The other night I was standing on the métro and found myself face à face with a little affiche advising me, minding my own business as I rocketed below Paris, that it’s not alright to eat Mr. Ed. Then on Tuesday, I was taking a stroll through the thirteenth, on my way to have lunch with a friend in Chinatown, and came across a sign…
For someone who used to not drink that much, I seem to have a lot of liquor on my liquor shelf. I guess I should rephrase that. For someone who drinks a lot of wine, but not a lot of liquor, I sure have a lot of liquor on my liquor shelf. Is that clear? Americans may be known for our cocktails, but in France,…
Way back when, after I arrived in France, I wanted to also be in the south of France, in Provence, and I did go off on the lookout in Paris for a large, sturdy mortar and pestle to make all those Provençal favorites, like garlic-laden aïoli and soupe au pistou. I didn’t know what a mortar and pestle were called in French at the time, so I went…
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