Here it is! It’s my lovechild and she is due the 29th of April, 2015.
When I moved back to Paris 4 years ago, the city was on the verge of American over-saturation. Le Camion Qui Fume scandalized as it smoked up the museum-quality streets of Paris. I was shocked to discover Marshmallow Fluff and Easy Cheese filling an aisle of a nearby bookshop. At my most vulnerable, I ate “authentic” cupcakes as dense as butter cookies. Nevertheless I was seeing my culture impersonated and regurgitated into a 10 euro jar of Jif. The demand was flattering, but not exactly what I had left back in the States.
Seeing the lack of authentic American cookbooks, I have been trying to get one off the ground for several years now. American baking is not all about reconstituting processed ingredients like in the books I had seen in the French cookbook market. In my new book Pâtisseries et gâteaux d’Amérique, I focused on recipes that have the same respect for quality ingredients that even the French could revere. And thanks to Marabout for helping me make it happen. Pâtisseries et gâteaux d’Amériquehas over 64 pages of colorful, step-by-step recipes. And the American desserts that I know and love.
“Bonne fête!” mon mari sweetly exclaimed in a mid-morning call. Similarly, all the Frenchies I’ve crossed paths with today have been generous with their 4th of July wishes. But at the same time I dream of Cheddarwursts, first-degree firework singes and backyard barbecues.
I had a rendezvous in the 16eme this morning, in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. The most American thing I could do was point, reacquaint myself with her glory and take a proper phone pic. I assure you I wasn’t the only one.
Uh oh. Does this mean this has become an andthisiswhatihadforlunchtoday kind of blog? Before you throw you hands in the air and say you just don’t care, I must share what I had for lunch yesterday. After a long day food styling raw beef, I was taken to lunch at L’OisiveThé, a tea drinking knitter’s paradise. Greens, dried cranberries, pumpkin seeds, emmental, smoked salmon, two soft-boiled eggs, and a generous handful of toast spears for dipping and dunking, it was the perfect break from le boeuf. With two more days scheduled to shoot beef, I will certainly be dreaming of my salad at L’OisiveThé (1 Rue Jean-Marie Jégo 75013 Paris).
By the way, although I have certainly had enough beef for now, check out my latest post on Le Camion Qui Fume’s new cookbook on HiP Paris Blog.
I am happy to announce the launch of my very first book as a food stylist. Or pardon my French, styliste culinaire. Les burgers du Camion qui fume by Kristin Frederick (Tana Editions), revealing the secrets of Paris’ wildly popular burger truck. I can personally attest that all of its 30 burger recipes are delicious, hot or cold. Although I have not craved a burger since we shot the photos early this summer, thumbing through the book has reignited my passion for one of my favorite Yankee doodle pastimes. With beautiful photos and reportage by my friend David Bonnier, it will certainly take the American street food trend into the French home.
Sorry friends, this one is in French. But luckily food porn needs no translation.
Although I have no complaints in regards to my culinary transition to France, every now and then I get a little nostalgic for certain things Stateside. For example, I miss New York and its 31-flavors of take-out. And like all Americans in Paris, I can’t help but sniffle when speaking of Mexican food. But not enough to test the new Chipotle that just opened, which has all the Americans in town speaking Spanglish again (If nostalgia permits, it can be found at 20 Boulevard Montmartre 75009 Paris).
But all my Yankee Doodle cravings were properly satiated having recently completed the food styling for the cookbook of Paris’ first wildly-popular food truck,Le Camion Qui Fume. It will be the most authentic collection of American recipes to ever be published in French. Needless to say, I never had feelings for onion rings or pulled pork sandwiches until the shoot. And embarrassingly, it has inspired me to put ketchup on everything again. But I quickly learned that although most Frenchies will turn up their noses at chili cheese fries, they can’t help going back for a second bite. Vive la révolution!
We are in the demolition stage of our new apartment. This morning, as we walked into the place for our daily visit, our quirky 1950s flat to-be was transformed into the town of Bedrock. Before I could even say “Wow, what a dump!”, “Ohmygawwwwputainmerde!” My first step into the apartment, I got a nail in the foot. The throbbing pain was the least of my worries. Since I have the undisputed Generation Me dilemma of not having had health insurance since my shatterproof undergraduate days, I was sure I could feel my jaw locking in the matter of moments. Luckily, I had an unsuccessful semester in grad school that got me up to speed on that important tetanus shot. Phew!
To help ease the pain, I was whisked off for lunch at the hyper-popular food truck Le Camion Qui Fume by mon mari qui fume. Le Camion Qui Fume ends the search for an authentic American cheeseburger in Paris. Although there are imposters on every cafe menu, 18 euros for a dry, uninspired hamburger on an industrial bun is not worth the ho-hum indulgence. Food trucks have not taken off in Paris yet, partially considering that the French cannot eat with their hands alone. But fellow American expat Kristin Frederick has mastered the right fatty mix of ground beef, the soft, butter-brushed sesame seed buns, real cheddar and shoestring fries to cheer up any expat having a bad day. Although the truck changes locations everyday, we dug into our burgers on the steps of the Église de la Madeleine overlooking the Place de la Concorde. And at just 10 euros for a burger and fries, there is no better bargain or breathtaking view.