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Posts tagged ‘Paris’

No. 162: France, London-style

I’m traveling to London and environs again to lend support to Button as she auditions for more Musical Theatre programs and to spend time with the much missed Kitcat in Epsom.

I feel like I haven’t been in Paris forever and I have really been missing my life in France. Lucky for me, London seems to (secretly) love the French, as much as I do, as every time I turn around, I seem to run into a little bit of France—London-style, i.e. a bit on the larger (and sometimes slightly cheekier) side of the scale.

As I’ve mentioned before, London is the sixth largest French city in the world with more than 400,000 Frenchies making their home here—in fact, there are more French in London than in Bordeaux.

Here’s a glimpse of why I’m feeling right at home this weekend.

These pastries are all at least twice the size of their compatriots in France…but, bigger is not necessarily better…

Maison Ladurée looks just about the same, although with a much smaller selection at this one…

And of course, Pret à Manger, one of my favorite "French" quick food alternatives...

And of course, Pret à Manger, one of my favorite “French” quick food alternatives…

No. 161: Getting Ready for the Cloche Volant (Flying Bells)

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Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten season, and for Roman-Catholic France that means it’s time to start readying their church bells for their flight to Rome on Good Friday. Now, even as a lapsed Catholic, I know that Good Friday is at the end of Lent and that Easter is still 40 days away.

It’s just that I love the myth around the Easter bells in France, so I wanted to share it early on. Plus, I like to imagine that those chimers need at least 4 or 5 weeks to get polished up and ready for their long journey.

France is a country where even the smallest villages have a Catholic church and most of those churches have steeples. So it follows that there are a large number of bells that need to brush up on their flying skills between now and Easter. As the crow flies, it is 687-miles/1,106-km between Paris and Rome, and many of the bells have much further to travel than that.

If you live in France, you’ll notice that all the bells are completely silent between Good Friday and Easter morn. Not a clink or clank nor a ding or dong will be heard over those 48-hours. Why? Because those curious bells have all packed up, left their steeples, and taken off for the Vatican to visit the Pope, bringing with them their Lenten sorrows.

But don’t fear, before the sun comes up on Easter morning, they quickly make their way back to their homes in France and ring with joy as dawn breaks to celebrate the Resurrection. Les cloches de Pâques, as they are now called, bring with them Easter eggs, chocolates bunnies and other treats, dropping them (to the delight of French children ) into homes along their flight path.

Which to me makes just as much sense, if not more, than a 6-foot tall, bipedal bunny, with a kind of scary face, sneaking into our homes on Easter Eve and hiding eggs and baskets in hard to reach places.

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So, keep you eyes peeled over the next 40-days to see if the bells in your closest steeple are gussying up for their voyage to Italy. And of course, be on the lookout for the glorious chocolate bells starting to appear in your local chocolatiers’ windows.

Vocabulaire

Les cloches de Pâques: The Easter Bells

No. 160: Mardi Gras

Today is Mardi Gras, or as we say in America, Fat Tuesday. I was hoping for a parade in Paris this afternoon, but no such luck. (There are, however, some real New Orleans’ jazz musicians gracing a couple of jazz clubs around town tonight.)

As nothing grand is going on in my neighborhood, shall we just imagine we are celebrating the end of the Carnival season on the dazzling French Riviera, say Nice for example?

I had dinner with some American expats the other night who usually head down south at this time of the year, but this year are staying put à Paris. But from what they tell me, Nice is every bit as nice as New Orleans, with a glitzy parade, frivolous floats, glittery costumes, street performers, concerts, and apparently gorgeous women engrossed in a “battle of the flowers”, seeing who can toss the most flowers to the thousands of parade goers.

Now, that’s the kind of battle I’d like to be part of.

No. 158-159: Better than the Stock Show & Martinique Revisited

I know I have some diehard rodeo and cowboy/girl readers in Colorado and the West, so please don’t be offended, but I have to say, I enjoyed my day at the Salon l’Argiculture this past weekend more than I have ever enjoyed the Great Western Stock Show in Denver. Please don’t throw any rotten tomatoes my way, but I had a heck of a time standing slack-jawed eyeing the fine bovine, porcine, and ovine of France, in, of all places, the Paris exposition hall.

I don’t know what I was thinking it would be like. I tried not to read any blogs or adverts ahead of time so I would be surprised by the French interpretation of a Stock Show. And surprised I was—mostly by the fact that these huge, prize-winning animals were holed up in gay Par-ee. I know France is a country in love with their food, and their high quality ingredients, so it makes sense to showcase them all in their capital city. It’s just that I don’t normally associate the City of Light with livestock.

Now, in a state with a blazing-eyed, 32-foot high (9,000-pound) electric blue, anatomically correct, wild mustang welcoming visitors as they land at their airport (i.e. Denver, Colorado), I find it much easier to make that association. Denver and livestock, they go hand-in-hand.

source: DIA-promo.com

source: DIA-promo.com

So I was very surprised to see this “little” guy, when I walked into the first expo hall at Porte de Versailles

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…along with all his friends and competitors.

There were of course the adorable intertwined piglets and baby goats…

…and a few lessons on where our cuts of beef come from…perhaps I should become a vegetarian?

A whole hall dedicated to cats and dogs…hmmm…I don’t want to be eating those.

….hmmm…don't want to eat those...

….hmmm…don’t want to eat those…

And of course, my favorite part, the halls full of artisanal and farm fresh agricultural products.

There were some lunch options you most definitely would NOT find in Denver…

…and I’ve never seen olive oil being pressed or liqueur made from cèpes (mushrooms) in my hometown either.

Nor the cheese, glorious chèvre! There were even milk bars serving both cow’s and goat’s milk.

Et enfin, we were able to revisit Martinique, the French department in the Caribbean where we were lucky enough to create some very happy Christmas memories.

Alors, Yippee-Ki-Yay! Or as we say back in Colorado, “Howdy Folks! Welcome to Golden Paris. Where the West Lives.”

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No. 157: Even Burnt Cake!

Yesterday at the Salon l’Agriculture one of the many interesting things I came across was this:

Tourteau-Fromagé.jpg

My first thought was, “Yum! A large chocolate globe.” My second thought was, “Is that burnt?”

Turns out I was right on track with the whole overcooked thing. After taking a few pictures and catching the twinkle in the eye of the vendeur, I summoned up the courage to ask him just exactly what the heck those big black, burnt things were. Noticing of course, that I speak French with an accent, he asked me where I was from. When I told him I was from the States, he said, in French, “This is the French version of New York Cheese Cake, the Tourteau Fromagé”, or the Cheese Crab.

cheese crabs….

cheese crabs….

They do look a little like giant crabs, don’t you think? They are also known as Tortue Fromagé (Cheese Turtle) and Tourteaux Fromagé (Cheese Cakes).

I had never laid eyes on a Tourteau Fromagé until 24-hours ago, but already I’m a convert. How is it that the French can even make burnt cake taste good??

The Cheese Crab/Cake is a specialty of the Poitou-Charente region in Southwest France, and not usually found at a boulangerie or a pâtisserie, but rather in a fromagerie—especially those that specialize in goat cheese.

To set the record straight, it is nothing like New York Cheese Cake, but it is a lot like a springy and airy Angel Food Cake, with a bit of tangy sweetness.

The cake’s story is one I can relate to: a harried baker accidently shoved a goat-cheesy gâteau into a blistering-hot oven. She smelled something burning, and opened the oven to find a blackened and hardened crusted cake. Obviously she must have been having company, because she tried desperately to salvage it. She lowered the temperature, crossed her fingers, and hoped for the best. To her surprise, the burnt crust protected the inside of the cake, and her finished creation was a spongy, sweet but slightly tart, absolutely perfect cake.

After sharing one with my family last night, I must admit, it seems like a very versatile creation. You could eat it as a breakfast cake with a café au lait, or at lunch with a little fruit on top, or it would be divine after dinner with some strawberry ice cream, and maybe just a wee bit of chocolat noir. It also seems very well suited for a picnic or car trip as it would take a good deal of force to flatten this crab / turtle en route.

Tourteau-Fromagé.jpg

When I asked the vendeur if I should eat the crust, his response was, “Comme vous voulez!” I liked it better without the crust, but admittedly, I ate a slice with the crust. Yes. It tasted markedly burnt. Mais it’s a thin crust, and the inside is most definitely worth tasting.

Vocabulaire

boulangerie: bakery

chocolat noir: dark chocolate

Comme vous voulez: As you like.

fromagerie: cheese shop

gâteau: cake

mais: but

pâtisserie: pastry shop

vendeur: seller, merchant

No. 156: Signs of Springtime in Paris

After a seemingly endless and bold fall, and a warm and mild winter (en fait, I’m not even sure winter ever visited), springtime in Paris has already arrived. Here are a few signs, in case you need some convincing. I shot all of these photos this morning, I promise.

1. The daffodils are blooming along the Quai.

The daffodils are blooming along the Quai.

The legions of tourists are back and queuing everywhere.

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The grass is STILL resting, comme d’habitude.

The Eiffel Tower has some gorgeous new arm candy.

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That rascal, Taz, is digging in the flowers.

The rooftops are in top form.

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The Parisians have swapped out part of their black wardrobe in favor of vivid colors.

The annuals have been planted and are blooming just like the flowering trees.

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It’s time to decide which warm weather handbag to use.

Vocabulaire

comme d’habitude: as usual

No. 155: A Munchy, Crunchy Tower

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Imagine how healthy we would be if this was our “food pyramid”…the edible Eiffel Tower…