Recently in France Category

In my quest for a good burger in Paris, I was enthralled that many of you wrote with so many suggestions. I once took a course in food writing and the teacher told us not to use words like "enthralled" and "opt" because people don't use them in everyday speech.

When I opt to look out my window, I'm enthralled at the view of Paris.

So there.

Anyhow, thanks to my vigilant readers, I'm now armed with a comprehensive list—and so are you, of places to find a decent burger here.

And to the person who wrote on an online bulletin board that they didn't feel sorry for me, well, I ask you, where is the love, folks? This isn't supposed to be the RNC.

Let's just say I believe that it's every American's constitutional right to have access to a great burger no matter where they are in the world, and leave it at that.

I am so glad I'm not on a low-carb diet. If I was, I'd have to move.

Seriously—if I couldn't eat bread, I would shrive up and die. The only thing keeping me from doing that is constant hydrating myself with wine. Luckily, that's another one of the other things around here that I don't need to avoid.

Yet.

When I told Romain's mom that we didn't have bakeries in the US like they have in France, she couldn't believe it.

"Ooohh?..." she wondered aloud, "So where does everyone get their bread every day?"

One of the first places I went to in Paris when I was setting up house, was Goumanyat. My friend David Tanis took me there, who is a chef and lives in Paris part-time. And as I roamed through the neat shop, poked in the wooden drawers and sniffed in the jars, I was thrilled to find such a treasure trove of spices and comestibles to stock my petit placard.

Yet the real star of the show at Goumanyat is saffron, which they stock in every conceivable fashion. Of course, there's a huge glass urn of wispy saffron threads, which one can use to flavor a tagine or even a batch of ice cream. But saffron also shows up in many other guises here, sometimes in places where you'd least expect it.

For those of you who don't live here, you're probably scratching your heads as who in their right minds would want a hamburger in Paris. If you're a visitor, you probably don't come to Paris in search of a burger (unless you've got kids in tow). But Parisians, as well as the rest of us, often get the craving for a nice, juicy patty on a big, fluffy bun, and I'm happy to help in our quest to find the best of the lot.

Here's a list of the places that were suggested by helpful readers in the comments of my post on the burgers at Hippopotamus. I was pretty bowled over with the choices out there and look forward to trying some, or all, of them out.

Please note that I haven't been to most of these places (yet), and I can't personally vouch for them.

Hence I'm trusting you guys on these...so they'd better be good! : )

I've been craving a big, fat, piled-high juicy hamburger for the last few weeks. I don't know why. Romain told me, "C'est normal et culturel, Daveed." I'm not entirely sure about that since I've never been a big beef eater. But lately, just the idea of lifting a hefty, rosy, big mess-of-a-patty of seared meat wedged between two fluffy, lightly-grilled cushions of bread with plenty of fixin's, has been first and foremost in my little mind.

While l'hamburger is available at more and more cafés and restaurants in Paris nowadays, too often the dried-out burger is paltry, the bun is lame, and the much-anticipated le hamburger that arrives is wildly overpriced and nothing more than a glorified, microwaved sandwich.

Since the last post (#3) focused on something so beautiful, and so perfect; an exquisite cup of gelato, I thought it'd be okay to spring the Musée Fragonard on you now.

Located in on the eastern fringe of Paris, the Musée Fragonard d'Alfort is part of the Alfort Veterinary School, founded in 1766, which is one of the oldest veterinary colleges in the world. Lest you think I've got a thing for cadavers of malformed animals and tumorous cow spleens, you're wrong.

But what I do have is a thing for are very unique places in Paris.

I recently received a desperate message from a reader, whose subject line read "Coffee Emergency!!"

She and her husband were in Paris, desperate for a good cup of coffee. Feeling her pain, I compiled this short-list of places where one can be pretty much assured of having a properly-made café express.

A few tips:

• Check and see if the place uses an Italian brand of coffee. This isn't always the most reliable trick, but is an indication they're not just pulling coffee from the easiest-available (and cheapest) brands.
• Look and see if they're grinding the beans fresh, firmly packing the coffee into the tamper, and keeping the filter holder in place when the machine isn't being use to hold in the heat. Those are indications they're somewhat interested in doing things correctly
• Peer into some of the cups that are being passed over the bar before ordering. A real espresso should be about a tablespoon of coffee with a layer of lighter froth floating on top.
• If you want the closest approximation of a true espresso, ask for café serré, a "tight" coffee. The French normally drink their café express with more water than a customary espresso.
• It's hard to avoid, but most cafés use sterilized, ultra-pasteurized milk in milk-based drinks, which tastes horrible and will ruin even a decent cup.
• When in doubt, such as on the autoroute or train, resign yourself to ordering a café noisette; an express marked with a bit of steamed milk, which'll tame any bitter or acrid flavors.