DORIE GREENSPAN

Recycling the Empties in Paris and New York

Last night I had a dinner party with lots of wine, as you can see, and this morning I had to toss the empties into the recycling bin, located in the courtyard in full view of all of my Parisian neighbors.

There isn't a time when I do this that it doesn't make me think of differing attitudes (or at least what I perceive of as differing attitudes) between my French and American neighbors.

In our New York apartment, the recycling bin is in a common back hallway.  Whenever I toss a bunch of bottles into the bin, I have the same thought:  "What will the neighbors think when they see soooooooo many bottles."  

In Paris, as each bottle crashes to the bottom of the bin and breaks, I imagine my neighbors looking out of their windows, seeing me, l'americaine, and saying: "Bravo!  She's getting the hang of life here."

Bloggers Who Lunch

I had a great lunch at Racines, 8 Passage des Panoramas (Paris 2; 01-40-13-06-41), a wine bar with exceptional food/ a bistro with exceptional wine, and I had it with great people, the bloggers, Meg Zimbeck and David Lebovitz. And at some point during the lunch, I had to giggle -- and snap a picture

 

As soon as we bloggers sit down, we pull out our cameras the way the generations before us pulled out their packs of Lucky Strikes.  And the instant the dishes are set down, it's click, click, click.  It's incredibly amusing and so interesting to see how each person gets a different shot.

And speaking of different shots, Meg and David got much, much better pictures than I did, so to see the salad of thinly shaved vegetables from Michelin-3-star-chef Alain Passard's garden, the hand-cut steak tartare (so good), the meltingly tender braised pork cheeks or the perfectly cooked pasta, you'll have to visit them.

Oh, and when you do, you'll also learn more about the talented, charming -- and very good-looking -- Pierre Jancou, Racine's chef/owner/wine ace.

Paris Sweet: La Palette's Strawberry Tarte

I'm in Paris now and each time I pass the cafe La Palette or stop in to have a coffee, I think of the time, several years ago, when my husband, Michael, and I had lunch there under the trees and finished with the simplest tart imaginable.  La Palette's strawberry tart was nothing more than a cookie crust, brushed with strawberry jam, topped generously with strawberries and served with a little pottery bowl of thick creme fraiche. 

At La Palette, I think what they do is bake the tart and leave it unfilled.  When an order for tart comes in, they cut a wedge of the crust, give it a gloss of jam and spoon over the cut berries.  It's a brilliant way to keep the crust crisp in a cafe and it works just as brilliantly at home.  Because you don't assemble the tart pieces until you're ready to serve them, you don't risk having the crisp crust go soggy.

This week, the bakers at Tuesdays with Dorie made the La Palette Tart from Baking From My Home to Yours,  so you can see almost 200 versions of it on members' blogs.  Here's what it looked like when I had it at La Palette the first time

La Palette is at 43 rue de Seine, in the 6 th arrondissement.

French Women Don't Get Fat: 3 Reasons Why

It's true -- French women are thinner than we Americans.  And while I'm sure there are lots of reasons for it (I like to think it's genetic, because if it is, there's not much we can do about it), I think I found three of them yesterday.

One: They eat less than we do.

Several years ago, I read that a study comparing portion sizes in France and America showed that the portions in the States were one-third larger (and often a lot more than that) than those in France and last night was proof of it:  I told the butcher I wanted a steak for one and you can see what I got, a lovely little (emphasis on little) filet that barely tipped the scale at 100 grams, or about 3 1/2 ounces.  And, you know what?  It was enough!  (And pretty delicious, too, topped with shallots cooked in the pan while the steak was resting and red wine splashed into the pan and reduced at the end.)

 

Two: Big Brother is watching them.

It's not just alcohol and tobacco that carry dire warnings (to see SMOKING KILLS in big, block letters on a cigarette pack is jarring in the extreme), it's bread and sugar, too. 

This is from a sign hanging over the bread baskets at my local Monoprix.  The gentle warning reads: For your health, avoid snacking between meals and sends readers (and snackers) to a government-sponsored website called eat/move.  The site's handiwork turned up yesterday afternoon at the bottom of a magazine recipe for Rhubarb and Strawberry Compote with Vanilla Whipped Cream.  The recipe was part of an advertisement for brown sugar and this time the warning read: For your health, avoid eating too much fat, too much sugar, too much salt.

 

Three: They sublimate.

Instead of walking into Laduree and buying one of every macaron they've got, or going for a religieuse -- two pastry-cream-filled cream puffs, shiny with glaze and finished with a white icing ringlet that resembles a cleric's collar -- they opt for something beautiful and completely sans calories: this religieuse candle. 

I looked at the candle for a minute, decided it was lovely, then marched right into the shop and bought a chocolate macaron.  I guess I'm not French yet.

Edited thanks to the sharp eyes of some very good readers -- merci.

Good-Bye New York/Bonjour Paris

It was almost hard to fly out of New York last night - it had been one of those glorious you-know-summer-is-on-its-way days and everything that wasn't already in bloom in Riverside Park was promising to bloom the instant you turned around.  I knew it wasn't going to be like that in Paris, since my friend Helene had already sent a message that read, "Pack pullovers - it's winter here!"

In fact, this morning, as the taxi from the airport drove along the Boulevard Saint-Germain-des-Pres, there were women in pullovers.  And not just pullovers, woolen scarves, too.  It wasn't quite winter and it wasn't quite spring, either, but never mind, it was Paris and, as always, it was exciting to be coming into the city:  No matter how often I return to Paris, I still get first-time flutters. 

I've got a certain ritual for settling in, but it went by the boards this afternoon because, as soon as I walked out of my apartment, here's what I saw

Before you get nervous, this is art, not accident.  It's one of several works in all media installed around Saint-Germain-des-Pres as part of the 8th annual Parcours Saint-Germain, which pairs artists with luxury boutiques and mythic Saint-Germain-des-Pres spots, like Le Cafe de Flore and the Place Furstenberg.  This year's theme is Once Upon a Time and the upside-down Citroen Traction (our son's favorite car - I don't think he'd like to see it in this condition) is an installation by Claude Leveque. 

Across the street, at the corner of the Church of Saint-Germain, there's an odd doll-like sculpture that's attracting lines of people who want to be photographed with it and, around the corner, at the Place Furstenberg, one of Paris's most photographed squares, the open space is now inhabited by a fantasy family

The works stay up through June 19 and, if you're here and in the neighborhood, it would be impossible for you to miss seeing at least some of the installations.  If you won't be coming, take a look at the website, it's really well done.

When I got back from my walk-around and checked my mail, I saw that there was an exhibition that I would have loved to have seen, but which closed yesterday.  Called Gourmandise, it was a show of jewelry designed by Aude Lechere and "inspired by the world of Poilane."  The show was held at the Ibu Gallery in the magical Palais Royale Gardens and, judging by the invitation, it's just as well I couldn't go because for sure I'd have wanted this, a gold ring to match Poilane's perfect butter cookies, Les Punitions (or Punishments)

Don't you wonder what the jewelry that matched Poilane's huge round loaves of breads looked like?

Good news!  I just found out that Gourmandise will be at Ibu Gallery until July 31. (edited June 11, 2008)

The Paris Ten: Must-Tastes

Earlier this year, I was asked to come up with a list of the 10 iconic foods of Paris, the tastes a visitor, perhaps a first-timer, shouldn't miss in the city, and it turned out to be a tougher assignment than I'd imagined.  Being a Paris part-timer for over a decade, I've written dozens of lists, but when I looked at the current ones, there wasn't much on them I could use.  The lists I make include my favorite bistros and wine bars, food shops, markets and, of course, patisseries, as well as places I want to try, but this list was meant to be a kind of meta-list, a categorization of culinary musts that would save a visitor from that horrible moment when he's returned home and is recounting what a great vacation he's had, only to have someone say, "I can't believe you were in Paris and didn't have a macaron!"

It took me a while to pare the gustatory pleasures of Paris down to a top 10, no time at all to come up with a list of places to taste them, and then more time to pare down the places - there are so many places for great food in Paris. (To read my original article, go to Diversion Magazine.)

So here, to kick off the vacation season, is my list of must-try Paris foods.  Please, please, if you've got others to add, don't keep them a secret; ditto if you think any of my suggestions are off base.

BAGUETTES:  While the baguette just about symbolizes La Belle France (to say nothing of la belle vie), it's a completely Parisian creation, one recognized by its length - it should be about two-feet long (the better to hold under your arm?); its caramel-colored crust that should break into a million little pieces; and its soft innards sporting lots of odd-shaped air pockets.  I know it's heretical, but my favorite baguette doesn't really conform to these rules - it comes from Eric Kayser (he's got shops all around town, but the mother house is at 8 rue Monge, Paris 5) and it's topped with lots of crunchy seeds.  For a more classical loaf, there's Le Boulanger de Monge (123 rue Monge, Paris 5).  And, even though the shop doesn't have a baguette, you can't leave Paris without going to Poilane (8 rue du Cherche Midi, Paris 6) and trying the big, heavy, dark brown, dense and delicious sourdough round.  Poilane is the most famous bread shop in Paris and it deserves every bit of its celebrity.

CROISSANTS: Like a baguette, a croissant is a messy affair, and, like a macaron (see below), it inspires fierce loyalty among its appreciators.  A cross between bread and pastry (they belong to a class of preparations called viennoisserie), croissants can be found in both boulangeries (bread shops) and patisseries (pastry shops).  I'm partial to pastry-shop croissants (it's probably the extra butter), specifically the ones from Pierre Herme (62 rue Bonaparte, Paris 6), Laduree (16 rue Royale and other locations) and Gerard Mulot (76 rue de Seine, Paris 6), who also makes a terrific sour-cherry clafoutis, but that's another story.

MACARONS:  Again, here's something that's known throughout France, but most treasured in Paris, where pastry chefs' reputations are made and ruined on the quality of their macarons.  Macarons (it's the French spelling of macaroons) - a pair of light, puffy almond-meringue cookies sandwiching fillings like ganache, caramel and buttercream - have reached cult status in Paris and locals will crisscross the city to get their favorites or the mac of the moment.  Moi, I just have to walk down the street to Pierre Herme (62 rue Bonaparte, Paris 6). I'm not alone in thinking that Herme makes the world's best macarons - for sure he makes the macs that are most copied around the world.

CHEESES:  Since there is no way you're going to be able to taste all the cheeses of France (of which there are more than 365 - now there's an idea for a year-long blog), the way I see it, you might as well taste the best, which means you've got to go to a place where the cheesemonger is wildly fussy.  For impeccable cheeses that are fussed over with skill, passion, precision and affection, head to Fromagerie Quatrehomme (62 rue de Sevres, Paris 7), where Mme. Quatrehomme is a Meilleur Ouvrier de France (best artisan of France) and does most of the final aging in her own caves.  In addition to Quatrehomme, I often buy cheese at the shop that's closest to my apartment, Fromagerie 31 (31 rue de Seine, Paris 6) and I always buy cheese from Philippe Gregoire of Elevage du Corbier every Sunday at the organic market on the Boulevard Raspail.

ICE CREAM: I know ice cream isn't the first food that jumps to mind when you think of Paris, but it would be a true pity if you went all the way to Paris and missed a scoop from Berthillon (31 rue Saint-Louis-en-l'Ile, Paris 4).  No one knows how Berthillon does it (and they're not telling), but they make ice cream with the deepest, truest flavors ever churned.  Getting ice cream from the shop is a pleasure - when the shop is open: for reasons unfathomable, Berthillon closes in August, the peak of ice-cream season.  Luckily, many shops sell Berthillon and they're so proud to do so that they post signs on their doors saying it's their scoop of choice.

PLATEAU FRUITS DE MER:  Whenever I see a big metal platter with a mound of crushed ice and a pile of oysters, clams, shrimp, langoustines and other precious shellfish, I imagine that I'm in Paris in the 1920s with Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Picasso.  I think part of the rason that I can indulge this culinary hallucination so easily is because my favorite place to enjoy this luxury - and is it ever a luxury (especially now with the dollar so weak) - is at Le Dome (108 boulevard du Montparnasse, Paris 14), a Montparnasse brasserie that was a favorite hang-out for the lights of the Lost Generation.  But if you're not up for a whole plateau, have oysters and a glass of Sancerre either at Le Dome or at my favorite oyster bar, Regis Huitrerie (3 rue de Montfaucon, Paris 6).

CREPES:  A classic Paris street food, crepes are traditionally spread with butter and sugar, slathered with Nutella or sprinkled iwth cheese, but the ones that star chef Yves Camdeborde makes at his creperie (9 carrefour de l'Odeon, Paris 6) are as hearty and original as the food he serves at his next-door bistro, Le Comptoir - they're definitely filling enough to have as a meal (and so chockablock with ingredients that eating them on the run is a challenge).  For crepes you can sit down and eat (like the ones pictured at left), I go to Breizh Cafe, the Paris outpost of the famous creperie in Cancale.  Here the lacy crepes are made with organic ingredients and the fillings can be plain or fancy, sweet or savory.  There's also a terrific (and terrifcally long) cider list.

STEAK-FRITES:  To my mind, the best version of the classic steak-frites dish is found at Bistro Paul-Bert (18 rue Paul-Bert, Paris 11), which is a good thing for me because the place is also one of my hands-down favorite bistros, and you can't beat the combination of having the iconic dish in a setting that's Parisian through and through.  It also doesn't hurt that Bistro Paul-Bert has a remarkable wine list.

CROQUE MONSIEUR AND MADAME:  A croque monsieur is essentially a grilled ham sandwich on white bread, topped with a creamy, cheesy sauce Mornay and run under the broiler; monsieur's madame gets an extra topping: a sunny-side-up egg.  My favorite croques are not so traditional - they're open-faced, built on solid country bread and found at Le Mabillon (164 boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris 6), a cafe with a rock'n'roll attitude and good salads.

CHAMPAGNE:  I know that Champagne isn't typically Parisian, but Paris is the kind of city where you want to order une coupe de Champagne on a whim.  I think it's as much fun to have Champagne in a busy cafe - I'd opt for the Cafe de Flore (172 boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris 6), where Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre once clinked glasses - as in a ritzy bar.  And no bar is ritzy than The Ritz Bar (Hotel Ritz, 15 place Vendome, Paris 1), which is devoted entirely to Champagne.  Other cool bars where Champagne would be the perfect splurge are The Bar at The Plaza Athenee (25 rue Montaigne, Paris 8) or the stylish lounge at l'Hotel (13 rue des Beaux Arts, Paris 6), the hotel where Oscar Wilde famously died above his means. 

Patricia and Walter Wells: They've Always Had Paris ... And Provence

I remember when Patricia Wells left New York for Paris in the 1980s. (Of course Walter went, too -- actually, it was because of Walter that they skipped Gotham -- but I didn't know him or even of him in those days.) She'd been writing for the "Living" section of The New York Times (several incarnations later, today it's the Dining section) and, when I heard she was moving to Paris, I had to beat back more than the occasional sting of jealousy.  How lucky could one person be? And how come she was getting to live my dream?

It was years later, when my own dream came true and I, too, was living in Paris, that Patricia and Walter became my good friends and I discovered that not only had she gotten to live my dream and hers, but she seemed to be living every Francophile's dream -- and she was living it with exuberance and elan and the complete knowledge that she was one of the luckiest people in the world. It's impossible (at least for me) to be jealous of anyone who knows they're lucky, and even more impossible to be jealous of anyone who's worked so hard to be lucky, and whose hard work has brought the rest of us so much joy. Do any of you ever want to be without Patricia's Bistro Cooking? Or Simply French? Or her latest, Vegetable Harvest?  I don't.

In the almost thirty years that Patricia and Walter have been Americans in Paris ... and Provence, she's written iconic books, penned hundreds of restaurant reviews (she was the restaurant critic for the The International Herald Tribune for 27 years), and established two wonderful cooking schools; he's edited Europe's leading English-language newspaper, The International Herald Tribune; and together they've traveled the world in search of great food and great wine and shared everything they've found with their readers. 

In this new book (the first they've written together), We've Always Had Paris .. And Provence, aptly called a scrapbook, we get the back story -- and pictures (don't miss their "formal" wedding portrait).

Walter and Patricia alternate chapters, each telling their own story (and sometimes piping in on the other's tale), and, while their story has a happy ending -- and a happy beginning and middle, too -- you get a sense of what it takes to make a successful life in a foreign country. In case you're wondering, it looks like you'd better pack a lot of energy, flexibility and commitment, a terrific sense of humor and a very finely honed appreciation of the absurd.  A lucky charm wouldn't hurt, either.

And the book's got recipes - several.  Here's one for eggplant, a vegetable that grows in abundance in the Wells's lush garden in Provence.

EGGPLANT IN SPICY TOMATO SAUCE

From We've Always Had Paris .. and Provence, by Patricia and Walter Wells

Equipment: A large deep frying pan with a cover.

4 small, firm, fresh eggplant, washed but not peeled (each about 8 ounces)

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Fine sea salt

2 onions, peeled, halved, and thinly sliced

2 tablespoons thin slivers fresh ginger

6 plump garlic cloves, peeled, halved, green germ removed

1 small fresh chile pepper, minced, or 1 teaspoon ground dried chile

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 1/2 cups tomato sauce

2 cups chicken stock

1) Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.

2) Halve the eggplants lengthwise.  Brush the flesh lightly with 1 tablespoon of the oil and season with salt.  Place the eggplant halves cut side down on a baking sheet.  Place on a rack in the center of the oven and bake until soft and golden, about 30 minutes.

3)  While the eggplant cooks, prepare the sauce:  In a large deep frying pan, combine the onion, the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, and about 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt.  Toss to thoroughly coat the onions with the oil and cook, covered, over low heat until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.  Add the ginger, garlic, chile, and cumin and toss again to evenly coat the onions with the spices.  Add the tomato sauce and chicken stock and simmer, covered, for about 5 minutes.  Add the roasted eggplant halves, burying them in the sauce.  Cook until the eggplant is very tender and has absorbed the sauce, about 20 minutes more.

8 servings

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!