Frame: Pretty in Paris
Pastry at our corner store. Note this was not a famous bakery, nor was it located in a fancy part of town.
One of the first things I noticed in Paris was the fashion. I was disappointed. Lots of earth tones and grey, boring shapes – it all seemed drab, especially in contrast to the food. Each patisserie was riddled with brightly colored fruit, gold leaf garnishes, shiny apricot glaze and marzipan twisted into all manner of creatures. Every set of sweets we purchased was wrapped up in pretty paper, no matter how little we spent. Even the Coke Light was presented – everywhere – with a glass bottle, iced tumbler, lemon wedge, and spoon.
I had expected that the croissants would be amazing, and they were. My favorite, filled with almond paste, was unfortunately the least available, but I still managed to find and eat four of them. Pain au chocolat (chocolate croissants) were a close second. Unlike breakfast pastries in the states, these were not super sweet – the chocolate and almond were used sparingly, more a decoration than a filling. I was surprised to learn that eclairs – thinner and smaller in Paris – were extremely popular. The pate a choux was more dense than we’re used to, and the filling was either chocolate or coffee, not the typical custard. The tarte de pommes (apple tart) was a staple, fresh with crisp, slightly tart fruit. The mille feuille was crunchy and creamy, with delicate flavors. And the cakes were fluffy and topped with raspberries, no matter what the flavor.
Yeah, we ate a lot of sweets.
And as the week wound down I took a closer look at the local fashion and realized it is actually very similar to the food. In Paris, presentation is everything. The sweets, while well dressed, had subtle, refined flavors. Those “drab” skirts and suits I had been seeing were actually extremely well-coordinated designer labels, pressed within an inch of their seams, and timeless. The Parisians were not drab, they were pretty little tarts with high heels and matching scarves, perfectly coiffed hair and no translation for the term “flip flops.”
I sort of hated them once I figured this out. But I still loved the pastries.
Little piggies from Stohrer bakery.
even diet coke is prettier in Paris.
almond croissant
Frame: It’s Always Sunny in Paris
This photo was taken from our window at 9:30pm.
This year, June in Paris has been unseasonably cold with bouts of rain. But without fail, each day of our trip was sunny at 10pm. This was discombobulating and frustrating as we tried to adjust to the six hour time change. Ten at night looked like 7pm, but felt like 3am. We found ourselves being very Parisian without even trying, strolling out to dinner at 9:30pm and sleeping late each morning. (Note: In Boston, the coveted dinner reservation time is 7:30. In Paris, it’s 9:30.)
One of my fears about the trip was that the weather would be horrible, but the 60 degree days were very conducive to our excessive walking and eating. The rain managed to contain itself to periods when we were inside, save for one romantic thunderstorm during a walk down Rue Montorgueil.
Truthfully, as my mother (and Audrey Hepburn) says: “Paris is always a good idea,” no matter what the weather.
very famous bakery on Rue Montorgueil, in the rain.
Frame: Last Day
It’s our last day in Paris, and while it will be traumatic to leave, I’m looking forward to posting better pictures and reviews when I’m home with a computer next week. For now, here are five of the ten most important things I’ve learned about this city (next five to follow):
1. You do not need to seek out the most famous bakeries for pastry. You can get amazing sweets pretty much anywhere. Eat crepes, eclairs, chocolate and almond croissants, and macarons.
2. You should make it a point to eat a traditional French meal once or twice, but that’s about all an American stomach can take per week. After that, mix in modern French, or try some pasta or Falafel.
3. If you go shopping in St. Germain des pres, go directly to Rue Bonaparte. Don’t waste time on the other streets like I did, wading through labels easily found in the US or crappy teeny bopper schlock.
4. Drink copious amounts of cafe creme. Little known fact: If you aren’t a French citizen, the calories don’t count.
5. Everything is closed from Saturday night to Tuesday afternoon. So adopt a French mentality as early as possible and relax. Paris is the enemy of schedules and the arbiter of suprises.
Food: Cheese
It took a few days (many places closed here on the weekends and Monday), but today I finally got my cheese. Dear Laurent Dubois: thank you.
Frame: French Food
Here’s the thing. After only two and a half days of beef steak with bernaise and frites, chicken with potatoes and onions, cote de cochon and croissants amande… all we wanted was some pasta. As amazing as French food is, you just can not eat it every day. (exception: baguettes.)
Frame: First Day in Paris
A few photos to sum up the day.
Frame: Postcards from Paris
I have every intention of sending postcards from Paris. But it’s possible that I may forget to get stamps. Just in case, here are some electronic postcards for my family, and my cousin Jill in particular.
Frame: Fear of France
from “inspiredwednesdays.blogspot.com”
We’re leaving for Paris in a few days and I’ve moved from excited to nervous. Here’s a list of irrational and/or justified fears running through my head:
1. We won’t be able to figure out how to get to the apartment from the airport and we’ll spend the entire trip at Charles de Gaulle, eating gross airport baguettes. (Irrational. If I was going by myself this would be justified, but Dave will be there to help navigate.)
2. It will rain the entire time we are in Paris. I brought this on myself a few months ago when I said I hoped we’d get a rainy day to sit in cafes and read and eat sweets. (Justified. The weather in Paris is projected to be rainy and gross for the duration of our trip. )
3. We will hate the two classes we have signed up for. (Possible, but probably irrational. We signed up for a French Market tour/class and a Bellies on Foot tour. They’d have to be pretty bad for us to hate them.)
4. I will forget all the things I want to do in Paris. (Justified. I may become so overwhelmed that I get back on the plane at the end of the trip and realize I didn’t do anything I had planned. )
5. All of the French people will be really mean to me. (Justified. Everyone knows that French people hate Americans, and that they verbally berate them without provocation until said Americans run weeping in the opposite direction. [This fear is not actually justified.])
I’m also afraid my wallet will get stolen (irrational, my wallet could just as easily get stolen here), my phone won’t work (justified, never used this phone abroad before), and that I won’t bring enough books to read or the right clothes to wear (irrational, neither of these things really matter). Hopefully once we land in Paris I’ll be ok, but for now I’m just praying a dingo doesn’t eat my passport.
Feast: Neptune Oyster
Neptune Oyster looks like (I imagine) a tiny piece of Paris dropped into the North End. The long bar is mirrored by a small strip of tables, with marble accents and wine bottles as decor. In the bathroom, a quote from Hemingway: “As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.” This is far more poetic than my standard oyster exclamation: “Mmm, it tastes like the beach!”
Neptune provides you with a small card of their offerings, and a brief description. You order from this card and they bring it back to you, so you can remember what you’re eating – for someone whose oyster knowledge is still nascent, this is very helpful. Many of the names were familiar- Wellfleet, Island Creek, Wianno, I even knew Kumamoto, but the rest were new discoveries. The Katama Bay with the “buttered popcorn” finish? Delicious and true to description.
After learning more about oysters over the past year, I’ve developed my own technique – I always have at least one of each type completely plain. No mignonette, cocktail sauce, lemon. This way you can really taste the actual oyster, and learn to distinguish between mineraly, nutty, briny, medium salt, high salt, etc. Sort of like wine tasting, but more slippery.
Also of note at Neptune: a surprisingly perfect Caesar salad (lightly dressed, doused with cheese, tender lettuce) and a lobster roll worth the hefty price of admission ($25). The meat was tender and ample, the split bun was one you’d actually want to eat. (But who actually eats the roll?)
Neptune is the perfect spot for two people to dream of Paris over oysters, or in our case, hash out details of our upcoming trip. Just one week until we leave!
Feast: Craigie on Main
You don’t need to know what Tony Maws looks like to know he’s the chef at Craigie on Main. Authority, annoyance, and perfectionism ooze from his blue apron. I’m guessing he either wrote the punchy “No Compromise” edict on the stainless steel work station (below), or fired whoever did, leaving it up as a reminder for the rest.
Craigie on Main has been star in Boston for years, but I’d never heard about the highly sought after “chef’s counter” seating until a few nights ago. Dave and I jumped at the chance opening to sit just inches from the kitchen staff, watching every dish primped and poked to excellence. A call for “12 oysters!” had someone racing to a clock hung on the wall, setting it for 2 minutes to ensure everything was timed perfectly. Numerous small arguments broke out among the crew throughout the evening: “You’re burning the toast/That’s a long minute and a half/This sauce is too loose” – until Maws corralled them all with a refined yet firm dressing down. Sitting at the chef’s counter is exhilarating, and terrifying – it turns the eight course tasting menu into a giant bag of movie popcorn, eaten while cringing when your favorite character sets a napkin on fire, or crashes into the dishwasher.
A trio of fish – halibut, salmon, and sardine – was followed by scallop crudo and fried salmon roe. Soft shell crab followed, as did watercress and potato vichyssoise with sweetbreads. Pig heart ragu on homemade casarecce was one of my favorites, but the lamb rib with burnt caramel sauce had it slightly edged out. Venison and marrow bones (brought over by the intimidating Maws himself) finished the savory portion of the meal, but an herb granite with melon gelee showed up before dessert. Panna cotta, chocolate cake with ice cream, peanuts, and chocolate sauce (was too full to get more substantial details), and white asparagus ice cream in rhubarb sauce finished off the meal.
The food was phenomenal, but the real star was the floor show. Craigie, I’ll see you, and hopefully your hardworking staff, very soon.
lamb rib with burnt caramel sauce and white asparagus
panna cotta
Feast Brooklyn: Bozu Sushi
pork betty
Bozu, in Williamsburg, New York, is a dark little den of sushi. Every man (customers, not wait staff) in the place wears a tight black t-shirt, and the air is as cool and damp as their specially filtered water. They even have their own language.
A “bomb” is a plate of round sushi, not hemmed in by nori. The rice is warm, and the bite of wasabi between that and the fish makes it just spicy enough. “Deep fried” tomato gyoza actually seems more like a baked wonton, but the tomato flavor is deep and rustic. Pork “betty” is slices of pork belly marinated in sake and sweet soy, served with cilantro. Something about eating pork belly with chopsticks makes it seem almost good for you.
Arigato, Bozu.
Party Bomb
Feast NYC: Momofuku Noodle Bar
Momofuku Noodle Bar serves Fresca in a can, David Chang’s way of saying despite the phenomenal success of his restaurants, he still appreciates the little idiosyncrasies that make a dining experience fun. And so do the 15 people who were already waiting in line at 11:45 on a Saturday afternoon for the Noodle Bar’s first seating.
I am not exaggerating when I say I could eat a bowl of Momofuku Spicy Chicken ramen every day of my life. Nevermind the homemade noodles, the savory shredded chicken, and the poached local egg. It’s the broth. The savory, earthy, umami-defining, heart-warming broth. You don’t need to like soup, or ramen, or Asian food. There is no one on earth that wouldn’t love this bowl of liquid lust.
Also of note: incredible pork buns, Momofuku pork ramen, and burnt honey and peach soft serve.
Feast NYC: Momofuku Milk Bar
cereal milk ice cream with cornflake crunch topping
We never got sugary cereal in my house. For breakfast we had Cheerios, Kix, Crackling Oat Bran, Total – the healthy stuff. But every so often my mom would buy us that 6 pack of snack- sized “fun” cereals, and Michael and I would take turns picking our favorites. I always chose Frosted Flakes first, not only because they were encased in sugar, but because they made the leftover milk taste so damn good. Momofuku Milk Bar’s Cereal Milk Flavored Ice Cream with Cornflake Crunch Topping is like a snack cereal wrapped in ice cream wrapped in a delightful nap on your kindergarten mat, while the class rabbit quietly breathes next to you in a cage.
Frame: Paris Bound
In just over a month, Dave and I are headed to Paris. We’ve both been before, briefly, in younger and less moneyed days, and seen all of the major landmarks – Notre Dame, the Louvre, Champs Elysees. So we’ve decided, easily, that we will not be seeing them again. Instead, we’re planning a “locals” vacation, visiting markets, strolling side streets, channeling Hemingway and eating as much as possible. We have approximately two years worth of activities we’d like to squeeze into seven days, so we may not get to everything. Tant pis.
Top 5 Things I’m looking forward to in Paris:
1. The Markets: In particular, Marche Maubert, open Tues/Thurs/Sat until 2pm. But in general, I want to go to as many open air markets as possible.
2. A cooking class. It seems like there are plenty of options for cooking classes in Paris these days. I’d like to take one, perhaps actually learn to bake?
3. Versailles. (I know, not technically in Paris.) I’ve always been intrigued by Marie Antoinette.
4. Ile Saint Louis.
5. The Food.
Sub-list: Top 5 Foods I Want to Eat in Paris:
1. Roast Chicken. I’m not sure why. I just feel like Paris has really good roast chicken.
2. Cheese. To eat real, raw French cheese in France? A turophile’s dream.
3. Bread and Croissants. I hear a typical Parisian breakfast is coffee, baguette, and croissant. I’ll be searching for the best.
4. Mussels and Oysters. I hear mussels taste different in Paris, and I’m particularly looking forward to something called “mouclade,” a dish of mussels baked in a cream and white wine. I already have a mile long list of oyster bars to try.
5. Sweets. Pain au Chocolat, macarons, iles flottantes, I want it all.
(6. Wine.)
Feast: The Hilltop Steakhouse
mark west pinot noir
Into every life, a little Hilltop must fall.
I’ve driven (or been driven) past The Hilltop Steakhouse on Route 1 every year of my life. I’ve heard stories of the pranks played on the poor cow statues, lore about owner Frank Guiffrida’s aversion to sour cream. I’ve seen the neon yellow salad dressing and watched, from across the street at the Kowloon, as families piled in for special occasions. But until last Friday, I had never been inside.
Back in the Hilltop’s heyday (1990), it was the busiest restaurant in the US – lines would form around the building’s perimeter. In her book, “Saturday Night,” Susan Orlean chronicles this period in Hilltop history, explaining that while a typical evening saw 7000 dinners served (10 thousand dinner rolls, 600 gallons of salad dressing, 45 thousand pounds of beef), crowds were a little lighter when the circus was in town. “Evidently,” she writes, “the kind of people who like the Hilltop also like the circus a lot, too.” Since the place boasts a 12 acre parking lot, mammoth building, and 70 foot cactus-shaped signpost, I think “circus” was exactly what they were going for.
The Hilltop is more subdued these days. On a Friday night at 6:30pm there is no waiting. Their limited wine list has an admirable selection, and the amount of non-steak options is impressive. Maybe Hilltop has reacted to customer’s changing attitudes toward red meat, or dwindling disposable income? Either way, steaks are the least of the menu. But while they don’t serve 45 thousand pounds of beef a night anymore, they still know how to sear a filet.
All the food was good. Baked potato (you can get sour cream now), warm dinner rolls, and steak tips were all well prepared. The tips (a dollar more expensive than the filet but still reasonably priced) were well seasoned with a peppery marinade. Our server was lovely. The patrons were quiet. The deer antler light fixtures were entertaining, as was the buffalo head mounted on the wall.
If you want a steak and a piece of history, I wouldn’t hesitate to take you to The Hilltop. But first, I’d make you hear about the good old times from my Mom or Aunt Judy, or at least read Susan Orlean’s story. Otherwise, you just wouldn’t appreciate it. And that would be a damn shame.
steak tips
The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread 