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Post Thanksgiving Post

Just to let you know in advance that this isnโ€™t going to be one of those posts that tells you what to do with those Thanksgiving leftovers, like how to make a delicious Turkey Tetrazzini. And by now itโ€™s too late anyways. If you have any leftovers, theyโ€™re probably toxic and I would toss them away right now. I donโ€™t want you ending up inโ€ฆ

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Fishing For Favors

One of the fundamental differences between here (France) and there (the US) is that here, they donโ€™t have to help you. Itโ€™s not that thereโ€™s no customer service, but unlike the US where theyโ€™re supposed to (and expected to) be nice and helpful to customers, the onus here is on the salesperson, or the person behind the desk: They alone can decide if they wantโ€ฆ

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Incroyable

First I read thisโ€ฆ โ€œThese broads are millionairesโ€ฆreveling in their status as celebrities and stalked by griefparrazies. I have never seen people enjoying their husbands death so much.โ€ -Ann Coulter talking about the women who lost their husbands on 9/11. Her books are national best-sellers. Then I heard thisโ€ฆ โ€œHeโ€™s moving all around and shaking and itโ€™s purely an actโ€ฆThis is really shameless of Michaelโ€ฆ

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Bad Behavior On The Mรฉtro

The RATP has started a campaign to try to get Parisians to respect each other when riding the mรฉtro, including avoiding the noisy, smelly pitfalls of eating a hamburger, not jumping the turnstiles, talking too loud or swearing, having inane, annoying cell phone ring-tones (yeah!), and not putting your stinky feet on the seats. Watch the films and animations here. (In French, but hilariously watch-able,โ€ฆ

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DavidLebovitz.com: The Lost Posts

Whew! Iโ€™ve finally turned in my manuscript and off it goes back to my editor to check over everything I did. And so Iโ€™m turning my attention to cleaning up some of the stuff I have sitting on my computer. I have this big, massive, overloaded file staring at me on my desktop, called โ€˜Blog Entriesโ€™. Living between two cultures often presents a lot ofโ€ฆ

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I Was Screwed

โ€œI am screwedโ€, Iโ€™m thinking. Ok, Iโ€™ve been living here for a few years now, and I should know better, but I fell for the oldest trick in the book. A week or so ago, I invited a few friends and acquaintances over for dinner. One of them, who is French, has always been a bit scornful of me, from my lack of complete fluencyโ€ฆ

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Messing With The Michelin Man

I was trying to avoid commenting on the Michelin flap in San Francisco, where stars were recently bestowed on a precious few restaurants there. Since I no longer live in San Francisco, I canโ€™t really comment on their recommendation (except for Manresa, which I did manage to eat at, and was excellent, stars or no stars.) Iโ€™ve eaten at several two- and three-star restaurants hereโ€ฆ

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The Final Cut

Iโ€™m in the midst of the insanity that every cookbook, author dreads: reviewing the copyedited manuscript of my upcoming book. Writing a cookbook, especially one that needs to be precise like a baking book, is really a task. I started working on this book well over a year ago and it grew and grew to hundreds of recipes before I reined myself it. I justโ€ฆ

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When Good Fruitcakes Go Bad

I keep a pretty clean house. I bath regularly. So I wondered why there were so many little flies buzzing around me? Up until a few weeks ago, I never had a problem with insects, save for the nightly attacks of mosquitoes (the bane of Parisian summers). So I was wondered why I had so many little visitors flitting about my kitchen. Every year Iโ€ฆ

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