Gastronomic Delights in France

Monday, August 20, 2007

After these long Paris posts - journal entries, really - I wanted to write something "on the lighter side"- though perhaps not: the topic is food!

On the way to the Eiffel Tower the other day we stopped by our neighborhood boulangerie, the P. Weiland, on the corner, near the Cambronne metro stop.

There I bought what I think is the most delicious thing I have ever eaten in my life, no exaggeration: a petit pain au chocolat aux amandes, flaky and soft and perfect.

I'm convinced M. Weiland baked a hint of brown sugar into the outermost layer of this heavenly pastry. The next day I bought a few more.

The boulangerie also had the largest palmiers on display I have ever seen - one of my father's favorite pastries, so I have to include them here.

The bathroom scale in Paris said I lost 3 kilos. How is that possible? (And why on earth did I get on it in the first place?) It's absolutely ludicrous. Obviously the device is defective. But wait, the pants are a little looser too...Could two intense days of stair-climbing have worked miracles? Nah!

But facetiously, let me outline the rules for The Paris Miracle Diet (or, The Anti-Atkins Revolution), just for fun:

-Have a small breakfast, a heavy lunch, a light goûter, and a light dinner every day.

-Butter your bread generously and eat it with gobs of home-made confiture.

-Drink French lait demi-écrêmé every day, which is supposed to be low-fat milk but which I am convinced is the equivalent of Half-and-Half; how can it taste just like cream, otherwise?! Is it just that the COWS in France are different? For that matter, how come almost EVERYTHING tastes better in France? Is it a conspiracy?!

-Eat rich cheeses twice a day.

-Eat meats of all kinds.

-Have wine with lunch and dinner.

-Have fromage blanc with your berries.
-Have dessert - don't deprive yourself - but only have a WHOPPING dessert once in a while.

but also

-Don't eat between meals.

-Limit your portion sizes.

-Climb lots of stairs each week.

-Avoid processed food; have milk from the cow, pork from the pig, fish from the river, etc. with as little interference from industry as possible.

-Finally, SAVOR EVERY BITE! Live in the moment! :)

Oboe-ing in Rural France

I haven't entirely abandoned my trusty little oboe. I'm so glad it's so portable! There was plenty of room in my carry-on bag for other stuff next to my little oboe case. I wish I could have taken a picture of the security guy's face when he paused the conveyor belt to scrutinize the x-ray image of my hand luggage inside the machine. His eyes got more and more scrunched up and finally he put his hand over his brow, leaned on the screen, and looked at my bag intently. I wanted to speak up and say it was just an oboe, but I thought better of it.

I've realized that I love a lot of things whose origin is (as far as I know) French. Crêpes, croissants, and opera gateau. Ballet. Oboes. The French language. Lots of great saints. Gothic cathedrals. My husband. Maybe I had a past life in France or something! :)

Practiced in our cozy country home with the windows open and a breeze blowing in from the fields, while my kids and their cousins were clomping up and down the wooden stairs and raucously practicing a play my daughter had written, partly in French. It was a brief practice session, especially because I really don't feel comfortable playing when other people are around. 'Twas in the Moon of Wintertime (a.k.a. the Huron Carol), in honor of René and his fellow-Jesuit missionaries. The opening passage of Swan Lake. Scales. Gabriel's Oboe. Some exercises from the method book. They are getting easier, but it's tought to practice consistently on vacation!

We're off to Paris tomorrow for a couple of days. Not sure if I'll be able to keep writing, but I have no doubt I'll be hungering to catch up either from there or when we get back. If anyone has suggestions for where we should go to eat, let me know!

Off We Go

I am off to France tomorrow afternoon with my husband, children, parents-in-law, brother-in-law and his kids, and my brother-in-law's girlfriend. We'll be staying at a family home in Normandy, out in the country, and taking a few day trips - Paris, Chartres, St. Martin, Evreux, and, I'm hoping, Rouen. I'm excited...and a little nervous.

Have I mentioned I hate flying?

I am looking forward to the food and wine, rustic setting, cultural highlights, R & R. I am not looking forward to the discomfort of my rusty French and of embarrassing social blunders in front of my husband's French relatives. Could you pass me that bottle of wine, please, along with a tub of fromage blanc? Oh, merci, I feel better already.

I am hoping I'll be able to keep posting from our tiny village, where there is only a little mairie, a medieval chapel occasionally visited by a curé who covers a bunch of villages in the region , a dirt road, and an ancient cemetery, where once I walked with my husband's grandmother and listened as she prayed the Miserere at her late husband's grave. It sounded so beautiful in French, prayed by heart from the heart...She's no longer with us, but her spirit and all the stories generated by her long, rich life have given that place a truly blessed feeling. It should be nice to be there again.

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*Photo by Philippe Noret, obtained from Wikimedia Commons