DORIE GREENSPAN

Hungry For Paris

The only thing wrong with Alec Lobrano's new book, Hungry for Paris, is that, after 418 pages and 102 stories (and solid information) about restaurants, you're starved for more.  Read the book like a novel - the writing is superb and each restaurant "review" is more short story than traditional critique - and when you reach the end, you might want to start all over again.  For sure, you'll want to go to Paris, follow in Alec's footsteps and eat your way through the city.  The book is a little gem.

And really, so is Alec, who is a friend of mine and the best dining companion on any side of the Atlantic.  Alec is an American who's lived in Paris for over 20 years, has watched the Paris scene since his arrival, and has reported on it for many, many publications, most notably as Gourmet's European Correspondent, all of which doesn't tell you the important stuff about Alec: he's top-of-the-class smart, charming, so funny that I never go out with him without making sure I have a handkerchief, so I can dab away the inevitable tears of laughter (I also make sure not to wear mascara that can run), boundlessly talented and deeply passionate about food and restaurants.  After years of eating out, thousands of restaurants and just as many articles about his adventures, Alec is still in love with the scene - and it's all on the page.

Can you tell I'm crazy about him?  And can you see why?

Funny, but I think that when you read Hungry for Paris, you'll be able to tell why.  You'll also be a lot more savvy about Paris restaurants.  In addition to what Alec calls "portraits" of the 102 restaurants, there's a section about "how to have a perfect meal in Paris," a glossary of French food, quick summaries of each restaurant, indexes of restaurants by type and price, and, at the end of each chapter, a not-to-be-missed story.

I've lived in Paris for a while and I know a lot about the city's restaurants, but still, as I read through Hungry for Paris, I found myself sticking Post-its on tens of pages.  Bet you will, too.

If you want to follow Alec as he travels around, visit his new website.

Rose Fever - Paris's Got It

It has to have been about 10 years ago that Pierre Herme created the Ispahan, a dessert composed of the now iconic trinity: rose, litchi and raspberry.  His first Ispahan was two rose-flavored macarons sandwiching a rose cream studded with fresh litchis and raspberries, the whole topped with a fresh red rose petal.  Since that time, not only has just about every pastry chef in Paris created something rose flavored, Pierre himself has created at least a dozen desserts, jams and pate-a-fruit (fruit jellies) using the combination. 

I find Pierre's fascination with the flavors remarkable and love how he never seems to tire of working with the threesome.  Quite the opposite, creating with this trio seems to energize him and this energy has brought us the newest family member: the above Gateau Saint-Honore, version Ispahan.

The Gateau Saint-Honore is a completely Parisian creation, having made its debut in 1846 in a pastry shop on the rue Saint Honore (how fitting that Saint-Honore is the patron saint of pastry chefs) owned by Chiboust, who gave his name to the cream filling, a pastry cream lightened with meringue and stabilized with a little gelatin.  The cake is a luscious but complicated affair.  From the bottom up, you've got: a puff pastry base; a ring of caramelized pate-a-choux (cream puff dough); a few caramel-crowned cream puffs (which are filled with either chiboust or whipped cream); a chiboust filling; whipped cream swirled like a prince's turban.  In Pierre's version, the cream is rose-flavored (of course), there are raspberries and litchis, and the caramel is a sexy, iridescent pink color.  And yes, it's fabulously delicious.

Pierre has taken to devoting weeks at a time to what he calls his "fetishes," and March was Fetish Ispahan, a fetish all of Paris seems to share.  So the last night I was in Paris, I went on a little Ispahan spree and bought six little treats to serve to friends after dinner.

The Gateau Saint-Honore is in the center and right above it you've got the Surprise, a crisp but fragile meringue confection wrapped up like a bon-bon for a good child.  Going clockwise, there's the Ispahan Cheesecake, the Ispahan Tart, with little squares of litchi gelee (sooooooo good) and the classic Ispahan. 

Talk about la vie en rose ...

Michelin Names Their Favorite Breadbakers in Paris

What you're looking at are some of the 143 traditional baguettes that were brought to the bakers' union on Ile Saint-Louis in Paris to be judged for this year's 'best baguette in Paris' award.  According to a French reporter writing for Via Michelin, 14 of the breads were disqualified for not meeting the standards for a baguette, which specify that the bread must be 70 cm long (27 1/2 inches), weigh between 250 and 300 grams (about 9 to 10 ounces) and contain additive-free wheat flour, water and salt. 

As you'll see when you read the article, the judges are as passionate about bread as the bakers (in some cases, far more passionate) and it's a good thing they take their jobs so seriously because the winner of the Meilleur Baguette de Paris is charged with supplying the daily loaf for the President of France (and, we assume, his gorgeous new wife, Carla Bruni). 

This year's winner, 28-year-old Anis Bouabsa, has a bakery in Montmartre and said he would need to hire someone to make the morning deliveries to Elysee Palace, proving that being honored can be both flattering and expensive.  Not surprisingly, Bouabsa is included in the list of Paris's Ten Best Bread Bakeries that Via Michelin just published.

I'm going to check out all the bakeries when I've got some time - and the energy to bicycle all over Paris, since not even one of the ten best is in my neighborhood.  In fact, there isn't even one in my whole arrondissement.  Zut!

Cookies in Unexpected Places

I know some of you think I travel around the world taking pictures of cute guys, but really, really, I only take their pictures if there's a reason, usually a food-related reason, and, as you can see, this guy's holding a tin of cookies.  But here's what's so terrific about him and his cookies:  he's an election monitor (today Parisians are voting for arrondissement mayors) and he gives ccookies to all the little kids who get dragged to the voting booths with their parents. 

And while the cookies weren't supplied by the French government, the ballot boxes were

Doesn't the box look like it was designed by Philippe Starck?  Actually, for all know, it might have been.  Before the ballots are dropped into the box, they're tucked into blue envelopes with "Republique de France" inscribed on the back.  Very classy.

While I was there - I was just keeping a friend company while she voted (and isn't it great that you can vote on Sunday, when you might actually have time to get to the voting place) - one of the candidates came in.  You could tell immediately that he was a candidate: he didn't kiss babies, but his scraf was wrapped around the collar of his coat in a just-so fashion and, while everyone else was dressed casually, having come from the outdoor market across the street, he was in a sport jacket and his shoes were freshly polished.  Only I, an American, was surprised to see that a candidate could campaign two centimeters from a voting booth.

What wasn't a surprise was this sign

urging the assembled voters to toss campaign bulletins and all other paper into the hard-to-miss big brown bags, so that everything could be recycled.  The bags were great - they were the super-tall paper bags normally used to transport baguettes from bakeries to cafes.

When we left, I looked back and saw the name of the room we'd been in

In fact, the Salle Racine was right next to the Salle Moliere and down the hall from the Salle Lully.

Please, let me say it again: "Ah, the French."

Eggs Sunny-side Up

Wouldn't these be fun to have on Easter morning?  They're from chocolatier Patrick Roger, whose shop window on the Boulevard Saint Germain is definitely ogle-worthy.

Yet Another Reason to Love Paris: My Friend Helene

If you're a Paris regular (or if you've read my blog for a while), you may already know Helene Samuel because she's the bright mind behind Delicabar, the restaurant in Le Bon Marche department store, and Cafe Pleyel, the very chic spot (with the great hamburger) in the newly renovated Salle Pleyel concert hall.  What you might not know about Helene is that she's generally cool, meaning hip, but also meaning level-headed - even when she's emailing or texting.  In other words, she seldom uses exclamation points and never sends her messages with any of those high-priority symbols.

Knowing this, you can be sure that the instant I saw her name, a red flag and the subject line:  IMPORTANT NOTICE, I opened the message immediately.   I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this:

"When you arrive, do not buy cheese - I've got some for you."

I love everything about this email.  I love that Helene knew that as soon as I hit town I'd head for the cheese shop.  I love that she didn't want me to have too much cheese, a situation worse than having too little, since nothing as precious as cheese should ever be wasted.  And, of course, I love that she had shopped for me.

When I saw Helene last night, here's what she handed me

This is cheese from our favorite cheese vendor at the Sunday market, the organic one, on the Boulevard Raspail.  The cheesemaker is Philippe Gregoire and his cheeses, labeled Elevage du Corbier, are made with milk from the goats, sheep and cows that graze on his farmland in Burgundy. 

There is never a Sunday when I am in town that I don't visit Philippe Gregoire and come away with exactly these three cheeses: the large round is a fresh, soft cow's milk cheese, and the two smaller rounds are actually the same goat cheese, but one is older (and therefore firmer and fuller flavored) than the other.  To round out the package, Helene included another of my favorites,  Philippe Gregoire's yaourt brebis, sheep's milk yogurt, which is rich, thick and tangy and good with everything from raw vegetables to apples and pears.

And, as if this goody bag wasn't enough, it held another surprise: cookies from a new pastry shop

  The shop, named for its chef, is Carl Marletti, and it's on the rue Censier near the rue Mouffetard, the city's legendary market street.  I haven't been there - I can't even raise a reference to it on google - but I'll track it down just for these cookies.  The edges of the cookies taste and melt in your mouth as though they are made of butter, and only butter.  They're incredibly fragile, but also crisp.  Then there's the center of the cookies - a translucent caramel with nuts.  I've never seen cookies like these, neither here nor in the States (if these look familiar to anyone, please, please, tell me!), but I'd be happy to see them everywhere.

I'll be going to Marletti, for sure, and I'll bring back an address and pictures.  Also on my must-see list is Philippe Conticini's new patisserie on the rue du Marche Sainte Catherine.  More about that, too.  In the meantime, thanks to Helene, I've got some delicious munching to do.

Red Wine and Oysters: A Re-Match

Remember when I wrote about having red wine with oysters in Paris?  Well, Eric Asimov, chief wine critic of The New York Times, did and he decided to try the combo himself.  The results of his taste tests are described today in A Rule Just Waiting to be Broken. 

Eric, who loves oysters and really knows and loves wine, tells about pairing his oysters with four red wines (one of them the Marcel Lapierre Morgon I had with the pictured oysters and rillettes at Le Comptoir).  It's a great story - Eric is an unfailingly engaging writer - and it will give you a sense of why the pairing might work ... or might not. 

Click over, it's a good read.

Oysters! And Red Wine????

Now that it's pretty much accepted that white wine is good with cheese - about 5 years ago the sommelier at Le Grand Vefour told me that after a huge tasting, he and his team decided that white wine is better than red with cheese in 70% of the cases - we've got a new tradition on the line: oysters and cold, crisp white wine.

A couple of weeks ago, I had oysters three times (making it an outstanding week), and two of those times the servers proposed red wine! (The third time we were at a friend's house and the hosts spoiled us with Champagne and great white wine to go with our mountains of oysters.)

It all started at Les Fines Gueules, where Michael and I ordered a bottle of red wine and I asked for a glass of white wine to go with my sparklingly fresh bivalves.  The owner of the bistro (a place that's on my current favorites list) obliged, but, he said, "You know, you could have red with those - it can be very good."  And to prove his point, he brought the white and, along with it, a glass of a red from Saumur.  He was right - the red was interesting with the oysters; it played more to the oysters' sweetness than to their saltiness.  It didn't, however, win a place in that part of my heart where I keep great food and wine pairings.

One day later, the story repeated itself at Yves Camdeborde's wonderful Le Comptoir.  We ordered a half bottle of Morgon to go with our lunch and I ordered a glass of white wine to go with my starter, oysters served with, of all great things, duck rillettes.  "You know, you could stay with your red," said Eric, the very knowledgeable (and funny) server.

And so, again I stayed with the red and again it was interesting - but again it didn't win me over.  There's such great pleasure to be had from slurping a cool oyster in its clear, salty liquor, then sipping a cold, clean white wine with a racy, acidic edge.  In my book, the red wine/oyster combination just doesn't deliver even a fraction of that pleasure.

But that didn't stop me from telling Kerrin and Oivier (the granola guys) about my experiences when they stopped by for drinks.  They were headed to L'Ecallier du Bistrot Paul Bert, the seafood sister of one of my favorite bistros, where Olivier intended to start his meal with a mound of oysters.

The Bistrot Paul Bert has a stunning wine list (there are over 300 bottles, some hard to find elsewhere, all very reasonably marked-up) and a staff that knows its way around it, so when Olivier asked the server if she'd be shocked if he ordered red wine with his oysters, she replied "Not at all, I always drink red with Belons - it's so good."

She then proceeded to list about nine wines she thought would be right with oysters, among them a red Arbois, a Poulsard from the Jura, a pinot noir from Alsace and a Pineau d'Aunis, a light red from Saumur - just what I drank at Fines Gueules!

I once had an editor who said that if you hear about something once, it's just an idea, but hear about it twice, it might be a trend.  I wonder what it means when you hear about something three times ...

Baking with Dorie: Galette des Rois

It's that time of year again:  Time for Epiphany and Kings' Cakes, galettes des rois!  Last year's best galette des rois was the one above, an Ispahan galette filled with rose-almond cream and raspberries, and it was brought to us by my patissier prefere, its creator, Pierre Herme (above).

Epiphany is officially January 6, but the pastry shops here in Paris are filled with galettes - have been since January 2; will be for a couple of weeks more.  And to celebrate this delicious pastry and its customs (when you click through you'll read all about finding the trinket and winning the crown), the galette des rois is this week's Baking with Dorie recipe on Serious Eats. 

Of course I hope you'll make it and love it, but I also hope you'll be the one to find the trinket tucked inside the cake!

These trinkets - or feves, as they're called - were collected from previous galettes.  I just might cheat a bit and recycle one of them into my own Kings Cake this Sunday.

HAPPY, HAPPY NEW YEAR/BONNE ANNEE

WISHING ALL OF YOU LOVE, PEACE AND JOY, GOOD HEALTH AND MUCH HAPPINESS, GREAT FRIENDS, FULFILLING WORK AND LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS OF GOOD THINGS TO EAT

xoxoxDORIE

(PS.  What you're looking at is something very good to eat:  it's Pierre Herme's Flocons d'Etoiles, a chocolate mousse, caramel, fleur de sel and meringue cake for the New Year)