Chocolate Chip Champion

My friend Mei and I like to champion here in Paris (and abroad) that ugliest but perhaps most delicious of desserts: the American cookie.

The first year of gymnastics regionals, Gigi's team got 13th out of 13. The second year, when she came home with a 9th place, Anthony congratulated her enthusiastically...until she told him there had only been 9 teams. Well, much like this, I fancy myself quite a delicious cookie maker, but then I only have a couple really good non-French friends here, and the only other American's cookies I've tried are Mei's. And, objectively speaking, hers are better than mine. So there may only be two contestants, but I'm the Silver Medal Champion Cookie Maker of My Paris!

And my cookies do whoop the pants off any chocolate chip cookies I've tried that were made by any French person. I have to admit that the cookies I make here also whoop the pants off the cookies I make in San Francisco, and I've figured out the secret: I use all-American ingredients except the butter. French butter has less water in it, and is generally richer and more unctuous, and the cookies are all the better for it.

If you're wondering why there are so many cookies on my counters, and why some of them are upside down, there's a logical explanation for both. Gigi likes me to make her cookies for her class for her birthday. She's in a class of 29 kids, plus a teacher, and I feel like everybody should have at least a couple cookies. So you do the math: that makes a whole lot of cookies, which I must mix by hand -- no KitchenAid stand mixer. It's better than a gym workout for the upper arms, except that I eat more calories worth of raw dough than I burn.

And why upside down? Along with no stand mixer, I also don't have a cooling rack, and I've discovered that putting them bumpy side down allows them to cool without getting soggy, as the steam can find nooks and crannies through which to escape.

Sure, I could buy chocolate chip cookies. There is a cute little shop on our island called "Anne's" which sells single, regular-sized (say, 3" diameter) cookies for 2.7€ -- or about $3.50 -- each. Meanwhile, I can go to Thanksgiving (the store in the nearby Marais neighborhood, not the holiday) and find critically important ingredients for not too much money, including real light brown sugar for under 4€ and baking soda for just a couple more. Still infinitely cheaper than buying at Anne's, where we would need to take out a second mortgage in order to buy a couple dozen cookies.

 

The expensive ingredients are the real liquid vanilla and the chocolate chips, and I have cabinets full of both, thanks to a steady stream of visitors. However, I refuse to make chocolate chip cookies for any of my visitors from the States. I only make them for other ex-pats who need a taste of home and for French-people who, I must tell you, are completely won over by this ugly-but-delicious American dessert.

Sticker Shock/ Sticker Joy

I go to the local dry-cleaner/tailor and am quoted 78€ (about $100) to replace the zipper on a kid's denim jacket. It's as if I suddenly don't speak French, because I have to ask, re-ask, and repeat the number half a dozen times. Finally, needing to confirm that I'm not just misunderstanding something, I ask, "Soixante-dix-huit? The digits 7 then 8?" The jacket itself probably didn't cost me more than $3, because I'm pretty sure I bought it at Goodwill in the first place.

So what else causes Sticker Shock in Paris, even after a couple years here?:

Children's shoes: boots, for example -- the kind a girl might wear with leggings and a dress, leather-style (though probably not real leather) and not super-well made -- start around 80€, over $110, in the stores, and many hover at 100€ or about $135. In the U.S., for $80, I could get the girls a much better-made pair. But this isn't the sort of thing that can easily be bought over the internet and brought in somebody's luggage. They need to try it on and like it.

Granted, I live in an expensive area, but still, does 6€, or about $8 for a cup of tea seem reasonable? We are talking, after all, about a cup of hot water, with a tea bag that costs less than 10¢ at full retail price (so, what, 5¢ wholesale?). I don't like coffee, so I'm always stuck when we stop at the café ordering an $8 cup of tea, hot milk, or hot chocolate.

Housing: This is Paris, after all. At the moment, places in good neighborhoods rent for around 36€ per square meter, which works out to about $5/sq. ft per month. This is less shocking when moving to Paris from San Francisco, frankly, where places rent for about $3.70 (measured against averages at one point during 2013). But even we are a little stunned by the prices to buy something. About $800,000 for a 400 sq. ft. studio? But I want three bedrooms. Uh, maybe in the next life.

And let's not even get into fish pills (seen at over $100 for a small bottle), dental floss (about $7 at the admittedly overpriced pharmacy below us), or chocolate chips (about $5 for 100g, which is about 1/2 cup, or only half as much as I need to bake a batch of cookies). Seen below is the approximately $205 worth of Costco-sized chocolate chip bags that people have brought to us from the US. Actual Costco total for both: $23. And now you know why we've asked you to bring these in your luggage.

On the other hand:

There's private school. When I sign Gigi up for her new school next year, they tell me that in addition to the $1800 private school annual tuition, there is an extra $1800 fee for the special program they offer for native English speakers (extra hours, at native Anglophone level, paid entirely by parents of the children in the program). Apparently, my face registers no shock, horror, or concern over the additional annual fee, so they assume I don't understand and keep repeating the amount to me: total $3600 -- annually. The same $3600 would be approximately the monthly charge for private school in San Francisco, per child. This is Sticker Shock in reverse. It's Sticker Joy.

The girls' gymnastics program also gives me Sticker Joy. For 730€, or just under $1000, both girls will do three days per week, plus competitions, for the whole school year. Pippa will be doing 7-9 hours per week, and Gigi will be at 6, and there are 35 weeks, with a few days off thrown in, so roughly 475 gym hours total. For just $1000. What will $2 per hour buy for child care and children's activities (especially good quality ones) in the U.S.? I don't know: I think you'd have to go back to 1964 to find out.

Other things that cost shockingly, joyfully little:

Babysitters -- roughly $10/hour, vs. $15-20 in San Francisco, which is, officially, the most expensive city in the U.S. for babysitting.

Kids' clothing -- lovely French fashion, and while prices can, of course, be astronomical for high-fashion, the basic play-clothes kind of stores are no more expensive than the U.S. And with sales, prices get quite low indeed (3-7€ for regular play/school clothes, for example, by the end of the sales).

 

Medical care -- Pippa hurts her foot badly enough at one point that we decide to get it X-rayed for stress fractures (none, it turns out). Before any insurance reimbursements, the full cost we pay for it is 75€, around $100. Quite affordable. And then we get nearly all of it back from the insurance company, anyway. And a month of prescription levothyroxine which costs $10 in the U.S. after insurance costs only $3 here at full price.

Coffee -- if only I liked it. Quick coffee (espresso) nearly anywhere is 1.5 - 2€. A slow, lingering espresso at a lovely French café? About 2 - 2.5€.

Bread -- roughly 1.5€ ($2) for an incredibly great loaf of bread, and less than that for a fabulous pain au chocolat or croissant. Bread products here are subsidized by the government in the way that milk is in the U.S., to keep prices reasonable (and regulated). Better and cheaper than in America. Sigh.




 

Labor Day

Labor Day has a lot of significance around here: not as a national holiday, but rather as the trigger for la rentrée -- Back to School. In our house, it means even more than that, since it's the anniversary for, well, being in labor. At all three of the schools Gigi has attended, her birthday has actually fallen on the first day of school. Luckily, this is a child who likes school. In fact, this year, after her first day of middle school, she runs out to me and declares enthusiastically, "Today is the best day of my life!"

Well, it marks exactly ten years since one of the best days of my life, which is the day we went to the hospital to have the son we were expecting and came out instead with a bald, chubby, big-eyed girl. A decade later, she has grown into this lovely little lady seen below in the hall of her new school on orientation morning ("Take the picture quick! This is so embarrassing!") and then on her way to her first full day of school on her birthday. Conveniently, the first full day is spent on a class-bonding field trip. She tells me she prefers school to being on vacation. Happy birthday, indeed!

 

Pippa returns to her elementary school, on the world's greatest walk-to-school. Since she is in an entirely new class this year, however, she sits shyly to the side before the starting bell rings. But she comes out as enthusiastic as her sister, with a full list of all her new best friends. So, I guess I don't need to worry about her at school, either.

 

Gigi's choice for this year's birthday dinner, which we celebrate the weekend before, is at Happy Nouilles (Noodles), a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant in the 3rd arrondissement, near metro Arts & Metiers. We discovered it when we randomly walked by it months ago, and the girls were attracted to the guy actually hand-pulling noodles in the window. Though we had had only mediocre-at-best Chinese food in Paris up till that point and were pessimistic, we gave it a try. The place is filled -- staff and diners -- with Mandarin Chinese speakers, and it surpassed all expectations. The dumplings even rival (Sacrilege Alert!) San Francisco's.

 

 

 

On the way to birthday noodles, we discover a tiny storefront called Stanz that sells excellent bagels (described accurately by the owner as being chewier than a Montreal bagel, and less chewy than a New York bagel) and one called Berko that sells, frankly, the best cupcakes I've ever tasted. It could just be because I haven't had cupcakes in years. Or it could be because they're delicious. Naturally, on the actual day of her birthday, I buy us Berko cupcakes to celebrate.

 

 

If you're wondering why, for her 10th birthday, there are nine cupcakes on the plate, a number which divides unevenly among the four of us, it's because that's the biggest box they sell, at about 23€. Possibly because it would bankrupt somebody to buy a whole dozen. One of her birthday presents is everything needed to make mini-cupcakes, including a Berko cookbook. Which means we get to enjoy birthday cupcakes, round two, a few days later.

 

 

 

Back to School also means I can finally get Back to Work. It's the first time in two months I haven't spent basically all day, every day, with the girls. I'm not complaining, mind you, but being with them does make it hard to get any work done. So having them back in school is something of a respite, and it means I can start writing again more regularly.

 

 

Jewish Easter Fish Mouse

Pippa's teacher asks, "Would you come in for English class to talk about Pâques (Easter)?"

I clarify. "Pâque Juive?" Directly translated this means "Jewish Easter" and it's how they say Passover in French. Pâques comes from the root Pasques, as in Paschal Lamb, and the Hebrew word for Passover sounds a lot like it and shares linguistic roots: "Pesach".

But as we can clearly deduce from this sign in the Jewish quarter of the Marais where Micky's Deli has proudly been in business since the year 5755, Passover came before Easter. So shouldn't they be called "Pâques" (Passover) and "Christian Pâques" (Easter)?

By coincidence, my parents are visiting us in Paris over Passover. I frankly don't have time to make a huge Sedar meal, since the girls are in gymnastics till 7pm most nights, so we bring home a pre-roasted chicken, and I throw together the following, pathetic Sedar plate.

Nearly everything is wrong with this: Our bitter herbs are wilted cilantro; the egg is uncooked; the charoses is just a couple raw ingredents (apples and nuts); the horseradish is actually mustard; and the lamb shank is a chicken wishbone. But at least it's on a plate. In San Francisco, I used to make up a Sedar sombrero with a pewter souvenir brought back from Mexico.

It's so wrong, I feel like I should cry out "April Fool's!" when I serve it, though if you remember, here I would say "April Fish!" The fact is that all the holidays are all mixed up this year, and adding to the confusion is that the Spring Ahead time change happens in France on Easter morning. Passover overlaps Easter, and April Fish day falls on Easter Monday -- which is the day off here in honor of Easter. French people work and go to school (yes, even Catholic school) on Good Friday, so it's not so good, after all.

I am able to find real matzah at the grocery store. Here's a game for you: One of these things is not like the other. Which one is it?

 

If you said the piece of cardboard, you are wrong. Clearly, the cardboard and the matzah are one and the same thing. They look similar and taste identical. Even Anthony -- who, along with me, is so frugal about not wasting food you would think we had lived through the Great Depression -- encourages me to throw out the 95% of the matzah that remains untouched. My Jewish parents eat croissants and baguettes all through their Passover visit. My mom reasons, "I'm not going to Paris and passing up French bread to eat matzah."

 

On the day before Easter (Christian Easter, that is), we have a family movie day and watch The Rise of the Guardians in which Easter is, appropriately enough, "tomorrow." More perfectly, it stars the Tooth Fairy, including a French Tooth Mouse ("from the European division", as the Fairy says). This is especially à propos because Pippa lost her 8th tooth. So we are visited this year by both the Tooth Mouse and the Easter Bunny. This is a little mixed-up, since we assume the Bunny visits us instead of the Flying Bells since we are American, yet we readily agree that her tooth is collected in France by a Mouse, not a Fairy.

 

 

If you are worried about the possible overcrowding chez nous (what if the Mouse, the Fairy, the Bunny, and the Bells all show up at the same time?!), you should know that several years ago on Christmas Eve, we were successfully visited on Christmas Eve by the Tooth Fairy, Tinkerbell, and Santa Claus. We wondered if there was some sort of magical air traffic controller over our house that night because all went smoothly.

 

In case you are wondering, Pippa's teacher does not actually want me to talk about Passover to the kids but, rather, American Easter traditions. Which is too bad, because I have a lot of matzah I could bring in for them to taste.

Shocking. Or Not.

Last year, during the annual Carnaval (spelled the French way) parade at the girls' school, I was surprised that the children do not all dress up as Disney princesses or Star Wars characters. Of course, some still do, but not nearly the all-encompassing percentage we see in the US. This year, I am not at all surprised to see the requisite flamenco dancers, which seem to be a given in any French costume party.

  

 

It's basically Halloween without the Trick-or-Treating, but that doesn't mean it's sugar-free. In typical French fashion, when the snacks are put out at the party, the tables are laden with chocolatey carbohydrates and nothing else. There is no pretense at putting out fresh fruit and hoping the kids will take some. Either have a chocolate crêpe, a puff pastry with chocolate flakes, or a nutella covered waffle, or get outta here. This does not actually horrify me anymore, as long as the adults are allowed to nosh on a piece or two.

 

 

Last year, the kids marched through the 5th arrondissement to the ancient Roman Arènes de Lutèce. This year's route takes us up to to the top of the 5th and into the 4th arrondissement, walking by delicious bakeries, great views along the Seine, the love locks bridge, and several 800ish-year old churches, including Notre Dame.

 

 

Given that I see this church every single day, the most surprising thing is that I still find it surprising. Walking through the gardens by the side of the cathedral, Pippa's teacher tells me that she comes up from the train station and sees this view when she comes into work and that even she, a Parisian, is thrilled and energized every time. This makes me feel less crazy for still being awestruck.

 

 

The costume that most surprises me, and that both Pippa and I declare the prize-winner, is her best friend's. The girl's mother, my dear friend Beatrice, has spent time living and working in Africa, so it's authentic. Our favorite part is the back, where she's got her baby strapped. As you can see, my own daughter has found yet another occasion to wear her Indian sari which is also authentic.

 

 

 

Gigi enjoys the older brother's costume, since he's a really sweet kid dressed up as a "bad boy" rocker. Of course, she has no idea how appealing this will be to her in about six years.... And something I consider very French and quite appropriate, indeed, one of the class clowns dressed up as Charlie Chaplain, who is possibly more famous and beloved in France than in the States.

 

Then, on the more truly shocking side: There's this 5th grader smoking his cigarette. It is a fake one, of course, but very realistic, with a glowing tip. I start talking with some other parents as I take the picture, and it turns out that even the other French parents are shocked by this as completely inappropriate. Well, not all the parents: Obviously his own parents must have found it okey dokey.

 

 

Inappropriate, yes. But how hysterically French is that?!

 

There's shocking, and there's more shocking: The kids are packing pistols.

 

And they bring out the bigger guns, some of which just don't make any sense. This Crusader, who is one of Gigi's best friends, has a super soaker so powerful, it shoots water across about ten centuries of history.

 

 

Of course I remember seeing toy guns with costumes as a child myself, but given that I've been hearing that in the US kids are getting suspended just for making gun shapes with their fingers and saying "bang", it seems a little surprising to me. When I bring it up to my fellow parents, they point out that in France the kids are allowed their fake guns, but people aren't allowed real guns. They're shocked by our approach in the US, where the real guns are legal, used against children, and therefore make the little toy guns seem menacing. When they put it this way, I'm far more shocked by the US attitude towards guns, too. So bring on the toy guns!

  

P.S. I'm biased, but I think these photos are gorgeous. And I love that Dark Vador is Pippa's shadow: