Category Archives: Life

Happy 100th Birthday, Dear Julia Child

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To say Julia Child still inspires me feels as obvious as saying, “Hey, did you know cookies taste good?” Not exactly breaking news. Of course she inspired me, and countless others, in the kitchen and possibly elsewhere. She was the Mister Rogers of cooking — always happy to see you, always believing you could do it, even if it was something difficult and messy. And if your efforts didn’t turn out perfectly? No biggie, you’ll get it next time. She still loves you. Have some wine.

Making Julia’s Boeuf Bourguignon remains one of the greatest accomplishments of my culinary life. I can’t wait until the weather cools off a bit so I can make it again soon. This is definitely a recipe to cook while sipping some wine — but not too much for the chef until it’s on the table. As you can see, it requires a bit of attention and a certain degree of sharpness. You will be in the kitchen almost all day, so don’t plan anything else. But it will be worth the effort, I promise you that.

This recipe was posted here on Food.com originally by Chef Kate. As much as I love my readers, I wasn’t going to transcribe the recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking due to its great length and possible copyright infringements. But it is close enough to the original, let me assure you.

Boeuf Bourguignon a La Julia Child, adapted from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, By Chef Kate on December 12, 2005, Food.com

Ingredients

For the Stew
6 ounces bacon, solid chunk
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 lbs lean stewing beef, cut into 2-inch cubes
1 carrots, peeled and sliced
1 onions, peeled and sliced
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper, freshly ground
2 tablespoons flour
3 cups red wine ( a full bodied wine like Bordeaux or Burgundy or Chianti)
2 -3 cups beef stock ( Simple Beef stock is posted on the site, unsalted and defatted)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 garlic cloves, mashed ( you may choose to add more)
1 sprig thyme ( or 1/2 teaspoon dred thyme)
1 bay leaves, preferably fresh

For the braised onions
18 -24 white pearl onions, peeled
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup beef stock
salt & fresh ground pepper
1 bay leaves
1 sprig thyme
2 sprigs parsley

For the Sauteed Mushrooms
1 lb mushrooms, quartered
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil

Directions

  1. First prepare the bacon: cut off the rind and reserve.
  2. Cut the bacon into lardons about 1/4″ thick and 1 1/2″ long.
  3. Simmer the rind and the lardons for ten minutes in 1 1/2 quarts of water.
  4. Drain and dry the lardons and rind and reserve.
  5. Pre-heat the oven to 450°F.
  6. Put the tablespoon of olive oil in a large (9″ – 10″ wide, 3″ deep) fireproof casserole and warm over moderate heat.
  7. Saute the lardons for 2 to 3 minutes to brown lightly.
  8. Remove to a side dish with a slotted spoon.
  9. Dry off the pieces of beef and saute them, a few at a time in the hot oil/bacon fat until nicely browned on all sides.
  10. Once browned, remove to the side plate with the bacon.
  11. In the same oil/fat, saute the onion and the carrot until softened.
  12. Pour off the fat and return the lardons and the beef to the casserole with the carrots and onion.
  13. Toss the contents of the casserole with the salt and pepper and sprinkle with the flour.
  14. Set the uncovered casserole in the oven for four minutes.
  15. Toss the contents of the casserole again and return to the hot oven for 4 more minutes.
  16. Now, lower the heat to 325°F and remove the casserole from the oven.
  17. Add the wine and enough stock so that the meat is barely covered.
  18. Add the tomato paste, garlic and herbs and the bacon rind.
  19. Bring to a simmer on the top of the stove.
  20. Cover and place in the oven, adjusting the heat so that the liquid simmers very slowly for three to four hours.
  21. The meat is done when a fork pierces it easily.
  22. While the meat is cooking, prepare the onions and mushrooms and set them aside till needed.
  23. For the onion, if using frozen, make sure they are defrosted and drained.
  24. Heat the butter and oil in a large skillet and add the onions to the skillet.
  1. Saute over medium heat for about ten minutes, rolling the onions about so they brown as evenly as possible, without breaking apart.
  2. Pour in the stock, season to taste, add the herbs, and cover.
  3. Simmer over low heat for about 40 to 50 minutes until the onions are perfectly tender but retain their shape and the liquid has mostly evaporated.
  4. Remove the herbs and set the onions aside.
  5. For the mushrooms, heat the butter and oil over high heat in a large skillet.
  6. As soon as the foam begins to subside add the mushrooms and toss and shake the pan for about five minutes.
  7. As soon as they have browned lightly, remove from heat.
  8. To Finish the Stew:.
  9. When the meat is tender, remover the casserole from the oven and empty its contents into a sieve set over a saucepan.
  10. Wash out the casserole and return the beef and bacon to it (discarding the bits of carrot and onion and herbs which remain in the sieve).
  11. Distribute the mushrooms and onions over the meat.
  12. Skim the fat off the sauce and simmer it for a minute or two, skimming off any additional fat which rises to the surface.
  13. You should be left with about 2 1/2 cups of sauce thick enough to coat a spoon lightly.
  14. If the sauce is too thick, add a few tablespoons of stock.
  15. If the sauce is too thin, boil it down to reduce to the right consistency.
  16. Taste for seasoning.
  17. Pour the sauce over the meat and vegetables.
  18. If you are serving immediately, place the covered casserole over medium low heat and simmer 2 to 3 minutes.
  19. Serve in the casserole or on a warm platter surrounded by noodles, potatoes or rice and garnished with fresh parsley.
  20. If serving later or the next day, allow the casserole to cool and place cold, covered casserole in the refrigerator.
  21. 20 minutes prior to serving, place over medium low heat and simmer very slowly for ten minutes, occasionally basting the meat and vegetables with the sauce.

Friend and reader Claire emailed me this lovely Julia Child remix from PBS, and she thought you’d all enjoy it, too. Thanks, Claire.

Happy 100th, dear Julia, and bon appétit! I hope you and Paul are enjoying a good birthday meal tonight.

Notes from our Hawaiian Vacation

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I will start at the end. Ed and I were watching the sunset from our table of the beautiful St. Regis Kauai Grill on our last night on the island, and he asked me if Hawaii was everything I hoped it would be. My wonderful husband was so excited to be fulfilling my lifelong dream, and I wanted so much to give him the answer he wanted. But I couldn’t lie, so I chose my words carefully.

Hawaii is unspeakably gorgeous and pure and breathtaking, and all of the clichés you ever heard about it are true. However, as a 44 year old woman, I have been fortunate to see a lot of the world, and the thrill was no doubt diminished by experience, age and privilege. In economics, this is called the law of diminishing marginal returns. In grandmother-speak, it’s called being spoiled. Life has, blessedly, given me many wonderful experiences, and as a result, the wow factor of Hawaii will never have the same impact as when I first saw it on tv in the 1970s. Those Bradys ruin everything! Nevertheless, it is an experience I will cherish forever.

For those of us living in the northeastern United States, Hawaii was almost like visiting another planet — a planet where everyone is unhurried, laid back, wearing flip flops and smiling for no reason at all. It is so far from our daily reality of rushing and traffic and deadlines and stress, and Kauai, especially, doesn’t resemble anything close to what we know as Real Life. It felt like dessert for dinner seven days a week. It was nice, but it didn’t feel real, and part of that is due to my uptight east coast breeding. Dessert for dinner can feel unsettling after a couple of days. So wrong and yet so right.

Hawaii’s natural beauty far exceeded my expectations. The feel and smell of the air, the temperature of the ocean, the exotic flowers blooming casually from the road like they’re no big deal, the beautiful birds, the crayon box of fish…all perfect. The food, on the other hand, was a bit of a disappointment, even with my low expectations. We had some decent meals (see link above), but I can say with certainty that I’ve eaten much better food right here in Chester County, Pennsylvania.

If you pick any recipe at random from my blog, chances are it will be something with strong flavors, often with a bit of heat. I’m not a lover of bland, boring food and definitely not afraid to go heavy handed on the spices, so keep that in mind while reading this criticism. I found the flavors used in Hawaii to be so strong, so in your face, that the taste of the food was lost altogether. The food didn’t make sense to my palate. As I told my mother, it was as if a child opened my refrigerator door, pulled out all of my condiments and salad dressings, poured them in one large bowl, then emptied my spice rack, mixed everything together, spooned it over fish and topped it with a pineapple. Voila!

The only thing worse than unappealing food is obscenely overpriced unappealing food. We went into this vacation knowing food would be expensive, and that’s just part of vacation we’ve come to accept.. As people who always appreciate a good meal, we don’t mind paying for one. We do, however, resent paying a lot of money for crap. Knowing what I know now, I would do more research about the best places to eat before going back. Don’t get me wrong, some great places do exist, but we chose badly more often than not.

We didn’t travel halfway around the world just to sit on a beach, even though sitting on the beach is one of my favorite activities ever. We planned four main activities for the week: a helicopter ride, a surfing lesson, a Catamaran sail and snorkel, and a luau. Every one of these activities was well worth it and enhanced our understanding and enjoyment of Kauai, and I’m glad we did them, but these are not the experiences I will remember when I’m old.

I will remember my boys playing in the stunningly blue Pacific ocean, hiking some pretty scary trails right out of a Jurassic Park set, eating Hawaii’s famous shave ice (and Nate attempting to order the disgusting flavor combo of pickles and grandma’s apple pie — he certainly got into the Hawaiian spirit!), playing the coconut instrument bought at Foodland while hula dancing in the living room. I will remember my boys chasing peacocks and chickens, and petting the sweet rescue dog wearing a lei in the t-shirt shop. I will remember the kindness of all the people and the waitress singing Happy Birthday to Andrew in her beautiful voice. But there were other times, too, where we were That Annoying Family. There was a fair amount of bickering and disharmony and snippiness. That’s part of vacation, too, and not a part I enjoy. Like overpriced dried out hamburgers, I accept it’s part of the package, especially with kids aged 16, 11 and 9.

I hope when they look back years from now, they will forget the bad stuff and only remember the sunshine and rainbows. Mahalo, Hawaii. You were worth the wait.

The daily rainbow

Napali coast from helicopter.

I took this picture above especially for my friend Marykate.

Surf school. One of these people didn’t graduate.

My Brady Fantasy Vacation Coming True After 35 Years of Dreaming

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Now before y’all start throwing rotten tomatoes at me, I fully realize it should be against the law to go to Paris and Hawaii in the same summer. Let me assure you that this is due to an unusual amount of star alignment in my life, and only a fool would pass up the opportunity, even though I do feel slightly Oprahesque in my level of self indulgence. But as Ed’s farmer ancestors would say, “Make hay while the sun shines.”

I am curious to try the food in Hawaii, but I’ll admit my expectations are low. It seems like all of the fresh fruit and seafood would make for wonderful dining, but I am still traumatized and slightly insulted by the notion of Hawaiian pizza. I truly can’t imagine anything more disgusting to do to pizza than top it with ham and pineapple. What’s up with that, Hawaii?

I have been fortunate to travel a bit in my life, but I have never set foot in the Pacific Ocean. We briefly considered Tahiti for our honeymoon, but settled on the much more “sensible” for east coasters St. Barth’s. And somehow I knew that if I didn’t make it to the Pacific on my honeymoon, I wouldn’t get there until I was much, much older. Even as a starry eyed soon-to-be newlywed, I knew how life worked. Flights are long and expensive, vacation days are limited. I was hopeful that eventually my day would come.

I still remember being in second grade, watching the Brady Bunch gleefully hit Hawaii on our crappy old staticky TV. It was my very first Liz Lemon “I want to go to there” moment; I didn’t even care that all kinds of horrible things happened to them there. Hawaii was propelled to the top of my list of places to visit, where it remained for the rest of my life (unlike Disney World, which was removed from the list by age ten). Alas, going to Hawaii was about as feasible as owning my own horse, which is to say only slightly more feasible than my anti-gambling mother hitting the lottery. When I tell you this is my dream, I am not being melodramatic. This really is my lifelong dream. And here it is! I don’t even mind that I’m closer in age to Alice than I am to Marcia.

Aloha, friends!

Happy First Birthday, Mom Mom’s Apron!

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When my first son was born in 1996, scrapbooking was all the rage. Ambitious moms everywhere made gorgeous die-cut pages of everything from their baby’s first tooth to their baby’s first head injury. Typical of so many interests in my life (exercise, needlepoint, a raw food diet, etc.), I liked the idea of it so much more than actually doing it. That is why there are probably $500 worth of scrapbooking supplies spread throughout the house, and only two completed scrapbook pages.

Like many other endeavors I’ve quit/failed, I rationalized why it was so stupid and I really didn’t want to do it anyway. My favorite criticism is that scrapbooking is inauthentic and designed to make mothers feel like they’re so perfect with their themed birthday parties and coordinated first day of school outfits and exotic vacations. That isn’t real life, I said. That is only the highlight reel. Where is the blow-out diaper page? Where is the bad report card page? Where is the speech therapy page?

I started this blog to record my favorite recipes, but I quickly realized it was a vehicle for recording my life. And, like a scrapbooker, I am choosing to record mostly the good parts, with a few mundane parts thrown in. While my life is incredibly blessed, it is far from perfect, and I serve no one by pretending it is. That is one of the dangers of blogging — the sometimes inauthentically perfect picture one paints. As a reader of many blogs, especially lifestyle blogs, I know that sometimes you just want to throw rotten tomatoes at Little Miss Perfect. Sometimes, in your darker moments, you wait for her to fail. And sometimes you flat out hope that she does fail. I hope no one feels that way about me, but I understand. Out of respect for my family and my kids, and out of my own stubborn pride, I am not sharing the difficult parts, the unglamorous parts, the sad parts. But let me assure you, those parts exist, too. Yes, indeedy, they do.

A lot of people have asked me if I’ve reached blogging “success.” I have no idea what that means, really, but I’m pretty sure the answer is no. I’ve yet to earn enough money from this blog to buy even the cheapest cup of coffee from Starbucks, but I’ve earned enough for a box of Altoids. Maybe by this time next year I’ll have earned enough for an entire lunch. However, I have produced a nice record of food I served my family for the last year and archived some recipes and experiences I’m sure would be otherwise forgotten. As I get older and forget more and more little details, it’s nice to go back and see a reference to a birthday or a hurricane or an ordinary day of my life in 2011.

I am so grateful for every single reader, regular or occasional, every single comment, every person who has stumbled across here through a Google search for an easy lasagne. I am honored you took the time to read my recipes and stories, and I’m hoping you’ll stay with me for another year.

To commemorate my blogiversary, I am highlighting my favorite recipes from each category posted the first year of this blog. This was harder than expected, but I’m a sucker for a Best Of list, and I thought it would be a good way to mark my first anniversary and perhaps resurrect some recipes buried in the archives.

Mom Mom’s Apron 1st Anniversary Best Of List, 2011-2012:

Best Appetizer

Best Salad

Best Main Dish

Best Side Dish

Best Sauce

Best Dessert

The Food Groups of Paris

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Writing about the food of Paris is almost as overwhelming as writing about my wedding day or the birth of a child — so filled with wonder, joy, sublime layers and feelings, but I can barely manage to choke out more than tired cliches when attempting to describe it, and those tired cliches will never do it justice. What shall I include? What shall I omit? Anything I write will be woefully inadequate, but I feel compelled to try.

How was the food and dining experience in Paris? Spectacular. Wondrous. Magical. Artistic. Satisfying. Fresh. Delicious. Loving. I am so happy that my fancy, dress-wearing events occurred at the beginning of my time in Paris and not at the end, because I’m pretty sure none of my dresses would have zipped up by days 5 through 10. Needless to say, we ate well. Very, very well.

I am intrigued, almost to the point of obsession, about how a country can remain so slim and chic, yet eat like they do. After careful study, I have concluded a few things. One, like many city dwellers throughout the world, they walk a lot. Lydia estimated that she walks about five kilometers a day (about three miles), and I believe it. They are not a sedentary people and yet most do not seem overly occupied with le sport and working out, as we do.

Two, they are not snackers. French people savor every meal, eating slowly, always putting down their forks between bites. Meals are never rushed. That was one of my favorite things about my time there — the ability to feel like I can sit, relax, eat, and converse through multiple courses. The fact that much of the country is still eating multi-course dinners at 9:00 pm does not seem to hurt their waistlines, so our old American maxim of “no eating after 7:00 pm” is heartily disproved in France.

And finally? Portion, portion, portion control. I loved eating an appetizer, main course, salad, dessert or cheese, followed by coffee or armagnac, and never once feeling like Miss Piggy because it really was a little bit of everything and most places did not serve giant American portions. I was satisfied without feeling like a glutton. Considering how well I ate, I really didn’t gain that much weight — about two and a half pounds. I am quite sure most Parisians would struggle maintaining their weight if they ate twenty-seven restaurant meals in row, too. I have a feeling if I ate as many American restaurant meals for ten days straight, that number on the scale would be much higher. In any event, only an idiot would go to Paris and attempt to keep any sort of diet. The food is as much a part of the landscape as the museums and monuments, and missing out on that would be missing out on Paris itself.

I love escargot so much that it hurts. It is truly one of my perfect foods, and having escargot in Paris was one of the greatest experiences of my culinary life. I think I ordered escargot four times during the course of my visit, and they were spectacular every time. The picture above is from a lovely restaurant in Le Marais called Carrette. Most of the time, they were served as pictured above, but I did order them once in puffed pastry, too. The simple preparation using garlic, wine, butter and herbs is my favorite.

Croissants are a big part of daily life in France, and even though I am not a big bread-in-the-morning fan, skipping croissants seemed like skipping the Eiffel Tower. This picture of my daily French breakfast was taken from my neighborhood cafe, a spot which was cordial but not especially friendly. However, the price was right — under 4 euros for a coffee and croissant, while my hotel charged three times that amount for the same plus cereal and fruit. It was a nice start to my morning, sitting outside with my leisurely croissant and coffee while planning my day. I will miss my daily croissant, but my jeans will stop fitting if I continue this tradition.

Salads are a popular choice for lunchtime, and I ordered a slightly different version of this carpaccio salad at least three times that I can recall. It was incredibly flavorful and satisfying without ever feeling heavy. I am going to attempt to make something like this at home very soon.

If I ate escargot every chance I got, Ed ate some version or another of salmon tartare: he had salmon tartare topped with avocado, he had salmon tartare topped with cream, he had salmon tartare topped with crab, and, shown above, he had salmon tartar topped with quinoa and herbs. Each version was delicious, but this one was probably my favorite.

Finally, no food post about Paris is complete without mentioning macarons, the petite French almond cookies filled with ganache. Macarons may have been around since the de’ Medicis, but they just came on to my radar recently. (Also, I recently discovered a hot new band from England called The Beatles, have you heard of them?) The two great places to purchase macarons in Paris are Laduree (pictured above) or Pierre Hermé, which was conveniently located around the corner of our hotel. I am still trying to process how I feel about macarons. For one, they are pricey — about $1.60 a piece, which is certainly one way to help exercise self control while eating cookies. This tiny box, which any of my children could single-handedly consume in one sitting, was about $28. Like many other delusional American home cooks, I think I will attempt to make them myself one of these days. Julia Child has taught me to be fearless in the kitchen.

I have so much more to share — I could easily go on (and on and on and on) for weeks more, but I do believe it is finally time to stop and focus on the present. I will leave you with one of my favorite pictures taken from a market in Le Marais, and it sums up Paris perfectly: the ordinary is beautiful, and there is beauty everywhere you turn. Everywhere. I am so incredibly fortunate to have had this experience, and I know it will always be with me in a thousand different ways. I have changed for the better.

I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil. — Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Postcard from Paris #3

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Another highlight of my trip was an afternoon of lunch and shopping with my aunt’s cousin Lydia. It was nice to spend the day with a real Parisian, and a lovely one at that. I could exhale a bit and let someone else do the talking and expert maneuvering around Paris. Our first stop was the rather intimidating 24 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, home of Hermès. I simply could not go to Paris without stopping in there — if for no other reason than to say that I did — but I was happy to have my new French friend for backup. I considered buying a tie for Ed, but the one I liked the best is only available in the heavier silk twill, and I know that he would not have liked the thicker weight. The legendary window display was a vibrant yellow, with Kellys in offbeat combinations of red and green, orange and blue. If we’re shopping with my imaginary money, I’d still probably get my Kelly in a practical black color. See? Even imaginarily rich, I retain my good sense.

After Hermès, Lydia treated me to a fabulous outdoor lunch of beef carpaccio salad with shaved parmesan and mille feuille for dessert, and we headed to the world-renown Galeries Lafayette in search of a new handbag for moi. When we arrived at the Longchamp boutique, it was literally take-a-number-line-forms-here busy. Lydia told me that the Longchamp bags are really nothing special and not highly regarded among fashion savvy Frenchwomen, but very favored by foreigners. I read between the lines. She directed me to the Lancel section and told me Frenchwomen appreciate this brand which has been around since 1876 even though they have no presence in the US, and I immediately was drawn to the totes of their French Flair collection. Beautiful leather, beautiful hardware, and reversible (which I told myself would rationalize significantly blowing my self-imposed budget to Ed — if we think of it as TWO handbags instead of one, it’s almost a bargain, n’est ce pas?). I was happy to go for a bag which just felt better quality and aesthetically more “me.” It was a joy to shop with Lydia (don’t even get me started on the shoes! and the mustard!) and I look forward to her visit to the US later this summer.

My neighbor had recommended an English speaking wine tasting class by Ô Chateau, and we signed up for this one. From the website:

Ô Chateau’s Wine and Cheese Lunch has become a landmark for any gourmand traveler. We designed this tasting as a fun and different way to spend a meal in Paris. Instead of going to yet another restaurant, our Wine and Cheese Lunch is a great opportunity not only to taste good French products but also to get an education about them.

The tasting starts at noon in a beautiful tasting room. We’ll taste five different wines, coming from five different regions of France. From Champagne to Bordeaux, from Sancerre to the Rhone… just sit back and enjoy this tasty Tour de France of wine and cheeses – O Chateau style!

Most of the presentation will be focused on wine. Yet, your sommelier will suggest pairings, will explain to you why this cheese might work better with that wine. While you indulge in two of France’s best delicacies, you will learn about French wine, how to read a French label, how to pair it with food; you’ll be taken through a tour of France’s main wine regions…

A day spent walking around Paris can sure create an appetite, so servings of wine and cheese are generous. Plus we add some charcuterie (smoked ham from the South West of France, saucisson from Corsica…) to bring even more joy and color to the table.

I can assure you that this was every bit as fabulous as it sounds and definitely worth every euro. Sure, I am going to be absolutely insufferable at cocktail parties now, what with all my new found knowledge and dramatic affectations, but I accept that.

The weather in Paris was on the rainy side during our visit, but it rarely ever rained for long. Sunday was our first truly legitimate 100% sunny day, and the Parisians finally shed their coats and scarves and lounged en masse at the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was lovely to see so many people at rest, soaking up the sunshine and relaxing so openly. Like so much in Paris, the scene below felt right out of a movie. On the way to the gardens, we saw a man riding a bike with his little dog in the basket. Then we walked by a woman resting her head on a man’s shoulder while he read a book of poetry aloud. Can I make up a more beautiful French scene if I tried?

Next time: Food, fashion, whimsy and au revoir

Postcard from Paris #2

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When we first got to Paris, we took a hop-on-hop-off tour of the Seine, and we passed this massive palatial building strangely called L’Hôtel National des Invalides. We were very confused. What kind of hotel has armed guards with machine guns patrolling its exterior?  And who names a hotel after sick people? And why does it look like a palace? So many questions, but we were jet lagged and Eiffel tower bound, so we forgot about Les Invalides. (You can read all the answers by clicking the Wiki link on the name). Then on Tuesday night Ed informed me we had invitations to a private reception at the confusing “hotel” we saw known as Les Invalides, which is actually the site of Napoleon’s tomb as well as three different museums. But the real selling point (aside from awesome food and wine) was “fanfare” by the regiment de cavalerie de la garde republicaine, otherwise known as French military officers riding giant horses while playing trumpets, trombones, drums and prancing in elaborately choreographed circles. It was jaw-droppingly spectacular, and I will never forget my front row view. It felt like such a brazenly Napoleonic display of French superiority and made me proud to be a wannabe-Frenchman!

Here lies Napoleon.

Despite my secret suspicion that I hail from French royalty, I finally got over myself and braved the Metro. It was actually quite easy and user-friendly, even with its massive maze of colors and numbers and connecting commuter trains and various you-can’t-get-there-from-here type scenarios. Okay, I will admit my iPhone’s Metro app helped me tremendously, but more due to the tiny map print’s assault on my aging eyes than the actual directional challenges. After all, I am a veteran of the Philadelphia public transportation system, and the Metro/RER is the Ritz compared to Philly’s SEPTA. That said, urine smells the same in every country, and it’s still not my favorite method of transportation. Alas, champagne taste, beer budget.

I learned each Metro stop has its own “charm,” and some are more charming than others. I think Palais Royal, the blingiest Metro entrance ever, is my favorite. It made me happy every time I saw it. (I should note the black background of my scarf is making me look “fluffier” than I actually am, but I couldn’t resist sharing this picture).

At least four people have told me to skip the Louvre and head to the Musée d’Orsay, and now I understand why! What a fabulous little museum with a very impressive collection. The layout is so smart and logical, and I was lucky to catch a special exhibit of Degas’ nudes.

After my morning of conquering the Metro, next big adventure was sitting down in a very French, not very touristy cafe and ordering a lovely lunch, only to discover that my American magnetic strip credit cards were not accepted for the 23 euro bill, and I only had 9 euros on me. Quelle horreur! I don’t even know how to say, “May I wash the dishes?” in French. Fortunately, I was permitted to run to the nearest ATM (I left my Kindle there as a goodwill gesture, though nobody required me to do so), and I came back with plenty of cash.

I would be horrified enough if that happened in the US, but Paris? Ack! Fortunately, the Parisians have been nothing but lovely to me — everyone from taxi drivers to Metro clerks to waiters to Ed’s French business associates. I have nothing but compliments for them, and I’m a bit puzzled as to why they seem to get such a tough rap in the tour guides as rude and unfriendly. Au contraire! I feel like I understand their demeanor quite well, as I am quiet and reserved towards strangers (sometimes incorrectly confused for snobbery or elitism) but I will gladly help anyone who is polite and asks for my help. By the end of my trip, five different people asked me for directions en francais; certainly the most flattering compliment ever was to be mistaken for a Parisian who knows her way around town. My French is not great at all, but I do try, and perhaps that is the difference among people who are finding them rude.

I must tend to my enfants now, but I promise there is much more to share later this week.

Postcard from Paris #1

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I have found that it is the little things about Paris which have charmed me the most. We arrived and walked right to the massively overwhelming Louvre, where we saw countless Parisians and their little dogs on the beautiful grounds. Even the dogs have a delightful joie de vivre, frolicking in the shadow of the world’s greatest art collection with reckless abandon. I tend to keep a short leash on both my pets and my children, so I watched with wonder while a little Jack Russell terrier ran freely across acres of hundreds of people and their dogs, owner nowhere in sight and yet no doubt well cared for. He wound up at a fancy outdoor cafe near the pyramids, where a formidable older woman was dining with her dog, complete with a silver bowl of water on the ground. The Jack Russell waltzed right up and helped himself to the other dog’s water, and I shot the picture below. I don’t know why it made me so happy, but it did. It also made me question why I am so uptight. I would never allow my dog to do that, and yet is was such a joyful thing to watch. Maybe these Parisians are on to something.

We also witnessed a police chase. On rollerblades. We saw three African street vendors with their massive displays of Eiffel tower key chains jingling behind them, followed by three rollerblade-clad police officers chasing them into traffic where the vendors deftly jumped the concrete barriers the police could not pass with their rollerblades. Maybe you had to be there, but it was one of those funny, “Did we just see that?” moments. When your life is very predictable and orderly, the colorful characters of a city are a pleasant treat.

I could dedicate a whole blog to French children’s fashion alone. I have never seen such well dressed children in my life. Hats, scarves, wee little hipster glasses — I can hardly stand the cuteness. It almost made me want to have another child so I could dress him properly this time around. If it was socially acceptable to take pictures of strangers’ children, I would have many examples to show you. This little girl walked past Ed while I was taking his picture, so I don’t feel so bad sharing it:

My sense of direction is very poor, but I am at least able to follow a simple grid-like map for dummies in cities like New York and Philadelphia — the the kind of map you get in third grade when you learn basic map reading skills. While these cities have tall buildings, they also have a lot of unique landmarks among their gridlike plan, so I can usually bumble my way through. Paris, on the other hand, has street after street of beautiful but similar style limestone buildings, plus the occasional palatial museum, peppered with restaurants, cafes and brasseries. In addition, optical stores are everywhere — eyeglasses are a huge accessory in Paris, and I quickly learned using an optical shop as a landmark was a very bad idea. The glorious maze of quaint side streets caused me to walk in circles for 45 minutes all the while being a mere two minutes from my intended destination. Embarrassing and sad. On the plus side, it’s also a bit magical. If you’re going to get lost anywhere, I highly suggest getting lost in Paris. Nestled between the alleys, I would stumble upon the classy French version of a strip mall (picture below) and it reminded me a bit of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe — a totally unexpected world.

Based on yesterday’s “adventure,” I was hesitant to set out on my own for Palais Garnier, but I had no choice. I didn’t come to Paris to sit in a hotel room. I realized my modern life is filled with very few challenges. And even though finding a giant opera house less than half a mile from my hotel is not exactly Amazing Race material, I felt proud of myself. I met up with a group from the highly recommended Paris Walks, and I was able to enjoy the rich history of THE opera house which inspired Phantom of the Opera even more.

One of the highlights of my trip (and probably my life) was attending a reception at the US Embassy and meeting Ambassador Charles Rivkin and his wife Susan Tolson. The embassy feels like a country estate right in the middle of busy Paris. The interior was opulent (what isn’t opulent in France?) but the grounds and the gardens surprised me the most. The wine ranked up there with the best I ever drank, and the appetizers were innovative and — of course — beautiful and très petite. More on the food and wine in later posts, I promise.

I don’t usually share too much about Ed’s work, as it’s his story to tell and not mine, but I will say that I am so proud of the work he and his colleagues do, and so humbled by the sacrifice made by our military. I was honored to be mingling with such a fine group of people and didn’t expect the evening to inspire feelings of patriotism. I was truly impressed with every person I met at the embassy and walked away feeling like our country is in very capable hands. I realize I don’t get out much, but one thing living in Chester County, Pennsylvania has taught me is the ability to tell the difference between genuinely impressive people and people who just try to impress you. I was in a room full of genuinely impressive people, and not one show-off in the bunch. Très refreshing!

I have blathered on long enough for one post. If you are still reading this, merci! I will probably file two more trip reports (more for my own decrepit memory than for any other reason, but I will try hard not to bore you).

See also: Postcard #2, Postcard#3, The Food Groups of Paris

She Went to Paris, Looking for Answers to Questions That Bothered Her So

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With apologies to Mr. Jimmy Buffett.

Tomorrow I am leaving for Paris for ten days with Ed. We have both been to Paris separately, but never together. This trip is part business for Ed, all pleasure for me. Our hotel is walking distance to the Louvre, a stone’s throw from Opéra Garnier, and not too far from the Mothership. A thousand thank yous to my part-time boss, full-time friend who has outfitted me with a king’s ransom worth of Hermès from her private collection. It is not every day that a friend insist you borrow scarves, shawls and handbags which retail for more than your first car. Of all the things I will remember about this trip, I am sure my friend’s generosity will rank right up there.

I was fifteen the first time I went to Europe. My single mother believed so strongly in the benefit of travel that she dipped into her hard-earned savings so that I could participate with my classmates. It was an amazing trip — Paris, Nice, Cannes, Monte Carlo, no drinking age, and minimal supervision. We flew over on Pan-Am, back when people still smoked on airplanes and wandered the aisles with full shampoo bottles in their oversized carry-ons large enough to fit a five year old child. I loved every single second of it, and I’m so grateful for the sacrifice my mother made to send me there.

Now once again, I could not be going without Mom. She will be staying in my house and watching my three kids and crazy dog for ten days, which is no small feat. Thanks, Mom! I wish you strength and a sense of humor, and please know that we realize this trip would be impossible without you. Thanks, too, for my wonderful Dad and his girlfriend, who are my designated relief pitchers as well as emergency back-up. I will sleep well knowing my kids are in such great hands.

When I was younger, there was no place I didn’t want to go. I had such a drive to connect with the rest of the world and so firmly believed the shift in perspective achieved through travel contributes to an understanding of what’s really important, what really threads together humanity. And then the years passed and I got more and more insulated in my safe little world. International travel — especially without my whole family in tow — seemed more scary, more of a hassle, more stress, less fun. There is still a part of me remaining who knows it’s a good thing to get away, but she’s buried deep.

And all of the answers and all of the questions
Locked in his attic one day
’cause he liked the quiet clean country livin’
And twenty more years slipped away

—Jimmy Buffett, He Went to Paris

As I’ve told my friends, complaining about going to Paris is like complaining you’re too skinny to find a good pair of jeans. Not a lot of people are very sympathetic. And I’m not complaining, really. But I’m slightly worried and anxious about this trip, and I hate that I am. Travel is a leap of faith, especially for control freaks. However, I am determined to push through the fear and not let it stop me from doing something I really want to do. It’s what I would tell my children to do, and it’s what I need to do myself.

There are definitely two different people inhabiting me, and they frequently battle for dominance. Adventurous Me wants to travel the world and Safe Me wants to stay right where she is. Safe Me has been mostly winning the past twenty years and has developed into a bit of a hothouse orchid. She’s not that keen on leaving her perfectly controlled pristine environment and setting out for where Thar Be Dragons. But I realize that hothouse orchid is just a hop, skip and a jump away from agoraphobia, and I will not go there. I refuse. I am choosing Paris instead.

I can’t wait to share all of my adventures with you, culinary and otherwise. I am excited to stretch outside my comfort zone and return home to my loving family and friends with a fresh new perspective. And maybe a new scarf or two. Au revoir, mes amis. Je vous adore.

Never go on trips with someone you do not love. — Ernest Hemingway, A Movable Feast

Mom Mom Has a New Apron

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We all know I love aprons, especially my Mom Mom’s apron, despite looking like a depression-era hausfrau whenever I wear it. Which is many times a week. But I also like other aprons, and I’m fortunate to have a couple of friends who sew.

My friend Ivy sent me this lovely apron recently. I love that it’s pretty but also a busy enough print that I won’t think twice about wiping my saucy, greasy hands on it. That’s the problem with a lot of my aprons — my mom instincts kick in and I don’t want to get them dirty! I have learned that dark or busy prints are very forgiving.

Ivy has some free time this summer and could possibly make you an apron, too. She is an honest woman who does high quality work at a fair price. If you’re interested in commissioning an apron of your very own, you can contact Ivy at Ivychilde@aol.com