I’m not complaining…

plaisir gourmand

During my first week of French class, many years ago, one of the very first words we learned was râleur, or complainer. Back then, I wasn’t sure why our teacher was making sure we understood that particular word, but I’ve come to realize why it’s so important now. I’m not one to râle, or complain (although there are likely scores of people I’ve worked with over the years who would say otherwise), but this last week has been really hard.

At the beginning of the week, I walked into my place under full construction – everything covered with plaster dust, tarps strewn everywhere, random wiring in tangles all over the place, big gaping holes that one could easily fall through, with a lone toilet lurking in the corner. In short, the place is just able to accommodate only the most basic of human needs. (Food was represented by an empty package of cookies, and sex..well…Iet’s just say in its present condition, the place doesn’t exactly lend itself to romantic interludes.) But let’s not rule out any for the future, okay?

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Wild Rice Salad with Roasted Vegetables and Lemon-Tahini Dressing

wild rice salad

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to use up things I already have in the cupboard, plus eat seasonally, plus make things that are relatively easy to make – and this salad fit the bill on all counts. It combines tahini with wild rice and used up some of the marvelous root vegetables that I can’t help buying at the market, even though I should be using up what I’ve already got on hand. It’s not the prettiest salad in the world, but compared to what I didn’t show you of my refrigerator, that bowl should be hanging in the Louvre.

Speaking of which, I’m only going to give you a glimpse of my jam-packed refrigerator (and I mean literally, there are over a dozen jars of assorted jams in there) because I don’t want my refrigerator scrutinized. Not that I’m ashamed of having a bottle of bbq sauce and some store-bought feta, but, well, my refrigerator is sort of a disaster at the moment, and I’m hoping to take care of that shortly. (Although I’ve been saying that since November…of 2007.)

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Ma lampe de cuisine

kitchen lamp

Excuse the pun, but it’s been very illuminating hunting down a light for my kitchen. I’m not sure if it’s because of the high price of electricity in France, or what, but sometimes it feels like I’m living in a country of Jewish mothers whose goal it to keep lights off as much as possible. Yet with the high price of electricity, and the debate over the proliferation of nuclear power plants in France – (we’re #2!), it’s no wonder people are happy to be kept in the dark.

Every time I go to my eye doctor for an exam, I’m always surprised when I enter the waiting room. And once my eyes adjust, I see that the dim room has no reading lights, and the people are perched in chairs, squinting their eyes to read their magazines. So although one of our former US presidents is rumored to have said that the French don’t have a word for entrepreneur, I beg to differ and think it’s a pretty good way to ensure future patients. Although I will confess that it’s a little uncomfortable explaining to the eye doctor why I am carrying a flashlight to my appointment.

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Le Siffleur de Ballons

terrine d'oie

It wouldn’t be the first time, but I almost had an accident on my bike when I was heading to yet another tile store (who knew is was going to be so hard to find plain, white tiles?), and raced past a new place on my list. I had the usual 4 second debate in my head whether I should stop and grab a bite and a glass of wine, before I made the decision to grind myself to a halt and hitch my bike to a signpost.

Fortunately no one else was injured, but let’s just say that I think I need to lower my bike seat a little in case I have to brake unexpectedly in the future. (Well, at least if I ever want to have children, that is.) However I did manage to save the baguette and the croissant in my bike basket, so I think it was a decent trade-off.

basket of wineriz au lait (rice pudding)
Parmesanwine and water glasses

It was actually my third visit to Le Siffleur de Ballons this month. My first was when I was planning to meet my friend Theresa for drinks and a snack and due to an e-mail misunderstanding (you would think someone would have come up with a snappy name for that by now, a mash-up, like ‘spendy’ or ‘bromance’…I tried to come up with something but have other things on my mind at the present) but while I waited for her, I had a few glasses of Cheverny while I balanced myself on one of the metal stools, which I eyed for my new apartment, and talked to the counter woman.

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New Digs

under construction

Well, I did it. After nearly ten years of living in Paris, I am finally going to have a place that I can call my own. After dipping my feet in, and checking apartments from time-to-time, I decided that it was time I went ahead and did it. So I bought my own apartment.

Hunting for an apartment in Paris is quite an adventure; there’s no multiple listings like there are in other countries (and it’s estimated that over half the apartments in Paris get sold directly by the owners), so you need to spend an inordinate amount of time searching online, in the newspapers, and in real estate agency windows. And since each agency will only show you what is offered by their particular agency – and some real estate agents have a less-than-stellar reputation here – it’s a process that takes a combination of luck, timing—and of course, plenty of time.

kitchen

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My Kitchen Scale

weighing butter

When I moved to France way back when, one of the first things I set out to buy was a kitchen scale. Kitchen scales are not difficult to find in Europe because most of the countries use weights for baking and in every other type of recipe. In spite of their ubiquity, it was hard to find a scale that measured in both in grams and kilos as well as ounces and pounds. Since few use those standards of measurement in Europe, even kitchen scales that I’d used in America would have a little toggle switch somewhere on them (often on the underside) to shift back and forth between ounces and grams. But whenever I looks at scales in Europe, there was invariably a gaping hole where that switch would be.

(I always thought it odd that they would leave a switch off the same kitchen scale that they make for one part of the world and not the other. Seems to me that it would be easier to make one scale for everyone. But on the other hand, it would also be easier if everyone used the same system of measurement.)

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How to Make Fresh Pasta

fresh pasta

I have to admit, I’ve gotten a bit slack and have been buying dried pasta for the past few years. There’s nothing wrong with store-bought pasta – I’ve become fond of the whole wheat pasta spirals I get at my natural foods store, tossed with greens, garlic, and olive oil – but I was recently at the home of a friend and while we were talking over wine, he pulled out a disk of dough, quickly rolled it, and put together a simple lasagna with those just-made noodles. It was so good, and made me realize that I’d forgotten how good fresh pasta is. And it’s not difficult at all to make.

egg and flour for fresh pasta

Unlike pastry and bread doughs, pasta dough isn’t very fussy. You don’t really need a machine to shape the pasta, but a pasta roller really helps and it’s one of life’s great pleasure when you pull that final cut of the pasta strands out of the machine and drop them into a pot of boiling water. I have an attachment for my stand mixer, although the small hand-cranked machines are inexpensive and do a good job, too. You can handroll pasta with a rolling pin, but be prepared for a bit of a challenge if you want the dough really thin.

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New Newsletter – Sign Up!

I’ve decided to revamp my newsletter by signing up with a new service, ramping up the content, and making it a regular monthly feature. In the newsletter, you’ll find photos, stories, Paris travel tips, recipes, and other information that will only be in the newsletter. I’m working on getting the hang of the software, but I’m looking forward to sharing information there that doesn’t make it on to the blog. Of course, the newsletter is free and you will not be bombarded with any other kinds of messages—you will just receive the newsletter in your inbox when it’s sent out, that’s all. You can sign up using the form here:



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At the end of each newsletter is a link to follow in case you want to unsubscribe. I’ll miss you. But we’ll always have Paris.