Before there was NYC, there was Paris - Part 2

I had made it all the way up the narrow circular stairs to my b&b the night before in a blissful haze, both drunk on various types of booze and new comradery.

The next morning I think I may have woken up with the same smile that I fell asleep with. Walking those same winding steps, I trekked up to the top floor to meet with Neal for another bready, delicious breakfast. Here we sipped tea, coffee, grapefruit juice, and orange juice, while discussing our upcoming subway path to the 20th arrondissement to tour the Père Lachaise Cemetery. So far the weather had been nothing but spurts of misty rain, and soggy, grey clouds. Chill had been in the air, but lucky for us the sun was out and we were going to try to soak it up amongst the dead. Mélanie and Nicolas waved us over immediately upon exiting the Metro Station that we had planned to meet at. We were only about 15 feet from the cemetery when we reached ground level, and before even going in, I knew this was about to be remarkable.

 

Looking for Jim Morrison's grave, and notable stops along the way.

 

 

 

 Found. Very serious, indeed.

 

With hardly any room between the plots, we wandered about. Highlighted by copper that was turning turquoise from corrosion, the moss thickly covered cobblestone and graves. This was definitely the most beautiful cemetery I had ever been to. Walking up and down uneven paths, through hills, amongst the trees, we were lost in serenity while all of Paris bustled on around us. 

After a few hours of exploration, we were starving. Taking direction from Mélanie, Neal and I hopped back onto the Metro and met them a few stops away since they were traveling by scooter. We walked around the 12th arrondissement looking for a particular place to eat, and when we arrived, it was closed. Luckily, plan B was just around the corner at Chez Dugule. Mélanie had been there before, and she was right, it was great! Most of the restaurants in Paris have set daily menus for both lunch and dinner, better know as "prix fixe". You pay varying lump sums, and can get 2-4 course meals from a variety of mix and matches on the board. Also beer or wine may come with as well. This was the first time I had experienced this thus far while in Paris and was stoked. 

 Lionel Richie's permanently reserved table above. (Not really.)

We started off the meal with a charcuterie plate full of salame, prosciutto, French cured meats, cornichons, onions, and a pad of butter. I had chosen a garden salad topped with a bloomy-rinded goat crottin and an Amstel Light to drink. (Blech.) Speaking of the beer of Paris... for the most part, it's crap. Luckily Leffe and Grimbergen are trusty fall backs that are typically on tap.

  

Succulent chicken sauteed in a mushroom cream sauce, served with cheesy potatoes au gratin was what I chose for my main course. I noticed a difference in "their" birds in comparison to "ours". They we much more tender, less fatty, and had a much more gentle flavor. Perhaps it's because they are less factory-farmed, antibiotic free, and fed a better feed? A novel approach, isn't it? While we had been finishing our meal, their close friend Olivier called and invited me on a night out in Paris with him that evening. He is a sound technician at Crazy Horse, a world-renowned cabaret theatre in Champs-Élysées near the Arc de Triomphe, and had a guest pass for me!

Since Neal was going to see P.J. Harvey again that night, this worked out perfectly for me. A few hours to relax in my room, and then I was ready to go out for another night in Paris. Olivier, and his friend/co-worker Olivier #2 (as I called him) arrived at my temporary residence to be my dates for the evening. After a few beers and introductions at Olivier's flat, we set off into the night on a mission, and that mission was nude women and a good time. Now, let me get something straight about French Cabaret, my experience was that it's very tasteful and not at all trashy, even quite funny at times. Granted Crazy Horse is definitely very risque, it is however in no way tacky or offensive, unless you're a really uptight asshole who hates nakedness in general. The choreography, set design, and musical scores were great, and the women were absolutely stunning. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. (Sidenote: I've never been to a strip club, which is shocking to many people that know me well.) The kicker was that at every table there were bottles of AOC Champagne chilling in ice. It all was such a truly unique Parisian experience that I couldn't believe I was actually a part of.

Two hours later, the show had completed. Left with most inhibitions set aside from a night of visual temptation, we were back out on the streets with a few more of Olivier and Olivier #2's coworkers who had just completed the last show of the night at Crazy Horse.

Some of the "équipage bariolé" (motley crew) from that night, minus the bouncer/Mounty. Both Olivier's are in grey. #1 to my right, and #2 to my left.

Hunger had stricken us all, and we also needed somewhere to quench our thirst. One of the fellow coworkers had a friend that managed a restaurant nearby, so this is where we went! Café Delmas is a bold, yet hazy cafe open late with tasty cocktails and great plates. The problem I had been running into most places was being able to fully understand the menus. I had a lot of the French words memorized for what meat was being served, but had to rely on my trusty French-to-English cheat book quite a bit to know what exactly I was ordering. This night I failed and had chosen very unwisely. Expecting a pan-fried fillet of fish in olive oil, this is what arrived:

 

Realization hit me that I would be eating a "snack" (a slightly embarrassing one at that), while everyone ate their platefuls of warm, delicious smelling dinners. No one really seemed to notice my disappointment, except for one fellow named Cadet. We made eye contact and started laughing uncontrollably. Another friend, Olivier #3 (if you can believe that... yes, there were three of them now), who had helped me understand the menu, felt so bad that he didn't warn me that it wasn't freshly prepared. Regardless, I was going to enjoy this $15 box of Ventresca tuna, damnit. So I did, and it was indeed very tasty. A few of the others couldn't finish their dinners and wouldn't allow me to refuse their leftovers out of pity. (The steak and pasta dishes were excellent, by the way.) To appease my need to have crème brûlée at least once in Paris, I took the opportunity there following the "meal", and it was delightful in every way that you'd expect from a flamed vanilla custard. Nothing amazing mind you, but enjoyable nonetheless.

After dinner, into the night we went, and on into the early morning. Wait, more like late the next morning. After the bars had closed, we had all stayed up through the night at Olivier's flat, once again laughing, drinking, and acting like fools in general. It had been an absolute blast! By the time I was heading out the door it was daytime, and I was drunkenly disorientated on top of lost. Luckily Olivier #2 and a few others walked me all the way back "home", but only after we had stopped at a corner pâtisserie (aka: French bakery)! I asked one of my new friends to order me a cream filled pastry (that upon eating I found was still gooey and warm) and some oddly large ball of hardened meringue rolled through coconut. Before even reaching my front door, the pastry was devoured, and then out of no where, I recognized where we were... back on my street, Rue du Mont Cenis. We hugged, kissed, and bid adieu, all parting on our own ways. Once again I walked those narrow, circular stairs to my room in the b&b, relying on the wall and rails to guide me to my door. Back inside my room, and a few bites into my meringue (which was cream filled), I literally fell on my bed and that was where my night/morning ended. I hadn't partied that hard for some time. My battery had died and I was out cold without any regard for the next day.

No turkey for me this Thanksgiving. Just good ol' fashioned vegan buffalo wings.

This Thanksgiving was my first holiday spent in a new city and away from my loved ones. Other than not being able to see my family and friends, it didn't really bum me out to not participate. To be honest, I'm not much of a holiday celebrator any longer. After 8 years of holiday season retail hell, hating unnecessary consumerism, and having much issue with the slaying of the indigenous tribes of this land... I pretty much give it all the middle finger. Granted, any enthusiasm or energy I have for it goes into my performance at work. However, you will find that I'm the boss vetoing holiday music within the department to keep my sanity and the sanity of those around me. (In fact I think it may have been Fugazi and The Buzzcocks that keep me going last week...)

With that giant rant being said, it was great to have two weeks of Louisville friends in New Jersey to spend time with during the Thanksgiving craze! The first round of friends were in town to play shows in NYC, and since Cranford is so close, of course they stayed with me! J.Glenn and Scott Mertz were the first of my friends to arrive. Finally, I could show others what my new life was like, both visually and through food.

Rewind to my first trip to Jersey. My friend Everett (whom I co-manage Gourmet Library with) and his girlfriend Meg took me to Harold's NYC Famous Deli, which just so happens to have it's last location open and running inside a hotel in Edison, NJ. Upon entering, I was greeted by signs directing me to their pickle bar, and later found that the sheer amount of pastrami that could be piled on two pieces of bread was over-the-top hilarious.

Let me quit explaining, and look at the pictures from my first visit:

 

 

 

 

Before. 

(Note the the lady laughing at our sandwich.)

And after.

Even three of us couldn't take this mother down.

Back to the here and now... 

I had had such an amazing experience previously, I just had to take Scott and J. there so they could experience it for themselves. After a crazy day full of holiday madness for the upcoming Thanksgiving Day, and with my friend Allie along for the ride (she had never been either), we met Everett and Meg for a guaranteed meal full gluttony and grease. Everything on the menu is family-sized portions for the most part, so we put our order in for two sandwiches (pastrami and corned beef), one potato pancake (with a side of applesauce and sour cream to slather it with), an order of onion rings, and then got in line for the fist-pumping, mother-fucking picklebar. You don't understand ya'll, this is the "King" of all picklebars. They even brag they have the "World's Largest", and I won't argue. There were half-sours, sours, new, dill, bread and butter, and spicy dill. On top of that they have pickled tomatoes, pickled slaw, pickled cherry peppers, sauerkraut, sweet cakes, and rows upon rows of extra pumpernickel and rye bread for the obscene amount of meat that would be awaiting us from our return from the island of future flatulence. Needless to say, everything was exactly what you would expect and yearn for in a deli like Harold's. After a very similar meal to the other shared previously, everyone was pleased with the giant feast of artery-clogging goodness. We all left Harold's full, farty, and with doggybags. A righteous success indeed.

After a great weekend in both New Jersey and the city with J. and Scott., it was hard to see them go, but what made up for it was my friend Shawn's arrival from Louisville just a few days later! Shawn and I had become best friends after I had moved in under she and her boyfriend Marty's apartment a few years back. We shared the "secret staircase" that conjoined only our apartments, in what was once a large single-family Victorian home. When we lived together we were both vegetarians, but she's now vegan and I'm once again a full fledged meat-eater. Since she came in specifically for Thanksgiving, we had to find a way to compromise with what we would eat together. This wasn't really very hard for me simply because I do still enjoy and appreciate foods that are without meat or animal products. In fact, I try to stay as meat-free as possible, and when I do submit to temptation, I try to only buy it from Whole Foods Market, Gourmet Library, or local restaurants. Not having dairy on the otherhand... yeah right. I have a cheese tattoo. I'll probably die with a wedge of 3yr aged Comté clutched in my hands, I just know it. 

Anyways, at first we thought about fixing dinner with some friends, but after a change of plans, we decided to hit up a restaurant in the West Village that she had been scoping out online. Turns out she chose wisely. Soy and Sake is an absolute vegan's paradise if they enjoy fake meats and Asian cuisine. Before I even looked through the overwhelmingly amazing menu, I was in love with the dim lights and the way the fish tank cast a blue glow all over the glassed-in main room where we would soon be seated.

(The following pictures are courtesy of Shawn Price. You can find her beautiful photography at www.shawnpricephotography.com. If you want a really good laugh, go here for the holiday portraits she did of me and my kitties in her studio a few years back...)

As we walked to our table I noticed that they also had a sushi bar featuring  soy "shrimp", "crab", "chicken", and even "scallops" in the refrigerated glass case. That night they were running a couple of fantastic sounding Thanksgiving specials, which I noted from other tables were impressive amounts of food, but instead I went with many other options off of the regular menu. Along with the giant bottle of MOMOKAWA Organic Nigori Sake (which was deliciously creamy and full of flavorful notes of banana), and Shawn's choices, we had a table full of delicious "wannabes". The highlights for me were the Coconut Soy Shrimp and the Soy Buffalo Wings. Both were full of flavor and texturally very realistic.

The coconut "shrimp" were almost identical to other real coconut shrimp that I've had, minus the fishy flavor. Even the way that the soy separated when I bit into it made me feel like I was eating real shrimp. The coconut was perfectly crispy and browned, adding a subtle sweetness that complemented the spicy tang of the sweet and sour chili sauce.

The buffalo wings were beyond delicious. Coated in a (not so)spicy citrus barbecue sauce, these drumsticks were moist, meaty, and an excellent substitute for anyone who has missed chicken, or barbecue in general. Served with celery, carrots, and a vegan sesame garlic blue cheese sauce, they were truly completed with a wooden stick that you had to chew around as if it were a bone. 

What I didn't like was any of the fancy sushi rolls that we ordered. Part of this is probably due to the fact that I haven't been living without the glory in which sushi brings to the mind and body. In fact, sushi is one of my most enjoyed and consumed foods. My love of it started as a tiny child, when my family and I lived in the bay area and would drive into San Francisco for rolls, sashimi, miso soup, and tempura. Only out of curiosity did I order the Soy Scallop Roll, and what a mistake that was. The "scallop" was a hard lump of nothing tasty, the tempura flakes were stale, and I was bummed. Shawn seemed to really like hers, and while they were better than my awful pick, I still wasn't into any of them.

Aside from the disappointing sushi experience, everything else at Soy and Sake truly was delicious. When more vegan/vegetarian friends come to visit, it will definitely be on the food agenda.

I must also not forget to mention Barbes, another great restaurant that Shawn and I hit up while we were staying near Times Square last weekend. Looking primarily for cocktails, we sort of just stumbled upon it and were literally lured in by the very welcoming staff. What awaited us inside was an amazing menu full of Parisian meets Maghreb (Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia) cuisine. With the drinks ordered (I went with a mojito), we were ready to get down to business. While I am an artichoke fan, and have had them cooked whole several times before, I've never had any that were nearly as good as the Artichoke A'la Moutarde appetizer that I ordered on a whim. Tender petals pulled from the whole choke and dipped in a house-made mustard sauce, leaving the hearts for last, I was in heaven. Saving my debating skills for the entree, I finally ordered the Tagine de Poisson (marinated fish and seasonal vegetables with a charmoula sauce served in the tagine it was cooked in) with a side of Moroccan couscous, and was pleased with my decision. Bright red and stew-like, this dish was nothing but tender, aromatic goodness. Yellow and green squash, red and green bell peppers, lemon confit, and a flavor-absorbing fillet of whitefish, I ate all of it and never looked back. For a dessert the manager sent us our third round of cocktails on the house, and upon leaving, we were all smiles and giggles. Luckily, the guilt I felt about all the calories I had just inhaled vanished as soon as we started walking.

Now I'm back to sitting around the house with my cat Emma, and my roommate Pam's dog Trigger. While I'm still exhausted from the "go-go-go" of the retail rush, and non-stop entertaining of friends for two weeks, I still feel so mentally refreshed from some of the familiar faces I hold so dear. Truly, I cannot wait for the next round of comrades to come visit, and I'm so excited as to who it might be and where we might eat.