From student...

To Chef...

Congratulations, Jonny!!!

L'Armistice

2009-11-11T18:18:00.002-05:00

Today, 11 November, is called La Fete de l'Armistice in France. While in the U.S., we tend to use today to focus on all veterans, France uses it more to remember WWI in particular- La Guerre, as it is still referred to today- The War, as if there was never any other. And, I think it really seemed like that to the French for a very long time. WWI-- it decimated almost the entire male population of the country. It wiped out a whole generation. Statistics put military deaths in France during the war at 1.4 million. Combined with civilian casualties, a total of 1.7 million people lost their lives during those four years. Needless to say, it left an indelible mark on France and its people.

Which is why today's observance of the Armistice was quite unique. For the first time in the 91 years since the guns fell silent on the Western Front, a German leader joined in France's ceremony of remembrance. Chancellor Angela Merkel stood with President Sarkozy at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider underneath the Arc de Triomphe. She even helped him lay the wreath on the tomb.

Image via L'Express

And today's observance was unique for another reason, too. It was the first time since the ceremony began that a WWI veteran was not present. Les Poilus (The Hairy Ones) as the French affectionately called them are all gone-- France's last living veteran of the war, Lazar Ponticelli, died last year at 110.

Image via ABC Australia

I suppose it's time for that, however. England too lost it's last WWI veteran this year- Harry Patch (great name, no?) In fact, with Patch's death, the world lost the last survivor of the trenches, as he was the only one left to have fought in that "Brutal Hell," and at Paaschendaele no less. All that is really left for us now is to remember.

To that end, I thought it might be nice to look at some of the poems from that epoch. I have to admit that the poetry of the WWI Trenches, from the men who are often referred to today as the "Lost Poets,"

is some of my favorite 20th century literature. I really can't read an Owen Wilson poem without tearing up. I have a hard time thinking about John McCrae and his Flanders Fields without a tightness in my chest. And there will always be the Rilke poem, read in front of a classroom full of 15 year-olds, that made me cry. Looking up, I saw the look on one of my student's faces, a girl, and I knew she was done for-- she started crying to. And she told me a few years later that moment changed her life- it was then that she learned that a poem could make her feel. How can I not be bittersweetly enamoured of these works?

So here are three of my favorite WWI poems (it was very hard to choose)- all written by soldiers, two of whom did not survive the Trenches:

~ In Flanders Fields ~

John McCrae, Canadian, Died on the Front in 1918

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

~ Futility ~

Wilfred Owen, British, Died at the Front in 1918

Move him into the sun

Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning, and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know. 

Think how it wakes the seed -
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides,
Full-nerved - still warm - too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
- O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?

~ The Last Evening ~

Rainer Maria Rilke, German, Died 1926 
                                                                   
 And night and distant rumbling; now the army's
carrier-train was moving out, to war.
He looked up from the harpsichord, and as
he went on playing, he looked across at her

almost as one might gaze into a mirror:
so deeply was her every feature filled
with his young features, which bore his pain and were
more beautiful and seductive with each sound.

Then, suddenly, the image broke apart.
She stood, as though distracted, near the window
and felt the violent drum-beats of her heart.

His playing stopped. From outside, a fresh wind blew.
And strangely alien on the mirror-table
stood the black shako with its ivory skull.

Grumbles. No Wait- Happy Things!

2009-11-03T11:34:00.000-05:00

Well, I've been a bit skimpy on the posts these past few days. To tell the truth, I haven't been up to much around here lately. What with sorting out some minor visa issues, the weather turning to complete crap, and the realization that HOLY COW- It's November and we need a new place to live and work and play in TWO MONTHS!!!!!, I haven't had a whole lot of time for sight-seeing or exploring. I've also been wanting to flat-out murder both our downstairs (crazed, guitar playing and courtyard sweeping-at-all-hours-of-the-night weirdo) and upstairs (wild urchin child and high-heel-wearing-at-all-hours-of-the-night mother) neighbors. I considered writing a whole post about this recent obsession that keeps me lying awake at night thinking up ingenious ways to kill them (that and all the noise they're making), but I'll take Suz's sunny approach instead and regale you with a few things that are topping my list of Birthday Things, or Things That Are Currently Making Me Happy.

My New Boots!

Candy Corn!

The Christmas Stockings I Made for Jon and I!

The Smell of "Holiday" Candles!

Thoughts of My Sis and My Dogs (That's Woody)!

AND FINALLY...

Knowing that in three weeks, I'll be spending Thanksgiving with

These Two...

And This One...

Ahhh, I feel better already. Wait... is that a guitar I hear???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let's Walk: A Visit to St. Sulpice

2009-10-25T06:00:00.000-04:00

Dan Brown's new book is out, which made me realize that I've never mentioned to you that I live within walking distance of a place that figures prominently in another of Brown's works, The Da Vinci Code. L'Eglise St. Sulpice is only about 10 minutes from our apartment. We walk by it often and the other day, on just such an occasion, I made Jon take a spin inside (he's a sport like that) so that I can share it with you. So, let's go see a famous and somewhat mysterious church in Paris.

Starting outside, we are standing in the grand courtyard of the church. It's fountain is very impressive, and a nice place to sit on a sunny day. Too bad today is a bit chilly and cloudy.

Turning to look at the front of the church, our view is unfortunately impeded by restoration works on the facade. It's nice that they're saving it though, and even nicer that they've provided us with a schema of how the work will progress and what the building looks like under all the scaffolding.

Luckily, we can sneak a peak of what some of the front looks like.

St. Sulpice is the second-largest church in Paris (behind Notre Dame) and is dedicated to St. Sulpitius, a 7th century Frankish bishop. The present church dates from 1646, and took 140 years (!!!) to be completed into what we see today. Interesting historical tid-bits about the church are that the Marquis de Sade and Charles Baudelaire were both baptized here (it didn't seem to do either of them much good), and Victor Hugo was married here. During the Revolution, the church was transformed into a pagan temple (hence a lot of the mystery) dedicated to "The Supreme Being and the immortality of the soul." We can still see this inscription over the door, but it's so faint, a picture with my dinky camera isn't possible.

Let's go inside. Once we enter, on our right we see a side chapel with paintings by Delacroix.

He's very famous in France. You might even recognize this one (it lives in the Louvre):

Liberty Leading the People

Delacroix did three friezes in this chapel (in oil and wax): On the ceiling there is Michael the Archangel, on the left there is Jacob wrestling with the Angel, and on the right there's the image of Heliodorus being smitten (smited? smote?) by Gabriel for stealing treasure from the temple. The paintings are good, but are showing their age- very dark and discolored from candle smoke.

As we walk down the right side of the church, we pass a few more side chapels and then come to the thing that makes St. Sulpice so famous to those of us outside of Paris: "The Rose Line" in Brown's novel. One of the parish priests, back in the 18th century, wanted to be able to properly determine the date of Easter using the Spring Equinox, so he had a gnomon built inside the church.

This gnomon is essentially a giant sundial. It consists of a marble obelisk on the north side of the church, inlaid with a brass line that crosses the floor along Paris's original north/south meridian. An optical lens (now missing) in the south transept window focused the sun's rays on the gnomon. Even with the missing lens, the sun still hits certain parts of the church during different times of the year: During the spring and autumn equinox, the light hits a plaque in front of the altar; on the summer solstice it hits a plaque on the floor; and on the winter solstice, it illuminates the obelisk. Historians believe that the scientific nature of the gnomon saved the church from utter destruction during the Revolution. Thank Goodness.

Tearing our attention from the brass line, we continue along the right side and arrive at what I think is one of the most breath-taking Marian sculptures I've ever seen:

The picture doesn't do it justice. It's a massive piece by Pigalle in marble with Mary, triumphant, standing amidst roiling clouds. I mean, these clouds carved in solid rock seem to be moving out from the wall, swirling and building around the Queen of Heaven. We need to pause here for a minute to admire the work. We might even be able to catch a peek of the trap doors in front of her altar that lead to the crypt where 5000 bodies are buried and where a secret society used to meet during the Revolution.

Continuing along, we pass several more chapels, including one containing perhaps the biggest tub of holy water this side of Rome:

At the back of the church, we see the Grand Orgue.

It's incredibly impressive, and apparently very famous in the organ world. When it was built in 1862, it was one of only three 100-stop organs in the world (apparently a big deal), and the coolest part is that from its construction until 1971, there were only two organists in charge of it!! One guy played it for 64 years! Historians say that is the reason why it is in such great shape today.

Before we leave the church, we catch sight of a massive shell set on a marble pedestal. There's another one across the aisle too-- both serving as holy water receptacles. They look fake at first, but they're real! They were given to François Ier by the Venetian Republic and set in stone by Pigalle, the guy who created the Marian sculpture.

That's it for our tour. In researching this post, I found a reference to The Da Vinci Code and its reception by those under whose care St. Sulpice falls. Parisians can be a bit touchy about Brown's book, especially since it is fiction and many morons out there take it as fact. At the height of the book's popularity, it wasn't uncommon to see tourists banging around in front of the obelisk, looking for the secret space hiding the keystone (see what I mean, morons!). I didn't see this, but the keepers of St. Sulpice felt the need at one point to put up a placard which explained the following:

Contrary to fanciful allegations in a recent best-selling novel, this [the line in the floor] is not a vestige of a pagan temple. No such temple ever existed in this place. It was never called a Rose-Line. It does not coincide with the meridian traced through the middle of the Paris Observatory which serves as a reference for maps where longitudes are measured in degrees East or West of Paris. Please also note that the letters P and S in the small round windows at both ends of the transept refer to Peter and Sulpice, the patron saints of the church, and not an imaginary Priory of Sion.

While some of what the note disclaims is actually true, I think it shows the exasperation the general Parisian public felt at the book's claims. And we all know that the story really pissed the Vatican off. So much so, in fact, that it refused to allow Ron Howard to film scenes inside the church. He had to recreate it instead on a sound stage. Funny how sometimes fiction can chafe more than the truth. But, I heard a lot of coins hitting inside the donation box while we were there, so like it or not, Brown's imagined history has done a lot to help the reality of St. Sulpice today. God works in mysterious ways, indeed.

Harry's New York Bar

2009-10-21T06:00:00.000-04:00

Saturday's Adventurous Outing for the Houstons was a trip across the river to an institution of Franco-American relations, Harry's New York Bar.

Open for almost a century, the place is an old-fashioned, wood-paneled deal with a gorgeous tin ceiling and knick-knacks dating back to its glory days. It reminded me a lot of the Hemingway Bar, only tremendously less expensive. Fittingly, Harry's was one of Hem's stomping grounds-- I'm never very far from him here *sigh.*

Another of Harry's claims to fame is the invention of the Bloody Mary. Now, a lot of bars claim to be the place where the delicious concoction was invented, so who knows what is really true, but Harry's story is that the head bartender threw it together in 1920 as a way to help the regulars get over their hangovers from the night before. Judging by the way Hem and his crew drank, I'm not surprised by the need for a Cure. Jon and I decided to try one for ourselves to see how "The Original" held up to others.

Combined with a chien chaud (or two), I'd say not bad. A little too much Worcestershire for my taste, but by far the only decent Bloody I've found this side of the Atlantic.

But, it was obvious by the sheer volume of whiskey bottles covering the walls on both sides of the bar that one should not pretend to visit Harry's without sampling some of the golden drop. There was a whole shelf dedicated just to bourbon-- how could I resist? We ordered a Maker's Mark Old-Fashioned next. Wowsers!!!

This led, of course, to a long chat with the bartender, Gerard, about jazz and whisky (he let us taste a 30 year) and an afternoon in dire need of nap time. We didn't leave, however, before writing down the recipe for the Old-Fashioned and making sure the University of Florida was represented amongst the many pennants decorating the walls and ceiling of the bar. Mission accomplished on all fronts, although I think I should bring Harry's an updated UF flag...

Harry's Old-Fashioned

In an old-fashioned glass, add:

1 sugar cube
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 Maraschino cherry

Mash/Muddle.

Add ice and fill the glass 3/4 full with whiskey or bourbon. Mix.

Add:

1 orange slice
1 lemon slice
1 brandied cherry (this almost killed me-- Dad, your recipe has a run for its money!

Mix. Serve. Sip.

Sublime Stitching

2009-10-19T02:15:00.000-04:00

Last Thursday evening, I had the chance to attend the opening of an exhibition of fiber artists at a small gallery in the Marais. The show, entitled "Fils Croises," highlights the works of several artists, one among them being Jenny Hart, the uber-cool creator of Sublime Stitching. Here's Jenny in all her glory:

photo by Aubrey Edwards for Juxtapoz magazine, from www.jennyhart.net/about

Many of you might not know this, but I am quite the craft-addict at heart, particularly those crafts relating to threads (mainly knitting, embroidery, and sewing). I used to do A LOT of stitchin' when I was younger, but college and then work and well grown-up life took over and my sewing fell to the wayside. But, seeing as how I have more free time on my hands here than I know what to do with and since Paris is one of the thread capitals of the world, I've recently found a renewed love of all things stitchin' related. Included in this love is my "daily reading" of crafty blogs, which is how I have somehow managed to get a writing assignment for a new online-magazine called "Needle." The assignment? Interview Miss Hart for the mag.

I was nervous about this. I mean, she looks SO cool. And, her work is SO cool. I was worried about interrupting her opening night at the gallery. I needn't have been so silly. Jenny was SO nice. She chatted with me for at least 20 minutes, answering all of my questions and filling in any gaps my questioning might have missed. I think the neatest thing about her, besides her work of course, is the amazing fact that she only learned how to embroider 9 years ago!! I mean, this is amazing! Take a look at her work here or here. Not only is the woman prolific, she's really good. She also runs an amazingly successful company (Sublime Stitching in case you missed it earlier) that she is very proud of having built all by herself in less than a decade. I found her to be inspiring, as well as kind. Her philosophy is that anyone can stitch, and she designs her products around that. If you look through her tutorials on her website, you'll see what I mean. I'm ordering her books as soon as I get back to the States, so watch out, friends! I think they'll be more than one baby or mamma running around with a bitchin' stitch on their shirt-fronts done by yours truly! Oh and the drum-set on a tee for Jonny? That too.

Imagine... Fall Weather in October!!

2009-10-15T09:13:00.000-04:00

Jon says I'm like an old woman with the way I talk about the weather, but I can't help it! I've spent 30 years prior to this one in a pretty constant climate- h.o.t. Yes, we do get cold in North Florida, but not until January, and Fall starts in November, maybe. So, I'm enthralled! It was in the 30s last night and today is nippy and fresh- just 50 degrees! Can you believe it??!!

When I was out walking the other day, I came across this sight at the Tuileries Garden (you might need to click on the pic to do it justice):

I think it's the perfect statement of the current weather. On one side, summer in all its glory is hanging on for dear life. On the other, Fall has taken hold quite securely.

Above, a closer look of the scene: flowers and green grass in the foreground with a wood of falling chestnut leaves in the back. The kids seemed to like the woody part better. I caught a rousing game of cache-cache (Hide-and-Go-Seek) in progress:

Of course, this chilly weather made decorating for Halloween a necessity. There isn't a sign of Halloween here in France. I know that a few costume parties will take place on the night of, but in general, Halloween commercialism is a thoroughly American thing (of course). So, I made my own decorations. I think they turned out well.

We'll draw faces on the pumpkins this weekend. And the apples came from Sunday's market-- delicious and just picked! I love food in France.

Speaking of which... Jon's on dinner service these days, so I've been on my own for the evening meal. Last night, with the nip in the air, I wanted to sit in a cozy spot eating a hearty meal with a glass of red wine and my book as a date. I think the mission was accomplished:

Jon's Got Skillz...With Crustaceans.

2009-10-13T12:43:00.000-04:00

It seems like Jon comes home from work every day with a new skill. His focus last week was on crustaceans, especially langoustines. We don't really eat these in the States (at least not in Florida), but they are really good! The easiest way I can describe them is as being a cross between a shrimp and a lobster. Since he wanted to demonstrate his skillz to me, Jon cooked Saturday night's dinner with langoustines as the main ingredient.

The official name of the dish was "Pan-Seared Langoustines with Lemon Gnocchi and Sauce Bisque" (I know because I made Jon give it a name). First he prepared the langoustines and started the bisque.

Then he made the dough for the gnocchi. I didn't know that Jon even knew how to make the little balls of pasta-y goodness, but this is apparently another skill he's picked up lately. He explained all about gnocchi to me, and then taught me how to make them. It was so fun! I think this would be a really simple, and entertaining thing to make with bigger kids. But, we both decided that even little 'uns could help press the dough onto the fork. I'll give the recipe below, but here are some pics to help demonstrate a few of the steps.

After making your dough, roll it out onto a floured surface and divide it into even pieces.

Take one of the pieces and press it onto the tines of a fork (it helps to flour those too).

Roll the dough back one roll and press hard into the fork (nice nail polish, no?)

Roll the half tube back one more time to make a complete pillow. Easy!

As you can see, I was really concentrating on the job at hand.

Can you tell which ones are mine? Me neither, they were that good. HAHAHAHAHA!

After prepping all the gnocchi, we had to wait for the bisque to finish up. Once that happened, Jon cooked the gnocchi in butter and sauteed the langoustines. The finished dish was delicious and different. Tres bien, mon cheri!

"Pan-Seared Langoustines with Lemon Gnocchi and Sauce Bisque"

Jon's Easy Gnocchi

Ingredients (all amounts are approximate)

Mashed potatoes (aprox 2.5 lbs)... we have no means of mashing potatoes, so Jon bought refrigerated pre-made (I know, I know), BUT-- they worked really well and made the dish easy!
2 c. flour
1 large egg
Zest of 1 lemon OR Bruniose of 1/2 a lemon (this is a tiny, tiny dice)
Salt to taste
Grated nutmeg, to taste

Preparation
Making the Gnocchi

Mix all of the ingredients in a bowl.
On a floured surface, knead the mixture until a firm dough forms.
Roll the dough out a bit at a time into a tube shape and then cut it into mini-Tootsie Roll-sized pieces.
Press each piece onto a floured fork and roll up (see photos). Voila- you have a little gnocchi. I will say that it does take a bit of practice. My first few looked more like balls of misshapen Silly Putty, but I got it down after a while.

Cooking the Gnocchi

You probably will want to cook the gnocchi in two batches- they need room to wiggle in the pot.
Bring 6 quarts of salted water to a boil.
Drop in the gnocchi and cook until they float.
Remove from water and drain in a colander for 2 mins.
Gently sautee them in a pan of foaming butter (the stage just before it turns brown) until reheated, aprox 1-2 mins.
Dig in!

Jon mentioned that gnocchi would be a good dish for a dinner party, because you can make them ahead of time: Instead of draining the boiled gnocchi in a colander, drop them straight into an ice bath. Drain and lightly coat with a neutral oil, like veggie or grapeseed. Then line them up on a tray, cover with plastic wrap, and stick them in the fridge until you're ready to pan sautee them.

The day after he made this dish, I picked up the latest copy of "Food and Wine" (I was looking for "Gourmet," but alas, there were no copies left in Paris-- moment of silence, please). Imagine my excitement when I saw that there is a whole article on making gnocchi in the October edition of "F & W" (p. 166). It also has two "superfast" sauces for serving over the little guys. Looks like Jon's on the cutting edge of cuisine (or I'm just biased. Both are possible).

Hooray for Being Homeless!

2009-10-12T16:13:00.001-04:00

After almost 18 months on the market, our sweet house on Silverwood Lane has found a new family. I'm glad-- it wasn't made for lying empty. We had a lot of fun in that place, but our plans have obviously changed from when we bought it four years ago. And the best part? No More Mortgage Payments!!

Lucky for us, the sale of the house timed perfectly with the start of oyster season here in France. Jon and I both L-O-V-E oysters! We've been deprived since May (you can always get them here, but they really aren't any good over the hot months), so celebrating our new homeless state seemed like the perfect occasion to get slurping! We dolled ourselves up and headed down the street to the Hotel Lutetia and its brasserie, where we treated ourselves to a bottle of champagne and the grand plateau. Delectable heaven!!

Jon smiles at the challenge before us!

Knives? We don't need no stinkin' knives (or most of those other things either).

A new discovery of deliciousness-- sea snails, the olives of the ocean!

Look at that little bugger-- salty and delicious (doesn't it kind of look like Ursela's body from "The Little Mermaid?"

We accepted the challenge and arose victorious, if not a bit fatigued...

... but there's always room (and energy) for dessert, of course.

Proust Questionnaire

2009-10-11T02:30:00.004-04:00

I'm working on a new feature for the AWG Website- a "Meet the Board Members" spot in the form of a Proustian Questionnaire. If you read "Vanity Fair," you'll recognize the format as the last page of every issue- the one where a famous person answers questions about his or her esprit.

For those who don't know, Proust was a French intellectual and writer whose weighty tome, A la recherce du temps perdu, has overwhelmed and intidmidated many a student of French literature. I will say, however, that his famous description of the taste of a madeleine (a delicious French tea cake) transporting him back in time to a distant memory is one of my favorite images in literature, perhaps because it is so true. Don't we all have those Proustian moments when biting into a sweet or smelling something cooking creates in our minds powerful images of times past? It happens to me often, and after my memory recedes, I always, always think of Proust's madeleines. I'm knutz-- I know.

Back to the point: The Proust Questionnaire is based on a popular party game from the late 19th century, wherein guests were asked to answer certain soul-searching questions which were then shared around the room, and everyone oohed and awwed and enjoyed learning deep things about their friends. Thrilling, I know, but this is what happened when people didn't have t.v. or Wii. The questions are now called "Proustian" because he answered them twice in his life, as a young teenager and then later as a young man, and the change in his answers apparently shows the depths of his literary genius. I can't attest to that, but I can say that answering these questions is an intellectual challenge. They really make you think about yourself, and the results are fun. I just did it and thought I'd share my answers, just for shits and giggles. Maybe you might want to play along too? If so, leave your answers in the comments or link to a similar post on your blog.

Here goes... Kate's Proustian Questionnaire, Age 30.

- What do you consider to be your greatest achievement?

My education.

- What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Comfort—a cozy couch, a glass of red wine, a crackling fire, a good book, a dog at my feet (or on them, whichever the case may be)

- What is your current state of mind?

I am Unsure.

- What is your favorite occupation?

Reading

- What is your most treasured possession?

My wedding ring.

- What is your favorite journey?

To a new place.

- What is your most marked characteristic?

My good looks. No really—my sense of humor? I have no idea.

- When and where were you happiest?

Childhood.

- What is it that you most dislike?

A lie.

- What is your greatest fear?

Death.

- What is your greatest extravagance?

Books.

- What living person do you most admire?

My mother.

- What is your greatest regret?

Not getting a useful degree.

- Which talent would you most like to have?

To play the piano.

- Where would you like to live?

Near friends.

- What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Being incapable of providing for oneself or one’s family.

- What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Independence.

- What is the quality you most like in a man?

Responsibility.

- What is your most admirable trait?

Intelligence.

- What is your most deplorable trait?

Self-centeredness.

- What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Insincerity.

- What do you most value in your friends?

Lovingness.

- Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

James Bond.

- Who are your heroes in real life?

Those who attempt to improve life for others.

- What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

Being good.

- Who are your favorite writers?

Hemingway, Shakespeare.

- On what occasions do you lie?

When necessary.

- Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

Like- I use it entirely too much-- makes me sound like a Valley Girl.

- If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

My career (or lack thereof).

- What are your favorite names?

Jack, Elizabeth, Bernard (must be spoken with a British accent, “Ber-nerd”)

- How would you like to die?

Without knowing.

- If you were to die and could come back as a person or thing, what would it be?

A beloved dog.

- What is your motto?

“If you’re going to do something, do it right the first time.”

Another "Free" Lance Article

2009-10-06T10:49:00.002-04:00

I received a rather crazed email from someone who shall not be named (ah-hem) implying that my silence here was attributed to possible espionage activities-- perhaps I'd gotten abducted by enemy agents and was lying forgotten in a dank basement somewhere while waiting for the government to pay my ransom? But since I'm not a spy (but think it would be fun if I were (aside from the kidnapping of course)... that would make quite a statement on a business card, wouldn't it? Kate Houston - International Espionage), you can chalk up my lack of posts lately to the fact that I took a little hop up to London for the weekend to play with Jamie and Steve. We had tons o' fun, and we never even left Chiswick!

Aside from train rides and too much wine, how else have I been keeping myself busy lately, you ask? Well, I've been very crafty and am currently working on several Christmas gift projects (Family- you are fairly warned), and I've been volunteering for the AWG, the American Women's Group of Paris. Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I am SO not the Junior League type. I barely made it out of two years of sorority life alive! But, this group couldn't be further from what I initially thought it would be. Instead of lots of boring requirements before any fun can be had, this group exists mainly to provide the Anglo residents of Paris with a means to socialize. Yes, there are many charity activities one can participate in, but during any given week, I can also tour a museum, go to an antiques auction, a fashion show, or sample wine with an expert. In other words, it's a lot of fun! And, because I needed something to do, I offered to help out in the office. This quickly turned into my wowing the ladies with my oh so exceptional computer skills (you should be chuckling now) to the point that I am now producing the weekly newsletter (okay- make that, you should be guffawing). I am also writing articles for the website, the first of which was just published: http://www.awgparis.org/2008/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=76&Itemid=69. I know- the photos are wonky (I had nothing to do with that), but the writing is all mine. And unlike that horrid harpy over at the Shakespeare site, my editor here did not impede on the integrity of my work. So while I'm not going to be paid for this (sorry, Dad), I'm enjoying the fact that I am serving a greater purpose than just fulfilling my own daily desires. That's not a bad feeling at all.

And, just to keep all in the loop as to The Broad's non-abroad life, the house closes tomorrow. That's right, as of 3 pm on October 7, Hubby and I will no longer be home-owners. THANK BLOODY GOD!!!! This also means that the adventure, while drawing to a close in Paris, is no where near over. Goody!

Happy First Weekend of Fall

2009-09-27T06:52:00.005-04:00

I can't help it-- I'm just so excited about seeing the seasons change with the calendar. Having lived my entire 30 years in Florida, where Fall usually hits sometime around the end of October or even the end of November (shorts and tanktops on Thanksgiving are as normal an occurrence as are flannels and stocking caps), I am really eating up this fall weather during, well, Fall!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remember these?

Peeking at the beehives-- the honey will be for sale at the end of the month!

Yesterday we went to buy their honey.

Unfortunately, it was all gone by the time we got there at 11 am. That other honey? It's from bees from elsewhere in France. Bleh. I wanted Luxembourg Gardens Honey.

I was sad.

But, then we went and had sausages and frites and beer. So, I was happy!

Bon Dimanche et Joyeux Automne, Mes Amis!!!

An All-Organic Dinner

2009-09-25T06:00:00.000-04:00

I will admit that there have been an awful lot of posts about food around here lately. I can’t help it though—September in France is culturally known as “La Rentree,” as in “The Return”—return to school, to daily life, to everything! Taking a month off, as the French do in August, really sets September up as a happenin’ kind of time. The streets suddenly buzz with kids in new shoes and new backpacks, with frazzled mommies trying to get back into the routine, with a fresh round of college kids here to have the semester of their lives. And of course, the markets that stood mostly empty for all of August (it was a very trying month) are suddenly buzzing again with all kinds of vendors hocking late summer and early fall fruits and veggies. I cannot resist a busy looking market and have consequently been making great use of my traditional shopping basket.

In deciding on my menus, I’ve been taking a lot of inspiration from my friends, both in blog land and in real life. The Coq au Vin idea came from Jamie who made her version for an adoring and grateful Steve the week before. In setting out to shop last Sunday, I had in mind the recipe for Chicken Noodle Soup by my friend Katie over at The Thin Chef. Now that it’s Fall, I have a huge craving for hearty soups, and her recipe seemed just the thing to satiate it.

So, I grabbed my basket and I off I went to the Boulevard Raspail Market.

On Tuesdays and Fridays, the market is a regular one, but on Sundays it is exclusively for selling and buying organic goods. This means that it is not only packed with people, it is also VERY expensive. I bought all of my food for the soup here this time, but in the future I think I’ll have to be more choosy, possibly buying my meat at my usual butcher’s shop. He can tell you the provenance of all his products anyway, and as the French aren’t really into the whole “fill your meat full of hormones” kick that the Americans seem to be okay with, my main concern is that I’m buying French products.

The Italian Stand from which I bought fresh pasta for the soup.

Beautiful Bounty

The chicken on the left, in front = MINE

All set up and ready to go.

YUM! YUM!

So, in making “Katie’s Feel Better Chicken and Noodle Soup” (which turned out to be RIDICULOUSLY good), I followed her recipe except I made my own chicken stock and used the cooked chicken in the soup. I think she will approve. And, in the spirit of recipe sharing, I thought I’d tell you how I make my stock. It is a very special act for me, because cooking a whole chicken in a pot always, always makes me think of my mother. Putting the Chicken on to Cook was the single greatest act my mom entrusted me with as a young teenager. Mom worked very hard (and still does). She left for work in the mornings before we left for school. Sometimes she would leave me a note asking me to “put the chicken on” at 5 pm so that part of dinner would be ready for her to work with when she got home in the evening. Usually it turned into Chicken and Rice or Chicken and Dumplings (Lordy- that’s a whole other post for the future), but it was ME who had the task of making the base. I always regarded this as a solemn duty and was so very proud that my mom trusted me enough (I think I was maybe 12 or 13 when I first did it) to ask me to not only handle a whole chicken but to also not burn the house down with open flame on the stove. I am a bit accident prone, after all.

But, enough reminiscing. Here’s the way the Kirby/Donovan/Houston women make stock. It isn’t fancy, and it isn’t the way the cookbooks will tell you, but it’s worked for us for who knows how many years, and I think it will work for you too.

Simple Chicken Stock

Ingredients

1 whole chicken (In the US, the neck and organs will often be in a sack in the chest cavity of the bird. Be sure to remove this before cooking or you’ll be sorry. Don’t ask. Just trust me.)
1 Bay Leaf*
Celery Salt
Pepper

Preparation

Prepare the chicken by removing it from any packaging, cutting any trusses, removing any inner stuffing (see note above), and rinsing it clean under running water.
Place the chicken breast side down (when I was little I used to make the chicken dance on the counter to be sure which side was the breast) in a very large stockpot.
Fill the pot with water to cover the bird (he might float, so be sure to press him down to see how much water you really need).
Turn on high heat and season your chick with the bay leaf, celery salt, and pepper—use lots of the salt and pepper. Sometimes I throw in a bit of kosher salt too.
Once the water begins to boil, turn the heat down to a simmer, cover your pot and leave it alone.
Check on your bird in 45 minutes. You know he’s done when the wings pull easily away from the body. If that isn’t happening, leave him cookin’ for another 15 minutes and then check again. Keep cooking until the “wing thing” happens.
Once the bird is done, remove him from the pot using whatever utensils you feel necessary. For me, this usually means a wooden spoon stuck in the body cavity, a large spatula and lots of cursing. Let the chicken drain for a second into the pot (hence the cursing—holding that bird over the pot can be a bit tricky).
Place the bird on a platter and allow to cool.
You now have a large quantity of chicken stock to use for whatever you like and a whole chicken that can be carved or plucked. I usually do the latter and add the bits to rice or soup, as I did with Katie’s recipe. Voila!

* Being married to a chef, I’ve recently discovered the hoity-toity bouqet garni (a mixture of bay leaves, thyme, and some other stuff) and have been playing around with one of those thrown into the pot with pepper and regular salt. We can buy them ready-made here at the grocery store, which is way easier than putting them together ourselves. If you can, try one out too. It adds a different flavor to the stock.

Les Journées du Patrimoine

2009-09-24T02:23:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday, Jon and I decided to take part in the festivities surrounding French Heritage Days. Les Journées Europeans du Patrimoine take place one weekend each year during which many of the national buildings and places normally closed to the public open up. This means that historic mansions, laboratories, museums, and government buildings hide all their secret stuff and invite we mere plebeians in.

Our plan was to visit the Elysée Palace, which is the French equivalent of the White House. This is as close as we got- La Grille Coq.

By the time we arrived at the president’s house at noon, the line stretched down the Champs-Elysees and into the Place de la Concorde… this is a ridiculous length. A person near the head of the line told me she and her friends had already been waiting FIVE hours!! So, we grabbed a shot of the coq and left.

On to Plan B. The Moulin Rouge was participating in the festivities by offering tours of all the behind-the-scenes areas of its historic site. We were promised glimpses of costumes, dressing rooms, catwalks, the works!! But, alas, this plan too was foiled by crowds. By the time we got up to Pigalle, there were HUGE bouncers standing at the doors looking staid and grim. They said nothing (of course- they needed to look intimidating). It took a few minutes for a small lady to come out and announce that tours for the day were over. and that we should all come back tomorrow at 7 am to try again. It was 1 pm. No thanks. So, again I was forced to snap a photo of the famous windmill (not so cool looking in the daylight) and off we went.

Plan C? Luckily our third time was the charm. Abbesses was holding a little autumn festival, and since we were already in the Montmartre area, we thought we’d check it out. At the Place des Abbesses we found a brocante. The antique and random stuff sellers were scattered around the pretty square.

For me, it was SUPER fun! I dug through jars of old buttons, piles of old linens, boxes of old costume jewelry and silver tableware.

For Jon, well, let’s just say he didn’t think it was so much fun. He was a sport though, and let me do my rifling, after which we headed back to our hood.

We tried to visit an advertised wine festival over by the Ecole Militaire, but it was an almost non-existent affair, so we walked home instead. At the Champ de Mars we did stumble upon a Diversity Festival, complete with rock band, which struck us both as odd, seeing as how the French are some of the most “non-tolerant of those with disabilities” people I’ve ever met.

Perhaps they’re trying to change this, because the festival area was full of Parisians with varying mobilities and abilities. It was refreshing.

Later that evening, we managed to find a bar showing the FLA-TENN game. For the first time this season, we got all dolled up in our Gator gear and headed out to see our boys play.

It was great fun, not least because we kicked some Volunteer ass. We also drank Budweiser and ate chicken wings. It was very American of us, and I’m okay with that. Sometimes it’s nice to just be the loud, exuberant, and a bit dorky individuals we are. Maybe we added to the spirit of diversity in the air???

Eat the View

2009-09-22T08:24:00.001-04:00

Last night, I attended a lecture at the American Club of Paris. Roger Doiron (whose last name has always been a challenge for me because of its decidedly French provenance—how does one pronounce it in English?), the founder of Kitchen Gardeners International, presented his organization’s work to get a garden planted on the lawn of the White House. Beginning in February 2008, his campaign, Eat the View, worked successfully to bring edible sustenance back to America’s First Lawn and in so doing inspired thousands of Americans to do the same in their own green spaces.

Doiron, a soft-spoken man with a dry sense of humor, began his presentation with what he called the “Doom and Bloom” segment. In presenting the depressing and yet oh- so- real statistics on U.S. oil consumption vs. food production and population growth, he raised the pertinent point that the days of the “3000 mile Caesar salad” are coming to an end. Did you know that in the U.S., every one calorie of food takes TEN calories of fossil fuel energy to produce?! That’s insane and completely unsustainable. In short, Doiron’s statistics pointed out that while (and perhaps because) more people are being born into the world every year, we earthlings are living on less land on which to grow the food needed for these new mouths. In other words, a new way of feeding ourselves will have to be embraced by the masses or else we will perish.

In comes Kitchen Gardeners International. Doiron called himself “a crazy gardener from Maine” who started the non-profit in 2003 in order to help “connect the dots for people” wanting to grow their own food. He considers the mission of the organization to be three-fold: To plant the next generation of gardeners, to teach and connect gardeners on-line, and to do the same on the ground, both near and far. The organization today boasts a network of 10,000 gardeners in 100 countries (India, interestingly, has one of the most active networks). Whenever I again have a yard (or even a balcony that actually gets sunlight of any sort), I intend to become involved in this network as well.

KGI gained real notoriety when Doiron began work on the Eat the View campaign. He showed us two videos he produced to help spread the message of bringing real food back to the White House lawn. Did you know that the Wilson’s put sheep on the front lawn during WWI as a way to help conserve resources and Eleanor Roosevelt had a victory garden there during WWII?

Despite the fact that these two instances were the only times in the 20^th century that food was grown at the White House and that food powerhouses, Michael Pollan in ’91 and Alice Waters in ’95, tried unsuccessfully to have Bush, Sr. and Clinton put in gardens, Doiron was convinced he could get the next president to grow something. And he did! Through a successful video, internet, and press campaign, the Eat the View movement succeeded and a White House kitchen garden was planted by Michelle Obama, Chef Sam Kass, and local elementary kids on March 20, 2009.

Perhaps the best part about the WH kitchen garden is that it wasn’t just for show. The Obamas actually eat from it, and use the produce grown in official State dinners. They also donate a large amount of its food to a local pantry. To date, 450 pounds of food has come from the garden!! It has also inspired America to get with the program—7 million home gardens were planted this year- and the rest of the Western world may be following suit. Buckingham Palace put in a kitchen garden, although its people were quick to point out that there was no connection to the fact that Michelle O. had one. Even still, the influence that one garden can have on the world, whether it be a famous one like at the White House or one in our own back yards, is considerable.

During the Q & A at the end of his presentation, Doiron was asked what political repercussions have come from the Obama’s garden (he was also asked what kind of “mud” he used on his garden by a 90-year-old lady in the front row- “compost” was the answer). He mentioned that the chemical farming lobby had a lot of negative things to say about it because the garden is indeed an organic one. Michelle O. wisely chose not to respond to the lobby’s statements, but the issue remains. The lobbies for Big Agriculture are big forces in American politics, and in turn, American lives. If you read any of Pollan’s books or Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, or Eric Schlosser’s Fast Food Nation, you’ll find this out. And the issue with Big Ag isn’t just in the U.S. I was dismayed to find out from a follow-up audience comment that it is illegal in Europe to sell the products of heirloom seeds! That’s right- a European farmer selling fruits or veggies from a non-corporate seed source can be prosecuted for doing so (and apparently has been in France according to the audience member, although I need to research this, seeing as how it came from an older gentleman wearing an all green corduroy suit with red socks- reliable source? Perhaps not.)

Despite the political issues and “Doom and Bloom” statistics, Doiron’s lecture was a positive one, as is his message. He closed the evening with a quote from Hugo, “More powerful than the march of invading armies is an idea whose time has come.” He thinks that the time for the average man (or woman or child) to get his hands dirty in the garden has come, and I for one, agree.

A Feast in A One-Pot Kitchen

2009-09-17T04:50:00.000-04:00

Okay, we have more than one pot. But not much more, and what we do have is grossly below the standards of the normal Houston kitchen. We don't have an oven, for God's sake! But, both Jon and I have managed to cook some delish meals in this petit cuisine, and now we can add one more to the memory bank.

Because the weather has suddenly and definitively taken a turn towards the cool and fallish side, I've recently had a mean craving for hearty dishes. The other day, Megan and I decided to make just such a meal-- coq au vin. We decided this around 5 pm however, so we knew we couldn't make traditional coq au vin which calls for the chicken to marinate overnight in wine. Searching on my favorite recipe site, Epicurious.com, I found just the answer- Quick Coq au Vin. Making it would require just under two hours. We set out to buy the ingredients.

Because I wanted Megan to get the real experience, we went to different, specialized vendors to buy the supplies, rather than getting everything at the grocery store. We went to the cheese shop to buy our before -dinner snack, to the Fruit and Veggie shop for the carrots, onions, celery, and mushrooms, to the butcher for the chicken (it had its head still on, which really freaked Meg out, especially when the butcher chopped it off on his big chopping block). We did sell out and go to Shopi for the wine and the pasta, but we were tired of walking at this point and already hungry from our dreams of the meal to come.

Megan prepped all the veggies. She was particularly impressed with our garlic stash-- a bunch of garlic heads we bought at a food festival way back in January. For some reason, they've stayed nice and fresh. In Florida, the garlic always sprouts. Maybe it's the variety or just the drier conditions here- who knows?

Because I know nothing about this sort of thing (and Jon was at work), I asked the butcher to cut up the chicken. Dredging the parts in flour, we browned the chicken and set aside.

The veggies had to be cooked in two batches because we don't have a pot big enough for doing it all at once. Once browned, we added a WHOLE BOTTLE OF RED WINE. We'd already broken into one of the bottles purchased for the occasion, so we knew Jon would have to be dispatched for more once he got home.

By this point, the smell in the apartment was OUT OF CONTROL!!!! Once Jon got home and smelled the winey, chickeney goodness waiting for him, he happily ran out to get more wine. Meanwhile, Megan and I kept sticking our faces over the pot to inhale the delicious scents.

Did I forget to mention that we also bought smoked bacon from the butcher? You can see it there on the plate. It imparted a fantastic flavor to the dish.

Once stewed a bit, the veggies and wine were joined by the browned chicken, bacon, and some stock I had leftover from the chicken and rice dinner.

The whole mix cooked for 45 minutes. We added cooked farfalle pasta at the end and voila! It was fantastic, but as we were STARVING and a bit tipsy at that point, I forgot to take a picture of the finished product. You'll just have to make it yourself to see what it looks like.

Quick Coq Au Vin

Ingredients

Butter and/or olive oil (we used both)
2 or 3 thick slices bacon, roughly chopped
1 whole chicken, cut into pieces
1 handful flour, seasoned with salt and pepper to taste
8 to 10 ounces button or cremini mushrooms, rinsed and halved
2-3 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 large sweet onions, chopped
1 bottle good red wine (I've learned you should never cook with wine you wouldn't drink.)
1 cup chicken broth
1 bay leaf
salt and pepper to taste

Preparation

Cook the bacon in a large pot until crisp. Set aside.
Shake the chicken pieces with the seasoned flour in a paper or plastic bag.
In the same pot as you cooked the bacon, add butter and brown the chicken, 4-5 minutes per side. Set aside with the bacon.
Add more butter and/or olive oil to the pot and sauté the veggies until they just begin to brown, about 5 minutes.
Pour half the wine into the pan and cook over high heat for 8-10 minutes.
Add the broth and the remaining wine. Bring to a boil and then add the chicken, bacon, and the bay leaf. Salt and pepper to your tastes.
Return to a boil, then cover and simmer for 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, cook the pasta according to package directions (we used farfalle, but any short-type pasta would do. You could even use rice or potatoes if you were so inclined).
Serve the coq au vin over the pasta. Bon Appetit!

*Note: We did play with the recipe a bit, so if you looked this up on epicurious.com, you would notice a difference. I also forgot to mention that this will serve 6 normal people or 4 fatboys.

Julie & Julia

2009-09-14T17:12:00.003-04:00

I just got home from seeing the movie. It doesn't start until Wednesday here, but I was invited to a private screening by a friend in the American Women's Group. Words cannot express how much I enjoyed this film- but I'm going to try anyway.

Of course there are the obvious correlations-- Julia Child (like me) lived in Paris with her husband for a while, a sejourn that inspired within her a lifelong love of the French and their cooking. Her cooking, as it soon became. Some of my earliest tv memories are of watching her show on PBS (were they re-runs by then?) with my mom. I thought she was funny, especially the voice. Later, as a young woman, the first gift I ever received from my future mother-in-law was a copy of Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. The first thing I ever made from the book (and I am not making this up) was Boeuf Bourguignon, which also happens to have been the first thing Child's editor made in order to test the recipes in the work. It was that dish that sealed Julia's fate as America's culinary queen and that sealed mine as a lover of cooking. Unless you have slaved through the steps yourself, you cannot understand the feeling of accomplishment and pride you get with your first taste of the tender beef stewed in red wine and spices. Heaven on a plate, and the credit is all yours (and Julia's, of course).

On to Julie Powell. My sister-in-law gave me her book, the title of which was lent to the movie, for a birthday a few years back. I read it, but was not really impressed with her tone or her voice. In the movie, however, she is lovely. I just fell in love with her- I wanted to be her- I hate that I didn't come up with the idea myself! To spend one whole year, 365 days, cooking your way through Child's masterpiece and then writing about it? Imagine the things you would learn!!!

I think really though that why this movie makes me so happy is because I can identify with both women- Julia in the 50s and Julie now. Both women found their purpose well into their adult lives. For Julia, it was cooking, and through that cooking she found a career as a teacher and writer. For Julie, it too was cooking that gave her the start she needed to find success as an author. It makes me feel better-- being 30 with absolutely no idea what I'm to do with my life isn't the end of the world. I just have to keep looking for what truly makes me happy and make a career out of it.

On my way home tonight, I was walking down the Champs-Elysées in the rain. There were few people out once I got away from the hustle and bustle of the main drag. I felt peaceful, and looking ahead I could see the long line of the famous street lights winking through the mist. It looked just like one of the old photos I've seen a thousand times now on postcards and posters. The moment reminded me that I have a lot to be thankful for and a lot to look forward to. Whatever I make of my life, I hope I find the same joy that both Julie and Julia got (and continue to get in the case of Julie) from theirs. I think I will. Now, if only I can learn how to de-bone a duck...

Let's Walk: Le Jardin du Musee Rodin

2009-09-14T06:00:00.002-04:00

Having Megan here to myself for a whole week was a treat the scale of which I haven't had in quite a while. It was so nice to have someone to wander around with, or to watch downloaded movies with (we spent almost the entire day Wednesday watching the BBC's miniseries of Dicken's Bleak House), or to shop with, or just to talk to. We did lots of things, like going to the Musée D'Orsay, or wandering the banks of the Canal St. Martin, or walking in the garden of the Rodin Museum. I thought you, fair reader, might like to come along on that one, as it isn't really something most first (or even second) time visitors to Paris often see.

Rodin, the great 19th century sculptor, had his studio in the Hôtel Biron, an 18th century mansion built by a man who made his fortune from wigs. By Rodin's time, the mansion had been divided into individual apartments, one of which Rodin used to showcase his large-scale sculptures. He agreed to leave the greater part of his works to the State if the Biron mansion was turned into a museum to house them. This was done, and today the public can view both his works and those of his lover, Camille Claudel, inside the museum. The real draw, however, is the gardens, where Rodin's most famous pieces can be found and which cost only 1 Euro to enter!

Hôtel Biron

The first thing we see when we enter the garden is a statue I think we'll all recognize - Le Penseur.

The Thinker

A view of the dome of L'Eglise St. Louis, under which Napoleon is buried. Interestingly, there is a large space between the interior and exterior domes where French Resistance fighters hid Allied pilots who had crash-landed in Occupied France during WWII.

Crossing to the left, we come upon the huge piece called Les Portes d'Enfer. We're excited to see it, not just for the detail on the piece, but also because we just saw the mold for the work in the Musée d'Orsay.

The Gates of Hell

Detail from The Gates of Hell... Recognize him?

The next piece we come to is Les Burghers de Calais. This piece was commissioned by the town of Calais to commemorate the six brave men who surrendered themselves to the invading English during the Hundred Years' War in order to save the lives of their townspeople

The Burghers of Calais

Now, let's admire the actual gardens themselves. Looking around, we're amazed by how all of this greenery and lushness is hidden in the middle of the city, behind great walls. If we didn't know better, we could never imagine what was hidden here. It makes me wonder what's behind all the other great walls I pass on a regular basis in this town.

A last bit of summer.

But it really is fall, as we can see from the chestnuts, all ready to shed their leaves...

... And their fruit! Maybe we'll follow in Karen's footsteps and forage some to roast at home.

Finally, we find the statue of Balzac in a little corner of the garden. We saw the mold for this one at Orsay the other day. There's something about him that is a bit unsettling, a bit too grand. I think Rodin was trying to capture more of the greatness of Balzac's work than of the man, himself. I mean, he did write La Comedie Humaine.

Balzac.

That's it for the garden. We could have spent hours there, but we had a dinner to cook. More on that later...

Jon's Got Skillz!

2009-09-13T09:17:00.005-04:00

During Jon's days off last week, I was treated to two nights in a row of his cooking. Jon's always been a good cook, but since his training here in France, I can honestly say that he is now a great one.

When he used to cook back home, before Ferrandi and the Ritz entered the picture, it was a 50/50 chance that what he threw together would actually be tasty. I say it this way because despite a ridiculously large collection of cookbooks, the man does not believe in using them to actually cook with. Rather, they're nice things to look at. Seeing as how I am a stickler for following a recipe and am only really comfortable with deviation after a thorough knowledge of making the dish, i.e. I've done it a million times, I never really understood Jon's attitude towards cooking. It seems now, however, that he was just waiting for the training necessary to create great dishes from only the information floating in his head.

Exhibit A: Sauteed Shrimp with Creamed Leeks and
Herbed Potatoes

Jon learned how to make the leeks the other day at work and, as I am a complete FREAK for leeks (and for cream for that matter), he knew I would love them. He also sauteed up some shrimp, another of my favorite things to eat, and practiced his turning skills with the potatoes. This was one of the best meals I've eaten in quite a while. It was even yummier because we watched Mad Men while we ate. That Joan is one fine broad, let me tell you.

Exhibit B: Thai Chicken and Noodle Soup

Something else that I really enjoy eating, but rarely do, is coconut-milk soup. It's just not something that I think of, but when placed in front of me, I will go to town on a bowl or two. Jon wanted to practice his knife skills, so he hacked up some chicken wings and legs, made a DELICIOUS broth, cut carrots into pretty flower shapes (can you see them in the photo?), added baby corn (love!), snow peas, and noodles, a bit of sriracha, and coconut milk, and voila- a yummy, spicy, filling, and simple dinner for two.

I think this evidence helps my argument that my husband is a good chef. I don't want to call him a cook anymore. I'm a cook- I learned any skills I might have from my mom, an excellent cook in her own right- but I'm not trained. I can't take random ingredients and make a gourmet meal out of them. I can't cut carrots into shapes or make each onion dice the exact same size as the next (in fact, my onion chopping skills are deplorable- it's a miracle I've made it this long without cutting off a fingertip or two). But Jon-- he can do all of these things and he's getting better every day. As evidence of this, he was promoted the other day. Chef Michel Roth (Two Michelin Stars, People. TWO.) walked up to Jon, pointed at him, and said in broken English, "I want you for the Espadon." That was it. Jon was filled in later by an English speaking colleague that as of the end of September, he will be on the petit garde manger station at the big restaurant. This is a BIG deal, even though Jon speaks lightly of it.

I'm really proud of him. So proud, in fact, that we took a little trip to E. Dellherin, the rambling, old restaurant supply store in the 1st arrondisement. It's been around since 1820 and it looks it. I took contraband photos of the interieur (I hear they ban you indefinitely if you're caught) while Jon spent an hour deciding on which turning knife to buy, but hey, it was his reward. I couldn't (and didn't want to) complain.

Yes, you could cook a small child in this pot, it's that big!

You will be mine someday, Stuab Pot.
Oh yes- you will be mine.

A Brush With Food-Writing Fame

2009-09-13T09:11:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I had the chance to meet David Lebovitz, the very popular Ex-Pat food blogger and writer. Originally from San Francisco and the school of Alice Waters, he moved to Paris years ago. His eponymous blog is a wealth of information on the city's food culture. I really enjoy his writing and, lucky for me, he was signing copies of his books at one of the green bouquinistes stalls along the Seine. So, I grabbed my camera and my wallet and off I went in search of foodie fame.

Being the super dork that I am, I was of course the first person there. Lebovitz and his partner, Romain, seemed a little out of sorts that someone would arrive on time for the beginning of the event (Lebovitz is a self-professed vrai parisien, which of course means that he now has no concept of time in relation to keeping to a schedule. In France, show up to everything at least 30 minutes late- it will keep you from looking like an early-bird and an idiot). Oh well- I was out walking and just happened to be in the vicinity of the river at 2 pm- what could I do?!

Truth be told, I actually considered walking non-nonchalantly past the stand and down the quai, turning around and heading back when the appropriate time had elapsed. But, sometimes I just feel the need to embrace my American exuberance, and this was one of those times. I made some joke along the lines of, "Am I the first one?," which elicited anxious chuckles from the hosts and well... that was that. I bought a book (his latest, The Sweet Life in Paris), had it signed, asked for a picture, and voila! Romain acutally chatted with me for a bit and offered me wine, but I passed. I was just there to meet the man whose blog I read religiously, who has introduced me to many of the culinary pleasures of Paris that are to be found off the beaten path, and really, to get some material for my own blog. Mission accomplished all around, I'd say.

Lazy Afternoon in Luxembourg

2009-09-07T16:39:00.001-04:00

Megan came back yesterday and as her hubby skedaddled back to the States this morning and mine went to slave away in the bowels of the Ritz, we had the whole day to ourselves. She's been traveling and on the go a lot lately, so we decided to take it easy. We lounged about all morning, getting motivated to leave the apartment only when our bellies growled for food. After a nice salad lunch at one of my favorite local cafes (The Cafe St. Placide), we strolled down to Luxembourg Garden. Here's a bit of what we did:

Reading at the Medici Fountain

Watching this adorable old retriever evade his owner and the police while chasing ducks in the Grand Basin.

Watching the old men play a serious game of Boules.

Peeking at the beehives-- the honey will be for sale at the end of the month!

Admiring the abundant fruit trees-- Napoleon instituted courses here in the fruit-growing arts, open to the public, that continue to this day!

Afternoon tea at Bread and Roses Cafe.

Although it was a nice and warm day, with plenty of sun, the faint hint of fall was still in the air. Summer is over here in Paris. Everyone seems to know it, even the trees...

Sunday Picnic

2009-09-01T06:11:00.007-04:00

After a busy day of sightseeing for Meg and Tyler, working for Jon, and cooking for me, we four took a picnic to the Champs de Mars, the park at the base of the Eiffel Tower.

One of Megan's favorite dishes from our college and early adulthood days is my Spanish Chicken'n'Rice. It makes me very happy to think that I can make something that my friends covet and crave. It has been many a visit, party, or just rainy day when I've gotten a request for a little chicken'n'rice lovin. I learned the secret from my mom, and have passed it on only to Megan and Jamie (wedding shower gifts). Because I haven't made it in a long time, I thought the occasion of an evening picnic justly called for the time involved in making the dish. The occasion also called for the use of real plates and silverware. We settled with plastic wine glasses, however. One must be somewhat practical in these matters, after all.

Our menu consisted of the famed chicken'n'rice, a lovely salad of end-of-season tomatoes and cucumbers, fresh baguettes (they were still warm when we bought them from the boulangerie on the way to the park), cheese, grapes, and butter cookies with slabs of milk chocolate on top. We topped the food off with a couple of bottles of cheap, but good wines.

The weather was fantastic, with just a hint of fall in the air. Arriving around 7pm, we had the luxury of seeing the Tower in all its glory, from daylight to darkness. The sight was the bubbles in the glass of champagne that was our evening. Ah, Paris...

Medieval Paris and the Knights Templar

2009-09-01T05:28:00.009-04:00

Hooray for visitors! Jon and I had dinner with the lovely Tamara and her boyfriend, Kris, on Friday evening. We went to a little bistro in our neighborhood called Le Rousseau where Kris and I both got the Duck Confit- yum, yum! A great time was had by all, and I can excitedly say that I shouldn't really refer to Kris as Tamara's boyfriend anymore as they were engaged in our fair city on Sunday! So, Felicitations, mes amis!

Megan and Tyler arrived on Saturday, and knowing what good sports they are, I immediately dragged them over half of the city in pursuit of adventure. We took them to lunch and a little wander in the Les Halles district before walking Jon to work over at Place Vendome and then wandering back up to the Temple district to go on a Paris Walk (I was perhaps a bit overambitious as we were pretty pooped by then and the real walking tour hadn't even started yet!). Nevertheless, the Grunewalds never complained, and I think we all had a really good time.

Paris Walks is a spin-off from the popular London Walks company. Jamie introduced me to these guided and themed tours of the city, and I must say that if you have never done one in either town, I highly recommend them. The guides are incredibly knowledgeable and interesting, and the tours themselves always let you learn a thing or two (or three or four...). Megan, Tyler, and I took the Medieval Paris and the Templars tour. Here's a bit of what we saw:

Mary-Ellen, our guide.

One of the almost 200 working sun-dials in the city.

Remnants of the 12th-century wall surrounding the Templar's city
(see my previous post about this)

The tower from the monastery of St. Martin, saved from destruction by Victor Hugo.

Temple Church, now the Musée des Arts et Métiers.

Paris's Oldest House, which just happens to have belonged to the alchemist, Nicolas Flamel!

Le Tour de Jean Sans Peur (John the Fearless), a powerful duke of Burgundy who had grand designs on the French throne.

The place where Henri de Navarre, Henri IV, was assassinated.

We ended up pretty much where we began our day, in the Les Halles area. After grabbing a few pints at a nearby Irish pub, we headed home to a pizza dinner and an early bedtime for the weary travelers. I must say that the Grunewalds were incredibly hearty travelers for having been up for almost two days straight (that flight over is a doozy). Their efforts were to be well-rewarded the next day, however. But that, my friends, is another post...

Champagne Tuesday

2009-08-26T09:01:00.003-04:00

Because no reason to drink champagne is the best reason of all!

Iraqi Bundles of Love

2009-08-25T04:40:00.006-04:00

So today's post has nothing to do with Kate being abroad, but it does deal with people abroad- in Iraq to be exact. If you're friends with me on FB, you'll know that I recently read and was really affected by Greg Mortenson's story in the book Three Cups of Tea. Since finishing the book, I have been thinking about ways to help the people of Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iraq, namely in the area of education. Yesterday, while leisurely skimming my favorite blogs, I came across this post and immediately recognized my first opportunity to help.

Iraqi Bundles of Love (IBOLs) was started by a US soldier (the son, brother, and husband of quilters) who saw the need to supply Iraqi women with sewing supplies in order to provide them with a means to support themselves and their families. On his own initiative, he organized the IBOL program. You can find more about it here: http://ibol.wordpress.com/

For those of us who don't have or don't want to be troubled with sewing supplies, the people at Sew, Mama, Sew! (they recap the program much better than I do) have kindly put together a complete IBOL for purchase for only $15. This is an incredible price for what is included. I'll admit, I bought a few.

HELP THE PEOPLE OF IRAQ. BUY AN !!!!!!!!

Fairy Magic at Versailles

2009-08-21T12:37:00.009-04:00

It's been too hot to take a walking tour this week, my friends, so I thought I'd share with you our recent trip out to Versailles to catch the water and light show. I know that sounds a bit odd when speaking of Versailles, and it is a paltry description of what was really involved. So let me elaborate.

Perhaps I should not assume that all of my fair readers know what Versailles is. It is the H-U-G-E palace built by Le Roi Soleil, Louis XIV. I'm not going to get into details, but let's just say that standing at the gates of the place makes one feel small- tout petit, to be exact- which was Louis's plan, in fact. He wanted every living soul to FEEL the power and majesty of the king, a fait accompli that still resonates today. That's actually my favorite part of Versailles-- standing in front of the gates and reveling in the feat that was building this place. It always makes me feel very close to history-- I'm humbled the same way the nobility must have been as they approached the palace. It's a unique sensation.

Here's JMH in front of the gates in October (I couldn't find a picture of me).

Perhaps one of the most disappointing things about a visit to Versailles, however, is that the fountains in the gardens are usually not on. It costs quite a lot of money and energy to run them, so the State reserves their loveliness for certain weekends and evenings in the summer. In the past, I never managed to be there during these special times, so this was a major To-Do on my list of "Things to See While Living in Paris." Luckily, Jon and I checked this off said list two weekends ago with a Saturday-night jaunt out to the palace.

Officially, the event is called "Les Grandes Eaux Nocturnes," which roughly translates into "The Great Night Waters" or more poetically and in keeping with the sense of the phrase (Madame Cailler would be proud), "The Majestic Evening Fountains." For a few summer weekends each year, the Versailles Gardens (famous in and of themselves) open at 9 pm and reveal themselves transformed into a fairy world of sparkling lights, tinkling water, and lovely music. It is, in a word, magic.

For two and a half hours, we were able to wander amongst the flowers, fountains, lakes, and woods, all illuminated in splendid ways and accompanied by Baroque music piping from speakers cleverly hidden within bushes. Entering just at sunset, we were able to catch the sun sink below the Grand Basin, the big lake lying perpendicular to the palace. From there, we just strolled, enjoying the warm summer air, the laughs of children running through the paths, the lights playing through the streams of water, sipping on champagne obtained from a bar nestled in a little garden nook.

The night culminated in a fantastic fireworks display. Since we missed the Fourth of July and Bastille Day, I was suffering from a lack of acceptable pyrotechnic prowess (anyone who knows the Donovan men and my husband knows how I was raised to really appreciate a good round of exploding fire). Thankfully, the Les Grandes Eaux Nocturnes continued to impress even up to the very end.

I'm so glad that the lovely experience of seeing the fountains on and lit up exceeded the expectations I had set for the evening. I think the fairies would definitely approve of the nocturnal goings-on at Versailles. Perhaps they even had a hand in them...

The Word of the Day

2009-08-20T05:08:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I learned a new word in French. Here's how...

Round about the beginning of June, these Public Service Announcements in the form of posters started popping up around the neighborhood. They show a young woman with her arm around a grandma-type lady and under them there is the phrase, "CANICULE?" in huge letters and then some other explanation that I have never bothered to read. I thought it must be something to do with corns or bunions (old people suffer from these, don't they?) and moved on in my walking progress, thinking no more about it. Boy, was I was wrong.

Yesterday while I sweated through my lunch in a cafe, my eye caught the headline of the local paper. It read "CANICULE!" and had a picture of a spot in Paris where people were obviously broiling in the sun. Hmmmm. It occurred to me that canicule has nothing to do with bunions, but everything to do with August and almost unbearable heat! That's it! Canicule means "heatwave," a meteorological phenomenon which we are currently experiencing here. Yesterday, the mercury hit 97˚. This is the hottest August since 2003, the year when so many elderly died in their apartments from heat exhaustion. I now know that the PSA with the granny on it is instructing the public to be aware of their elderly neighbors and to encourage them to open their windows and to go outside. This may seem obvious to some-- why would anyone stay shut-up in an apartment in such heat? But, some old people, especially those living by themselves, are too fearful to leave windows open, etc. The city wants to prevent another summer like 2003, hence the PSA. We don't have any elderly people in our building, so no necessary checking for me. But, just the same-- the heat is a bit shocking.

Luckily, it is supposed to cool off by 20+ degrees this weekend. I know I'm from Florida, but we have AIR-CONDITIONING there. Almost no one has it here, I think because it's really only necessary about two or three weeks out of the year, but still. I will thank God for small favors, however. So far, Jon and I have not been plagued by mosquitoes (knock on wood) and the humidity is only about 80%. Regardless, I'm ready for the canicule to end, and although I will probably regret this in the near future, I'm looking forward to fall and cooler weather.

A Walk in the Third

2009-08-13T10:38:00.016-04:00

Okay, Armchair Travelers. I got this cool book a while back called A Paris Walking Guide: 20 Charming Strolls Through the Streets, Courtyards, and Gardens of Paris. The premise of the book is that Paris is a city with a rich architectural history that blends itself inescapably into the history of its inhabitants. In the introduction, the editor (who remains unnamed) states,

the ambition or dream of [this book] is to teach the lesson that seeing and learning changes
our lives. Enlightened by a historian or architect, we can understand the reason for things;
the scholarly background amplifies the soul of a place.... Thanks to a simple explanation, the
entire city becomes 'inhabited' by its history and its characters. Everything springs to life.

The editor goes on to say that the best way to bring the city to life is by taking an alternative approach to exploring it-- seeking out the little by-ways and hidden stories passed over by most people walking down the street. I like this idea. Let's try it.

Since I want to visit one of the covered markets in the 3rd arrondisement (in case you're not sure what this means, click here), I think we should follow the walk called "Temple Lands." It will twist us around the 3rd (also known as The Marais District), going south to north between the National Archives and the Square du Temple. As many of us historical-conspiracy-theory-buffs know, the Knights Templar were a VERY powerful order of Christian knights in the Middle Ages. Their presence in Paris was such that in the 13th century, they were granted lands outside the city upon which they constructed their own personal town! After their fall, the town and the surrounding swamplands (the marais) were eventually incorporated into the growing city. This is the part we're going to explore today.

Let's begin at the spot that marked the gateway from Paris into the Templar's town. It was graced with a fountain that in 1705 was turned into an enclosed well for the neighborhood. Without our guide book, I don't know that we would be able to figure out what this is.

A bit further down the street is the entrance to the Archives Nationals, housed in the Hôtel de Soubise. Napoleon established the archives here in 1808, but the mansion dates to 1705 and was originally designed for and lived in by the Prince de Soubise and his wife, Anne Chabot de Rohan.

For those of us interested in art, the four statues running along the front of the building represent The Four Seasons, and the two reclining figures on the top of the pediment are unique in Paris for still being there! During the Revolution, statues like La Gloire and La Magnificence des Princes were usually destroyed by uprising citoyens. Why these two survived is a mystery.

Anne was apparently the one with the name, because vestiges of the Rohan family crest (namely the macle- the diamond shaped gold decoration) can be found in many interesting places around the property.

Now on to the Rue Vieille-du-Temple, and the Hôtel Hérouet. This building is really interesting, not least because it was completely destroyed by German bombing in 1944 and lovingly restored. The Gothic turret is the only thing left of the original 16th century house built for Louis XII's treasurer.

The next stop of note is at the Hôtel de Rohan (there's that family of Anne's again!). This building is HUGE! It takes up half a city block, mainly thanks to the first Cardinal Rohan who bought up all the houses around the original lot in order to build a palatial (yet subdued) mansion with huge stables (50 stalls!!). When he died, three of his relatives succeeded him to the cardinal's seat and the house, the last being the famous Cardinal Rohan of the Diamond Necklace Affair. What a jerk!

Front view of the Rohan mansion.

Side view-- the stables stretch to the left.

The building was seized and pillaged by angry mobs in the Revolution, consequently restored and used as Napoleon's printing office, and finally included as a National Archives annex in the 1930s.

Next door to this decidedly antique building, on the Rue des Quatre Fils, is a WPA-looking (okay, I know the WPA didn't exist in France, but you get the idea) behemoth that in no way blends in with the buildings around it. The relief, by the way, is of the Four Sons of Aymon (two of them are carved into the stone) for whom the street is named.

This little street was widened in the early 1900s, resulting in the destruction of many of the classic buildings around it. We can see this sort of thing all over Paris. Nowadays, architects here have to blend new construction in with the old, but that wasn't always the case.

One of the buildings to survive the widening is this one, built in 1730-1735, and most famously occupied by Raymond de Sèze, the lawyer who defended Louis XVI at trial (he obviously lost). Our guidebook points out the cute little "hayloft" windows in the attic-- very rare.

Next on to what I think is one of the coolest buildings in the neighborhood, the Hôtel de Clisson. It dates from the end of the 14th century and is one of the few remaining Parisian homes with a defensive architecture. It was owned by the Guise family, one of the great powers behind the Wars of Religion (they needed all the defense help they could get). This house served as the Catholic camp's headquarters, and it is believed that the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre was planned here.

A little further on, we come to the corner of Rue du Temple and Rue des Haudriettes. It's a pretty nondescript intersection today, but it was once well known by Parisians, because the highest gallows in the city stood here.

The next intersection is a shady spot with a pretty fountain. It is a rare neoclassical design from 1767 with a carving of a water nymph above it. In the days before central plumbing, this would have been a spot for surrounding residents to fill their water buckets.

The next part of the tour comprises the oldest areas of the neighborhood, laid out in the Templar's original plans. The Rue Pastorelle used to be called Rue d'Anjou. A glimpse down a little alley offers a view of a 16th century second floor room and little indentations flanking the walls, called privés because their use as urinals was preferable to having the rabble pissing wildly in the streets. Funny image.

On the Rue Charlot, we come to my second favorite building on the tour, the Bérancourt house. It was built around 1705, and its concave shape and original windows (wow!) combined with the cobbled courtyard give it a charming air. If you take a peek in the stairwell (also original), you'll see several baby strollers parked there. Wouldn't it be neat to live here?

Next to this house, I saw this neat architectural detail-- an old dormer pulley. It's amazing what we can see when we take our eyes off the pavement!

And before the days of the famous Paris street signs, names were carved into the walls. Notice the spelling changes from Old French.

The last stop on our tour is a stroll by the location of the Hôpital des Enfants Rouges. This was an orphanage started by François I and his sister, Marguerite de Navarre. The kids wore red uniforms, hence the name. The building doesn't exist anymore (again, thanks to street "improvements"), but we can just make out an old entrance to one of its arcades.

This bring us to the covered market I want to visit-- Le Marché Des Enfants Rouges. It's the oldest covered market in Paris, taking up residence here in 1777 once the orphanage closed. Unfortunately, it being August, there are almost no vendors here. Oh well, there will have to be another trip in the near future!

I hope you enjoyed the tour. Next time, maybe we should take a walk in my arrondisement, the 7th.

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In Other News-- Happy Birthday to Lisa Gambon and her son, John Paul! J.P's one tomorrow!!

Dinner with Friends

2009-08-11T06:55:00.004-04:00

Jon had Friday and Saturday off, so we decided to amuse ourselves accordingly. Friday we headed to The Louvre, because in all our time here we had yet to make an appearance at the storied edifice. More on that visit in another post.

Friday night we had a lovely dinner with my old (in the sense of "dear") friend, Alisa Beth Salois and her husband, Matt. AB is my greatest friend from my year in Melbourne (FL, not Australia). Aside from Suz, she is also my most loyal blog reader/commenter. She and Matt live in Reading, England, and they took a trip to Paris for a few days.

I'm so glad we got to meet up and spend some time together. AB and Matt wanted to have a "typical Bistro" experience for dinner. For me, this implies bad service, ridiculous prices, and mediocre food. So, I did some research in the attempt to avoid this, and found what I thought would be the perfect place: Cafe Constant, a little bistro right down from the Tour. It's the "cheap" version of Chef Christian Constant's famous fare. It doesn't take reservations, which worked well for us as we arrived right as the first seating began. The space was TINY! The food was good. The Salois were fois gras newbies, so we ordered some. It was delicious (I'm not sure if AB and Matt liked it though). AB and I had the roast chicken, Matt the steak, and Jon the fish. All very good dishes. My biggest complaint with the place was the service (spotty at best) and the cutlery (the knives were so dull we could have used them as makeup applicators). So, I think that my friends got the experience they duly wanted only with a twist-- good food, good company, and annoying French waiters. Perfect!

7 Days on the Cote d'Azur, Part 4: Three Countries in One Day (Wed, 7/29)

2009-08-06T02:00:00.002-04:00

The last full day of the trip saw us sticking to the coast, yet heading east of Nice to Monaco and beyond. We began the day by driving up to the little village of La Turbie that has quite an old monument. An ancient monument, to be exact-- erected by the Romans to commemorate Caesar Augustus's victory over the wild tribes of the Alpes. It was built between 13-12 B.C.!

The remains of Caesar's statue-- can you see his head?

We had great views of the sea and Monaco from up on top of the monument, but the best part of it was the drive we had to take to get there-- we went up the Grand Corniche, which is one of the roads Grace Kelly drives on in Hitchcock's To Catch a Thief. It was fun to twist and turn on the same sinuous path she took back in the 50s and which led her, incidentally, to her future husband, King Rainier of Monaco. More on that in bit...

After La Turbie, we decided to drive down to Monaco, but when we saw how close we were to Italy, we couldn't resist. We hit the gas and headed to the border, stopping in Ventimiglia for a beverage before turning around and heading back to France.

Italy, dead ahead!

Cocktails on an Italian terrace with a view back to France.

Instead of heading right on to Monaco, we made another detour to the coastal town of Menton. It is apparently famous for its lemons, especially the limoncello made from said lemons. We wandered around the town square a bit, found a cute little shop selling the liqueur, bought some and headed on. We've yet to sample our purchase, however, so I'll have to let you know.

And finally to Monaco. What a beautiful place! Monaco is a principality whose ruling family, the Grimaldis, have been in power since 1297, making it the longest lasting dynasty in Europe! While Monaco is not part of France, it is essentially run by the French government in some confusing arrangement wherein the Prince allows a French minister to do all the daily business of running a country. Bizarre, but it works. The country/city is beautiful! Incredibly clean, friendly, and obviously loaded. We enjoyed a nice stroll through a mountain/sea side garden that led us up to the cathedral, where we visited the tombs of Princess Grace and King Rainier. From there we went for a look at the palace:

Prince Albert, the current ruler, lives here. As he is unmarried, he is one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe, but everyone pretty much assumes he will remain so, and that the line will pass to his sister's kids (they live down the street from the palace). I guess thus will end the dynasty!

After visiting the palace, we headed down to sea level to see the casino and port up close. The casino was not as big as expected, but still very impressive, especially with all the Bentleys, Porches, and Lamborghinis parked out front!

We wandered inside to see the decor (designed by Garnier, who did the Paris Opera House) and lose some money at the slots. I wanted to play Black Jack, but the gaming room had a cover charge, no thanks.

From there we went to the port to see the yachts up close. Wow! I can't even begin to imagine how much money we were looking at. Here's a shot of the yachts from above-- I'll let your imagination run with how they looked up close.

After that, we went and had a lovely dinner at a little restaurant a few blocks from the port and then it was back off to Nice. We packed up and headed to the train the next day for the long trip back to Paris. We had a great trip. Voila!

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For all the photos of the voyage, click here:

Nice and the Cote d'Azur

Seven Days on the Cote d’Azur, Part 3: The Inland Riviera from Madone d'Utelle to Grasse (Tues, 7/28)

2009-08-05T02:00:00.003-04:00

Day 5 of the trip had us heading north of Nice to the little known spot called Madone d'Utelle. Rick let me down on this one (no mention!), so we relied on our copy of Frommer's France's Best-Loved Driving Tours to get us there. Let me start by saying that the Madone d'Utelle is not in a village, nor is it anywhere near anything even remotely resembling a cluster of habitations. The guide makes no mention of this. Nor does it mention that most of the way up to the Madone d'Utelle is spent on near constant hairpin turns on a one-lane road that serves for two lanes of traffic with no guard rails or pull-off spots in existence. We were merely intrigued by the mention of a "remote hilltop." Lesson learned.

A "lacet" is a hairpin turn (I learned this on the trip).
Does that picture look like a hairpin turn?
Plus, the warning that 5 are approaching-- scary!!!

While the drive up was one of the most harrowing I've ever been on (Jon and his driving skills earned a whole new level of respect in my book), the view from the top was worth it. From the observation table, we had a view from the sea to Italy. We were 1100 meters up and could see a peak, Mt. Argentera, that was 3200 meters high. It was stunning:

Aside from the observation table, the only other thing on the top of the mountain is a church dedicated to Mary that was built in 1806 to replace various other structures occupying the site since the 9th century! Apparently, three Spanish brothers were shipwrecked off the coast in the late 800s, and all survived. The Virigin Mary appeared to them above this peak in the distant mountains, so the three hiked up here and built a shrine to her in thanksgiving for their salvation. The spot has been a site of an annual pilgrimage ever since. We didn't see any true pilgrims while we were there, just a few other day-trippers like us. This, I am sure, helped to contribute to the absolute silence within the little church. I have never been inside anything like it. It was beautiful and moving- just being in the quiet. I understand why people would hike all the way up there to experience it.

View from the inside of the chapel, looking out.

On the way down from the Madone, we stopped at a little place called Le Bellevue for lunch. It certainly did have a good view, and the food was nice too:

From there, we hit the road again, stopping every so often to pull over and take pictures or just enjoy the scenery. We made a special stop in the Gorges du Loup to visit the waterfalls, Les Cascades du Saut du Loup. Rick Steves suggested this as we might find ourselves thinking we were in Hawaii. We of course couldn't resist. What do you think?

I also bought some eau de cologne here from the little shop that distilled its own lavender water and essential oil. It smells really nice, especially as I am a lavender junkie!

The silver bucket is lavender water and the copper is oil.

After the cascades lost their charm, we left for our last sight-seeing stop of the day-- the village of Gourdon. This little town was closed to street traffic and had amazing views of the valley below it. It reminded me a lot of Les Baux in Provence, only minus the giant trebuchets. We bought a quilt from a linen shop and snapped this shot of "The Eagle's Nest" restaurant, which Rick Steves referred to as "the most appropriately named restaurant in France." I couldn't agree more:

We made one more stop on the way back to Nice-- in Grasse for gas (hehe). We rented a little Opel Diesel that got AMAZING gas mileage. We drove hundredS of kilometers on this trip and only had to fill up once. It was enough to make us want to abandon the SUVs when we get home.

Tomorrow: The last installment of the trip!

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In Other News... Happy Birthday to my GREAT friend, Suz!!!!! I miss her tons, but as she is a loyal reader, I know she'll get the message.

Kate and Suz in 2007 at her "retirement" bash.

Seven Days on the Cote d’Azur, Part 2: The Inland Riviera from Vence to Les Gorges de Verdon (Mon, 7/27)

2009-08-04T02:00:00.001-04:00

With the rental car, the Tom-Tom, and Rick Steves, we headed out on Day 4 into the wild blue yonder, more commonly known as the Inland Riviera. While most visitors to the region prefer to remain on the coast, this part of France has incredible landed scenery due to its location in Les Alpes-Maritimes. I mean, the Alps! We had to visit. And so we did.

We began by driving up to the town of Vence to have lunch and walk around a bit. After that we started winding our way up to the little villages of Coursegoules and Grélolières. The latter had a ruined castle and made a nice shot for a picture from the roadside:

From there, we decided to take the plunge and drive over to Les Gorges de Verdon. This is suggested as a day-trip in itself in the guide books, but as it was only about 3 in the afternoon and light lasts until after 9 pm here, we thought we'd do it. I'm glad we did.

Les Gorges de Verdon are Europe's greatest canyons and are referred to in English as "The Grand Canyon of Verdon." With drops of 2200 feet to the river below, the gorges can stretch from 4700 feet wide at the top to 26 feet at the riverbed. Rick Steves described them as a place where "overpowering slabs of white and salmon-colored limestone plunge impossible distances to a snaking turquoise river below." I've never seen the American Grand Canyon, but what I saw here definitely left me with the sense of the impossible, or at least the immeasurable scope of a power greater than me.

Les gorges plunging down to the Verdon River below.

The Pont d'Artuby, Europe's highest bridge.

After driving through Les Gorges, we headed back towards Nice. We were a bit farther west than we originally intended, so the drive back took a while. It was a nice chance for us to reflect on the heights we'd seen that day and to plan for the next day's adventure. More mountain roads? Yes Please!!

Tomorrow: Part 3: The Inland Riviera from Madone d'Utelle to Gourdon.

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In Other News... Jon's first day of work was "fantastic," as he put it. He says the kitchen is amazing, everyone is really nice, and he got to work on a lot of different things rather than just one thing (he had visions of piles of potatoes to peel). Best part for me? No more kitchen linens and uniforms to wash!!! The hotel has its own drycleaner, so the staff pick up clean uniforms (from pants up to neck kerchiefs) EVERY DAY!! Hooray, hooray, hooray!!!

Seven Days on the Cote d’Azur, Part 1: The Coastal Riviera (Fri, 7/24- Sun, 7/26)

2009-08-03T02:00:00.001-04:00

So, we drove A LOT on this trip (as is evidenced by the above map). But that didn't start until the third day. For the first two, we spent our time on the beach, parked under an umbrella or swimming in the Mediterranean. We also sniffed out some great restaurants to try. This is the usual thing we do when on vacation-- a true Roman Holiday is typically what we're after, and this one was no different.

Except for... the hotel. I love Rick Steves. He is my guru of travel. We have him to thank for the maps, the scenic drive suggestions, and most of the great places we visited during this trip. I'm sad to say that I cannot thank him for the hotel recommendation, however. We chose the Hotel Splendid based on his usual spot-on advice. The place was anything but. From its cold war appearance, its snooty desk staff, its smelly rooms, to the prostitutes hanging out on its front stoop, we wanted to spend as little time there as possible. Hence the driving. And the sunburns. The place was so ugly I couldn't even bring myself to take a picture of it. Oh, and the photos online, they're from 1982.

Aside from this, Nice was nice (hahahaha- you only get this joke if you know how to say "Nice" in French- I also laugh because I always hear the voice of Ryan Bauchiero saying this with his pretend French accent). Our hotel room came with entry to one of the many beach clubs along the shore. While the water was great, I preferred to spend my time looking out from my chair:

Jon preferred to spend his swimming:

But we both together enjoyed exploring the city... and eating! We found this great restaurant in Old Nice called La Cambuse that actually had linguine and clam sauce on the menu! I haven't been able to find it here in France, and as it is my absolute favorite Italian dish, this is how excited I was:

On Sunday, we picked up the car in the late afternoon and drove down to Antibes to check it out. We liked this smaller town much better than Nice. It's beautiful port and comfy walled streets felt much more welcoming to us. We had a nice time wandering around and found a great wine bar called L'Enoteca in which to pass the evening. We liked Antibes so much, we paid it a visit again later in the week (on Tuesday night).

"According to Rick Steves, this is one of the oldest
yachting harbors in Europe." What a dork (me, not Rick Steves,
although he might be a close second)!

Up next... "Seven Days on the Cote D'Azur, Part 2: The Inland Riviera"

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In Other News... Today is the first anniversary of the baptisms of our darling godchildren, the Durkin Girls, and their big brother, Finn. So, in keeping with tradition, here's a little Irish blessing for Piper, Clare, and Finn...

May God grant you always

A sunbeam to warm you

A moonbeam to charm you

A sheltering angel so nothing can harm you

Laughter to cheer you

Faithful friends near you

And whenever you pray
Heaven to hear you.

Amen.

Vive Les Vacances

2009-08-01T14:52:00.007-04:00

It’s August and any Frenchman in his right mind has officially started his summer vacation. Many of the French take several weeks off in August every year—for the Parisians, this means getting the hell out of Dodge. Yesterday, Jon and I learned how fantastic this “absence” is going to be for us as we noticed the incredible lack of crowds out on the streets. Instead of Parisians and tourists jostling for space on the sidewalks and metro cars, there are now just tourists. It’s lovely.

Since Jon starts work on Monday, we decided to spend yesterday exploring a bit of the city that we’ve yet to see. To begin with we made a visit to Paris Plage (Paris Beach). Every year since 2002, the city closes off a stretch of the riverbank in the heart of the city and creates a summery spot for people to enjoy the outdoors and be able to escape the heat of their apartments. I have to admit that I was skeptical of what we would find. I mean, making a beach along the banks of the Seine conjured up images of the Seinfeld episode where Kraemer takes up swimming in the East River—terrifying. What we saw (and enjoyed) however, completely changed my mind.

Paris Plage has everything! There's sandy spots for the kids to build sandcastles, a free pool with activities for adults and kids, shady spots and sunny spots to relax in, a gym area (hilarious!), a book store, science and art workshops for the kids, and even giant inflatable mattresses for grown-ups to jump on. We wandered the whole length of the plage and then found a cozy spot to have lunch- right on the river. It was a great start to the day!

Kids and 'rents enjoying the sand.

These little ones were all lined up eating their lunches.

The workout area of the plage.

A group playing Pétanque (Boules).

The little bookshop on the beach. The number 1 seller? Crime Novels.

Crepes, Perrier, and a great view for lunch.

After walking the plage, we decided to head down to Chinatown to check it out. We'd heard that Paris had a Chinatown, but it is off the beaten path so we'd never been. We took the metro to the 13th arrondisement and wandered around until we ended up on a street where we saw more signs in Chinese than French! This was an interesting walk. We stopped into a bakery where I bought a lotus moon cake (these often figure highly in the books I've read with Chinese subjects), visited a tea shop where I got some delicious smelling tea called The Red Pagodoa, and went into a kitchen supply store that Jon proclaimed was heavenly (I thought otherwise-- the place was so stocked full I thought a pile of crap would fall on me at any moment. Oh, and some of the things had been there for so long, they still had price tags in FRANCS on them!). It wasn't meal time, which made us sad because we saw so many good looking (and smelling) restaurants; we decided we'll be heading back to Chinatown soon for another exploration, this time with a more culinary bent.

A lotus moon cake-- not as good as I expected.

Cooked ducks, waiting to be eaten.

This one's for Durkin-- a whole tub of foul-smelling Durian fruit, which Tim once had to eat with unfortunate consequences.

The last stop on our tour of Houston-Uncharted Paris was a walk to Bercy. The Bercy area of Paris is a really hip spot on the east of town that until about 20 years ago was a real shit-hole. The city basically gave developers and architects free reign on fixing the place up, which they've done quite nicely. This is where the huge national library is (four giant glass buildings in the shape of open books) and where one can visit Bercy Village-- a very cute little strip of shops and restaurants that were once the wine warehouses of the Paris. We really liked this area and plan to visit it often.

A shot of the walk down Bercy Village-- very pretty.

By the time we finished our explorations, it was really late and we were starved. A visit to our favorite restaurant and a chat with Guillaume was in order. Good food, good wine, and good conversation were the perfect endings to a great day.

Le Restaurant 24 really thrills me!

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In "Kate, A Broad" news... you'll probably notice some changes to the look of my blog. I also intend to blog much more often than I have been in the past. I need a project, and this is it! So, please stop by often, or better yet, sign up to be a follower. I love knowing who's reading my posts. Next up, the low-down on our fantastic trip to the Cote d'Azur.

Last Day In London and Other News

2009-07-19T11:58:00.006-04:00

~~~
Well, Jon and I are at the end of our London visit. We leave tomorrow after almost two weeks of happy lounging with Jamie and Steve. I think the best parts of the visit have been (besides getting to spend so much time in Harmon land, of course):

1. Getting to eat so much of Jon's lovin' from the ovin, i.e. he's been using us as (willing) guinea pigs in his desire to keep up with his culinary skills.

2. Seeing JUDE LAW on stage as Hamlet in the Donmar West End's production of the play. Jamie and I stood in line for two hours (in the rain) on Wednesday morning to get standing room tickets for the matinee of the play. It was more than worth it, not only because the production was so damn good (Jude Law plays anguished youth quite well), but also because we also saw the new Harry Potter while waiting around for the play to start. Awesome day!!!

I'll help warm you up, Hammy...

~~~

Besides spending the last week or so in London, Jon and I also took a trip to Croatia, to renew my tourist visa with France (had to get out of Europe) and to celebrate his completion of the classroom portion of his training. We stayed on a little island off the coast of Dubrovnik, which is in Dalmatia. It was beautiful! Very relaxing and pleasant. We would definitely go back. Here's a shot of us enjoying the sunset.

You can check out all of the pics in my Picassa album:

Croatia

~~~
And, in totally unrelated travel news, I'm an aunt!!! The first child of my family's next generation was born to my brother and his wife on July 7. May I introduce...

JACK WILLIAM DONOVAN

My sister and I decided that all we want to do is squeeze him! So cute!

May, the month of Insanity

2009-06-09T16:39:00.008-04:00

Lordy! This has been one hell of a month. For four weeks straight, I have either been enjoying house guests or traveling. I joked today that I need a vacation from other people's vacations! But, it has been tons o' fun. I'll give the breakdown of who, what, and where:

Three Houstons in the House

Sarah came at the beginning of May to visit us and to finally see the Eiffel Tower (the girl has been dreaming of the thing since she was a wee mite). She got a whole lot more out of this trip than she bargained for, I think. Despite cold and rainy weather during her first week here, she put on her walking shoes and saw the town. Here we are doing the quintessential cafe meal at a little place right across from Notre Dame:

After a week in Paris, I spirited Sar away to the south of France for a little girls' rendez-vous with the McCombs women, Karen and Jamie. We left the filthy and foul Paris weather for a little Aix-en-Provence sunshine and enjoyed pastis, rosé and our nice hotel patio for three days of heaven.

After one night back in Paris, all three Houstons left for a four day trip through the Loire Valley. We rented a car and drove around to the castles. We had GORGEOUS weather and a lot of excitement, including getting the car stuck in the mud and having a tractor pull us out! Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of that, but I do have some other nice shots.

Santorini, i.e. HEAVEN

Two days after Sarah left, we left too-- headed this time to meet up with the Harmons and the Kavaileros in Greece. Dimitri and Sara arranged the whole trip, and we could not have had a better time. Santorini is absolutely beautiful. We watched the sunset every night from our balcony overlooking the Aegean sea. We chartered a boat for an afternoon of sailing, swimming, and sunning. We laid on the black sand beaches and drank mojitos made by the very nice and very competent, Dionysos. In short, it was the best vacation I think I've ever been on. When do we go back?

Bauchieros in Paris

Two days after returning from our Grecian holiday, Kerry and Ryan Bauchiero came to visit. We had a lot of fun exploring Paris together, including a chocolate tour of the Right Bank's lesser known yet completely delicious chocolatiers. Let's just say that was definitely the perfect way to start their visit. Ryan and Kerry are such sports, they even agreed to ride the Velib-- Paris's rent-a-bikes. There's nothing like risking your life in Paris traffic to get the blood pumping or to get a real Parisian experience.

So, the guests are gone and I'm tired! It was a great month, not the least reason being that Jon found out yesterday that he's going to be completing his internship at the Ritz! That's right-- the Ritz hotel in Paris! I am so proud of him and all he's accomplished in the six months we've been here. I certainly can't wait to see what the next six hold for us.

A Visit to Venice…In London

2009-05-10T14:58:00.004-04:00

Last weekend, I escaped my crazy apartment life to enjoy the British bank holiday (i.e. Steve had a free day off) with the newly wedded Harmons. Along with their friends (nicely, now my friends), Tamara and Kris, we trooped over to Paddington on Saturday to a part of London known as “Little Venice. The moniker comes from the obvious similarity it shares with the original city—canals. Before the days of roads and rails, the Thames was the major means of goods transportation to and from the capital city. Accordingly, a complex system of levees and canals developed. The best remaining example of this once great system is Little Venice. Saturday was the area’s annual canal boat cavalcade and festival. The lure of sunshine and street meat was too strong for us to resist, so off we went to join in the fun.

The weather was gorgeous and the setting very pretty. All the trees and plants were new and fresh—the weeping willows hanging over the lovely stone bridges that crisscrossed their way across the canals made for an almost storybook atmosphere. We wandered for a while up and down the canals—touring a few of the narrow boats (thus named because of their small size, necessary to travel up and down the canals without getting stuck) and checking out the vendors. After a while, the call to eat, drink, and be merry overcame us, so we found a place on the banks to park ourselves and decided to let the action come to us.

From the our excellent vantage point, we could watch the boat parade, examine the amazing amount of dogs out for a stroll, and pity the poor parents pushing strollers full of hot and whiny kids through the crowds. We were also able to get some sun (a phenomenon I had disparaged of ever having the chance to do again) and enjoy sausages, fresh cider (which had a decidedly barnyard quality for which I did not much care), and white wine.

As if street meat and cool drinks weren’t enough to make our day, the onslaught of a troupe of Morris dancers surely sealed the deal. I have no idea of the history behind Morris dancing. What I do know is that we derived great pleasure from watching these beribboned and black-hatted men prance around in front of us with bells on whilst trying to whack each other with sticks. They even had a jester who interspersed yelling things at the audience with joining in the dance. It was obvious that these men were having a great deal of fun, not mainly because they were all imbibing freely from the pewter tankards each man carried. After their performance, more than one member of the audience spotted them a round. Not us, though—we’d already spent all our money on rounds of our own.

One Hell of a Week

2009-04-29T12:23:00.005-04:00

I decided I should share with you the crazy-ass week I just experienced, beginning with last Tuesday, April 21 and going up to today, which I hope will only be mildly associated with craziness. Warning: This post is long. I’ve divided it into sections for your reading ease and pleasure. If you’re a true follower, you should read this while drinking. Heavily.

Tuesday: The Case of the “Gentil Voleur”

So, Jon and I got back to France from our trip to the States for Jamie and Steve’s wedding (details coming soon) sans incident, which is in itself a bit of a crazy thing seeing as how the travel gods almost always deign to shower me with some sort of traveling calamity. The second day back (Tues.), I ran errands all morning and came down with a roaring headache- probably still a bit of jet leg- so I went home to lay down. It was a beautiful day and amazingly warm, almost 70 degrees! I opened the windows in our second floor apartment (emphasis is necessary to the story as you will soon learn) to cool the place down (plus, we had a mouse die behind the couch while we were gone and the apartment smelled God-awful), and I went to relax on the bed. I had my eyes closed for no more than fifteen minutes when I heard the sound of someone in the apartment, which I thought was weird because I didn’t hear the sound of the front door opening. I sat up smiling, thinking Jon was going to walk in the room, when who appears instead but a strange man walking determinedly through the bedroom door!

Now, as a woman, I’ve been through all sorts of self-defense seminars, have taken kickboxing, have been lectured and admonished since birth about the proper ways to handle a situation like this. Unfortunately, under the incredible shock of the moment, I did none of them. Instead, I merely yelled out, “Hey!” to which the man responded, “Excusez-moi, Madame,” with an equal look of astonishment on his face, and turned around and began to climb out the window!! Forgetting myself, I said to him in English, “What the hell are you doing in here, guy?” He said again, in English this time, “Excuse me, Madame,” as his body was half out the window. Then he proceeded to shimmy down the wall like Spiderman, walk calmly through the courtyard of our building, and out the main door. He was so calm and cool that he even turned to me before leaving the courtyard and apologized again! All I could do was stand at the bedroom window and watch, credulous, as the man disappeared.

I was in shock. I sat down on the bed and could only think, “Thank God I wasn’t just raped and murdered!” This lasted for a minute; then I called the police. I dialed the French version of 911 and what next transpired is so stereotypically French it’s almost unbelievable- when told that the man who had just invaded my apartment was gone, the operator replied that nothing could be done for me and that the next time I should call when he was in the apartment. With that, she hung up, and I stared at the receiver with even more credulity than when watching the would-be thief leave the building. I had no recourse but to call Jon at school. It was four in the afternoon; he could be up to anything there. He was tracked down, and when he heard my story, he came running home, literally. I felt bad about calling him out of cuisine, but he told me later it was great because he didn’t have to help clean up the kitchen.

Enter into the story Olivier, our trusty and much-beloved French friend. His father is a retired cop in Lyon. Jon called Olivier. Olivier called his dad. We were instructed to go to the police station to make a report. In typical French fashion, when we went to the station closest to us (but not in our arrondisement); we were told to go to the station in our arrondisement. We had to take the bus. I filled out the report. They showed me pictures of suspects fitting the house-breaker's description—no luck. They sent investigators to the apartment to fingerprint the scene because the dumb-ass left hand and shoe prints all over the place, visible in the fine sheen of Paris dust on the balcony railing and on the first-floor windowsill he used to begin his shimmy up the wall. Perhaps the most shocking part of the whole thing is that the investigators found traces of fingerprint powder on the balcony ledge, as in- this has happened before to another tenant!!! Like me, whoever it was probably never imagined that someone would be able to enter a second-floor window, at least fifteen feet off the ground. The thought boggles the imagination. The only good thing to come out of the whole experience was repaying Olivier’s kindness and patience (he met us straight from work to help in going to the police) by taking him out for street meat (Gyros from the best stand in Paris) and a pint at The Highlander.

In the midst of all of this insanity, I also got the landlords involved. They have a daughter around my age, so they are of course very concerned. The next day a man came to measure the windows for iron bars. This of course will have to be approved by the building’s resident board who apparently hate the husband-half of my landlords (something about his son knocking out a supporting wall of the apartment when he lived here- I don’t even want to know the details of that one) and are likely to deny the request out of spite. I don’t know what we’ll do if we can’t open the windows in this joint. Summer in Paris is no cool breeze, that’s for sure. But, in true Scarlet O’Hara fashion, I’ll just say that I can’t think about this now; I’ll have to think about it later.

Thursday/Friday: It Keeps Getting Crazier

I guess I should look on the bright side of the “window incident” (as I now call it) and consider myself lucky that the week a guy decides to break into my apartment is also the week that Jon gets two unexpected days off. Needless to say, I’m not so good by myself in our abode right now, so that was nice. He was gifted with said days off because the Lyme Disease Chef Sebastian, which he contracted on some holiday in the French countryside, flared up and the poor man had to go to the hospital. Luckily he is feeling much better now- just in time to teach Jon and his classmates how to make Duck à l’Orange. Bless Him.

Thursday: A Brush with Fame

Two days after the “window incident,” Jon and I went to eat at a little café in our neighborhood. Chez Dumonet is very old and heavily frequented by locals. There, waiters in traditional attire buzz quietly around the cozy dining room that looks much as it must have when the place first opened at the beginning of the 20th century. They have a few tables in the back, partitioned off from the main dining area by a wooden half-wall with a little gate in it (open so the waiters can get back to the kitchen), for those customers daring enough to come in without a reservation—we belonged there. Throwing away my resolve to eat sparingly and healthily (made during a moment of hysteria a week previous in the Belks’ dressing room in Lady Lake, Florida), I devoured the menu’s offerings with my eyes, wanting one of everything, but settling on the chateaubriand (for one) and pommes frites.

As Jon and I chatted over our wine, snuggled closely next to those other diners sans reservations, I glanced up to see what appeared to be Gerard Depardieu walking towards me. Doing a double take, I realized that it was Gerard Depardieu! He was lumbering determinedly back to the kitchen (of which Jon had an excellent view, we being only one table away from its open door) where he commenced a serious discussion with the chef, yelled some orders out to various staff members scurrying about, and left. Voila. Just like that, in such a brief amount of time, I was close to fame. I wish I could have seen him eating or something (this must be my sick obsession with gossip rags coming out), but just to have seen him was cool enough for me.

Monday: The French Paradox in the Form of the Gym

Thank God the weekend was pretty much crazy-free. Luckily, my trip to the gym on Monday made up for this. I joined a gym on Blvd. St. Germaine. It is very modern and clean, and upon first inspection, closely resembles an American establishment of the same genre. It is not until numerous visits later, however, that one really begins to realize that this is nowhere near the case.

Exhibit A: Monday was the celebration of the gym’s first anniversary. I see the signs announcing it as I walk up the stairs to the main floor, but don’t know what this means. I immediately find out. As soon as I get through check-in, I see a table in the middle of the cardio floor, with numerous people milling about it, feasting upon--are you ready for this?--potato chips, chocolate cake, salted peanuts, white wine, and soda. I am not making this up. In the midst of men slogging away on the treadmills and women gyrating on the elliptical machines, the gym is throwing a “How many ways can we eat unhealthily?” party. One would expect a gym party to involve fresh fruit, mineral water, maybe some yogurt, but I am quickly learning that nothing is as expected here.

Exhibit B: Unlike gyms at home, most people in this gym wear nothing even remotely resembling workout attire. The other day, I saw a guy wearing jeans while running on the treadmill! The desk girls wear black, slinky outfits complete with either stiletto heels or biker boots. The minute I put on my running shorts and technical tee, I am singled out as a foreigner.

Exhibit C: Being an establishment dedicated to the pursuit of fitness in its various forms, one would expect to find various water fountains available for its workout-weary denizens to replenish their fluids. Unfortunately, this is not the case. There is not a single place to get water in the entire joint, other than out of the bathroom sink. I know because I both searched high and low and asked. As the attendant quickly pointed out after answering my question, there is however coffee available at all times during opening hours.

Exhibit D: Speaking of bathrooms, the toilets do not work--anywhere in the building. I keep walking up to the third floor as instructed by the notice on the door of the first floor bathroom, only to see a similar notice there telling me to go to the first floor. I’ve learned to just hold it.

I could go on, but I’m starting to talk myself out of my workout planned for this afternoon. This would be unfortunate, as I must gather more evidence to support my investigation.

Yesterday/Today: Cold Shower??

There has been constant construction going on around us since we moved into our apartment over three months ago. From the scaffolding that once covered our windows to the remodeling of the apartment upstairs to the electricians using what sounds to be a rather large drill boring through one hundred-year-old brick and mortar directly beneath us, there’s never a dull (or quiet) moment during the day. In fact, they are turning off our power tomorrow- all day or possibly even into Friday, according to what the nice, dust-covered man told me this morning. Add to this the strange disappearance of hot water from our shower, and I’d say we’re dealing with a regular Donovan’s Law situation here.

That’s right—we’ve had no hot water in the shower since probably some time on Monday. I say that because when I went to take a shower last night (after running three miles in the rain), the water was cold. I immediately accused Jon of using too much hot water in his cooking (he often turns the spigot to the hot side for no reason other than to annoy me), but found that both the sink in the kitchen and the bathroom could pour forth scalding water. After I apologized to Jon, he told me he took a cold shower that morning. We think the electricians must have pierced something with their mega drill.

I called the landlords. They are in the middle of a bicycle trip through Italy. The wife-side of the duo literally spoke to me mid-pedal. She assured me that she would call the plumber when she got back to the hotel tonight. Seeing as how I won’t have any power tomorrow and that Friday is a national holiday here, it looks like it will be sponge baths for us from now until Monday. I think I might try to find somewhere to escape to—maybe there’s a cheap flight to Anywhere I could dig up. Anything to escape the craziness; but then again, I guess life would be pretty boring with it.

April in Paris

2009-04-01T13:24:00.006-04:00

HAPPY POISSON D'AVRIL!!!!!

Instead of April Fool’s Day, French children celebrate today by gorging themselves on chocolate fish and trying to stick paper ones on the backs of their teachers. Too bad this year the day falls on a Wednesday when the kids are out of school. However, I did manage to catch a group of kids with their keepers running in the park today. The adults had paper fish necklaces on!! So cute- I didn’t quite get the fish in the picture, but it sure looks like both grown-up and kid were having fun.

In honor of the first day of April, I actually went outside today with naked legs- the first time I’ve done so since arriving in Europe three months ago. With all the sunshine out today, the whiteness of my gams was practically blinding. I think I almost caused more than one car accident because of it- seriously. And, what’s even more crazy, is the fact that I was one of the few women on the street showing any leg skin- almost everyone was still in black, brown, gray, or some such dull combination. I’ve been in Paris in the summer. I know that people wear color. I just wonder when it’s perfectly acceptable to do so.

Because I’ve never really experienced a traditional springtime (key word, “traditional”- as a diehard Floridian, I will never admit that we don’t have seasons), I’ve been quite enamored with all the things blooming and sprouting up around town. There are so many types of flowers and flowering shrubs that I’ve never seen! Lovely stuff—so much so I felt the need to take pictures. Here are some images of Springtime at the Jardin du Luxembourg. From flowers, to trees, to the kids sailing boats at the grand basin, I think I captured a good feeling of how wonderful it is to be out in the sun after such a long, gray winter.

Show Us the Pork!

2009-03-22T11:08:00.007-04:00

Last weekend Jon’s school, L’Ecole Superior de Cuisine Francaise-Ferrandi, held a “portes ouvertes” where the public was welcomed to visit and explore the culinary school world. This Open House was the big reason Jamie and Steve decided to visit- not that they don’t love us, but the opportunity for free food and a chance to heckle Jon in his school uniform would have been too good for any of us to pass up. Plus, rumor on the street was that the American team in Jon’s class was making pulled pork- if this were true we would have been fools to miss out, seeing as how Jon’s famed porcine product is out of commission for the duration of our stay here due to the fact that we essentially do not have an oven. So, we roused ourselves at an appropriate time on Saturday morning, gathered up Olivier who needed to be inducted into the heaven that is Jon’s pulled pork, and made our way to the ESCF building.

The school is huge with seemingly no intelligent layout- buildings jut out at all angles and heights within the complex. Unlike the other masses roving about (yes, apparently the French too are big fans of free food), we of the American contingent had a specific goal in mind, i.e. get us to the pork as soon as possible and no one would get hurt. We had to have several people guide us- up stairs, down corridors, through broiling kitchens and cold pantries- until we finally found the “Anglo Kitchen.” One woman actually asked me if we were Anglo-Saxon when I asked her for directions! I’m pretty sure none of us actually fit into that category (does anyone anymore? Where’s Paul Gambon when I need him- he’d set me straight on this one), but I said yes in the hopes it would get us there faster. It didn’t. We eventually did find our way to Jon’s kitchen, however, and received quite a nice welcome.

Jon’s chef, Sebastian, seemed very happy to see us. He was standing at the door to the kitchen directing the set-up of the food table- the plank that was about to hold culinary delights from all corners of the world representing the local cuisine of the Anglo program’s students. This meant there would be sushi from Japan, shrimp ceviche from Mexico, bitter balls from Holland, and so on- all very well and good, but get us to the pork already. There was no sign of the desired dish, yet as we peered through the steam and heat coming off the huge stoves in the middle of the kitchen, we saw Jon’s smiling face appear. He looked very dapper in his white cap, chef’s coat, checked pants and white (oh Lord!) kitchen shoes. The best thing about his uniform was that he had his name embroidered on his shirt. We were all very impressed by that. It looked quite nice all scripted out in blue thread- very official.

Jon too seemed very happy to see us, and as the pork wasn’t quite ready yet (zut!), he offered to take us on a tour of the kitchens in which he works. We were shown all around the “small” kitchen, as he called it. Small is a relative idea- this kitchen was five times the size of a normal house kitchen and would have made it possible to cook enough food to feed a small army. Yet, “small” it was as we quickly learned when taken into the “large” kitchen, an enormous room of mammoth proportions. The stoves in the center of this room were huge iron things, belching fire from their cook tops like geysers shooting out of Yellowstone. French students (mostly teenagers as the ESCF is a trade school where kids who don’t want to go to university finish their education) bustled all around the cramped and heated space in the center of the room while huge metal tables separated them from the paths of the eager and interested visiting public. This was the kitchen used for dinner service, Jon told us, where only two nights before the Anglo students (Jon included) had put out their first complete dinner to guests of the Parisian Chamber of Commerce. Jon had worked one of those flaming cooktops, making braised beef cheeks with his partner Adam. Saturday, however, the French kids had reclaimed their space in la grande cuisine and were serving up such dishes as fried fish (delicate and delicious with its accompanying tartar sauce), pizza (hearty with olives and caramelized onions), and onion tarte (thick-crusted and creamy). Having sufficiently whetted our appetites, Jon led us back to his kitchen where the pork was surely ready.

Indeed it was ready and delicious too. Chef Sebastian had somehow managed to find Liquid Smoke- where and how he went about procuring this is a mystery to Jon. Granted the bottle is industrial sized, prompting Jon to tell Chef that it will last for years, to which the man replied, “Yes, because you are the only person who will ever ask for it.” The group decided to serve the pork on top of coleslaw over slices of baguette (hamburger buns aren’t readily available here either). They made a little sign that labeled the dish as American Barbeque (which Jon told me he later changed to “Obama BBQ” in the hopes of stirring up more interest. This apparently did the trick as every person who came by afterwards not only tried some but also wanted to know if it was the actual recipe the President enjoyed eating!). The four of us, Jamie, Steve, Olivier, and me, gobbled up several servings of the plump and saucy goodness, before moving on to try the other Anglo dishes. All were good, but none measured up to the pork.

We decided perhaps we were making a bit of scene what with all the face stuffing and munching, so we said goodbye to Jon and moved on in pursuit of more delights. We certainly found plenty to keep us eating— seafood chowder, braised lamb, chocolate displays, fondant roses, and whole pain au chocolat and croissants for the taking. We also watched the patisserie students making puff pastry by hand! Seeing that much butter being pressed into dough has given me a new appreciation (and fear) of those croissants I love to eat. We filled up on bite size morsels of gourmet meals and left the kitchens to the professionals. Our trip to Jon’s school had been an eye opening and fulfilling experience. I think we were all impressed by what Jon is doing on a regular basis and by how comfortable and calm he appeared in the midst of all the bustle. Now, if only we could find a way to cook more pulled pork… football season isn’t that far off after all.

On Hemingway, Hammaming, and Other Such Business

2009-03-17T05:57:00.007-04:00

Wow- I’m a pretty bad blogger. I suppose I have no regularity to my posts whatsoever and for that, I apologize. I’ve decided to try to be better, so here goes my first attempt.

The past two weeks have been full of activity for the Houstons in Paris. We’ve had our first and second rounds of visitors, all of whom were lovely. Before the visits started, however, Jon and I spent an incredible evening celebrating my 30th birthday (I still cannot believe that I have entered the fourth decade of my life!). On February 21, we got dressed to the nines and went out for cocktails and dinner at the Ritz! In Paris! The Hemingway Bar was incredible. The bartenders (the head among them being one of the most famous mixologists in the world) dress in old-fashioned style white shirts. The bar is a tiny little space across the hall from the bigger Ritz Bar. Apparently, it used to be called the Little Bar in the old days, and was a favorite Right Bank spot of Hemingway and his cronies. When the Ritz was refurbished in the 1970s, the bar was redone in honor of Papa and is hence filled with all sorts of photos and memorabilia from the man’s life and works. It is a very cozy spot, all dark wood, leather, and candlelight. The drinks are strong and each comes with a fresh flower floating in it. I tried the Serendipity, a recommended concoction, and a champagne cocktail. Both were quite potent.

Lucky for us, Crystal and Brian wanted to see the bar during their visit, so Jon and I got to make a repeat visit a little less than two weeks later, where we tried more cocktails and got to meet the famous bartender, Collin P. Field, (http://www.ritzparis.com/jump_to.asp?id_target=1342&id_lang=2) who signed a copy of his book for Crystal. This time I decided to go back to my roots, and had the Ritz version of a bourbon and ginger- yummy! I also got to discuss the history of a Gin Fizz with one of the bartenders, who showed me the bar’s “Bible,” a heavily worn copy of some Barkeeper's guide that had been lovingly taped together more times than a teenager’s first Playboy. The thing that was so cool about this particular book was that not only did it give the history of every cocktail known to man, it also held within its moldy and ripped pages the cocktail recipes for all of the bar’s regulars since time immemorial. It was just the kind of thing I go for- an old book about booze? A perfect combo if there ever was one.

The birthday dinner in the Ritz restaurant, L’Espadon, was just as fun (if not much more elegant) as our pre-dinner cocktails in the Hemingway Bar. The space is an incredible and pleasant assault to the senses- all guilt and mirrored like one of Marie Antoinette’s chambers. The waiters are efficient and exact- able to meet one’s every need yet remaining in the background. They were buzzing busily around, yet they weren’t bothersome. We had the winter menu and ordered wine pairings with each course. The meal started with champagne, of course, and progressed from there. While I can’t quite remember exactly what we ate (more from the passage of time rather than drink. Honest!), I do remember that the food was delicious and the wine divine. It was an amazing experience- one that isn’t likely to happen any time soon (since I would have to put a future on the life of my first-born in order to be able to cough up that much cash for a meal again) which makes it all the more special. Thanks, Jonny, for a great memory!!

Our culinary adventure continued with the arrival of Crystal and Brian, as we dined with them at several of our favorite places in Paris and some of our not so favorites (like the Italian place where the pasta was homemade, but we sat in the roaringly hot basement next to a family with what seemed like fifty hooligan kids, but was actually made up of five children one of whom was a wild dervish who ran out from the table at random intervals to attack the legs of the waiter or throw spaghetti at his older, text-messaging sister). We also took a quick trip up to Alsace thanks to Crystal’s wine connections. She arranged a visit to the Paul Blanck et Fils winery, whose inheritor, Philippe Blanck, showed us an incredible time. Aside from getting to try the new wines right out of the barrels (sorry, Crystal, I don’t know the correct terms for them), he provided incredible bottles of his family’s vintages at each meal, including a 1983 Riesling that was to die for, and sent Crystal (and me for that matter) into spasms of joy. Philippe even sent us home with a bottle of wine he pulled right off a shelf of the winery cave. We’re saving that one for hot weather and a picnic.

This past weekend we finally got to repay Jamie and Steve for the years of hospitality they’ve shown us, whether it was crashing on their couch in Hoboken for weekends in NYC or cozying up in their London down comforters. While our rickety pull-out is no match to a cozy blankie (in fact I feel that with its decided downward tilt and creaking frame, the pull-out bed of our couch is a far cry from anything even remotely resembling the term “cozy”), I think we were able to show our dear friends a good time.

Jamie and I went to a hammam on Friday. Why we do not have these places in America, I have no idea!!! A hammam is a Turkish bath, but let’s just call it “Heaven on Earth.” Owing to the slight hot water problem we have in our apartment (as in, there really isn’t any), I haven’t been able to really be as completely warm and wet (minds out of the gutter!) as I want to be since moving to this town. I have found my solution! For a flat fee, Jamie and I gained entrance into a woman’s only bath, which was really comprised of an enormous room outfitted with showers along one wall, a huge heated tile dais in the center for lounging, a tepid plunge pool for cooling, a sauna in one corner, a steam room in another, and side rooms for gommage (body scrub), mud wraps, etc. It was a steamy, lavender-and-sea smelling paradise! We paid extra to try the gommage, so after an hour of lounging in the different areas of the bath, we subjected ourselves to the scrubbing prowess of the attendants who rubbed us down with enough force to peel the skin off an elephant, taking off God knows how many layers of good epidermis along with the dead stuff. While we turned as red as strawberries and questioned the intelligence of the decision to lie down on that table, our skin did glow (eventually) and Jon did comment on how soft my back was. So, I guess there really is some truth to the whole “Beauty is pain” concept. However, I think that when I hammam again (Jamie and I decided this had to be a verb), I’ll pass on the body scrub and spend more time soaking in the heat. Did I mention this experience is Heaven on Earth?

The rest of the weekend was just as much fun. Jamie and Steve met Olivier, who joined us for dinner on Saturday at Le 24, our absolute favorite place to eat in this city. We also took them to Le Nemrod, our local café, and to The Highlander, our favorite place to go to get a beer and hear some spoken English. We’re going back there tonight, actually, to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. It’s funny- the Scotch and Irish don’t always get along, and I certainly wouldn’t presume to visit a Scottish pub on March 17th in the States. But here among the Gauls, the Celts tend to stick together- even in today’s 21st century world. So, I’ll drink a pint of Guinness tonight in a pub run by crazy Scotch women and feel a little more at home than I do anywhere else in Paris. Slainte!

P.S.- Pictures of all the fun stuff we did with Crystal and Brian are up on my Picasa album: http://picasaweb.google.com/kate.d.houston

P.P.S.- I'm really interested in who's reading my blog. If you don't mind, Kind Reader, would you please leave me a comment, even if it's only your name, to let me know you were here? Merci beaucoup!

Unfortunately, Katie...

2009-03-08T19:04:00.004-04:00

Unfortunately, Katie... allowed this photo to be taken.

So, I've had to stop everything I was doing (namely avoiding sleep by aimlessly searching craft blogs on the internet) in order to put up this fun find. It has nothing whatsoever to do with my life in France, or with the FANTASTIC week and weekend I just spent with Crystal, Brian, and Jon (post soon to come on our adventures in La France Gastronome). But, it's fun to have a change of pace every once in a while.

The "Unfortunately, [insert your name here]" Game-- Warning, this can be addictive.

Type Unfortunately, [your name] into Google and see what happens. Here are the first ten things that popped up for me (The second-to-last one if my fav!). Pretty funny.

Unfortunately, Katie... doesn't own her castle yet, but she holds out hope that one day soon she can pull her berets out of storage ...

Unfortunately, Katie... is nothing compared to the ultimate hotness, Michelle Pfeiffer.

Unfortunately, Katie... and those around her come across as sanitized versions of people.

Unfortunately, Katie's face is completely obscured...

Unfortunately, Katie's marriage to Tom, seems to have made the masses believe that they know anything about her.

Unfortunately, Katie...is a different style and therein lies the problem, which CBS should have foreseen.

Unfortunately, Katie... was one of two contestants voted off of the show tonight.

Unfortunately, Katie... is NOT one of the good as well as beautiful actresses in Hollywood.

Unfortunately, Katie's globe trotting is restricted because she starves when abroad.

Unfortunately, Katie's not so dead husband resurfaced into town.