The consequences of visitors
One of the consequences of having so many visitors while I've been here in Paris is that I haven't written nearly as much on this site as I'd intended. Indeed my little notebook is filled with post topics going back to the day after my arrival that have yet to be written. I'll try to get some down when I return, but it's not the same.
I don't know where all the time went, it seems like I just arrived here, and now I find it's nearly May, the flowers that were blooming upon my arrival are all passed, and even the lilac on my terrace is browning now. My French is improved but not where I'd like it to be. I've seen more of the city but not nearly all I wanted to visit. And somehow there remains a list of restaurants to visit, photos to take, and sites to scale. No matter how many visits I make, it's never enough.
Tonight I think I'll enjoy one last plate of oysters -- my new favorite thing to eat as much as possible while in Paris -- and a nice coupe de Champagne. Maybe I'll wander the streets one last time and get some final pictures of Parisians strolling in the evening. And perhaps one last ice cream. Tomorrow a final pain au chocolat and un express and a long sad taxi ride to Charles de Gaulle airport and the flight back to the US. I must start planning my return as soon as possible!
Two things to know about France
Here are two tips for you regarding France and things that are not like they are in the United States. First of all, what French people consider the first floor is what Americans call the second floor. Until you get used to it, you'll be one floor off wherever you go. Second is meat temperature. French waiters will tell you that à point means "medium" and that saignant plus is "medium rare." In their minds, this may be true.
But just as the first floor starts on the second, so the meats are one off from their American counterparts. If you like "medium rare" in the US, order à point, no matter what anyone tells you. It means roughly "the point" and is easy remember with this handy phrase: "If I don't order my meat à point, it will not have gotten to the point that could be considered cooked."
When friends visit you in Paris
Over the course of the past three weeks, I've had a variety of friends come to visit me here in Paris. They can be categorized in the following three groups:
Some who speak no French at all
They do things like: drink from the wine carafe rather than their glass; they walk up to the window of an ice cream shop and say, Au Revior!; or they bump against a woman's breast on the dance floor and when she slaps them, they respond with Merci!
Some who speak a little French
They successfully buy telephone cards for the pay phone and figure out how to call my American mobile. They order beers at bars and buy bottles of wine at the corner store. They order their dinner in French and get what they expect.
Some who are fluent in French and studied it for 15 years
They walk into the tabac and ask the Madame behind the counter for les tampons. She regretfully responds that she does not sell them. The friend exits, confused, only to realize on the street that he's asked for tampons and not les timbres, or what he actually wanted: stamps.
Rediscovering Brasserie Balzar
I'm not sure how it was that I first decided to go to the Brasserie Balzar in Paris, but I remember it clearly. It was October, 1996 and I'd spent the week with my mom at an apartment she'd rented. To thank her, I took her out to dinner at Balzar. It was the first time we ever ordered a bottle of wine at dinner together, and we imagined ourselves quite French when we finished our meals with digestifs of Armagnac and Cognac. Though our French was minimal at best, the waiters were friendly and helpful and it was a magical evening I remember fondly.
I returned a few days later with my parents and had my first plate of escargots, and at the end of the meal as we left, I stopped to tell the maitre d' -- in my really bad French -- that his restaurant was my favorite restaurant in the whole world. He gave me a little postcard picture (in B&W) of the restaurant with all the waiters out front from what looked like a long time ago. I thanked him and smiled a lot, and I still have that card.
Fast forward to many returns to Paris, each with a requisite visit to Balzar. And each time, good, but somehow fading. Reading Paris to the Moon a few years ago reminded me of my love for Balzar and heightened my expectations upon return visits, but the Balzar never seemed *as* good as it had during previous trips.
Last week I met a colleague for lunch at Balzar and left deflated, and a little sad. The meal itself wasn't bad, it just wasn't great and the magic, it seemed, was gone. Perhaps, given all my culinary experiences in the past nine years, I had outgrown Balzar. I'd told Jason this sad state of affiars when he'd arrived, and so the other night while walking in the neighborhood, we decided we'd give it another try, for old times sake.
"Was it possible to take two for dinner without a reservation?" I asked the mustachoed gentleman in a black suit at the door.
"But of course!" he replied happily, and he lead us to a little table in the corner. I ordered my aperitif (kir vin blanc) and we began to discuss the menu when Jason asked what andouillete was. Before I could really answer, the waiter appeared at our table.
(The following dialogue occurred in French, yay!)
"Have you had andouillete before?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"Then you cannot have it! It is not for those that have never had it before. It is a specialty, but a specialty 95% of people do not like. I am sorry."
Since we had no intention of ordering it, I wasn't upset to hear this. And of course, our waiter went on in detail to explain just why we couldn't have it: its smell and, using his stomach, explained where it came from. Too many people, it seems, order the andouillete and then are quite unhappy when it arrives. He was very nice about it, said he wouldn't eat it either, just too strong for him. And he pointed out other specialties on the menu.
It was reminded me of my first trip to Balzar, when the waiter, upon hearing my mother and I both order Cognac, asked whether we knew Armagnac. When he found out we didn't, he said we must have one Cognac and one Armagnac. At Balzar I find this behavior by waiters to be very considerate, almost paternal. They are concerned that you have a good experience while dining, whether experience means trying something new, or avoiding something new because it might be too much.
Throughout the meal, the waiter continued to impress. He was very sweet, continuing to speak with me in French (he helped me correct my pronunciation of raie and told me it was la when I asked), and was happy to bring two forks when we ordered the tarte aux fraises for dessert. My warm feelings for Balzar returned as we ate. And by the time our meal was over and the check paid, I felt happy again in my favorite restaurant in the world. I headed to the bathroom and Jason waited for me at the door. We said good night to the maitre d' and as we exited, I asked if he'd said good bye to our waiter, since I hadn't seen him.
"No, I didn't. I didn't see him." he told me.
"Drat!" I thought. I had wanted to say good bye.
We walked down the street, past the front of the restaurant, and I looked in through the windows, towards where our table had been. Then I caught site of our waiter! He was in the back by the kitchen, looking across the room towards our table and seemed to notice we'd left. I waved good bye from outside. He saw me and smiled a big smile and then waved back. My heart warmed; I loved our waiter. I loved our dinner. I loved Balzar once again.
Brasserie Balzar
49, rue des Ecoles
75005 Paris
A discussion of the French cheese tragedy
The other day I linked to an article about the decline of French cheesemaking in my post, Speaking of French cheese. Today I followed up on the debate over at eGullet.com in this interesting thread, The Great French Cheese Tragedy, impending? Some interesting points in there. I need to read more eGullet.com.
The carafe of water
One of the eternal questions that plagues me here in Paris is the question of the carafe of water. Why is it that every time I order une carafe de l'eau I stand a roughly 30% chance of getting it? And why is it that whenever a French person seems to order absolutely anything -- even just a tiny coffee -- they seem to get a liter of water alongside? Why? My food comes. My wine comes. But hardly ever do I get the water without repeating my request several times. I am now practicing how to say, "Monsieur, I am dying of thirst. The carafe, please!" in French. Is this some secret way for the French to stick it to me while still being polite?
For the French speakers
Here's one for my foodie French-speaking soon-to-be-or-already-are-in-France friends: Les 100 meilleurs bistrots à moins de 30 €. Note: The link points to ones in Paris, see the sidebar for those outside the Île-de-France. For the non-French speakers out there, it's a list of "The 100 best 30 € and under bistros."
I've been to two on the Paris list so far this visit: L'Ami Marcel (which was mentioned in the April 2005 Gourmet article "The Bistro Boom"); and L'Epi Dupin. Both were very good and I'd recommend either for a lovely meal. And see, if I were less lazy, I would have written posts about eating there! As penance, if my dinning companions post about the meals, I promise to make the appropriate links.
Eating on a Saturday night
I've been doing a fairly good job of eating at lots of yummy places while here in Paris. Obviously I've been doing a fairly crappy job of documenting those meals, mostly out of sheer laziness. But last night we decided to eat in for a change, and to soften the repeated blows my wallet has taken during this trip. To turn the documentation tide, I present a photo of what we had for dinner on Saturday night.
For our shopping, we decided we'd head to La Grande Epicerie Paris, the amazing food market at The Bon Marché -- one of Paris' grand department stores. We started in the wine section and being, in reality, poser gourmands and wine afficionados, we just grabbed two bottles that looked good and tried to escape before the woman started speaking to us in French about wine. My French class hasn't gotten to that level of interaction yet, and I wasn't up to the challenge. The take? A half bottle of Domaine Pradelle Crozes-Hermitage, 2002 (white) and a full size 2000 Saint-Joseph from Ferraton Père & Fils. Where they good? Seemed so to us. We're pretty much happy with anything from the Rhône.
Next stop, the meat counter where we procured some mousse de canard. Somehow I managed to leave it out of the nice photo, so here it is just tossed on a plate. Then, on to the cheese counter!
Here we were at a loss as there were just too many cheeses to choose from. Though I have French Cheeses: The Visual Guide to More Than 350 Cheeses from Every Region of France, it was no use among the vast selection (because I didn't have it with me and hadn't memorized it all, yet...). So I used my every-improving French to explain our predicament to Madame la Fromagère:
(In French, sort of)
Madame, we do not know the cheeses well of France. Is it possible that you make a selection of three cheeses for us to know more the cheese?
Of course!, she replied, quite happy to be put to such a test. So she asked a few more questions and we ended up with a Brie de Meaux, a Comté Rivoire, and a bouton Charolai which was a button of a lovely aged goat cheese. They were all excellent, and Madame chose well for us. The Charolai was my favorite new cheese in a long time.
We had also picked up a saucisson sec aux myrtilles, a dry sausage with a blueberry(!) coating. It was good, but didn't have much blueberry flavor. And of course, the requisite baguettes upon which to spread our yummy cheese and mousse. It was tasty and easy and I have to say, I want to do it again very soon!
April in Paris indeed
This picture of me smelling the lilacs near the Notre-Dame may be my favorite so far of the whole trip. The were just wonderful, and lilacs are one of my favorite flowers in the whole world. I'm so happy they're blooming now.
Getting out of ruts
From On Cruise Control: How to get out of a life rut by Cynthia Hanson:
Along the journey of life, we're destined to fall into some ruts. Sometimes, they're big (think career change). Other times, they're small (think new exercise routine). Either way, experts say it's inevitable that we'll become bored with one or more facets of our lives.
This article talks about identifying ruts and then how to go about getting out of them. Something good to think about and be aware of.
Beware the "wild" salmon
This is really disturbing: the New York Times reports that Stores Say Wild Salmon, but Tests Say Farm Bred in several stores in New York City.
Tests performed for The New York Times in March on salmon sold as wild by eight New York City stores, going for as much as $29 a pound, showed that the fish at six of the eight were farm raised. Farmed salmon, available year round, sells for $5 to $12 a pound in the city.
Emphasis mine.
Given the contaminants found in farmed salmon, this deceptive practice troubling for consumers trying to make informed healthy decisions. I used to eat a lot of salmon but have really dropped the amount I eat in the past few years. Now it's less than once a month whereas it used to be twice a week, if not more. It's too bad because I love salmon, but it's too difficult to determine its source, especially when suppliers appear to be lying.
I found the Sox in Paris
Yay!! Red Sox in Paris. I know, it's a terrible photo but I really couldn't get a better photo of the TV. But the bar, if you need to know, is: The Highlander Pub, 8, rue des Nevers, 6° Paris. They will show the rest of the Sox games, as long as they don't conflict with Scottish Football. And yes, we won. Finally. It's a long season, but this was a very good win. :)
Cooking Under Fire on PBS
Finally, a reality TV show I can get into! On April 27, Cooking Under Fire will premiere on PBS.
Tracking 12 finalists plucked from the country's restaurants and culinary schools as they embark on a coast-to-coast cooking competition, this documentary-style series will bring viewers behind the scenes and into the kitchen. Each week, the aspiring chefs face intense cooking challenges, difficult deadlines, and the heated pressure of working against the clock. In order to survive, they must combine their kitchen savvy, unique style, and skills of organization and creativity to serve the judges a winning meal.
Contestants who fail to perform will run the risk of being "86ed" -- taken off the competition menu and sent home. But success will bring them one step closer to the ultimate culinary prize: a chef position in one of restaurateur Todd English's Manhattan restaurants.
Michael Ruhlman -- who you may recall is the author of some of my favorite books (see my The Soul of a Chef review) -- will be one of three judges in the competition. It should be good since I've really enjoyed every PBS reality show I've seen (Frontier House, Colonial House, etc.) I'm looking forward to it!
Speaking of French cheese
According to this article, French mobilise to save cheeses under threat of extinction France is losing cheeses as producers are dying and taking their cheese making secrets to the grave.
A worrisome trend is looming in this country of cheese-lovers, where the nation's rich palette of 1,000 cheeses is being nibbled away at with the annual demise of several varieties..."The Mont-d'Or galette, which had been produced for some 400 years, disappeared this summer following the death of the last producer who knew the secret of how to make it."
That does sound worrisome. What's also worrisome is the reference in this article to "National Cheese Day" on "Friday." Did I just miss National Cheese Day?!?! Why weren't there big cheese posters everywhere telling me about this? Sure, they take the time to hang a giant neon sign for the Olympics on the Hôtel de Ville, but why not a giant poster of Brique de Brebis? No wonder a disastrous cheese extinction looms!
Something you loved in Paris
It's hard to believe one quarter of my time here in Paris has passed already. I don't feel like I've even begun to do all the things I want, never mind the things I don't know I should be doing! Before it's too late, I'd like to hear some recommendations for interesting things you've done or experienced in Paris (or France, for that matter, if I could find the same wine in Paris, etc.).
Is there a little restaurant you loved? An amazing unpasteurised milk cheese you tasted once? A small store that sold lovely little things? Something you just don't think I should miss while I'm here? Comments are open, share what you will. Thanks!
The amazing world of my French class
On the very first day of French class, Madame spent the good part of our first hour together having everyone state their name, where they were from, what they did, and what hobbies and/or activites they enjoyed. I was surprised (and relieved) to discover that I was the only American. And in fact, one of only two North Americans! I tried to jot down as best I could everyone's name and hometown. Roughly here's the summary by country:
America (1) me!
Brazil (3)
China (5)
Columbia (1)
Japan (3)
Korea (1)
México (1)
Poland (1)
Russia (2)
Spain (1)
And what's even more interesting are the cities the group represents; the list reads like a "Great Cities of the World." Beijing, Moscow, México City, São Paolo, Shanghai, Tokyo...And of course, we're all in Paris learning French. It's pretty amazing.
Also what's even more amazing is our teacher, who seems to be able to speak nearly all the languages of her students. Sometimes she'll translate something to English or Spanish (which today tripped up one of the Chinese students, who started to ask about a word and the teacher said, "No, that's Spanish!"), when she isn't using French to define things. But she also cracked some joke in Chinese that got the Chinese students chuckling. And yesterday she surprised us all when she went to the board and started writing in Russian! Madame le professeur est incroyable!
Learn French too
Just because you're not here in Paris with me doesn't mean you can't join along from home. You too can learn all the French you need to know from About.com's Learn French - Lessons and Classes. C'est super!
Unintended consequences
You're full after a lovely La Terrine de Courgettes au Coulis de Tomates Fraîches and a daunting but delicious Le Lapin en Cocotte when the waiter asks if you'd like dessert. Because you're spacing out a bit, and because he's lifting your empty plate, you assume he's asking if you're all finished. So you say, "Oui." Next thing you know you're ordering the tarte Tatin rather than extricate yourself from this unforeseen predicament. Good thing for the dessert compartment in the stomach. Perhaps French lessons are required after all.
I finally acknowledge my limits
When I decided to run the Paris Marathon last fall, I did so for two main reasons: I was all hopped up on the running junk after the NYC Marathon and wanted to try another and wanted to try and go faster, and I wanted an excuse to go to Paris.
As the fall turned into winter though, I found I was less psyched for running. I turned my attention to skiing and, whether from exhaustion or lack of training, or over-training, or who knows, I found that whenever I did run, I had a bad run. I never felt good, either during the jog or after. I know for many people that's always the case, but for me running is usually something that makes me feel better; it gives me a real boost.
The more this happened, the more I dreaded my runs. The more I dreaded, the less I ran, until the cycle fed upon itself, culminating in a very difficult and long Brooklyn Half-Marathon last month. I told myself it was because I was tired (true) and that once I got some rest, I'd have great runs again (false). That hasn't been the case, and though I thought I'd "turn around" here in Paris, I haven't. I dreaded running from the moment I got here, and I was seriously beginning to dread 26.2 miles of Paris Marathon on April 10th.
So I decided a couple days ago that I wouldn't run the marathon. And just like that, the anxiety lifted. I'm not a good quitter, and it was *really* hard for me to allow myself to make this decision. In fact I can't recall a time where I've ever done something like this before. I'm pretty confident I could have finished the marathon, because I'm obstinate and can push through all kinds of nearly-incapacitating physical pain (thanks Tufts Crew!) but it seemed rather perverse to do something when clearly my body repeatedly was telling me not to.
More importantly, I want to love running. It's something that -- not to sound too overly dramatic but it's true -- has really sustained me during some very difficult dark periods of my life. And I didn't want to lose that.
So I'm back to running for fun, and I'm looking forward to some spring and summer fun races, where I hope to get the good feelings back and find the love again. I'll still be out there on Sunday, but I'll be cheering instead of perspiring. I'll be offering encouragement because I know what it's like to put in all the training and see it pay off on the big day, and the feeling that gives you. I've run 26.2 miles before, and I'll do it again. But I just won't do it this Sunday. And that's OK.
Rehashing the same stale file sharing argument
Over on Dangerousmeta I saw a link to this Op-Ed by Daniel Henninger from the Wall Street Journal,Can Justice Scalia Solve the Riddles Of the Internet? Without profit even the digital world will break down. Having recently read the excellent profile of Justice Scalia in The New Yorker (which frustratingly doesn't appear to be online), I was curious to read the article. I was disappointed to discover it rehashed the same old fallacious arguments about people "stealing" music online, and worse, that it got mired in questions of morals.
One would expect the article, beginning with its subtitle, "Without profit even the digital world will break down," to espouse a pro free-market stance (it is the Wall Street Journal, after all), but one only has to read half of the piece before Mr. Henninger begins to crow for old business models to be locked in place by the government if "the people" (Pirates, I'm looking in your direction...) won't follow the old rules:
[T]here will always be another wave of digitized aliens hacking through the copyright walls. There has to be a better way.
There is. It's called right and wrong.
It may seem quaintly old school to suggest that people should stop downloading culture without paying simply because it's the right thing to do. But that may be the best option available.
For starters, if "the people" don't solve this problem themselves, Congress will, and you won't like the solution--unless you enjoy the tax code.
Why it's up to "the people" to solve a problem that's surely not theirs I don't know. Worse, the presumably pro free market writer Mr. Henninger, (who is the deputy editor of The Wall Street Journal's editorial page) threatens/encourages/suggests government intervention rather than identify the real source of the problem: the media companies themselves. Instead he hints that downloaders may just well be a bunch of Commie freeloaders!
I would push this even further; it requires a moral or at least philosophical commitment to the legitimacy of profit. Absent that, there's no hope.
If only Mr. Henninger, the RIAA, and those enamored of their old business models predicated on tangible media would stop litigating for the past, they would see there's a whole lot of hope out there.
According to this Pew Internet & American Life Project March 2005 Data Memo (warning: pdf):
Current file downloaders are now more likely to say they use online music services like iTunes than they are to report using p2p services. The percentage of music downloaders who have tried paid services has grown from 24% in 2004 to 43% in our most recent survey.
There are two things happening with online file sharing:
1. It's the market's way of saying not that it doesn't see profit, per se, as legitimate but that the prices charged, for example, by BMG for Shakira's CD don't reflect its perceived value.
2. People are willing to pay when there's a means available for them to do so that embraces what's great about the digitization of media (easy access, portability, recommendations/sharing with friends and family, etc.).
Just because large companies chose to ignore this technology rather than embrace it doesn't mean the market should as well. The market is actually working as it should, and consumer demand is driving the development of stores like iTunes. The people/market aren't wrong, it's the companies who'd rather litigate instead of catching up, or leading.
What if big media companies -- instead of pouring millions into lawsuits like Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer v. Grokster -- invested money to:
1. Digitize all the content in their catalogs, and offer it for sale through iTunes or some other online music store of choice. During the 2003 Eldred v. Ashcroft case, the Supreme Court found that 98 percent of all copyrighted works are not commercially available. Digitize all that, and suddenly there's a whole lot more to sell.
2. Continue to explore and expand ancillary revenue streams from all the album extras like concerts and merchandise. I seem to recall from a New Yorker article that this is where a lot of the money comes from anyway, and a large amount isn't from CD sales.
3. Embrace the web -- not just to create a distribution mechanism for the digital bits, but also for the fans. Create lively sites for each artist, populate them with real consistent content, create conversation space for aficionados (what fans have already done with sites like green plastic radiohead, a fan site for the band Radiohead) and build the traffic. Make money off of the ad revenue.
How hard is it to adapt and evolve one's business model to the changing time? I think that's what irks me the most about all this -- taking it to the courts to ensure that because something once was, it should (be legislated to) always be. All this "copyright" is just code for "profit."
P.S. What about a bumper sticker that says, "Your failed business model is not my problem"?
P.P.S. In retrospect, this is such a stupid article, I can't believe I wasted any time responding to it, when I could be enjoying the glories of Paris!
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