I don’t mind spending part of my winter this year in New York. Even though it was one of the coldest winters in history, and on the first day of spring, we had a snowstorm, the beautiful snow blanketed everything in a thick white layer, which reflects the light and kept my mood cheery and optimistic. It rarely snows in Paris and la grisaille (the gray skies, sans la neige — or without snow), can augment the sullen mood around town. And the only people who you’ll see braving the cold are the hardy smokers, God love ‘em, clustered in the doorways of buildings and businesses, trying to get as many puffs in as possible before they can’t take it anymore and head back inside to the cozy warmth, with the rest of us.
Results tagged Triple Sec from David Lebovitz
Summer in France means a lot of things in France. En masse vacations, a blissfully empty Paris, price increases (which notoriously happen during August, when everyone is out of town – of course), and vide-greniers and brocantes, known elsewhere as flea markets, where people sell all kinds of things. If you’re lucky enough to take a trip to the countryside, the brocantes are amazing. But some small towns in France also have little antique shops that are always worth poking around in. And when your other half has a station wagon, well, the possibilities are endless. (And sometimes voluminous!)
I know tequila fans like to have their say about what tequila is best for margaritas. But as I’ve learned with just about everything, the buck stops here. Ok, just kidding. (Actually, I’m happy to let it stop somewhere else.) But I was having drinks made by a well-known bartender a while back and a few people pointed out online that I wasn’t drinking a margarita, which was a surprise to me because that’s what the bartender told me it was. And one thing I’ve learned is never to argue with someone serving you drinks. Or food, for that matter. So I decided to let the buck stop with him – and if anyone wants to argue with a Parisian barman (or anyone in Paris, for that matter), you have bigger couilles than I.
(And if you fit that bill, please be in touch because I have a couple of other things that I could use some help with around here.)
I recently went to a tequila tasting of a top-quality tequilas made by a Frenchman who told me of his uphill battle in France was convincing people that tequila could be a liquor worthy of serious consideration. Helping to overcome that image, I went to a tequila tasting at the Mexican Cultural Institute in Paris where there were many varieties of tequilas to taste and compare. Unfortunately the downside of a tequila tasting is that you don’t remember what you had, especially when the tasting is followed by an open bar. (Which might lead some to conclude that some of us aren’t doing much to help the image of tequila.) But all the drinks were excellent – whatever you call them – and I’m more and more inclined to drink a little more tequila these days, namely in margaritas.