Yes, We're OK

You may have heard the news -- a terrorist shooting in the Marais at the offices of a satire magazine, Charlie Hebdo. While it's true we live in the Marais, we were nowhere near the scene of the crime, so don't worry about us. But not everybody was so lucky. Anthony's boss lives right in that area, and his daughter's school is just buildings away, so he rushed home to be with his family.

 

You may already have read the full posting (and if  not, please visit A Year in Fromage).

 

As for today, here are a few small updates, beyond the signs we see in the windows:

 

 

The city is quieter than usual. And feels a bit weird. The rainy gray morning didn't help matters, but now it's sunny and blue and looks a little cheerier. Still, it's not its normal self.

 

Letters from both of the girls' schools: various security measures put in place. A moment of silence at noon, at which time the Bells of Notre Dame -- and churches around the city (probably the whole country) also ring out. Most flags at half mast.

Super Ass Gyros

I'm just not sure: Would I rather have Oriental Pain, or a Super Ass Gyro?

 

 

Just after posting at A Year in Fromage about the signs in France that make me giggle I come across these gems. I've updated the posting over there, but if you've already read it, you can just enjoy these few new additions here. If not, click over and see what other beauties I've found.

And in case you're wondering, what's actually behind the strategically-placed sign in the café sign above is the letter "A".

An Inconvenient Truth

This convenience store, called 8 to Eight, is open Monday through Saturday, 8am till 7pm, except for from 12:30 till 3:30, and not at all on Wednesday afternoons, or on Sundays. So not when you're generally not working, or hungry, at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Very convenient indeed.



To see more about what I am failing to accomplish because nothing is open when I need it to be, check out A Year in Fromage.

Le Butter Chicken Bagel

Nothing says "authentic New York bagel" quite like an Indian restaurant called "Le Butter Chicken" serving bagels in Paris.

If you haven't read my story about the Brooklynization of Paris (alternate title: Bagels, and Donuts, and Hot Dogs, Oh My!) at A Year in Fromage, you can read it here.

While They Party

This year's Mother's Day poem from Pippa:

 

You love orange.

I like blue.

You love black.

And I like to snack.

This is my mom

that I've known for long.

She took care of me

While I partied.

Besides the obvious issues with the rhyme sequence and how the poem scans (and don't even get me started on the spelling, which I corrected for you), is anybody else concerned that my 8 year old is out there partying?

I will say this, though: This year's French Mother's Day turns out to be the greatest ever. The picture below, taken this afternoon, gives you just a tiny hint why. But I'm saving that story for another day, because it's a doozy...

 

Carbo Loading

It's that magical time, the breadiest time of the year. For those of us that live by Notre Dame, at least. This year, not only does Pippa go as a field trip (and this means me too, as a chaperone), but the girls also get to make some bread once when we stop in to buy a baguette. Gigi gets private lessons from one of the most celebrated bread bakers in France (and, therefore, in the world, the man on her right). No, I don't know his name.

Here are a few photos from our latest visit, too late to make the story at A Year in Fromage.

 

 

 

Left to their own devices, this is what they choose to make. Gigi wants to make (and eat, entirely by herself) a classic baguette. It is so hot from the oven here that she can barely hold it, though you'll notice she somehow managed to eat one crouton (end of the bread) already. And Pippa makes the braided ring she's been dreaming of. She wasn't allowed to on the field trip, since they had to fit almost 30 loaves on a baking sheet. The ring turns out perfectly, and we dub it a baguegel (pronounced "ba-GAY-gul", a.k.a. a bagel made of baguette dough). I think it's beautiful and, with a little refinement, it could become a hot new trend.

  

There's a dairy booth open today that has this poster. You know what I'm thinking...Three Years in Fromage? A Life in Fromage?

 

The Eurovision Factor

Drumroll please...It's time for the 59th annual Eurovision contest: the Europe-wide hunt for the best, newest, freshest, and undoubtedly cheesiest new song and performer from each country. We have Eurovision to thank (or blame) for ABBA (1974, Sweden, "Waterloo") and Céline Dion (1988, for the song "Ne Partez Pas Sans Moi", representing Switzerland despite being Canadian. I call shenanigans). It's like the Oscars, the X Factor, the Olympics, and the Miss America pageant all rolled together, with more fog machines and floor lighting and almost no commercial breaks (God, I love Europe sometimes!).

 

 

If you're feeling at all fabulous, festive, morbidly curious, or feel the need to see identical twins, dairy maidens, teeter totters, ice skating, Matlese country singers, and/or transvestites. you really need to see the videos and read the scoop at A Year in Fromage.

 

Pastry P*rn

In case you're in the mood to look at pastry p*rn, you can check out A Year in Fromage, where viennoiserie waits for you. I hope you like your pastries flaky, because it's a really crummy posting.

Four Bulletins & A Snafu

Bulletin #1 -- a language one:

I know we've been living in France for a while now because the girls are speaking strange franglais.  Their latest: Pippa talks about all the science experiences she's doing in school. At which point Gigi yells, "experiments! Experiments!" At which point I point out that Gigi recently says that if she doesn't get a good grade for something she'd worked really hard on, it will be "a big deception." At which point I correct "disappointment! Disappointment!"

Also, Gigi talks about the book Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Uzbekistan. Perhaps she's not hearing quite enough English.

Bulletin #2 --  a gym one:

I realize it looks like I'm being one of those bragging parents who keeps pointing out my children's accomplishments, but I swear it's because I myself am amazed. They're doing stuff in gymnastics that I was never able to do, and learning and progressing so quickly it's crazy. So just know that this honestly is not coming from a place of vanity. It's coming from a place of pure jealousy, frankly. I so wish I could have done this when I was their age! And I harbor no illusions about them being Olympians or even serious competitors in the States. The level here is lower, and mostly recreational, and they're not fanatical about pointing toes and straightening legs. But still, I'm impressed.

Bulletin #3 -- a yummy one:

Near the Bourse, on and around rue Saint-Anne, I have finally found the Japantown part of Paris. I feel like the food here is better and more authentic-tasting, relatively speaking, than Parisian Chinese food. Having lived in both Japan (for many years) and Taiwan, I feel like I can say this with some authority. It fills a craving in a huge way for ramen and gyoza, and it's delicious, but it's still not as good as actually eating Japanese food in Tokyo. Naturally.

 

 

Bulletin #4 -- a bureaucratic one:

It turns out my latest carte de séjour had the wrong expiration date on it -- months earlier than it should be. Luckily, I look at my card a week or so before that date, and I manage to get my paperwork in just in the nick of time. Of course, that means I don't have a valid card for several months until the bureaucratic wheels (powered by Flintstone woodpeckers) have approved my legal status and manufactured and delivered my new card. That's OK: I don't carry it with me, ever since the multiple pickpocketing incidents, and I've never been asked to provide it, anyway.

And the snafu -- or is it?:

We still don't know where we'll be next school year, but we do know the girls will not be back at their school in San Francisco: The school didn't have any vacancies for them! By staying away more than two years, we lost our automatic, guaranteed spots, and the school had record-low attrition. With no available spots to give, we can't be insulted at all, got a really nice personalized note, and still love the school. We are not devastated. Those of you who know me know that a) I have been gunning to stay longer in Paris anyway and b) I generally find that life works out wonderfully -- and often in the most unusual ways. In fact, the more unusual, the better, in my mind. In case you're wondering, they do still have their spots guaranteed here at their Paris schools (which they love), and the girls are both excited about the idea of staying longer, too. So we're gearing up for the very real possibility (though as Anthony will tell you -- not the inevitability) that we might stay yet another year....Stay tuned.

 

Gold Mountain - New Meaning

Gold Mountain used to mean San Francisco to me. Now it means this delicious dinner. One of the nice things about doing A Year in Fromage is that once it comes up in conversation, nearly all of my French friends have something they are excited to share. My friend Claire, another gymnastics mom, assures me that I cannot write about cheese and become any sort of cheese expert without having a full Mont d'Or dinner. Who am I to argue?

 

She graciously invites me to her home in the Marais and serves not just the typical Mont d'Or winter dinner, but also a wine from her godparent's vineyard -- an AOC wine of the Jura called Arbois Cuvée Béthanie -- that is specially chosen to go with the cheesy meal. And this meal is cheesy, make no mistake, but not in the sense of tacky or gauche. It's an absolutely lovely tradition involving a melted, oozy, gooey winter cheese. To find out more, see A Year in Fromage.

Bubble Trouble

In case you were wondering, Bubble Tea -- those sweet Chinese tapioca drinks -- are taking over Paris, too. Well, anyplace there's Chinese food nearby and in many tourist spots where there's likely to be Chinese tourists. The girls love their Bubble Tea, as you can tell at the New Year's Parade in Paris' Chinatown. It was their favorite part of the event. In fact, they look like an ad for Bubble Tea. "Bubble Tea! It's Bubblicious!"

 

It's a packed crowd, but the girls are small enough to squeeze in at the front. I give Gigi the camera, and see whether she's inherited the Kodak gene. Turns out, she has! Here are some parts of the Chinese New Year's Parade that are colorful, and interesting. But not as great as Bubble Tea:

 

 

 

 

 

Gong Hey Fat Choy! Happy New Year! And may it be filled with bubbles.

 

 

 

Sweetest Job Ever

My most recent article for the Wall Street Journal is about the best artisanal, hand-made candy makers in Europe. And while I can't repeat any information or photos that you'll find in the article, I can send you over there to read it.

As you can imagine, Anthony and the girls had a lot of fun helping me research it:

 

Meanwhile, I am allowed to share with you some things that didn't make the article; I could write a whole book on just this store and its contents!

 

The store in Paris, Bonbon au Palais (which means Candy at the Palace), is the prettiest candy store I have ever seen in my life, bar none.

There's even more about the store at A Year in Fromage, but what I didn't include there was all the non-French candy the girls also got to enjoy.

Here are loads of delicious Irish candies in our house for the tasting and photo shoot:

 

 

 

And here with a gorgeous Spanish lollipop. They're not complaining!

 

Coffee & Cheese

Forget about coffee & tea, coffee & cream, coffee & donuts. This is the new combo. Yes, it's coffee & stinky cheese.



Remember how I talked about things that are a good deal here in France? That give me sticker joy?Well, dishware is one of those things. Santa brought me some lovely bowls this Christmas, and I just bought mugs to match. I was getting so sick of the mismatched mugs left in this apartment. My friend Sarah has always said she pities me that I don't like coffee, since to her every morning's cup feels like Christmas morning. Well, she shouldn't pity me too much, because that's how I feel about a great cup of tea (ideally, with milk and sugar). The girls and I are fully addicted to a new fancy Mariage Frères flavor, with the unfortunate name of "American Breakfast Tea." There's nothing American about it; it's got hints of malt and caramel, it's strong, and divine.

So that tea in my new mugs? The only thing I can think of more cheerful than writing a big "Yippee!" is a photo of my new mugs and bowls. Click here to read more....

 

Cheesing It Up/ Hamming It Up

In case you haven't signed up yet for A Year in Fromage or haven't remembered to check it out lately, I just thought I'd give you some of the latest cheese highlights of my life. My life has become very, very cheesy indeed:

Where can you buy French cheese outside of France? I've researched some of the best spots in some of the big cities, but you all need to help each other out by adding on your own favorite cheese-store sources in the comments.

How can you be polite about your cheese course? Well, first of all, don't chew with your mouth open. But for more cheese-specific advice, check out the posting.

And what are the most beautiful cheeses in my opinion?

As for these "letters home" from my Family by the Seine, I just wanted to let you know that I've recently crossed over 30,000 views, which actually feels quite satisfying as I sit here typing and overlooking the gray river on a dreary, rainy day.

We are back, safely and happily, from a wonderful trip in Senegal. When we arrived home, my brother and sister-in-law were already installed in our apartment, and we're enjoying their visit quite a lot -- the only downside being that with my brother here, I find myself with very few leftovers to use for my lunch the next day. Except for cheese. Even my brother couldn't finish the massive cheese platter.

It may be a few weeks till I get to filter through the 2000 or so pictures I took in Africa and write up our adventure, but in the meantime, you can sign up at Family in Senegal so that you'll automatically receive the stories once they're posted. But here's a little teaser: Anthony and I were fully jealous of our own daughters, even as we were having the experience with them. We just kept saying to each other, "This is nothing like any New Year's Eve party I ever got to go to as a kid..."