July 2006 Archives

Here's a listing of a few favorite hotels in Paris that you might want to investigate if you're planning to come for a visit. I've been traveling to Paris for many years before moving here, and some of the hotels listed I've stayed in, while others have been recommended by guests and friends. There's a pretty good selection, including one located on the top of the public hospital! Some are in the budget category, while a few are nicer, if you're looking for more comfort.

There's a few caveats to remember, which I've listed below, since everyone has different standards and concerns when staying in a hotel. Only you know if you'll be comfortable in a 'budget' hotel with few services, possible street noise, and standard bedding. Price makes a big difference and a hotel that's less than 100€ per night is likely to offer few amenities, while one in the higher range is, of course, going to be a nicer place to stay.

Finally, if you have any suggestions that you'd like to share, or tips, please leave them in the Comments area.

Hotel Le Sainte-Beuve
9, rue Sainte-Beuve
Tel: 01 45 48 20 07
Fax: 01 45 48 67 52

Charming hotel near Montparnasse with 22 rooms. Air-conditioning and close to Le Timbre restaurant. Rates start at 135€ for a standard room.

Oops! Budget Hotel
50, avenue de Gobelins
Tel: 01 47 07 47 00
Fax: 01 43 31 17 74

Contemporary, hip hostel, with shared or private rooms, with baths, WiFi, A/C. and very economical prices.

MamaShelter
109, rue Bagnolet
Tel: 01 43 48 48 48
Fax: 01 43 48 49 49

Philippe Starck-designed budget hotel (rooms start at €79/night) in off-beat neighborhood. Quirky and interesting, but beware that dining in the hotel isn't as affordable as the rooms.

Hôtel Saint Pierre
4, rue de a'Ecole de Médecine
Tel: 01 46 34 78 80
Fax: 01 40 51 05 17

Good budget option in the student-oriented Latin Quarter, free hi-speed internet in the rooms and television. Rates start at 63€ per night. Just down the street from my favorite hot chocolate place in Paris, Pâtisserie Viennoisserie, where you can take breakfast too (closed weekends.)

Hôtel Bourgogne-Montana
3, rue de Bourgogne
Tel: 01 45 51 20 22
Fax: 01 45 56 11 98

In the relaxed seventh, very popular, good quality for the price. Good breakfast buffet and excellent staff. Rooms start around 190€ with breakfast included.

Hôtel Hospitel
1, Place du Parvis Notre Dame
Tel: 01 44 32 01 00
Fax: 01 44 32 01 16

Located on the top floor of the historic Hôtel Dieu Hospital! It's just next Nôtre Dame in the center of Paris. AC and WiFi.

Hôtel Bourg Tibourg
19, rue Bourg Tibourg
Tel: 01 42 78 47 39
Fax: 01 40 29 07 00

In a lively area, the Marais, but on a quiet street. Chic rooms designed by Jacques Garcia. Rooms that start at 160€. Wi-Fi (pronounced wee-fee, in French), interior garden, and air-conditioning.

Grand Hôtel Jeanne d'Arc
3, rue de Jarente
Tel 01 48 87 62 11
Fax 01 48 87 37 31

In the Marais, close to Place des Vosges, this hotel is an outstanding value for its location (and it's just a short stumble from (Vert d'Absinthe) Consequently, this hotel books quickly. No air-conditioning or fancy services. Doubles are around 75€.

Hôtel Castex
5, rue Castex
Tel: 01 42 72 31 52

Air-conditioning and free Wi-Fi. Well-located on a quiet side street near the Bastille.

Hôtel Chopin
46, Passage Jouffroy
Tel: 01 47 70 58 10
Fax: 01 42 47 00 70

In a passage near Montmarte. Inexpensive, lively area near the major department stores. Upper rooms have more light; request the forth floor.

Hôtel de la Place des Vosges
12, rue Birague
Tel: 01 42 72 60 46
Fax: 01 42 72 02 64

Rooms 100-140€ per night, with Wi-Fi No air-conditioning, but perfect location on small street leading into place des Vosges.

Hotel des Chevaliers
30, rue de Turenne
Tel: 01 42 72 73 47
Fax: 01 42 72 54 10

Great location a stone's throw from the place des Vosges in the Marais. Air-conditioning, WiFi, and safes. Rooms begin at around €105/night.

Hotel Duo
11, rue du Temple
Tel: 01 42 72 72 22
Fax: 01 42 72 03 53

Very nice, modern hotel in the heart of the Marais, near lots of cafes and nightlife. Can be noisy during summer months if you leave windows open due to the neighborhood. Mid-priced.

Hôtel Britannique
20, avenue Victoria
Tel: 01 42 33 74 59
Fax: 01 42 33 82 65

Located near Chatelet. Clean and soundproofed rooms. The rooms are a tad on the small side but located overlooking a nice square in the center of Paris. Rooms start at 139€.

Dear Madame France:

Thank you so much for allowing me to live in your wonderful country. I love tasting everything I can, learning more about your rich history and curious customs, and even though I can't conjugate the verbs in the plus-que-parfait-de l'indicative (come to think of it, all those verbs are so darn hard!), I'm trying my best, really, and hope to be able to do them all someday so as not to disappoint you.

I also want to thank you for loosening up the rules around here and allowing me to wear shorts and flip-flops, which was especially important during the recent heatwave. To show my gratitude, I promise to keep my feet in top-top shape...I promise!

But that heatwave we just got over was a killer, wasn't it?
Just putting on clothes was a challenge and I guess that most of my neighbors had the same problem wearing clothes too, which I could see from my window night and day (especially at night). You probably already know this, but in case anyone else is reading this, there is this widespread perception that all French people are slim and in good shape. But from what I could see (especially at night), the people who live in the apartments surrounding my place are getting kinda flabby and certainly not the image of the trim, well-kept Parisian that people think of.
(Especially those people just across the courtyard from me! I think they've eaten way too many of your yummy croissants!!)

But seriously, there is something else that I'd like to talk to you about:
How to deal with future heatwaves.

Although I'm told this is a relatively new phenomenon, it seems like since I've been here, we've had two; the last one killed 15,000 of your citizens. That's a lot of people, don't you think? Kinda sad.
I find it odd that a country where the summer temperatures now normally reach over 100 degrees (38 degrees C), very few places have any sort of ventilation or fans. I've heard from lots of your people that fans are bad for your health (and expensive, although mine was less than 30€, which I don't think is expensive...do you?) but I've been using fans all my life and I'm fine. Really. And so has the rest of the world outside of this big hexagon that we live in.

I heard that the Tour de France riders from other countries almost passed out when dining and during their off-hours, since they couldn't get anyone to open windows or turn on a fan, and were becoming severely short-of-breath. Please, Madame France, help your people see the error of their ways, lead them from the Middle Ages. I hate to see your people, as well as those of us who love and care for you, needlessly suffer year after year after year.

(Well, come to think of it, there's a few people that I don't mind seeing suffering, mostly that nasty woman at my bank who works at the desk and will never help me. She's not very nice and your city would be a better place without her. Is there any way you ask her to leave? She doesn't seem very happy here.)

France is a modern country and I really love it here. Really. You're extremely technologically advanced and you've had so many breakthroughs in various scientific and medical fields that have changed the world. Yet I don't understand why there are no ceiling fans anywhere. They're perhaps the simplest and most environmentally-friendly method of cooling down interior spaces I can think of and I'm not a rocket-scientist like those brainy folks in Toulouse. Could you ask some of the restaurants and other public spaces to put them in? They're really not that expensive.
Pretty please?
: )

(And tell the places that have air-conditioning that if they want it to work, they need to close the windows and keep them closed. It makes the machines work far more effectively, and they'll waste less power so you won't have to build so many nuclear power plants.)

I know sometimes you just say, c'est la vie and folks blame the government, but people here are exceptionally adept at taking to the streets for getting whatever they want (the government, the big bunch of sillies, always gives in...how cool is that?), and I'm surprised there hasn't been some sort of an uprising. Maybe if you offered cold beer, people might go. Just a thought.

While at La Poste the other day, I almost passed out waiting in line from a combination of the heat, and from the bo of the woman in front of me who was furiously waving a fan, blowing the smell in my direction. I was tempted to back away from her, but I've learning living here that if you leave the slightest bit of space between you and the person in front of you, that seems to be an open invitation for someone else to step right in there. But it was really unpleasant...to say the least!

So here's an idea that you should really, really think about:
Why not install some ceiling fans between now and the next lethal heatwave? I've visited extremely impoverished, totally destitute third-world countries, and most public and private buildings have them. Why not put them in Paris? Wouldn't that be wonderful? Maybe you could also replace the bus windows so that they could be opened in hot weather as well. Seriously, it wouldn't cost that much, would it? I know you're a little short on cash lately, so maybe just raise fares (oops...I see you've already done that this month.)

Gros bisous!

David Lebovitz
Paris, France

PS: While you're at it, could you also please ask the Parisians to stop walking right into me as if I wasn't there?

Thanks again! You're the best!!!

So far, this week...

...I ran over a not-quite-yet-dead pigeon by accident with my shopping cart.

...My mobile phone died.

...My ATM card expired.

The bank told me to wait for the replacement card.

Which was sent in May.

...My credit card was cancelled, which I learned while at the cashier with a overloaded cart at BHV.

There were thirty people behind me. And they were not happy.

...I'm almost completely out of money here.

...I got a letter from the IRS that said I underpaid my taxes, and owe more.

Plus interest.

...I got a letter from the State of California that said I underpaid my taxes, and owe more.

Plus interest.

...The cash wire transfer paperwork that I filled out when I was last in the US was incorrectly prepared by the person at the bank.

So they told me I have to go back to the branch, in California, and re-do it.

...A French friend explained that iced drinks make you very sick, since they cool down your stomach too much.

(Er, I suppose traveling a few minutes through my digestive tract won't have any effect on warming up the cold liquid.)

...I got falling down drunk at my friend Olivier's last night.

(He has air-conditioning and my original ruse to to pretend I was drunk and had to spend the night, but then I really did get drunk and was worried about making a fool of myself.)

...I was giving myself a haircut and my hair clippers inexplicably quit halfway through.

I would go to the BHV and get another pair, but my credit card was cancelled.

And my hair looks a little funny.

...There's a new movie with Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock coming.

...My absolute favorite olive oil shop in Paris, which has the best selection of oils, is closing for good this Saturday.

(All oils are on sale, 30-50% off, at Allicante, 26 blvd Beamarchais.)

...When I went to pick up my sheets at the cleaners, I found out they're closed until the end of August.

All my sheets are there.

...World War III appears to have started.

...George W. Bush, the most powerful person in the world, has over two years left on his term.

...My manuscript for my book is due on Friday and my Mac feels like it's on fire.

...The temperature in my apartment hasn't dipped below 100 degrees in over a week.

The government says"...go into a store for 2-3 hours a day, to cool down."

( Gee, I wonder if Monoprix would mind if I set up my laptop there?)

...I have a canker sore.

...I feel another one coming.

...I made Peanut Brittle, and left it to cool by the open window...

...then I came home later and found a pigeon feather next to it.

When I told Luc-Santiago from Vert d'Absinthe here in Paris that I didn't like anise very much (or, stupid me, how long have I
lived in Paris? I should have said, "I don't appreciate anise very much."), I wished I had my camera cocked-and-ready, as the look on his face was priceless. While I appreciate the culture and mystique of Absinthe and its cousin pastis, I'm not a fan of anise-based drinks. Bleech!

But luckily I am a fan of anise-baked anything, and do like that flavor when baked in cakes and cookies, such as biscotti and the like. I had a suspicion that a buttery cake with a healthy shot of Absinthe in the batter, then more Absinthe added as a crunchy glaze would be a success...and it was! Happily, the flavor of anise goes amazingly well with chocolate too, so feel free to pair this with a favorite Chocolate Ice Cream or a dark, slick chocolate sauce.

But it's also lovely with a compote made of fresh or dried apricots, or a Nectarine and Cherry Compote. During the winter, I plan to make a colorful fruit salad of navel and blood oranges with a few rounds of tangy kumquats to serve alongside, since I'm suspicious of that green bottle on my shelf, with an alcohol content of 72%, may fall and explode. (Now that would have made a good opening for an episode of Six Feet Under.) But mostly I enjoy serving this Absinthe Cake all on its own and if you make it, I'm sure it won't fail to get your guests full attention no matter how you serve it.

If you don't have a convenient source for finely-ground pistachio meal, you can use almond meal (sometimes called almond flour). I've tested this cake with stone-ground cornmeal too, which provided a nice crunch, but Parisian friends found it a tad unusual since they're not really used to desserts, or anything else, with cornmeal.
And I didn't have any candied angelica on hand (like, who does?), but next time I make this cake, I'm definitely going to add a handful of finely-chopped angelica to the batter. I think tiny flecks of green flitting around in this cake would be rather festive and certainly in the spirit of le fée verte, aka; The Green Fairy, oui?

If you live in a country where you don't have the freedom to get Absinthe, move. Aside from that, write a letter to your highest-ranking elected official whose job it is to protect the good of society from such ills, you can substitute an anise-scented apertif, such as Pernod, pastis, or ouzo, although they don't have that sublime, sneaky herbaceous flavor and aroma found in true Absinthe. The other downside is that you won't see any green fairies floating around your kitchen...which may, or may not, be a good thing...depending on which highest-ranking elected official you last voted for, I suppose.

Oops, and before I step down down from my high-horse, I do recommend that you use Rumford baking powder, or a similar brand, that doesn't contain any aluminum. Most natural-food stores and Trader Joe's carry aluminum-free baking powder and you'll notice a major difference in your baking once you go aluminum-free. You'll never miss that tinny aftertaste you get when using other brands.

Absinthe Cake

One 9-inch rectangular cake

From The Sweet Life in Paris (Broadway Books)

For the cake:

1 1/4 teaspoon anise seeds
1 1/4 cup (175g) cake flour
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons (65 gr) pistachio or almond meal or (1/2 cup (70g) stoneground yellow cornmeal)
2 teaspoons baking powder (preferably Rumford)
1/4 teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons (105 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200g) granulated sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature
1/4 cup (60 ml) whole milk
1/4 cup (60 ml) Absinthe
1 orange, preferably unsprayed

For the Absinthe glaze:

1/4 cup (25 g) granulated sugar
1/4 cup (60 ml) Absinthe

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees (175 C). Butter a 9-inch loaf pan, then line the bottom with parchment paper.

2. In a mortar and pestle or spice mill, grind the anise seeds until relatively fine. Whisk together the cake flour, cornmeal, baking powder, salt, and anise seeds. Set aside.

3. In the bowl of a standing electric mixer, or by hand, beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, until they're completely incorporated.

4. Mix together the milk and Absinthe with a few swipes of grated orange zest.

5. Stir half of the dry ingredients into the beaten butter, then the milk and Absinthe mixture.

6. By hand, stir in the other half of the dry ingredients until just smooth (do not overmix). Smooth the batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake for about 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

7. Remove the cake from the oven and let cool 30 minutes.

8. To glaze the cake with Absinthe, use a toothpick and poke 50 holes in the cake. In a small bowl, gently stir together the 1/4 cup (25 g) sugar, and 1/4 cup (60 ml) of Absinthe until just mixed. (You can add a bit of orange zest here if you'd like too.)
Be sure not to let the sugar dissolve too much!

9. Remove the cake from the loaf pan, peel off the parchment paper, and set the cake on a cooling rack over a baking sheet.

10. Spoon some of the Absinthe glaze over the top and sides of the cake, allowing it to soak the top and spill down the sides a bit. Continue until all the glaze is used up.

(The photo at the top of this entry is the tiny cake that I made to bring to Luc-Santiago at Vert d'Absinthe. Which gives me an idea: Maybe I should open an Absinthe cupcake shop in Paris. Think they'll line up for hours for frosted blue-iced cupcakes here like they do in New York?...)

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I've been wondering lately why I live here.

Winter is freezing cold. You can barely go stay outside for more than a few minutes without the icy blasts (which sound good now) sending you back indoors, to get under the covers, snuggly with a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

Then we have spring.
Which this year lasted 4 days.

Then summer comes, and Paris melts down. You can see it on every face of everyone in the city. From people waiting for the bus, straining to stand in a tiny sliver of shade, to the women fanning themselves furiously on the buses and métro, everyone here is hotter than heck. Yesterday I went to the movies just to get cool, but unfortunately the film (The Squid & The Whale) was a measly 1 hour long. Who makes a 1 hour movie? I was tempted to stay and see it again just to bask in the coolness of the cinema but it was hard to stay awake the first time around.
Anything to escape my rooftop apartment, just under a zinc roof, which yesterday was104 degrees F. A few friends of mine have similar rooftop apartments, and I decided that no one's allowed to complain to us how hot they are, since we're invariably 10 degrees hotter than they are. So there.

But this time of year, visitors start coming to Paris in droves. I don't know why so many people choose to come to Paris in the summer, but everyone's surprised when I tell them that many of the shops are closed and it's really hot. And I'm leaving.
But come, they do.

So if you are planning to come to Paris in the next month or so, here are some tips to keep in mind:

1. Drink rosé.

For some reason, Americans are reluctant to drink rosé, which is inexpensive and delightfully served icy-cold. Rosé in France, for the most part, is dry and very drinkable. And it goes down very well in the summer, speaking from recent experience. Order it by the carafe since there's little difference between that and what comes in the more expensive bottles.

You'll be drinking it so fast that it doesn't really matter.

2. Never order anything they call 'iced coffee' or 'iced tea'.

It's invariably very, very sweet. If you order iced coffee, no matter what you're thinking it's going to be, stop before you do. No matter how tempting it sounds to you, just stop.

If you order something called 'iced coffee', you'll be served a very small amount of dark liquid (very sweet) in a large glass, with a straw, and it will be really sweet. And expensive.

Iced tea is inevitably from a can. And flavored.

And very sweet as well.

(Disclaimer: Yes, that was me you saw on the Boulevard St. Michel at, gasp, Starbucks drinking a Frappucino. It was so hot, we had no choice. But I have a question: Is there any coffee in those things? You'd think if they're gonna charge 4.50€, about $5.50, they would at least taste the slightest bit like coffee. Would it kill them to toss in an extra espresso without charging extra for it?)

3. There is no ice.

You may get a cube or two in your drink, but French people don't use lots of ice and few places have those jumbo ice machines like in America. When I worked in restaurants in the US, the worst thing that could happen was when the ice machine broke. People freaked. I mean, they really freaked. It was like they couldn't deal with drinking room-temperature water. And now, some places in America are charging extra if you don't want ice. It's like there's this vast conspiracy to get you to use lots of ice or something in America. Perhaps someone's putting something in the ice?

(Because whenever I request "No ice" in the US, the waiter gives me this funny look, and I can see him thinking, "Oh great. Why do I get all the ass#%$les in my section?")

Speaking of drinking: You'll notice that it's customary not to fill wine or water glasses to-the-brim full. In France, glasses are generally filled half-full. And in some places or in homes you're expected to use the same glass for both wine and water, so if you fill it too full with wine, you gotta finish all of it before you get any water.

And vice versa.

4. Don't expect air-conditioning.

Or I should say, very little is air-conditioned, especially like the icy-cold turbo-blasts experienced in the US. Electricity is very expensive in France. That, coupled with a general dislike of cool breezes (or open windows...or any kind of ventilation in general) but it can get uncomfortably and unbearably hot and people will sit in restaurants and apartments with the windows firmly closed.

That includes the métro, which can be downright intolerable in the summer. Especially when it's jammed full and your face is directly in some dudes hairy armpit who forgot to take his weekly shower. but you can't move. Most of the buses aren't air-conditioned (except I got on the #63 recently, and it was un peu de paradis), nor is the RER from the airport, which is downright miserable in the summer and you should avoid it. Spring for a cab or a shuttle.

5. Spring for some decent sandals.

Parisians do wear sandals and flip-flips (les thongs, except you don't pronounce the 'h') but in general they wear rather sporty ones. If you want to wear rubber flip flops, stop at Pay-Less and get pair that doesn't look skanky.

(And while you're at it, make sure your feet look decent. Like mine do.)

5a: Don't ever wear dark socks with sandals.
5b: Don't ever wear dark knee socks with sandals.
5c: Don't wear socks with sandals, period.

And remember, you can only wear two of the following at the same time: sandals, shorts, or a tank top. Never all three (if you do, then it's obligatory to add a fanny pack and carry a Rick Steve's guidebook.)

6. Spring for some nice shorts.

Parisians do wear shorts, in spite of what you hear, but do not wear them if you're planning to go into sophisticated places or nice shops.

Do not wear your ultra-short shorts, or anything that looks like something Mariah Carey would wear...unless you're trolling for les clients on the rue St. Denis.

(And men: If you're planning on doing any shoe shopping during les soldes, please remember to wear undershorts. A friend of mine was a shoe salesperson and was always amazed how few men didn't wear undies and whenever she looked up to ask about the fit, she was greeted with an eyeful.)

7. Take time to relax.

I've seen too many people coming to Paris who want to take in six museums in one day, rush from place to place with a rigid schedule, and generally make themselves and their friends crazy. You'll notice that Parisians sit in cafés for lo-o-o-ong periods of time, thinking, reading, or doing absolutely nothing. It's a skill I've finally mastered.

Just sit around and watch the world go by. Remember that citron pressée that you paid 6€ for? It's for the privilege of doing just that. And it's hot, so just relax. Or go to the movies. Paris is a great movie city. And most cinemas are air-conditioned.

8. Get out of the Left Bank.

While there's lots of interesting things to do in Paris; fabulous chocolate shops, great bakeries, and shopping galore, there's other neighborhoods in Paris worth exploring besides the Boulevard St. Germain-des-Pres.

Have you been to Belleville and Boulangerie 140 at Place Jourdain?

What about the Canal St. Martin for a stroll in the evening?

9. Parisians eat much later in the summer.

The sun doesn't go down until around 11pm, so things happen later. No one will be eating dinner at 7 or 7:30pm, and many restaurants won't even be open before that.
So plan accordingly.

If you want a seat outside (en terrasse, make sure to specify that when you reserve, as they're the first to go. Otherwise, if you want a seat near the window, those go second and it's best to show up earlier in the evening rather than later.

And if you're staying in a hotel in a popular neighborhood, and need to keep the windows open, bring ear plugs to block out noisy Brits getting pissed or the Aussies and their birds drinking cans of 1664 under your window.

10. Prepare for les vacances.

Realize that lots of places close for a month, mostly in August but starting in mid-July. It's said that Americans "live to work" and Europeans "work to live", which is rather true, and they are outta here.

The upside is that you'll have Paris much to yourselves and it's very pleasant and uncrowded. But expect many, many places to be closed.
Any other tips?

Paris is always full of little surprises, like any major city. It's always fun to poke around and find something new and unusual. And there's plenty of the unusual in a big city like Paris, as I often report. I think of Paris as a big village, full of colorful characters with lots of stories to tell and unusual offerings. And getting the know the people in your neighborhood, especially the vendors selling fine foods and drink, can be especially rewarding since often if you stay for a while and talk to them, there's always something fascinating to learn.

...and, of course, taste!

I've been meaning to take you to visit one on my favorite shops in Paris for quite a while: Vert d'Absinthe. This little shop is located in the Marais, but a bit removed from the busy tourist streets, just off the Place St. Catherine. Owner Luc-Santiago Rodriguez tells me his shop was the first boutique anywhere dedicated just for the purpose of selling absinthe, that wickedly suspicious elixir that's recently been getting a lot of attention lately.

Although the drink was originally produced as a cure-all medical tonic in 1792, Absinthe became a rather popular drink amongst Parisians in the late 1800's, mainly with hedonists living in Montmarte who would sip it in cafés and clubs, like Le Moulin Rouge, before it was ultimately banned by the French government in 1915.

Although experts are as unclear as a cloudy glass of absinthe on exactly why it was banned, the most colorful theory was that people went mad drinking absinthe due to the rotten wormwood used to make the drink. It was dubbed le fé'e verte or 'the green fairy', since it was said to inspire hallucinations as well.

(Absinthe was banned in the US in 1912, and so far, it's still technically illegal to import into the US.)

But nowadays, most people, including Luc-Santiago, agree that the powerful French wine industry at the time was upset that people, especially the artsy bohemians who lived in the north of Paris, were drinking cheap, hi-test absinthe (at 70% alcohol) instead of pricey wine (around 12% alcohol), in an attempt to get a better buzz for their buck. Since the French wine industry had suffered a severe set-back from the phylloxera infestation which killed most of the grapevines in France, the price of wine had gone up enormously. So it's thought that the wine industry pressured the French government to put the kabosh on absinthe production.
And that was that.

In 1988 absinthe made a comeback and the French government once again made it legal to sell and drink the anise-scented exilir, absinthe attaining a bit of a cult status in the process. With all the ceremony of pouring something previously forbidden in a fancy glass, pouring water over a sugar cube to make it cloudy (called louching), then slowly sipping it while staring into space in a deserted café...how could anyone not be entranced by the romance of absinthe?

If you come to France and want to try or purchase absinthe, be aware that not all drinks that look and sound like absinthe are indeed absinthe. You'll come across 'absente' (missing the 'h'), which has a bleary picture of Van Gogh on the packaging (it was said he went mad drinking absinthe and cut off his ear because of it, which to me is a rather iffy marketing move), but these impostors use a wormwood that's different than the variety of wormwood (artemisia absinthium) used in true absinthe.

The wormwood used to make true absinthe contains thujone, the most important compound in real absinthe.

Anyone interested in absinthe should make the trip to visit Luc-Santiago's little shop Vert d'Absinthe, where 25 different kinds of absinthe are stocked. All are French except for one, which is made in Switzerland, and most of the French absinthe varieties are made near the Swiss border. Monsieur Rodriguez stocks all the proper paraphernalia for properly preparing and drinking a glass of absinthe, from vintage to contemporary; spoons, glasses, fontaines, and, of course, the bottles themselves.

And perhaps you'll get a demonstration and a taste-test. Although drinking absinthe French-style means louching the drink by pouring water over a sugar cube through the special spoon before it clouds up the absinthe, the more flamboyant Czech-style method involves lighting the cube of sugar dramatically on fire, which I've yet to see him do.

Vert d'Absinthe
11 rue d'Ormesson
Paris
Tél: 01 42 71 69 73
Open daily, from 11am to 8pm (closed Monday)

(Although absinthe is technically illegal in the United States, a source for online ordering is eAbsinthe, who ships internationally.)

Heather at Secrets of Paris notes a few unusual places for les amis of absinthe in, or near, Paris:

"The Hotel Royal Fromentin (11 rue Fromentin, Paris, tel. 01 42 81 02 33) serves absinthe at their historic bar, a former cabaret at the foot of Montmartre. Visit in the evening for a presentation by the staff of the history of Absinthe.

The Musée de l'Absinthe (44 rue Alphonse Calle, 95430 Auvers-sur-Oise, tel. 01 30 36 83 26, about fifteen minutes outside Paris) is open on the weekends and holidays and sports all sorts of memorabilia and paraphernalia from absinthe's heyday. Take the train from the Gare du Nord."

For more information about absinthe on the web, here are some interesting articles and sites to read and learn more:

Matt Bites: Here's Your Bottle

Absinthe Online: Liquors de France

Chubby Hubby: The Green Fairy

Accidental Hedonist: Of Poets, Absinthe and Coffee

In Absinthia

The Wormwood Society

La Fée Verte

Absinthe: The Myth and The Reality

Cantada: One of the few bars in Paris to serve a wide selection of absinthes.

Coming Soon: A dessert with absinthe?...

This sad news arrived in my inbox this morning:

The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma from complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly-greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities in the food community turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch.

The grave site was piled high with flours.

Aunt Jemimah delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times he still was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.

Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough, two children, John Dough and Jane Dough, plus they had one in the oven.
He is also survived by his father, Pop Tart.

A funeral was held at 3:30 for about 20 minutes, or until done.

I recently attended a dinner here in Paris, at a well-known hotel, where the first course was Caesar Salad.

That was the Caesar Salad.

Yes, it has lettuce.

And anchovies (speared around skewers).

And cheese.

But, like, what is with those batter-fried Chinese shrimp?

Who gave the ok to put batter-fried shrimp on a Caesar Salad?

Mon Deui, what is so friggin' hard about making American food?

Take Caesar Salad, for example. It's simply torn leaves of Romain lettuce with a mustardy dressing seasoned with anchovies and a touch of worcestershire sauce. All balanced so no ingredient dominates the other. A handful of croûtons get tossed in, some Parmesan grated over the top, and voila!

That, ladies and gentleman, is a Caesar Salad.
Will someone please explain how hard that is to me?

Unlike French food, American food has few fancy sauces and is really pretty straightforward. While admittedly a lot of American food isn't spectacular, I fail to understand why it's so impossible to replicate. I've had the best cassoulet of my life in Berkeley, amazing Lebanese food in Mexico, marvelous French desserts in Tokyo, superb Moroccan food in France, and terrific Japanese food in Hawaii. So why is it so hard to make American food anywhere else but in America?

While I didn't move to Paris expecting hamburgers and pizza, I fail to understand what possesses any rational person to spoon canned corn over a pizza. (Why would a country that shuns corn on the cob embrace its frozen kernel-y counterpart?)

Who the heck gave anyone permission to top a hamburger (or pizza) with a runny fried egg?

And if I get one more Salade Niçoise with a big scoop of white rice on top, I'm going to drag the chef down to Nice, force him to stand in the center of town holding their Salade Niçoise avec du riz in hand, and invite the townsfolk for a look-see.

And stand back.

It's like those insane people, worldwide, that put cream in their pesto sauce.

For the love of humanity: Please stop!

Thanks. I feel better now.

Griottes
Like many things in French, there can be several names for the same thing. Chicken breasts can be blanc de poulet, suprême de poulet, or poitrine de poulet. And there are 7 different ways to say "because of" (a cause de, grace a, car, parce que, etc...) When people ask me how long it took to learn French, I tell them that even the French don't know how to speak French! They're always learning more, consulting their dictionaries and checking their verb guides. Some French business people actually go back to school to improve their language skills. (Hmm, on second thought, I can think of a few Americans who could use a couple of language lessons too.)

Griottes, for example, are sour cherries. Yet there's also Montmorency which are slightly smaller cherries, but can't they just call them all sour cherries for bakers who are trying to learn the language?

So I bought a nice little sack of them to make Adam's Sour Cherry Frozen Yogurt. If you're lucky enough to live somewhere that sour cherries are available, I suggest you take advantage of them. They don't last very long and should be used within a day of purchase. Most of the time, they'll look kinda funky, somewhat dinged up, and a bit dark, which is normal and since most Americans stopped making fresh sour cherry pie (and the French don't make pies), they can be hard to find.

Many year ago, trying to figure out what to do with the surplus, an enterprising man from a company called American Spoon Foods decided to dry the excess, hence the proliferation of dried sour cherries. I bring hoards back to Paris when I return to the states. We're just beginning to see them here, but they're pricey. My French friends love 'em and I use them for special occasions. If you ever want to bring a gift to a French friend, or to me, I recommend dried sour cherries.

I also like caramel corn (thanks M.N.!)

Salted Butter
Holy s@%#t!
Life doesn't get any better than this. Look at all that salt! Every pore of this hunk of butter is oozing salt. To those of us who've been trained to use only unsalted butter, we forget how much better salted butter tastes. A chocolatier friend who just visited New York City to meet with investors who wanted him to open a chocolate shop, came back to Paris and told me he didn't know if he could do it since the butter was so lame.

This is called beurre salé, and whenever I see those big streaks of Breton salt embedded in a mound at a fromagerie, I always end up taking a slab home. The smell is incredible. I can only describe it as similar to the smell that comes from when you melt butter on the stovetop, and there's that lovely sweet-cream, dewy scent.
I can't wait for breakfast tomorrow! In fact, maybe I'll dig in right now.

Tapenade
I used to make my own tapenade, thinking that my own...um, well...something doesn't stink. That my homemade tapenade was always better. But I've been buying mine from a great olive vendor and it's excellent. I eat it simply spread on bread, like a baguette tradition from Eric Kayser, a favorite bakery of mine.

Brugnons
Brugnons look like white nectarines, but are considered a cross between a nectarine and a peach, which originated in France. There seems to be a lot of conflicting information about how they were hybridized, but I'll leave that up to other foodies to argue. All I know if that they sure are good. They taste like a full-flavored white nectarine but are more complex and not as sweet, with a rather nectar-like taste.

Arbequina Olive Oil
I'm gonna channel Rachel Ray and say... yum! (sorry). I was visiting one of my favorite huileries in Paris (Allicante at 26 Blvd Beaumarchais), and tasting a few of the new olive oils that she just received. This Arbequina olive oil from Spain was sensational; super-fruity, buttery, aromatic...everything a guy could want in an olive oil.

So yesterday I made a salad of tomatoes, roquette, flat-leaf parsley, and ricotta salatta that I got from the Italian épicerie, which my French friends had never tasted. If you've never had it, it's a dried sheep's-milk cheese similar to feta, but without all the salt and milder. I love it in the summer and crumble it recklessly over pastas and salads. Or bake tiny fingerling-like potatoes in it. I can't wait to play around with my new oil.

Haricot Beurre
Although people seem to associate French with haricots verts, I can't resist their paler, and sometimes more curious, cousins.

This was an easy post!

If you'd like to know what it's like to visit Jean-Charles Rochoux with me, one of my favorite chocolatiers in Paris, go visit Too Many Chefs for Meg's write-up of our visit.

As any American knows, procrastination is a way of life. For example, I'm nearing the end of a big project, yet am having a hard time bucking down to finish it. I even got so desperate in my procrastination that I pulled out my oven and cleaned all behind it, the sides, and scrubbed off the baked-on sugar around the knobs. I'm looking for other projects to tackle next. I am a procrastinateur, if such a word exists. (And I'm not above making up words around here.)

When I was taking French classes shortly after I arrived a few years back, my teacher who was insane, (which is another story, including how he just freaked and starting punching-out the blackboard, but at least it wasn't me...although I'm sure he was thinking it was) but spoke, like, nineteen languages. With complete fluency. I hate those people. But he had never heard of the world 'procrastination'. So I pulled out the immense French dictionary at the school and sure enough, there it was, in French and English, spelled the same way.

But if you mention the word 'procrastination' to any French person, most likely they've never heard it before. I don't know why. A friend here offered, "It's because French people don't procrastinate." When I looked the word up today in my Robert Collins French Dictionnaire which sports 120,000 traductions, the word 'procrastination' only appears in the English-to-French translation, not in the Français-to-English translation.

Coincidence...or conspiracy?

So here I am procrastinating.
Speaking of things that are Too Good To Use, in France, you can get the most superb sunblock in the world. I was told about it by a friend who told me about this non-gloppy formula that she liked. So I went and bought some.

Then the plot thickened.
I was telling another friend about it, and she said,"Oh! That's the stuff all my society friends from New York come over and hoard."

Hmmm. Really? So I did some searching on the internet and found out that yes, Anthelios XL, or any suncress with Mexoryl® isn't available in America, even though it's considered the best, most effective sunscreen on the world. They refuse to give a reason, but FDA has banned the sale of it in the US.*

Paris has been hotter than heck lately. One blogger who shall remain nameless, Susan, pointed out that little weather icon I've added to the site said it wasn't as hot as I was leading on.
So while she sits in her glamorous pool down on her farm, I offer indisputable proof...

So now I have a sneaking suspicion that the weather icon I added is part of a large, right-wing conspiracy to make us believe that global warming isn't happening and that yes, George W. Bush was a far better choice for president than Al Gore.

And never mind my photo of my chocolate thermometer.

Anyhow...I need to get back to work.
But I did try the sunscreen and it's truly amazing. It's thin, light, and didn't leave my face feeling like a pruneaux after a day of walking around Paris during the heatwave. Since it's not available in America (another right-wing conspiracy so all the sun-worshiping leftists get face cancer and can't vote?), if you come to France, you can stock up (although check the legality with the authorities to make sure it's okay) on La Roche-Posay Anthelios XL Fluide Extreme for the visage, the face.

Don't procrastinate.

La Roche-Posay products are available in many Pharmacies and Parapharmacies in Paris.

*Update: La Roche-Posay sunscreen is now available in the United States legally.

If you're anything like me, you're thrilled that the season for summer fruits is finally in full swing. I like nothing better than returning from my market with a basket full of fresh peaches, nectarines, cherries, and whatever other fruits happen to look best that morning. And since I've started plying the Parisian vendors with Brownies, I'm getting much-desired VIP treatment at the market, and more often than not, there's a few extra treats thrown in too. It's nice to know that Parisians can be bought for the price of a simple square of chocolate.

While others may prefer to cloak summer fruits in fancy desserts, when the temperature starts soaring, the idea of standing in the kitchen for a few hours crafting some overwrought concoction has little appeal. And to be honest, it's kind of a no-brainer when it's this hot and I can be trying on jeans surrounded by Parisian jeunes hommes instead.

My appearance on a radio program recently prompted me to share two of my favorite summertime recipes: luscious White Chocolate and Fresh Ginger Ice Cream with Baked Nectarines and Cherries. During the summer I bake fruit all the time which doesn't require standing over the stove. Invariably when I return from the market, I wasn't able to resist anything, and I'm a hopeless wreck when confronted with everything so perfect this time of the year. But baking brings out the sweetness, softening fruits beautifully into this delectable compote, which is so seductively simple to spoon up with freshly-made ice cream.

For the baked fruit, I like to use light cassonade sugar, which is widely available in France. In the US, natural food stores and Trader Joe's sell unrefined sugar, which is lighter than brown sugar but granulated and as easy to use as white sugar.

And since everyone gets their panties in a knot about making substitutions, yes, you can substitute 6 to 8 plums or fresh apricots for the nectarines, but be sure to use the larger amount of sugar since apricots get much more tart once they're baked. They'll also take less time to bake as well.

I know you're going to ask about peaches (see, now you're getting carried away...), but I find peaches soften too quickly and I prefer the tartness of nectarines. Plus nectarines don't need to be peeled and really hold their shape much better than peaches. If cherries are out of season where you live, you can add a basket of fresh raspberries or blackberries when you take the fruit out of the oven, allowing the residual heat help them meld into the compote.

Lastly, some readers have asked me about ice cream makers so I've posted some tips in the previous entry if you're thinking of purchasing one. They're come way down in price in the past year and since I personally can't imagine getting through the summer without homemade ice cream; you might think about making one your next purchase too.

White Chocolate And Fresh Ginger Ice Cream with Nectarine and Cherry Compote

4-6 Servings

Is there anything better than warm fruit, slightly-sweetened, topped with a scoop of ice cream melting on top or alongside? The creamy-sweet taste of white chocolate pairs marvelously with the piquant bite of fresh ginger. Just enough to serve as a pleasant contrast.

White Chocolate and Fresh Ginger Ice Cream
About 1 quart (1 liter)

3-inch piece (2 to 2 1/2 ounces) fresh ginger, unpeeled
2/3 cup (130 g) sugar
1 cup (250 ml) whole milk
1 cup plus 1 cup heavy cream (500 ml, total)
8 ounces (230 g) white chocolate, finely chopped
5 large egg yolks

1. Slice the ginger thinly, cover it with water in a medium saucepan, bring to a boil, and cook for 2 minutes. Drain away the water but return the blanched ginger to the pan. Add the sugar, the milk and 1 cup of heavy cream to the saucepan and re-warm the mixture.
Cover and steep for at least an hour, or until you are satisfied with the ginger flavor.

2. Put the chopped white chocolate in a large bowl.

3. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, then gradually add some of the ginger-infused cream mixture, whisking constantly as you pour in the warm cream. Pour the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

4. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly and scraping the bottom with a heat-resistant spatula until the custard thickens enough to coat the spatula. Strain the custard into the white chocolate, and stir until the chocolate is completely melted. Discard the ginger. Add the remaining 1 cup of heavy cream and chill thoroughly. You can set the bowl over an ice bath to speed it up.

5. Chill mixture thoroughly, then freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Nectarine and Cherry Compote
Four to Six Servings

I prefer my fruit less-sweetened, but you can add the larger amount of sugar if you like. If you don't have a vanilla bean, just add a few drops of vanilla extract.

4 nectarines
1 pound (450 g) fresh cherries, stemmed and pitted
1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
4 to 6 tablespoons sugar
optional: 2 tablespoons rum or kirsch

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees (190 C).

Split the nectarines in half and pluck out the pits. Put them in a 2-quart baking dish with the cherries. Scrape the vanilla seeds into the fruit.

Mix in the sugar and rum or kirsch, if using.

Turn the nectarines so they're cut side down, arranging them in an even layer with the cherries and tuck the vanilla bean underneath.

Bake uncovered for 45 minutes to 1 hour, opening the oven door twice during baking so you can jostle the baking dish to encourage the juices to flow. The fruit is done when a sharp paring knife easily pierces the nectarines.

Remove from oven and serve warm, or at room temperature with a nice scoop of the White Chocolate and Fresh Ginger Ice Cream.

Storage: The compote can be refrigerated for up to 3 days.

There's lots of options to consider when buying an ice cream maker, and there's certainly one that'll fit within any budget. I've had several readers inquiring about ice cream makers and although there's extensive information in my book, The Perfect Scoop, here's additional information about each kind that's available, to help you out:

• I've been using the Cuisinart ICE-50BC with excellent results for the past 6 months and could not live without it at this point. Not only is the machine very efficient, the price is extraordinary for a self-refrigerating machine, although for a novice, it does fall into the 'investment' category.

  I've never seen a self-refrigerating machine at this price and was skeptical, but my ice cream maker has been a real powerhouse and I consider it an indispensable part of my batterie de cuisine nowadays.

  
  

  

• A lower-priced option is a machine such as the Cuisinart ICE-20. This machine is a excellent value, and you'll need to pre-freeze the canister for 24 hours (no cheating!) before you plan to freeze your ice cream or sorbet.

  These machines make great ice cream and are very affordable. You also should get an extra freezing bucket, which you'll find will come in very, very handy.

  
  

  

• If you have a KitchenAid mixer, their wildly-popular KitchenAid Ice Cream Maker Attachment works really well. I had the opportunity to use one during my visit to the KitchenAid factory recently, and was really impressed with the care and precision of the attachment.

  Like everything they make, the ice cream attachment did a great job of churning up the various ice creams that I ran through it. Note that if you live outside the United States, European KitchenAid mixers are different and the attachment made for US-models will not work with them.
  

You can also find more of my recommendations for machines and ice cream making equipment at Let's Make Ice Cream!

Happy Churning!...