Yet another friend is moving back to the states (woosies!) and she had a going away party last night on one of the bridges over the Seine. Since I’d stashed a few clandestine bags of marshmallows, which were getting a little long in the tooth, I thought it time to use ’em or lose ’em. In fact, they were a prominent staple on my Too…
For those of you who don’t live here, you’re probably scratching your heads as who in their right minds would want a hamburger in Paris. If you’re a visitor, you probably don’t come to Paris in search of a burger (unless you’ve got kids in tow). But Parisians, as well as the rest of us, often get the craving for a nice, juicy patty on…
I’ve been craving a big, fat, piled-high juicy hamburger for the last few weeks. I don’t know why. Romain told me, “C’est normal et culturel, Daveed.” I’m not entirely sure about that since I’ve never been a big beef eater. But lately, just the idea of lifting a hefty, rosy, big mess-of-a-patty of seared meat wedged between two fluffy, lightly-grilled cushions of bread with plenty…
Since the last post (#3) focused on something so beautiful, and so perfect; an exquisite cup of gelato, I thought it’d be okay to spring the Musée Fragonard on you now. Located in on the eastern fringe of Paris, the Musée Fragonard d’Alfort is part of the Alfort Veterinary School, founded in 1766, which is one of the oldest veterinary colleges in the world. Lest…
This week, Grom opens a branch of their famous Italian shop in Paris. Originally from Torino, Grom uses all-natural flavorings, which include growing some of the organic fruit they use in their sorbets and graniti, grinding up vivid-green Sicilian pistachios for pistachio gelato, and melding the exquisite hazelnuts from Piedmont with Venezuelan chocolate for their ultimate, silky-smooth version of Gianduja. I first tasted their exquisite…
I’m pretty sure that there’s sometimes a secret conspiracy around here to make me think that it’s me who is crazy. For example, I bought this little glass dish last weekend. When I brought it to the seller to pay, I said, “This is such a beautiful butter dish.” She looked at me, then at it. Then back at me. “Non, non, monsieur, it’s for…
I just spent a long weekend in the French countryside, trying to enjoy the last bits of summer before the rentrée, when everyone in Paris returns en masse, usually bronzed to an unsavory crisp. And because last Friday was a national holiday, I spent a prodcutive morning at a vide grenier, an enormous and pretty fabulous flea market in the town of Esterney. Like anywhere,…
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