I'm a big fan of wine bars. Not only because there's nothing more I'd rather do than work my way through a large list of wines available to sip by the glass or pot, but because they're some of the most enjoyable places to eat in Paris.

And with summer coming up, bringing warm weather and longer, lazier days, I find I'm more interested in eating simply, preferring to snack on interesting cheeses or share a slab of pâté, a mound of unashamedly fat-rich rillettes, and slices of chorizo and saucissons, accompanied by a nice glass of Sauvignon blanc or a cool, fruity-red Brouilly.

Le Baron Rouge is one of my favorites. With the wines on offer, you can make a more than decent meal with a large or small platter composed of various cheeses, or pile up some of their excellent charcuterie on a crust of baguette.

At a recent book event, there was a little Q & A session after I chatted and read from my new book. The only guidelines were that I told people that two questions were off limits.

One was; "Why did you move to Paris?", and the other "How long are you planning on living in Paris?" Because I get asked them at least six times a day, and I've been here seven years, (so do the math and you'll understand why j'en ai marre ), I figured I should just answer them in the book and be done with them once and for all.

Except when I said that, for a moment, I kind of blindsighted the crowd as I could tell that everyone was about to raise their hand to ask one of those two questions. Multiply that by 150+ people, and I'm not going to ask you to do the math again, but you see what I'm up against.

But someone did ask me a very good question: "What about Paris would you miss if you moved away?" which rendered me uncharacteristically speechless. In the book, I wanted to be truthful about my life here and balance the good with the not-always-good, and sometimes people focus on the less-alluring aspects of my life in this city, mostly because they're more fun than to hear what a spectacular city Paris really is.

So here are 15 things I would miss if I moved away from Paris.....

The year was 1999 and my first book had come out and was nominated for one of those terribly-important cookbook awards. During the dinner and awards presentation, everyone thought I was a shoe-in and so I was seated right up in front, sharing a table with Graham Kerr, Claudia Rodin, some woman from Sweden (I had no idea who she was; the only Swedish women I've committed to memory are the ladies of Abba, I'm afraid)—and, gulp, Julia Child.

It was nice to be considered, but the real reason I wanted to win was because Alice Medrich was presenting the award in my category and I quickly thought of something that I wanted to say about her. When I was starting out as a baker, I used to step into her shop, Cocolat in Berkeley, on my way to work and get a truffle or a wedge of cake, which I would devour before beginning my own baking shift. And I credit her for introducing me, and a lot of other Americans, to the pleasures of fine chocolate.

Unfortunately I didn't win and the following year, I was relegated to the rear of the room, back with rest of the riff-raff.

...but that's my kinda bakery!

BabyCakes NYC (Website)

BabyCakes Cookbook (Amazon)

BabyCakesNYC (Twitter)

A few years ago at a culinary conference in the states, I met some eager-beaver folks from the International Rice Board, or something like that, who were there to promote rice consumption. I told them, point blank: "If you really, truly want to increase the consumption of rice, just send everyone a rice cooker."

I loved mine, but unfortunately in Paris my kitchen is so small that I don't have room for one. I guess I could get rid of my espresso maker, but really, that's just not a possibility. (And every time I pass the panini grills at Darty I sigh in admiration...and keep walking.) So I've learned to make Asian-style rice in a regular saucepan, which is entirely possible.

Some of the information I gleaned from posts at My Korean Kitchen and this rice is perfect not just on its own, but to use for making fried rice. If you've ever tried fried rice and were confronted with a sticky disaster, the secrets is to always use day-old rice and separate the grains thoroughly with your fingers before frying it up.

Askinosie White Chocolate

There's nothing odder to me than people who say, "I don't like white chocolate...because it's not chocolate!" Which is like saying, "I don't like white wine...because it's not Champagne!"

In each case, both are similar, but entirely different creatures and to compare them is kinda silly. I used the scoff at the losers who liked milk chocolate, until I started appreciating it for what it really was (not dark chocolate), and I joined the ranks and became a loser myself. (Although depending on who you talk you, it started sometime before that.)

Because I was recently scheduled to speak about white chocolate with the Evan Kleiman (who is anything but a loser) on her radio program Good Food, I asked Shawn Askinosie if he'd send me a few bars, via a friend who was en route to Paris, of his new bean-to-bar white chocolate, so I could sample them.

You could've knocked me over with a cocoa leaf when I slipped the bars out of their packages, as I wasn't prepared for them to be so gently coffee-colored; one studded with salted pistachios the other with nibs.

After giving it considerable thought, I've decided to take the advice that I shouldn't be talking about anything but food, so you won't find me spouting off anymore about appliance handles, Sarah Palin (although I will get one last word in; that family is a tad wacky, don't you think?), Man Purses, anything about Paris, miscellaneous problems, les jeunes hommes fawning all over my mid-section, and men's room finds.

(Although technically, that last one might eke in and qualify, although maybe not, since I didn't include a recipe.)

Speaking of which, I'm also going to follow other advice to "...get to the recipe already" which precludes me writing a story about this particular dessert. So I won't be able to tell you how I came about making this particular batch of Absinthe Ice Cream.

On May 19, I'll be doing a talk and booksigning The Sweet Life in Paris at the WHSmith store here in Paris. If you are in the area, or can make it by Tuesday, come join me!

(Update: Thanks to everyone who attended. It was a stellar turnout and it was so fun to meet so many of you. If you're interested, there are signed copies of the book in the store. To find out where I'll be next, visit my Schedule page.)

Kindle Edition

Also, many of you've mentioned that you're happy that the book is available to download electronically. So if you have a Kindle, the book is available in a Kindle edition now, as well.

Related News & Reviews

Hungry for Paris write-up

Living The Sweet Life in Paris, vicariously

Take That! Paris Café...

A steamy podcast and Chocolate Yogurt Cake recipe

Dorie Greenspan braves the mob

Heidi makes a beautiful Breton Buckwheat Cake from the book

Write up with the SuperChef

Review & interview at Simply Recipes

The White On Rice Couple, find a recipe worth repeating

Wright Eats comes to Paris, armed and ready

Polly-Vous Français says "Oui!"

Barbara Serves It Forth and makes the Mocha Crème Fraîche Cake

The Boston Globe and An American Pastry Chef in Paris

Meg at Too Many Chefs chats up the book

Flickr Pool of Recipes from The Sweet Life in Paris

If you find yourself In Need of Chocolate...

Recruiting for the The Sweet Life in Paris Facebook Group

The Digital City and I dish

Los Angeles Times' Daily Dish

An American in Paris-with Brownies on The Daily Beast

I'm happy to say that I finally got rid of the two eggs yolks in my freezer. They were packed together in plastic, then again in foil...and of course, quickly forgotten as over the course of the next few months, got pushed further and further back into the morass that is otherwise know as mon congélateur.

The other morning I woke up, and when I went to get an ice cube for my orange juice (one of my perks--I absolutely have to have an ice cube in my morning jus d'orange), everything came tumbling out. Long-forgotten flax seeds from a batch of seriously-healthy scones I'd planned to make, to six 2-cup containers of egg whites, plus a mysterious little foil-wrapped packet whose name had been scraped off after months of being away by jagged crystals of frost. It was like watching the last six months of baking projects crossing in front of my eyes, with a few things landing near my feet.

So there I was, at 7:04 am, defrosting my freezer in my jammies, reliving my not-so-distant past, taking everything out, and scraping out massive amounts of ice for the next hour or so.

Thanks to everyone who left comments in the previous entry.

Using the Random Number Generator, the winner of the 7-piece set of stainless-steel All-Clad cookware is #1453, Tracey, who came out with Hokey-Pokey Ice Cream...Vanilla with Honeycomb.

Merci à tous!

To celebrate the release today of my new book, The Sweet Life in Paris, the fine folks at All-Clad are giving away a brand-new 7 piece set of their magnificent stainless steel cookware!

This set includes a 2- and 3-quart saucepan, both with lids, a 10-inch frying pan, and a huge 8-quart stock pot. This is my favorite cookware (I carried mine over to Paris with me, piece-by-painstakingly-piece) and I'm thrilled they're offering a set for my readers. If you've always wanted to start or add some All-Clad to your collection, this is a great way to do it.

I hadn't planned on buying rhubarb yesterday morning, but I was at the stand of my favorite producteur and there it was, and there I was, so our collective fate was sealed.

As I waited for him to wrap my stalks tightly in brown paper, my mind raced to think what I would do with them. By the time I handed over a couple of euros, I'd made up my mind that they'd make a fine filling for the baked tart shell I had waiting at home, with a thin layer of lemony pastry cream.

It's been odd around here lately. I think there's something in the air; le morosité of Paris, as they call it, the general malaise that smacks the city in a collective wallop, like the tiny, sharp grains of pollen that are wreaking havoc on the sinuses of us all. Yes, it's warmed up and the city is even more beautiful, but a string of May holidays has Parisians bolting for the borders, heading away for le petit weekend any chance they can. There's just something odd in the city that I can't quite put my finger on.

I was in the middle of a lovely spring lunch at Chez Prune up by the Canal St. Martin the other day with Paule Caillat, a woman who teaches cooking classes here in Paris.

We talked about many things, but of course, the conversation quickly turned to the most important subject of them all: baking. And soon she began to tell me about this tart dough recipe that she's been making for years.

I was expecting her to say, "You begin by taking some cold butter and work it into the flour.

But she started by saying, "You take butter. And you take water. You put them in a bowl. Then you put it in the oven for 20 minutes and let everything boil until..." which, of course, stopped me mid-swallow of my Côte du Rhone. I almost started choking.

"Surely, you jest!" I wanted to cry out in disbelief.

Except I couldn't, because I don't know how to say that in French.