Of Carrot Cake and an exhibition

Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac, 7, rue Debelleyme, has a nice exhibition on the top floor called "Infinite Folds," which is based around the simple notion of artists transforming a paper's surface by folding it. Though I am alrady paricularly partial to works on paper, I found this exhibition poetic and thought provoking. It explores some basic ideas of art, namely form and possibilites of a material, and the question of how can the simple act of a fold can create another layer or dimension to a work of art. This gallery is huge and there are two other exhibitions on view, including a few monochrome, shaped, paintings by Jason Dodge in his characteristic, though lovely, large, strokes of paint and a larger show by an Iranian artist named Ali Banisadar.
Following a little art viewing I unconsiously made my way to Coco Cook, a great new take out food shop on rue Charlot, across from the Marche des Enfants Rouge. The carrot cake and iced lemon cakes are to die for, let alone their delicious selection of salads, sandwhiches and plats du jour. It is a needed and wonderful addition to the upper marais.

Omnivore

As an American living in Paris one question I seem to be asked relatively often, by French and non-French alike, is "oh, France, don't you love the food?" or "Isn't the food amazing?" To which, perhaps being a bit of a rebel inside but also not able to be dismissive and flattering, reply something like, yeah; it is ok-cheese, butter, magret de canard are great, but what about diversity? And then I go into a tirade about how Asian food has been bastardized here and how shameful that sushi restaurants put cheese on their menus in what must be a way to ease French culinary anxiety. My point being that yes, French appreciation for good, slow food is wonderful but it is too insular and living in this city after New York seems sleepy food-wise.

In the weekend Financial Times Arts & Leisure section was an article titled "Ripe for Revolution," about the Omnivore festival in Deauville this weekend, and it's founder, Luc Dubanchet, who started the monthly magazine of the same name with the goal of trying to shake up the French food world which he found boring, stuffy and complacent. The author of the article, Mike Steinberger, has written a book titled, "Au Revoir to all that:Food, Wine, and the End of France," (yikes!). Apparently I am not alone in my sentiments and it was fun to read about Dubanchet's horror for Michelin stars and Sarkozy's petition to place French cuisine as a UNESCO cultural treasure. As art, music and dance keep up with changing times, shouldn't food? Spain being the most oft cited having led the first decade of the 21st century in food.

Dubanchet says that it is time for his French compatriots to see that food is a global phenomenon and who cares about being number one. No doubt French chefs have talent and it would be fun to be at the festival this weekend to see the incredible offerings and perhaps it will lead to some revolutionary (we know the French love revolution), ideas in the kitchen.

Chocolate

Puerto Cacao is a fair-trade chocolate store and cafe in the 17th arrondissement, 53, rue de Tocqueville. Many chocolate stores in Paris feel like jewelry boutiques, pristine and full of glass vitrines and modern displays, with the chocolate costing almost as much. They are delightful to behold but Puerto Cacao feels more grounded-particularly with their fair-trade chocolate and coffee products from Africa and Latin America that fill the store with delicious dark, milk and white chocolate bars, individual chunks that are paid by the kilo, bags of cacao powder, and other yummy chocolate-based offerings. In some cases I think the chocolate is directly imported and in others, the cacao is imported and transformed into chocolates of various sorts by an in-house chef. There is a cafe attached which offers a selection of spiced hot chocolate, teas, home made ice cream, and on the weekends a brunch is offered, with salty crepes and galettes.

cupcakes in paris

They have arrived. The cupcake trend that blasted its way through major cities across the USA in recent years (thanks in part to Sex + the City of course), has landed in Paris in the guise of Cupcakes & Co., a tiny, pink tinged storefront on a funky street in the 11th. The bakery is run by two French women and it is cleary an ambitious endeavor in a city filled with such magnificent pastries. They offer a wide range of flavors-which is sort of where the concept goes French-options such as vanilla with fleur d'orange and vervene, Chocolate and violet, pistache and framboise. Like the mecca of cupcakes, Magnolia Bakery, they could stick with the basics-vanilla + chocolate + use the magic of pastel food dye for effect. The results were a little dry and average. I was also a little dismayed by the big plastic container they put it in to-go--when people clearly scarf them down upon exit-a napkin would do fine in place of plastic, and they need to import the cupcake doily here as well because the paper holder is hard to remove and takes half the cake with it as well. All and all I think it is a fun and clever idea-why not have the mother of American sweets in city of macaroons and mille feuille? Cupcake & Co., 25, rue de la Forge Royale.

Goumanyat

Goumanyat & son royaume is a specialty store featuring teas, spices, essential oils, some cookbooks and cooking products and utensils. The business started in 1809 as a father and son venture, which I believe has continued throughout the generations up to the present. They have expanded to include special cooking classes and of course modernized kitchen utensils, but many of the spices and oils retain the artisanal tradition. Saffron was an early import for this company and there are still many saffron based items. The best thing about this lovely shop is they are friendly, helpful and not ridiculously expensive, like Mariage Freres, which has amazing teas, yes, but insanely overpriced. 3, rue Charles-Francois Dupuis, 3rd arr. www.goumanyat.com

foam, foam, and more foam...

Feasting in Paris with mom continues…
At le Chateaubriand on Friday night the culinary revolution started by Spanish chef Fernan Adria which, among many things, made foamed food a must have dining experience, was in full effect. I thought this culinary treat (depending on your tastes) had come and gone like platform shoes but apparently I was mistaken. The chef, Inaki Aizpitarte, which is a Basque (Northern Spain) name, may even perhaps have been a student of Adria’s, but that is pure speculation. In 2007 Le Chteaubriand was ‘le resto Parisien’ for media and culture types aged 25-50. The place is still going strong as evidinced by the full house with people waiting out the door for a coveted space. The vibe of the place was pretty low-key and low attitude (happily), with a very open space, contemporary brassierie style with white tiles and wood bar. The integrity and endurance of the restaurant (it is not always easy to maintain a reputation as they have had), must stem comes from the fact that the waiters are all part owners so there is real drive to be a success. .
But back to the foam. The menu was a chef’s menu that included five courses for 40 Euros- a very decent price. The first three dishes were foam heavy. The first was a small ramakin-type dish that held foam essence of petit pois (green peas) with a nice sized oyster hidden within. It was an earthy dish which for some at the table was pleasurable but for me a bit cringy. I remembered that I am not really a lover of green peas and recalled my childhood of dinneres spent scooping them onto the floor for my dog to eat, presumably without getting caught. But the oyster was big and delicious. Next: A deconstrcuted bouillabase made cold and foamy with slices of perfectly cooked veal and small sprouts of herbs. This sounded totally weired and if you took away an expectation for warm bouilliabase à la Marseille then all went fine. En suite: the most phallic of our course was the large white asperagus laying next to a rolled up filet of lieu jaune, a flat white fish. They looked like two fraternal twins as a foamed essence of seasme rested upon them with a sprinkle of black sesame seeds. It was an all-white food experience but full of flavors that melted in your mouth. The final savory course was charcuterie. In past experiences I have not done well with this Norman dish, however at Chateaubriand the elements were refined, lightend up and fantastic. A small chunk of sausisson de strasbourg with its eerily red skin was accompagnied with stacked pate de campagne type elements with some light saurkraut and fresh cabbage. It was a great combination of salty and crunchy and fresh. The dessert course was a choice between a cheese plate which had a selection of a chevre, a type of blue, young cantal and tome de savioe, or fresh rhubarb ice cream set among juicy strawberries. All the wine here is biologique and we we shared two fabulous bottles of white whose names escape me right now, and were given a lovely digestive at the end which was a lovely mixture of anais and grenadine. Bon App.
Le Chateaubriand, 129 Avenue Parmentier. 75011. Metro Goncourt.

Urbane Kitchen

Urbane- A restaurant in the 10th

When mom comes to town eating is always high on the agenda. Of course we all know Paris is full of great food options, but finding that unique, stand out, and off the beaten path dining experience is always a delight, in whatever city you may be visiting. I skimmed through the new stash of articles she brought over from US magazines about Paris, but it was the recent Bon Appetite article about Clotilde Dusoulier of Chocolate + Zucchini fame who recommended a handful of right bank food stops that grabbed the most attention. Included in this was Urbane,www.myspace.com/urbaneparis a smallish restaurant owned by a French-Irish couple, and located near the border of the 10th + 11th arrondissements, on a quiet street just off of Avenue Parmentier. As we arrived a bit before 8:00pm we were the first or second people in the space but by the time we left after 10:00 it was packed, which is a pretty good sign for a neighborhood place on Wednesday night. The vibe is casual, table cloths are white paper with printed black abstract imagery. There are about 25-30 tables and the artwork changes monthly, usually with a small opening for the local artist who is showing. It’s clear you have settled on something special the moment you are greeted, seated and soon brought an amuse-bouche, in this case a salmon won-ton type morsel that melts in your mouth.

For entrées we ordered a Tain de crabe that was crab, avocado and herbs mixed and molded into a nice stack, topped with sliced, skin off, tomatoes and surrounded, you will think oddly, with a homemade tomato ketchup, but it worked because the tomatoes were fresh and the flavors all came together. The other entree was sliced foie gras de canard topped with a light onion-poppy seed type cracker and dabs of raspberry syrup on the side. Bread, always a real indicator of an establishment regardless of the anti-carbohydrate phase we are in, was fresh and delicious- white country and whole wheat with seeds. Moving into plats: On one side we had Noix de Veau that was perfectly cooked and seasoned and surrounded by a circle of cantaloupe-a perfect accompaniment along with the morsels of parsley filled homemade gnocchi. On the other side we had filets de St. Pierre, a flaky white fish that was set next to an “ecrase des petit pois,” or flattened bed of spring peas. The wine selection was diverse, well priced and not too lengthy nor too short, with more reds then whites.
Onto dessert where we shared chupa chups (yes like the trendy lollipops), of moist fig surrounded by a light flaky crust. It just melted in your mouth. On the side of this was a refreshing green apple sorbet which was perfectly and lightly sweetened, probably only naturally. The other dessert was a rhubarb cheesecake that was a circle of soft fromage blanc on a bed of graham cracker like crust and surrounded by lightly cooked and spiced rhubarb slices. It was hard to stop eating it. Finally, with the bill they bring a few chocolate chip cookies-that recall those of childhood days. The prices are very reasonable. For dinner the menu with entrée, plat, + dessert was 30 Euros (I think), and entrée + plat or plat + dessert was around 24-25 Euros (I guess you can tell that mom paid).

Please note that this is by memory so my non-professional food reporting should not be held to intense scrutiny—rather go and experience for yourself. Friday + Saturday nights there is a DJ and reservations are recommended. Urbane, 12, rue Arthur Groussier.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Friday night a friend arrived in late from New York and we wanted a quiet, local restaurant to go to. I had an idea of a place just around the corner, but when we passed by it looked dead and not inviting so we kept walking. I remembered earlier in the week I had passed by a new wine bar/restaurant and we decided to go check it out. We entered in and were warmly greeted (often a surprise), by a waiter who must also be the manager because he projected an air of propriety. I wanted to ask him if he was, but his accent was of a muffled, nasal origin which kept throwing me off. Anyways, not the point.

The point is we ended up having one of the top 5 meals I think I have ever had in Paris. Food was of French fare but sooo fresh and good. My restaurant reviewing skills are not going to be sharp right now, because I cannot even recall the name of the first dish we shared, but we both thought it read cassoulet and were expecting meats, but what arrived was a delicate cheese soufflé with a side toast with sliced, grilled onions on top. The combination was absolutely delicious and in all good Frenchiness, not overwhelmingly heavy or large.

To step back a minute, we were offered a complimentary glass of champagne to start with and an amuse-bouche of boudin noir in a leaf of brick (which is somewhat like philo). We ordered a wine per Monsieur’s recommendation from the Langueduc Rousillon region, and it was truly one of the best wines—full bodied, resembling a good California Zinfandel, but not as heavy.

For a main course we both ordered the lamb, which had apparently been cooked for over 10 hours and you literally could eat it with a fork, it was so tender and full of flavor. The dish was accompanied by potatoes gratin that I almost wanted to marry. It just took this fairly common pairing to the nth degree.

Next: We shared a crème brûlée au chocolat. Again, a common dessert that was outrageously good. Delicate and creamy brûlée with melted chocolate underneath. Espressos were served on a white, porcelain dish that had two spots for the little cups of coffee, along with a few more complimentary chocolates. Needless to say, we rolled home.
Score another point for Batignolles!
Le Village (cave-resto), 14, rue des moines, www.levillagededdy.com

The Marché des Enfants Rouge

The Marché des Enfants Rouge is a fantastic covered market off of rue de Bretagne in the 3rd Arrondissement. Apparently this is one of the oldest covered markets in the city, established in the 1770s. Prior to that it served as an orphanage for young children, which is kind of strange, but that is where the name comes from. In any case, I love this market because beyond the typical fish, flowers wine and vegetables, are small vendors serving authentic, delicious Japanese, Moroccan, West African and Greek food, as well as crepes and sandwiches a la Bretagne, in Northern France. Tables and chairs line the hallways making for a perfect stop in between all that shopping and gallery hopping in the Marais. In the winter the tables are kept warm through heaters and sheets of plastic protecting them from the chilly air, however the plate of warm couscous with lamb or merguez or the steaming bowls of Japanese noodles will also keep you toasty. Also onsite is an indoor restaurant that serves organic dishes. Have yet to try this one, but can’t wait.

Henri + Jacqueline

Chez Henri et Jacqueline:

It was a cold, damp day that could only call to mind the winter months that sat looming in the all to near future. I usually regard our loft-like space as a positive thing, but when it’s cold and gray outside, it can be just as cold inside. So I sat downstairs trying to write, shivering in a wool sweater and wool scarf because I refused to turn on the heat before November 1st. Lunchtime rolls around and M descends from his much more cozy, upstairs studio, wondering what we should eat. Ignoring my budgetary crunch and the fact that we had just done a huge grocery shopping yesterday, I subtly suggested we go visit Jacqueline and Henri. The thought of spending the next hour or so in that warm, aromatic space, sipping a glass of red wine and no doubt feasting on the heavy, Norman fare sounded ideal and I wondered what the menu might be today. I could see M’s eyes light up and I knew his Mediterranean blood was just has unhappy as my southern California blood in this sudden change of weather. “Yes, he said, lets do it.”

“Chez Henri et Jacqueline”, is an affectionate name that we invented one afternoon for the little restaurant that thankfully sits about 100 feet from our front door. It’s truly the French version of the mom n’ pop diner. Floral curtains adorn the windows, paper tablecloths and tiny fake potted plants and posters of some “tourist destinations” in the Norman countryside decorate the interior. I love every inch of it, but particularly I adore Henri and Jacqueline, whose names are not at all Henri and Jacqueline. She, who by fortuitous timing we learned recently is normally called Nicole, is of a bit more stern façade, suggesting perhaps a slight familial connection to the German neighbor to the north, he of ample build and literally possessing a Santa Claus smile. If he is not cooking in the tiny kitchen (the restaurant boosts just 20 seats), then he is outside chatting with the neighbors. I remember clearly when he finally began to recognize me and would start talking about this and that with me as I passed by on the way home. M would laugh as I walked in and gleefully retold my encounter with Henri, like I had maybe, at last become a local.

We walked quickly over, we are always the last lunchtime diners at 2:30, but they welcomed us with warmth and kindness and I knew that we’d made the right choice. The menu du jour typically consists an appetizer of salad, rillets or foie gras, followed by offerings from the Meat family; filet de bouef for the simple minded (aka me), andouilette or boudin noir. If the Menu is not grabbing me there is always the option of taking the “lighter” fare by selecting one of the many options of galettes, large wheat crepes filled with numerous choices from spinach and ground beef to eggs, cheese and ham. Today, M and I both settled on the menu, with all thoughts of a quick, lighter lunch out the window. We started with the rillets du saumon, which could roughly be described as a gratin of salmon. Sounds weird, tastes great with a piece of fresh baguette and red wine. I tried to pace myself for what was to follow, although of course with the quick French exchange, I was not entirely sure what I was about to eat. What arrived can only be described as potato heaven. Two slices of roast beef sat seductively besides two versions of potato I had never tried before, likely because they would be treated like terrorist suspects at JFK by the ever health conscious/weight wary American public. Well, ‘when in Rome’, I thought and dug in. One version was a half of twice-baked potato cooked with cheese and little nuggets of bacon, and I am pretty sure a kilo of butter, perhaps cream. The other was a gratin which included sautéed potatoes, zucchini and onions, which were then (I am assuming because modesty prohibits me asking), baked together with again, a bit of hard cheese and butter…yum. I had to force myself to stop because I had a flash of me eating the last bite and keeling over sideways like some mafia figure after a feasting on lasagna made by one of his enemies.

Henri soon approached asking with a sly smile whether we’d take the tarte-de-pomme. On our last visit to H+J’s they offered the tart and as I spooned the last bite into my mouth Henri asked if I liked it. Non, I said, c’etait horrible (trying to be funny in French). He laughed, made some joke to M and then brought out another slice! We soon learned that Monsieur had once been a baker (boulanger) and he had a passion for tarts. Me too, I thought, having a sudden vision of becoming the wife of a baker/restaurateur in a small French village. We decided to get two slices of tart to go, god forbid we give a flat no thank you, and as we left, Henri mentioned that if we ever wanted a nice Norman Calvados to sip on, he has some special bottles for sale. Oh, I thought, we’ve made it. Maybe this winter won’t be bad after all.

Back in Paris

After a busy two weeks in New York, which included eating every meal out, I was happily back in Paris and ready to do some major food shopping yesterday. With the damp, grey blanket that covered the city it was the perfect day to do so as well. A bit jet-lagged I had forgotten the Sunday morning madness that ensues in the marché as people clamor to get their things before its early 1pm closing. “Brace yourself,” I told M as we barreled into the crowds and side stepped out way through and waited our turn in the interminable queues. Following the market it was a stop at the boulangerie. M suggested the one closest to our house, which normally I say yes, fine, but, (gasp), I said no, no, let’s go to the one up and over which has the best bread…M looked at me and I semi-panicked…am I becoming un peu française? By insisting we go out of our way with heavy bags in order to get the right baguette, in fact I think that might be the case.

Well, it turned out to be the right choice, because as we ambled over and out of our way, we passed by our favorite Greek market/restaurant and decided that we had to at least go in for olives which we forgot to buy at the store. This little eatery was a regular stop for me when I first arrived but lately I had unintentionally by-passed it , buying the bland, commercial versions of eggplant caviar at the supermarket to save money. Mistake. If not for anything but Dakis’s (not his real name), charm and subtle, dark humor, it’s worth the extra 5 euros to go there.

Dakis is a flirt and unassuming comedian I have decided, but his mumbled, heavily accented French is so hard for me to understand that I end up missing most of what he says, so with M with me this time, I had a good translator. As we entered the store and said “Bonjour,” he looked at M suspiciously and said (fully knowing) “are you two together?” M says (somewhat old-manish), “yes for a long time.” “Oh,” Dakis deadpans, “but weren’t you in here with a brunette last week?” Then, later when he rings us up at the counter, I comment on the flyers for Greek language courses, something I say, I attempted to take in college but it never stuck. “Well,” he grumbles, no trace of smile or irony, “take a few—in 2018 Greek will be the language spoken by all in the European Union.” Well, maybe you have to be there to get it, but even if you don’t, the food he has is amazing.

Some of the items for sale, fresh hummus, tzatziki and taramas (2-3 types), can be bought by the kilo; at least ten different olives are available, fresh, not in cans, (I always get the standard black Greek because he says they are the best), golf ball sized meatballs and eggplant and feta balls (for lack of a good translation), and of course grape leaves. For dessert he has at least five types of homemade Baklava and my new favorite, loukoumathes, the honey, nutty, sticky candies dusted with powdered sugar. Plus, he seems to always throw in a bag of pita bread with any order as well.

Prouduits de la Mediterranee, Traiteur Grec, rue Moines, 17th.

tasty delights

For the past four weeks along a short stretch of Avenue de Clichy were dozens of little food shops celebrating the month long ritual of Ramadan. Every day they had a large assortment of cakes, breads, candies which are associated with the ritual that involves not eating all day and then feasting at night. In fact one of our favorite little Indian restaurants, non-Muslim I am quite sure, stayed open all night for those that practiced because they are good clientele.

God bless the woman who have been at home baking like mad to keep up with the supply of delicious desserts. Many of them are made with honey, nuts, philo dough to give a salty-sugary combination which I love. Another new favorite is the spongy like circular bread, like a thicker crepe, which is delicious plain or with jam. I just read that Ramadan ended today, I think I am going to miss having my newly discovered treats available at all times of the day.