Before there was NYC, there was Paris - Part 1

Ever since last September's trip to Seattle for the 2010 American Cheese Society Conference, I've been on the go and traveling all over the place. I've been on a minimum of 20 planes just this year. Granted, several of those planes were just connecting flights, but I put in the hours damnit. They count.

Regardless, the best trip for me this year by far has been my week in Paris with my friend Neal. Neal, a fellow cheesemonger whom I had worked with for years, is one of the most unique and quirky fellows I know. He has great stories and impeccable tastes in music. Get this, long ago he ate ice cream cones with Jim O'Rourke during Jim's "child prodigy" phase after doing an interview with him, and he was also the executive producer for the first Stars of the Lid album. And if there is one thing above all that rings true about Neal, he loves PJ Harvey more than most things that have ever existed. Which leads me into why we went to Paris in the first place... to see her perform at Olympia Theatre!

I prepared for months for my upcoming 8 days in Paris. Sure, I was interested in sightseeing, museums, nightclubs, parks, shopping, architecture... but what I really had to hold back on peeing my pants over was anticipating everything I was going to eat and imbibe. Of course I didn't end up going anywhere I made sure to note previously, but everywhere I did end up dining at was fantastic. Well... there were a couple of exceptions that were "just okay", but they get out of jail free purely due to geographics.

Here we go...

Febuary 24, 2011

Waking up for the first time in Paris was one of the greatest feelings. We were staying at Au sourire de Montmartre, a very hospitable b&b run by Ihlame Aurenty, and her family, near Sacré-Coeur. After a breakfast full of Cantal cheese, chocolate-filled pastries, baguettes, french butter, and various fruit compotes in the b&b's kitchen, it was time to explore. We spent the day sightseeing around the Seine, and checking out all of the impressionist and post-impressionist art (and omg to the art nouveau furniture collection...) at the Musée d'Orsay.  After dedicating hours to the museum, we found ourselves to be absolutely starving! Lucky enough Le Deux Musees was right across the street waiting for us as we exited. I was reluctantly skeptical however due to the fact that this restaurant obviously relies on museum traffic. Could this be the Applebee's of Paris? Am I wasting precious stomach space on crap? Absolutely not! Forgive me for forgetting what the name of my dish was, but basically it was the most delicious seafood pot pie one could ever imagine. Beautifully presented with a shrimp stowaway, the flakey, buttery layers of puff pastry were the perfect match for the brothy cream sauce, full of the scallops and shrimp that resided inside. The restaurant itself was reminiscent of what I expected Paris to be like 50 years ago, and to be honest, most of the waitstaff looked like they had been there almost that long as well. With all due respect though, those were the most prompt 65-70 year old waiters I've ever met. Those hip replacements must have been a success!

 

We were to be going to the PJ Harvey concert later that night, so we decided to walk to the  8th Arrondissement and do a little shopping in the bustling area known as Champs-Elysées. We were surrounded by high fashion retail stores, quaint specialty food shoppes, and restaurants with menus that were more than impressive. As much as I would have loved to come home with a new wardrobe from Paris, instead I found myself (and my palate) being drawn to places uniquely French, such as a store dedicated to mustard and nothing but. I could have dropped $100 there, but commonsense took over, and I moved along. And actually I should take back what I said earlier, because I did find a place that was on my list... I had stumbled upon Ladurée! Eating French macarons in Paris had been a goal of mine, and this was the place I wanted to experience them first! I wagged my tail all the way in, and the entire time I waited in the line that seemed to take forever. Finally, it was my turn to pick out which of these colorful gems were going to be mine. While making my choices I had to play a guessing game with colors and the French language. I ended up with Coffee, Orange Blossom, Caramel with Salted Butter, and Blackcurrent Violet. I also picked out another pastry based off of aesthetics alone, which I found out later was full of whipped peanut butter cream. After being denied the pleasure of taking a picture of their pastry cases, they boxed up my items in fancy paper and ribbons, and out the door I went with an accomplished feeling of sweet success.

Going into this, I knew French macaroons were unlike any other macaroon I had loved before. Two firm shelled, lite-bodied meringues sandwiching one another with cream or fruit filling? Yes, please, and thank you. After eating only two, I knew I must save the rest for later. They were literally "melt-in-your-mouth" delightful, and so flavorfully sweet, but not overly. I was now madly in love.

With my delicious treats now in tow for later, Neal and had I moved along towards Olympia Theatre in search of PJ, John Parrish, and their tour bus. Instead of locating either of them, we found ourselves in a dive bar for a couple of preshow Leffe Belgian ales and storytelling. I had seen PJ perform a few years back in Covington, KY, (across the river from Cincinnati) with Neal actually, and was eagerly awaiting a revisit. The beers had gone down quite enjoyably, giving us the strength to move on and into line. I should state drinking and standing in line does not typically fair well with one's bladder, but luckily this day mine was being a champ. Especially when my friends Nicolas and Mélanie showed up on their scooter to surprise me with beer and hugs! Although we had never met before, I knew it was them immediately. Months before, I had randomly reached out to them both on Facebook hoping to make a few contacts that I could possibly hit up the nightlife with upon arrival, and many emails later, a fun friendship had come about. After many laughs and beers, the line started moving along, and we were going in. I bid temporary adieu to my nouveaux ami, with the promise that I would contact them after the show to continue our introduction.

The show was simply amazing. PJ, beautifully adorned in a black feather headdress, John Parrish, and the rest of the band were spot on. If you've not checked out this year's Mercury Prize winner , "Let England Shake", I really suggest you do. She played it in it's entirety, along with other favorites of mine such as, "Big Exit". (Which by the way, I almost lost my shit over.) Neal and I couldn't stop gushing over what a great performance that had been as we took the subway back to Montmarte.

After we had arrived at our destination, I met back up with Mélanie for my first night out in the city as a "young Parisian". She handed me a helmet and off we went! Had the wind not been chilly and beating against my skin and clothes, I wouldn't have believed I was actually zipping around, taking shortcuts through the streets of Paris on her scooter. After a few stops at Sacré-Coeur and Moulin Rouge, we went to her friend's bar Proibido to meet up with Nicolas for beers, wine, shots, you name it. While alcohol does aid with social interaction, it truly was almost as if I had known them both for years. Mélanie is an energetic, thimble-sized tigress, full of laughter and imagination. Nicolas is a hilariously animated man of art, who can only speak very broken English. To keep me amused and participate, out of nowhere Nicolas would throw a bunch of English words together he knew would make me laugh, and end up exclaiming phrases such as, "awesome shit, really cool mother fucker bitch"! Luckily, Mélanie on the other hand could speak it fairly well, and impressively continued to do as we continued to drink. In fact, it somehow seemed that Nicolas started to speak even better English through his alcohol haze! My French on the other hand was terrible.

It was a little after 1am (7ish-pm, Kentucky time), and we had closed the bar down... but we weren't ready to part yet. Off to their flat just a few blocks away we went! Clutching the 6-pack of baby-sized Heinekens we had just purchased, I walked up the stairs behind them to their colorfully painted maison, peering down on the residential streets of Montmarte. Walls covered with Nicolas' artwork, I felt overjoyed and at home. We talked well into the morning, laughing, and sharing stories as if we had been friends for years. After making plans to eat lunch and check out Jim Morrison's grave in Père Lachaise Cemetery the next day, Mélanie handed me the helmet once again and we were off. In no time I was back at my b&b. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, and off to bed I went with the thrilling realization that this trip had only just begun.

So many macaroons. So many calories. So little concern.

I'm finally starting to catch my breath since landing a great new job in New Jersey. I hit the ground running back in late August with the move/s, the challenges of being the new girl/boss, my new lifestyle, and the new territory. I was no longer surrounded by good friends, familiar faces, favorites restaurants, or even southern charm. I was now in a cultural epicenter in every way you can imagine. Attitude wise, I fit right the fuck in. Jersey isn't known for it's filter, and neither am I.

I moved to a city called Cranford, and work in a city called Springfield. The distance between the two is only 4.5 miles, and on good days it takes me 25 mins to drive it...  Early mornings, count on 40 mins... Yeah, that's right. at least 10 mins per mile. Luckily I drive through windy, lush, park-filled areas of suburbia at it's finest. Truly though. While these suburbs are still suburbs, they are filled to the brim with local businesses and restaurants, not to mention mountain ranges in the distance. The food though... The food is what's got me feeling the most excited. Not only are most of these places "Mom and Pop" establishments, they are also ethnic and cultural food havens that have their recipes down to a science. And please don't let me forget all of the other local restaurants full of young and innovative chefs that are taking gourmet cuisine to the next level, and this is just in Jersey folks. I haven't even touched on the fact that NYC is just a short train or car ride away (25 miles/40-60 mins...). and yes, I make the trip at least every other week, if not every week, in search of the city's finest cuisine and cocktails.

A couple of places I'm obsessed with right now are A Toute Heure and Bovella's Pastry Shoppe
 
A Toute Heure, loosely meaning "anytime", is hands down my favorite restaurant so far, and lucky for me (unlucky for my wallet) it's a short walk up the street from where I live. I had been eyeballing it on my way to work for the past 2 months, and after reading their menu online (which changes often), it's where I chose to celebrate my 30th birthday with friends. The food we ate that evening is a blur. Somewhat due to all the beer and wine we "BYOB'ed", but mostly because we all ordered so much of EVERYTHING. Highlights from the evening were the beet and arugula salad with blue crumbles, frickled pickles, cauliflower fritters, marrow bones, my dinner of scallops over turnip mash, and the most amazing pork belly sandwich I've ever tried. This experience only left me wanting more, and of course I've been back since! How could I possibly ignore their unusual varities of mussel pots, decadent cheese plates completed with honey comb, East Coast raw oysters served with an amazing mignonette, innovative entrees reminiscent of home cooking, and don't let me forget about their assorted "bites", appetizers, and desserts... This very cozy, low-lit restaurant sources most of their goods locally, and even has a fishmonger who arrives to NYC at 2am to get his flippers on the best fresh seafood NYC has to offer. Trust me, I will definitely be posting more about them at another time (time and time again, I'm sure...).

This brings me to Bovella's Pastry Shoppe... Located in Westfield, maybe 2 miles from where I reside in Cranford, lives this tiny little bakery that absolutely made my jaw drop upon entering. One night in search of a quick bite to eat on the go after work (while also trying to eat somewhat healthy since that's pretty much ended after leaving Whole Foods Market) I stopped into Wild Greens (which by the way was a tasty and enjoyable choice) to check out their menu and just how "Wild" they actually were. I promptly noticed Bovella's staring me down from across the street upon exiting. Taunting and teasing me with the delicate treasures inside that were illuminated through the windows, I knew I had found trouble and that it was going to be delicious. Stepping inside instantly evoked feelings of how I once felt upon entering Roselyn Bakery back home in Indianapolis as a child. Granted though, Bovella's is much higher quality, way more delicious, and hopefully doesn't have the ignored rat/bug infestation that shut Roselyn down for good 15 years ago. (Which broke the hearts of Hoosiers across the land upon exposure, but that's a whole different story for another time...) With 4 service cases packed full of different delicacies, it was hard to make a decision on the fly. Luckily their cookies are sold by the pound, so I just started pointing. Best of all, they have at least 8 different types of macaroons, which are by far some of my favorite delights on Earth. With a $10 minimum on credit cards, I was forced to get much more than I needed, and truly I'm not complaining. After sealing the deal and signing my name, my bag of goodies and I came home. And yes, in one sitting I promptly ate them all. I'm sure my neighbors heard piggy noise coming from the front door that night. But let me get something straight with y'all, these cookies aren't the run of the mill, boring rounds I'm used to in the Mid-West and South, these are cookies that have been recreated time after time for the past 60+ years, and their recipes probably started back in Italy even before that. Sugary sesame seeds, moist coconut, amazing chocolate shells, bavarian cream, and buttery, flaky edges sent me into a near diabetic coma. But had I overdosed, at least I would have died with a smile.