Continue reading "Tips for Vegetarian Dining in Paris" »

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French Classes in Paris

Whether you're coming here to live, or even on vacation, there's plenty of classes for everyone from débutants to those looking to master the elusive French verbs.

While I don't personally make any recommendations, you can visit their sites to check for class times, size, and prices. Some schools do offer housing for longer programs and you can even get student visas if you sign up for longer sessions, helpful if you'd like to stay in Paris for a while.

Another plus about enrolling in a school is with your student ID, you can get discounts in museums and at the movies. Plus many gyms and sporting facilities give substantial student discounts and there's travel deals to be had as well.

A few tips:

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Romantic Restaurants in Paris

One of the questions I'm rather frequently-asked is for romantic restaurant recommendations in Paris.

It's not that I don't go out to eat. It's just that I don't get asked out to romantic restaurants, so I wouldn't know. Most of the time, I'm lucky if a paramour plops a falafel in my hands on the rue de Rosiers or I'm sharing a nasty bowl of stag stew with sex writers and rugby players—which someone commented made me look kinda 'horny'.

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Pimandes

I don't know where they get these, and I don't really care. But if you stop in da rosa and don't pick up a bag of them, you're making a terrible mistake.

These little dusty ovals of chocolate enrobe a Marcona almond tucked in the middle and there's just a touch for the smoky taste of pimente d'Espelette, the bright-red Basque chili powder that I like to sprinkle over everything from pumpkin purée to chocolate-peanut bark. Once I open the bag of Pimandes, it's assured that the rest will soon be history.

To be honest, I wanted to show you the inside of one.

Really I did.

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Accessible Travel In Paris

If you're coming to Paris and have special needs, such as access for a wheelchair, here's a list of resources that will help you plan your trip. Please note that I haven't used many of these services, especially the tour outfits, so ask as many questions of them in advance as you need to get the most information about the services they offer before you sign on.

Paris is a very old city and although new construction includes accessibility for wheelchairs, the older buildings and narrow sidewalks aren't always easy to navigate. Below I've put together this list of websites and services that I hope will help. If you have limited time and want to make the most of your trip, hiring a guide or at least a van for the day may allow you to see and do more, and the additional expense might be mitigated by the convenience.

A few things to remember:

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Breizh Café

When a British travel writer asked if I'd like to meet for brunch last week, he also asked if I could suggest a reasonable place for the article he was doing. So I put on my thinking cap, kicked off my slippers, tossed my funky pajamas in the laundry bin, showered and...get this...shaved!...and actually took a break from my project and got a few breaths of fresh air.

Imagine that!
(This is getting to be a habit around here...)

Le Brunch is indeed available at some places in Paris, but je deteste being around people first thing in the morning—and I'm not so fond of Le Brunch either. So we compromised on the more civilized hour of 1pm. Not much is open in Paris on Sunday, which our President is fixing to change, so I suggested Breizh Café a tidy corner spot specializing in galettes de blé noir, commonly known as buckwheat crêpes.

This sparsely-finished restaurant is in the heart of 'bobo' (bourgeois bohemians) land, so there's no shortage of strollers or hipsters hanging out in this part of the Marais on Sunday. Once you get by all the posers skulking on the sidewalks peering in gallery windows, cigarettes perched in the corners of their mouth and the obligatory Sunday am dark glasses...(who unlike me, couldn't bother to shave)...it's a relief to find an inexpensive place to eat where the food is anything but trendy.

Because owner Bertrand Larcher is a true Breton, the Breizh Café focuses on the quality of the products and lets them shine, rather than trying to mess with the originals: there's no red pepper dust on the corner of the plate or twirls of squiggly sauces that have no business being there.

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G. Detou

If G. Detou didn't exist, I couldn't live in Paris.

Seriously. The overstocked, but impeccably neat shelves at G. Detou do indeed have everything, as the name implies in French (J. Detou is a play-on-words, meaning "I have everything".) But when you're someone like me that does an inordinate amount of baking, plus loves...and I mean loves...to discover new and unusual foods and chocolates, a place like G. Detou is truly pastry paradise.

This little shop near Les Halles is stocked, literally, floor-to-ceiling with everything a cook or baker could want. There's chocolates from across France, including a huge (and I mean huge) selection of bars including Michel Cluizel, Valrhona, Voisin, Weiss, Bonnat, Cacao Barry—the best of l'hexagone.

But even better are the big tablets and sacks that range from 3 to 5 kilos, that hard-cores bakers like me depend on. Although I'm not the only avid chocolate baker in town: When I was in last week, a tiny, meek little old lady came by and left hefting a 3-kilo sack of white chocolate, and a man in a hurry, who didn't remove the cell phone from his ear while he rattled off his order to the red-coated salesclerk, left with five enormous sacks of chocolate, as well as assorted other goodies.

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10 Insanely Delicious Things You Shouldn't Miss in Paris

If I had 5 centimes for every time someone asked me that question, I'd have...well...a couple of euros.
(Or about 44¢, at the rate the dollar is plunging.)

Still, I get this question frequently asked and while I'm usually organized (Can you say pastry chef?) with everything listed in the Category box to your left, I still kinda have to point folks there.

And...hey, did you know that we're coming up my 500th post here on the blog?

I was thinking of having some kind of contest with really cool prizes, like an all-expense paid trip to Tahiti...but then I thought some of you might balk at shelling out money on a nice trip for me. And to be honest, the thought of relaxing somewhere on the beach being surrounded by oily, lithe, tanned bodies with the scent of vanilla lingering in the air while listening to the sound of the surf isn't exactly paradise compared to all the treats I have access to below.

Now is it?

So since I'm here in Paris, in lieu of paradise, and here's my list of Ten Great Things To Eat in Paris. Not all the ideas are new or radical nor are they in any particular order of preference. Some I've mentioned before and others are new. I'm not sending you in search of wasabi-carrot-pistachio-veal verrines topped with fennel-durian marshmallows or raw sesame-crusted tuna towers with filo triangles served on square plates with a dusting of dried porcini powder and a scribble of sauce in the corner. Instead, these are some tried-and-true places and things that I like to eat around town and confidently recommend to all visitors.

And seriously, you shouldn't miss them if you come.

1. Arabesque Macarons at Pierre Hermé

I love les macarons and although I still think the classic ones at Ladurée are tops in town, Over at Pierre Hermé, he's always experimenting with unusual flavor combinations so you never quite know what you'll find here. But if you happen to be there and see pastel-orange cookies the color of apricot with a soft, creamy filling oozing out, hiding a nugget of crackly almond croquant covered with fine pieces of pistachio dust, I urge you to try one.

Although each time I go in, the amount of filling seems to be increasing to the point of excess, I can't resist popping one in my mouth. And in fact, when I go in now, my favorite saleswoman there instinctively hands me one over the counter.

(And people ask me why I live here all the time as well...)

One tip: The shop on the rue Bonaparte is usually mobbed and it's difficult to see anything or linger. Head over to the Pierre Hermé shop at 185, rue Vaugirard, which is much more spacious. And while you're there, stop in at des Gâteaux & du Pain at 63, boulevard Pasteur; the pastries and breads are drop-dead gorgeous there as well.

Continue reading "10 Insanely Delicious Things You Shouldn't Miss in Paris" »

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John-Charles Rochoux, Parisian Chocolatier

One of the hardest things about writing about food is coming up with that killer opening sentence. It should start with something that grabs your attention right away, tickles your curiosity, then encourages the reader (which would be you) to follow the writer (which, or course, would be me) deeper into the story. Thankfully when writing about chocolate, I can include pictures to help me get going, so most of the work is already done.

The other difficult thing when writing about chocolate is that there's only so many superlatives you can use to describe it, and words like: dark, unctuous, bittersweet, delicious, seductive, etc...don't really seem to pinpoint that feeling that you get when you walk into a pristine chocolate shop and are completely overwhelmed by the heady experience, inhaling that sweet, unmistakable scent of chocolate that permeates the air and overtakes you. There's that quiet moment, when you step into a special place full of chocolate, where you briefly forget all that's going on outside.

I'm fortunate to live a city where there's an unusually large amount of very good chocolate shops, and all-too-often one needs a refuge from the fast-pace of the streets and sprawling avenues. Here in Paris, I have my favorites, and one of them is John-Charles Rochoux. His petit shop is located just off the bustling rue de Rennes. It's not just a refuge from one of Paris' busy boulevards, but a step back to another era. In his shop, chocolate is both an edible obsession and an object of sculptural craftmanship, and you'll find many intricate, precious little chocolate sculptures, as well as a rather serious selection of bonbons from one of Paris' top chocolatiers.

Although there's several chocolate shops across the city that are terrific, at Jean-Charles Rochoux you'll find lots of little wonders here to keep you enchanted, including the amazing chocolate sculptures that M. Rochoux creates in his small, pristine workshop just beneath the tidy boutique. This kind of craftsmanship is rarely found anymore, even in a chocolate-obsessed city like Paris.

I was fortunate enough to take some time from my busy schedule to pose for Monsieur Rochoux, so he could create one of the most iconic pieces in the shop: Le torse.

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140

At last count, there are 1263 bakeries in Paris.

On just about every street, there's at least one, if not two, or even three bakeries. Some of them are very good, a few are perhaps not so fabulous, and several are excellent. Parisians eat a lot of bread, far more than their American counterparts.

Visitors often wonder, "How come we don't have bakeries like this is America?"

"Because people won't eat bread in America anymore. Everyone's afraid of it." I respond

Tragically, most nod in agreement.

Luckily there's not too much of that nonsense here in Paris. From early in the morning, until the last baguette de levain is handed across the counter for dinner, you'll find folks en queue, lined up impatiently waiting to get their daily bread.

And for some reason, I'm always in front of the most impatient one, who firmly keeps nudging me forward. My strategy against those Parisian pests is to gently innocently start backing up, which kinda freaks them out and invariably causes a chain reaction, since the person behind them is usually pressed up against them as well, nudging them forward too.

It causes a certain amount of shuffling and mild hysteria, but tant pis.
Anyone who wants to get that close to me better buy me a drink first.

Or at least a loaf of bread.

But when there's a bakery as good as 140 in town, Parisians have good reason to get pushy about their bread. And neighborhood residents buy stop here once, or even twice daily to get theirs. And like many of them, I'm happy to stand my ground for a crisp, golden baguette de campagne that feels crisp and warm when it's handed over the counter to me. Or for the buttery-mouthful of a flaky croissant that shatters into a gazillion crackly shards when you bite into it.

These are some of the daily rituals that go on around here, of which I'm frequently guilty of taking part.

(The pushing part I'm still getting used to.)

Although I don't live close enough to 140 to go two or three times a day, it's one of the handful of bakeries here that I'll happily scamper across the city to visit. Aside from their numeric name, which always gives me a chuckle, they bake some of the best breads in Paris. And recently, I was lucky enough to go behind the scenes of this top-notch boulangerie.

Continue reading "140" »

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Paris Blogs

Last night, celebrating my good health, I took advantage of an invitation I received to meet the Paris Bloggers.

Unlike the Paris Food Bloggers, my friends who are a fine, upstanding bunch of citizens, the Paris Bloggers are a wanton, hedonistic tribe who didn't have a clue who I was. So they tried to ply me with Cosmopolitans anyways in hopes of getting a picture of the newbie in some sort of Cosmopolitany altered state.
Since they don't know me all that well, they thought they could tempt me with vodka and raw vegetables with dip. But they were wrong.

At least I hope so. I don't recall much near the end of the party...

And here's the bloggers who attended. Don't let any degenerate pictures on their sites fool you; many of their blogs have great inside tips on Paris, and make good reading.

Hillary Keegin & Aaron Ross of 13

Eric of Paris Daily Photo

Seth from The Paris Times

Pascal Fonquernie of ParisMarais.com

Polly of Polly Vous Français

Amy Alkon of Advice Goddess

Susie & Cesar of Ivy Paris

Richard of Eye Prefer Paris

Elliott Hester, guest blogger of Postcards from Paris/LA Times
(who they should keep, please!)

Heidi of The Paris Update

Catherine, the Petite Anglaise

Jennifer of No Place Like it

Le Meg of Leblageur

Laurie of The Paris Blog

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Paris Restaurant Round-Up

I got a very cute message lately from a couple who had come to Paris and followed some of my restaurant suggestions. But it got to the point one evening here they were undecided where to go one night, and her husband said, "I don't care. Let's just go anywhere that chocolate-guy says to go!"

I was glad to be of service, but I like being known as 'that chocolate-guy' just as much.

But frankly, I don't go out as much as most folks imagine. I love going to my market, talking to the vendors, and coming home with something new that I've never tried before, like the chervil roots I bought the other day, which involved a rather detailed, lengthy conversation with the vendor.

I mostly cooking all the fine things I find here and learn about. So when I do go out, I want it to be good...no, I want it to be great...and I find the best food in Paris is classic French cuisine; confit de canard, steak frites, and coq au vin. When you find a good version, I don't think there's anything more satisfying. Especially if it's accompanied by good friends.

And, of course, a few obligatory glasses of vin rouge.

So here's a round-up of places I've eaten lately.
There's a few you might to want to bookmark for your next visit, as well as one or two you might want to avoid.

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Paris Hot Chocolate Address Book

People come from all over the world to sip le chocolat chaud in the busy and cozy cafés in Paris. Here are some of the top addresses in town to warm up.

Angelina
226, rue de Rivoli
Métro: Tuilleries

This famous hot chocolate salon is getting a well-deserved makeover. But no matter; the place is always packed-full of French society women and tourists side-by-side spooning up their gloriously rich, and impossibly thick, le Chocolat Africain. The service has taken some knocks, but most chocophiles forget any glitches in exchange for the priviledge of sipping the world's most famous hot chocolate.

Berthillon
31, rue St. Louis-en-Î'le
Métro: Pont Marie or Sully-Morland

Pair a mug of frothy hot chocolate with a scoop of Paris' best ice cream for a decadent afternoon snack. Their salon de Thé next door to the ice cream shop has terrific desserts, including perhaps the best, and most perfectly caramelized, tarte Tatin in Paris. Pair it with a scoop of caramel ice cream making it a wedge of heaven. Closed Monday and Tuesday.

Cafe de la Paix at The Grand Hotel
12, boulevard des Capucines
Métro: Opéra

Overlooking the extraordinary Opéra Garnier, this is the most picturesque spot in Paris to sip hot chocolate. Be sure to request fort en gout (strong flavor), unless you prefer your hot chocolate touché delicate, with a delicate touch. Open late in the evening for those after-the-opera chocolate cravings.

Charles Chocolatier
15, rue Montorgueil
Métro: Les Halles

Revitalize in this tiny, modern chocolate shop near bustling Les Halles on the trendy rue Montorgueil with a cup of their dark, bittersweet brew which gushes from their well-polished copper cauldron.

delicabar
At Le Grand Epicerie
26-38, rue de Sèvres
Métro: Sèvres-Babylon

Shoppers make a beeline to delicabar in Le Grand Epicerie to savor chocolate créateur's Sébastian Gaudard's dreamy concoction of chocolate and milk in this hip café. Non-purists (and hedonists) may choose to enhance their chocolat chaud with an optional dose of cassonade, the sticky dark cane sugar. The salty, buttery sablé cookies are delicious, and irresistable, as well.

Hotel Meurice
228, rue de Rivoli
Métro: Tuileries

Unwind in fabulous gilded splendor at this chic address across from the Jardin des Tuileries. The ultimate luxury here is ordering your hot chocolate according to the cru (tropical origin), including fruity Manjari chocolate from Madagascar and intense Guanaja from South America.

Jean-Paul Hévin
231, rue Saint-Honoré
Métro: Tuilleries

Divine hot chocolate is served in the upstairs tearoom. I challenge any die-hard chocoholics not to resist one of the rich, elegant chocolate cakes as well.

La Charlotte de l'Îsle
24, rue St. Louis-en-Î'le
Métro: Pont Marie or Sully-Morland

This funky tearoom serves their ultra-thick le chocolat chaud in tiny Japanese cups, encouraging you to savor it one chocolaty dose at a time. La Charlotte got a boost from a favorable write-up in The New York Times a few years back, so the cluttered shop can get a bit cramped on weekends.

La Maison du Chocolat
8, blvd Madeleine
Métro: Madeleine.
For other addresses, visit web site

Only a few locations of La Maison du Chocolat have tasting 'bars' where you can sit in the summer, slurping down a chocolate frappe or during the winter, treat yourself to a steaming mug of hot chocolate made from the world's finest chocolate. The exotic Caracas hot chocolate is not for the timid, nor is the Bacchus, with a rather adult shot of dark rum.

Continue reading "Paris Hot Chocolate Address Book" »

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Le Severo

I don't do restaurant reviews very often here, simply because there's so few good places to eat in Paris.

Okay, I just had to say that since it's been a while since I got hostile comments in French, which incidentially is good for my language skills. So yes, there's lots of good food in Paris, but sometimes you have to travel to the outer neighborhoods to find the gems. But speaking of hostile comments, what about all those people coming at me right-and-left about having Barry Manilow on my Pandora list?
Gimme a break. Frederick wanted to hear a little bit of Mandy recently...so who am I to refuse?

But this week I had an excellent meal at Le Severo with some other friends at a little petit coin of a restaurant, a schlep from wherever you are in Paris, in the 14th arrondisement. There's only 10 or so simple tables and a lone cook in the open kitchen who presides over the dining room. An old zinc bar acts as a catch-all for bottles of water, wine carafes, and a big container of fleur de sel...which was a good omen.

One entire wall of Le Severo is a chalk-written wine list and menu. Notice I said 'wine list' first. That's because three-and-a half lengthy columns are up there, listing all sorts of wine, heavy on the reds. Somewhere in the midst of it all lurks a terse menu, and it's almost all about beef: steaks, Côte de Boeuf, Lyonnais Sausages, and Foie de Veau. First courses range from a salade Caprese, (a dish you shouldn't order outside of Italy) and a salad with goat cheese. But the real star here is le meat, so we started with a platter of glistening slices of cured jambon artisanal, which isn't really beef but I'm too revved up to go back and change that, and it came with a too-huge slab of yellow, ultra-buttery butter (which is the only way I could describe it...it was really, really buttery...I don't want to change that either) which we slathered on the bread, from the organic bakery, Moisan, then draped our slices with the ham. We then gobbled 'em down.
Delicious.

The other starter was a Terrine de pot au feu. Pot au feu is the French equivalent of a boiled-beef supper, complete with vegetables and broth. When done right, it's excellent, and at Le Severo, my hunch paid off. The terrine featured cubed, boiled beef parts, tender and neatly diced, loosely held in place with a light, jellied beef broth.

Since it's rather warm and humid here in Paris right now, I chose a bottle of Fleurie, which was an overwhelming task considering the size and scope of the wine list. But the prices were gentle enough to encourage experimentation and the list is full of curious wines, so I think whatever you chose would be the right choice. The Fleurie was light, upbeat, and fruity...yet sturdy enough to stand up to a slab of beef.
Kinda like how light and fruity superstars always stood up to their detractors, like Barry Manil....oh, never mind.

Anyhow, our steaks arrived flawlessly cooked.
The French love their beef bleu, practically raw. But I like mine rare to medium-rare, or saignant so you need to beware since somehow overcooked meat-loving Americans ruined things for the rest of us by insisting their meats be well-cooked, and sometimes French cooks overdo it a little to avoid potential American freak-outs. The chef-jacketed owner William Bernet, who is the singular server, assured me I'd be happy with saignant, and when he brought my faux filet, the rosy, juicy slices were indeed cooked just to the lower edge of my desired point of tenderness. To the side, my steak was accompanied by very, very good house-made French Fries, which have become as rare in Paris as a quiet evening by the fire listening to Barry Manilow with someone as wonderful as Fre...oh, never mind.

My only fault was that the fries could have spent an extra 48 seconds in the deep-fryer to get that deep-golden crust that everyone loves but cooks seem to have trouble attaining around here, a fault I find in too many restos in France. Does anyone really like undercooked French fries? But I didn't need to reach for that container of fleur de sel at all during dinner; everything was salted just-right. That to me, is the sign of a great cook, and a great restaurant. If you can't salt food properly, you should find another line of work. I mean, look what Charo did, after Xavier Cugat died. Do you think that girl just sat around on her duff? No sir-ee. She cuchi!-cuchi!'d her way onto The Love Boat as April Lopez and found fame, fortune, and happiness sailing the high seas.

I was able to talk my companions, who just moved here from Rome and were delighted to chow down on good, honest French cooking, into splitting a cushiony-round disk of St. Marcellin cheese, which was roll-you-eyes-back-in-your-head amazing. I had a simple Creme Caramel, which arrived properly ice-cold and floating in a slick of dreamy burnt sugar sauce. And because they were eating cheese, I didn't have to share one bite of it (Ha! My strategy worked.) My friends then had a Mousse au Chocolat, which they liked, but they were not as conniving as me and shared a bit, but I felt it could've used a wallop of more chocolate flavor, but that's how I am about chocolate desserts. The espresso served after dinner was quite good, and living in France, I've gained a new appreciation for Illy café, which is all but impossible to ruin. (Insert hostile French comments here.)

First courses at Le Severo are in the 10€ range, while main courses were priced 15 to 25€. The hefty Côte de Boeuf, which they'll prepare for 2 or 3 people, is 30€ per person and I'm going to have it on my next visit.

On the métro home after dinner, it suddenly dawned on my that my dining companions were macrobiotic. So if macrobiotic people can enjoy a beef restaurant like Le Severo, you can imagine how happy it makes us carnivores.

Le Severo
8, rue des Plantes
M: Mouton Duvernet
Tél: 01 45 40 40 91

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Absinthe Cake

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

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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Favorite Paris Restaurants

Here are some of my favorite places to eat in Paris. This is not an exhaustive list, and I've mentioned many of my other top picks here on the site, so you can use the search engine to find them. And there's others on My Paris page here as well.
I don't normally write up restaurants that I eat at here on the site since, to be honest, when I go out, I'd rather just enjoy the experience and not think about what I'm going to write about as I'm eating, setting up a tripod and taking pictures, and they giving you a play-by-play retelling of what-course-came-after-what-course.

(Actually, the truth is, we're all usually having too much wine and too much fun to remember much, other than if I had a good time or not. I'd make a lousy restaurant reviewer.)

Several of these are also not fancy places. Sure, many people come to Paris for fine-dining, and you can find many of those addresses floating around guidebooks and online. But sometimes you just want a big plate of vegetable salads instead of half a carrot garnished by a shredded basil leaf with a dot of saffron sauce. I've included a few stand-by, reliably decent restaurants in case you happen to be in Paris on a Sunday, when many places are closed.

If you have some favorite places that you'd like to share, I'd love to hear about them since I'm always looking for new places to try and I'm sure others would too.
Feel free to leave your dining suggestions in the Comment area.

Before you start, here's a few tips when dining in Paris:

• It's always a good idea to reserve a table. Even if you arrive and the place is virtually empty, they like to know you're coming and you'll get a warmer welcome. Unlike the US, often you can call most restaurants that afternoon and get in easily. Hot restaurants, or ones that are fancier, you should call about a week in advance, or longer. Don't bother using email links on most restaurant's websites here since you're unlikely to get a response.

• Don't be embarrased to order wine or water by the carafe. You probably think you'll feel like a cheapskate...but get over it. If you look around, most of the Parisians are doing the same thing. And yes, the water is safe to drink in Paris. Why do people keep asking that?

• Adding a tip is not required, but in spite of what you hear, most people leave a little extra for good service. If the check is 28€, you could leave 30€ if you were pleased. Or if your meal is 95€, you could leave 100€. But remember that it's not required and if they don't bring you back your change, request it. I've had a few places pull that one (in Paris and in the US.) It's rude and presumptuous.

• LIke anywhere in France, always say Bonjour or Bonsoir when entering a restaurant, and when you leave, say Merci. Preferably add a Monseiur or Madame along with it.

• Many restaurants have 'deals' at lunch, or fix-price menus that are often a bargain. Some have them at dinner as well, and they're generally a good value.

• Please, do not bring out your hand sanitizer at the table. Do your grooming in the bathroom.

• No one has doggie bags, so don't even ask. (Although a friend of mine showed some cleavage and got one. Once.)

• No one has ice, so don't even ask. (Ok, well, you might get one or two. Wear something low-cut if you plan to ask.)

Rôtisserie Beaujolais 19 quai des Tournelles, tel 01 43 54 17 47. Grilled and spit roasted meats, and typical French fare. In the 5th. Avoid seats just next to the opening to the oven...it's très hot and they like to stick out-of-towners there, who they think won't complain. But I do since they invariably lead me to it. Open Sunday night.

Chez René 14, blvd St. Germain. Tel 01 43 54 30 23. Great French classics. The best Coq au Vin in town, with a sauce as smooth as velvet. If you don't order the fix-priced menu, be prepared for a lot of food. It's quite an experience and the cheese plate(s) is/are insane. Dinner menu, approximately 40€. In the 5th. You didn't hear it from me, but there's a clear brandy digestive hidden behind the bar...with a snake in it!

Cuisine de Bar 8, rue Cherche-Midi (M: Sevres-Babylon), tel 01 45 48 45 69, in the 6th. Open-faced tartines, or sandwiches, served on pain Poilâne, the famed bakery next door. Order the 12€ formule with a salad, tartine (I like the one with sardines and flakes of sea salt, or poulet with anchovies), a glass of wine or bottle of water, café and a spiced cookie. Very casual yet chic. And friendly. No reservations...lunch only. If the wait it long, they'll often pour you a welcome glass of wine.

L'As du Falafel On 34, rue des Rosiers in the Marais (M: St. Paul), closed Friday night and Saturday for the Jewish holidays. The best falafel anywhere! Join the crowd clamoring at the window. A dive & definitely a must...decent frites as well. One dining room is non-smoking. No reservations.

For something vegetable-oriented, Chez Marianne in the Marais at 2, rue des Hospitalieres St. Gervais, tel 01 42 72 18 86. Come here for decent Mediterranean salads. You choose a combination plate of 4, 5, or 6 salads. This is a good address to know about if you're craving something without a lot of meat. Perfect with a bottle of house rosé. Approximately 20€. Reserve, or wait for eternity. Can be a bit smoky, but open every day and night.

Chez Omar is one of my favorite restaurants in town. Specialties are couscous and they have excellent steak and French fries as well, but I always have the roasted lamb, or méchoui d'agneau. Very lively, no reservations. Open daily for lunch and dinner, as well as Sundays. If you go for dinner, be prepared for a wait after 8:30pm. Don't let any Parisians cut in front of you! A simple shove with your shoulder, followed by a very apologetic "Oops! Pardon" is usually all it take to get them to recede. Do it firm enough and you'll only need to do it once. Trust me. Moderate prices, which do seem to keep climbing each time I go. In the 3rd, at 47 rue de Bretagne. (M: Temple or Arts and Metiers)

Another great couscous place that's less-hectic is L'Atlas, with fine Moroccan food. Feathery light couscous and savory tagines. Skip the first courses. Not fancy nor too pricey considering the fine food and gracious service. DIne in the lovely tiled dining room, or outside in fine weather. Located at 12, St. Germaine des Pres. Vegetarians will love the large selection of seafood tagines. Tel 01 44 07 23 66 (M: Maubert-Mutualité), in the 5th.

Bistrot Paul Bert 18, rue Paul Bert, tel 01 43 72 24 01 (M: Faidherbe-Chaligny) Out of the way, but definately worth going to. I love this restaurant. Some of the best desserts in Paris too. Offers a 3-course fixed menu for 32€. In the 12th.

Les Papilles 30 rue Gay-Lussac, tel 01 43 25 20 79. Wine bar and light, 'market-fresh' food. Menu approximately 30€. In the 5th. Small portions, but cheerful staff. (Update: Follow link...I stand corrected about portion sizes!)

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Le Quignon

American's often wonder how French people know they're American before they even say one word. It used to be the sneakers; they were the dead giveaway. Nowadays, wearing sneakers, or les baskets, in Paris is as carrying a baguette.

The other way they can tell us-from-them, is that Americans tend to smile. A lot. We are a rather happy tribe. And Americans tend to eat and drink while walking (or while driving, which I've explained to some of my French friends, but they look at me in disbelief). Although in Paris it's becoming a bit more common, it's still unusual to see someone chowing down while walking on the street or in the métro. It's just not done and people will definitely give you funny looks if you're, say, cramming a Pierre Hermé pastry into your face while sitting on a sidewalk bench. Or shoving a sublime, cream-filled éclair au chocolat from La Maison du Chocolat into your mouth, trying to make sure not one precious drop of bittersweet chocolate pastry cream lands anywhere but in your tummy.

But one little nugget of Parisian tradition still amuses me every time I see it.
It's the yank, twist, and pull of le quignon.

You'll see it 99% of the time someone leaves a bakery with a freshly-baked baguette. The moment they exit, they grab the crackly knob at the end of the loaf, le quignon. Parisians will absent-mindedly twist and snap it off and pop it into their mouth as they hurry on their way. I think of it as an instant, on-the-spot, quality-control check.

I usually end up with a mess of flour on my dark overcoat, since one of my favorite breads in Paris, le Bazinette, has a fine dusting of flour on it's crackly crust and permeating all the little brittle crevasses. If you're lucky enough to get to Bazin early in the day, a favorite baguette of mine is available with a hearty mixture of grains; flax, sesame, and poppy seeds.

The one shown above is their baguette de tradition, a hand-shaped baguette, slightly sour from the addition of un peu de levain, natural sourdough starter, which gives the bread a hearty, earthy character and allows it to remain fresher longer than the usual 4-hour lifespan of a good Parisian baguette.

Bazin is one of the prettiest bakeries in Paris too, overlooking what I am sure is the smallest (and most unnecessary) traffic rotary in the city. In order to get a Bazinette with grains, you need to get to the bakery early in the day, since they always seem to sell them out quickly.

I once asked them why they don't make more, and they just looked at me, and shrugged their shoulders, as if to say,
"Why on earth would we want to do that?"

Bazin
85, bis rue de Charenton
Métro: Ledru-Rollin
Tel: 01 43 07 75 21
(Closed Wednesday and Thursday)

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The Biggest Bottle of Red in Paris...

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Paris Pastry Crawl, #1

Some people think that all day long I visit pastry shops. Although I'm often quick to deny it, I sometimes do! When I hear of someplace interesting or that sounds fun, I put it on a list and then I set out a plan of attack.

Pim and I took off late one morning, beginning at Poujaran. Even though Jean-Luc Poujaran sold the bakery last year, it still retains it's rustic charm in spite of the location in the chic 7th arrondisement. Poujaran makes the most delicious financiers anywhere: moist ovals of ground almonds and sweet butter bound together with the least amount of flour, just enough to bind everything together. They're moist, delicious, and perhaps the best in Paris.

Making sure we were well-fortified for our pastry crawl, we pulled up a few stools at Table d'Hôte, which is the whole idea of a table d'Hôte. You lunch at a long table with others, which (judging by the faces of the other diners) is a rather unsettling idea to Parisians.

Or maybe it was just the idea of sharing a table with me.

We split a first course of sardines escabèche. It turned out to be a few mushy little fish piled up next to well-dressed, tart leaves of lettuce. Not very exciting. I wanted to tell the chef to mash the fish with a few potatoes to make a paste and spread it on crisp toast, which would have been delicious.

Next we had a selection of charcuterie from the Auvergne. I found the ham rather moist, fatty, and chewy (Pim liked it) but we both agreed the dry-cured salami with soft, vinegary cornichons which I sensed were homemade, was great. Our salad was brought out, piled high with turnips, carrots, and haricots verts (tiny, slender green beans, which the French cook thoroughly, unlike Americans, who like their green beans crisp.) Resting atop the salad were two crescents of puff pastry filled with potatoes and cheese. Okay, but not fabulous. Let's face it, buttery puff pastry either needs to be warm to entice me, or feather-light crisp. It was neither.

We opted to find his less-well-known shop on the rue Vaugirard, which is more spacious than his cramped, but gorgeous shop on the rue Bonaparte. After taking a mini-mis-stroll down the street, I sensed the error of our direction and we backtracked and found the shop.
It was blissfully serene...pastry heaven.

I had them pack up a sack of the outstanding Arabesque macarons and tried an Ispahan cake-on-a-stick; a round of raspberry gelée, flavored with lychee and rose, enrobed in raspberry-flavored white chocolate. The whole thing was a tad sweet and fell apart as soon as Pim took a bite. I saved it by catching the pieces as they fell from her mouth in the napkin, since that little sucker cost 7 € ($9 US.)

We métroed to another bakery, the old-fashioned La Moulin de la Vierge, off in the middle of a rather grim neighborhood overshadowed by blasé highrises. We were delighted by this quaint, teensy shop with gorgeous old tiles and beautiful levain breads. Some items were rather commercial-looking (the madeleines that we tried has the depressing taste and aroma of artificial vanilla.) But the mini-canelé were darling and the crusty levain bread was great.

After swooping down on Christian Voiriot, who studied bread-baking in Germany, we snagged the last two loaves of grainy Norlander bread, then whizzed over to Laurent Duchêne. As we rounded the corner to the bakery with great anticipation....closed! For some reason the shades were drawn and the sign read "Fermature Exceptionelle". Dejected, we headed back, stopping at a new branch of Eric Kayser's bakery right next to Gerard Mulot's new pastry shop, which had just inexplicably opened in this still less-than-chic (um, drab) Paris neighborhood. Weighed down with loaves of bread and macarons, we resisted buying Kayser's terrific pain aux céréales, one of my favorite breads on earth, and headed to Mulot.

Less-upscale (is that a double-negative?) than his boutique in the tony 6th, we were able to calmly peruse the macarons and perfectly-decorated cakes and tarts that Mulot is famous for without dodging matrons and madames. I was intrigued by macarons flecked with poppy seeds and hazelnuts, although I passed on the ones with dried basil, since most desserts made with basil ended up tasting like pizza. Glistening candied clementines stunned us with their gorgeous color. We surveyed fancy chocolate cakes glazed and sculpted with dark bittersweet shards of chocolate, and seasonal tortes which featured crisp disks of almond meringue with plump, perfect raspberries.
Everything, as usual at Mulot, was flawless.

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