While everyone else is shelling out 30 euros for un brunch, we’ve developed a Sunday morning tradition of our own. Mon mari and I wake up at noon, have a coffee, take the granny cart to the market and pick up some fixings for our Sunday sauerkraut lunch. I leave mon mari to pick out the porky add-ons, a smoky morteau sausage and thick-cut bacon for two. I do not think we are the only ones either. Each butcher at the market has a steaming vat of choucroute, often disappearing before we late risers arrive. High-energy food for a low-energy afternoon.
Bon dimanche!
P.S. By the way, sauerkraut with fish is a surf and turf revelation!
P.P.S. Find my illustrations on my friend Meg’s blog here.
P.P.P.S. This illustration was made with my new Paper application for the ipad.
It sounds embarrassingly French to say, but after several months without a vacation we were in desperate need to see something new. (You know that devastating moment when croissants lose their taste?) With a home base is Paris, what city could possibly provide a low-energy, high-romance vacation for two? Just four short hours from Nice, we spent 5 days recharging in Florence between Christmas and New Years. I was a lazy traveler this time around. I only had the simple intentions of seeing some Boticelli and finally finishing Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom. Although we had a guide book, our own two feet were responsible for our discoveries…
Our first evening, we stumbled upon a square at the other end of the Ponte Santa Trìnita. The next few days, we tried every restaurant on the quaint square off the beaten path. We shared our first bistecca alla fiorentina, the t-bone dream, at the warm Trattoria 4 Leoni, Via dei Vellutini 1/R Piazza della Passera 50125 Firenze. Otherwise, find Florentine specialties and homemade pasta atIl MagazzinoPiazza Della Passera 2/3 50125 Florence, Italy.
Avoid the crowded gelaterias near the Ponte Santa Trìnita with their tourist-enticing, mile-high gelato mountains. In Florence’s artisan spirit, why not try gelato made on the premises at Gelateria della Passera. The pistachio gelato had the intensity and salty punch of a handful of the real deal. At a cool 1€50 for cone, it was a cheaper thrill than that hand-carved artisanal chair. Gelateria della Passera, via Toscanella, 15r-Firenze
The landmark Florentine cafe since 1733, GILLIis the go-to place for Old World charm and caffeine. Skip the overpriced terrace and enjoy local color and an espresso con panna at the bar. And don’t pass up the mouth-watering pastries and confections.
When we arrived in Italy, everything was delicious. But after a while, I came to the conclusion that a restaurant is only as good as its ball of mozzarella. A testament to my conspiracy theory, we returned to Trattoria Enzo e Piero several times, a warm mom and pop trattoria just a stone’s throw away from the mercato centrale. Try the ribollita, the traditional Tuscan bread soup.
Gustapizza is a crowded, in-and-out pizzeria frequented by locals and tourists alike. I enjoyed the gusta pizza: fresh mozzarella, arugula, cherry tomatoes, and generous wedges of parmesan cheese. But beware! Be prepared to play musical chairs before and after being served. Gustapizza, via maggio 46R Firenze.
I was enticed by beautifully-crafted leather goods and stationary at Fabriano Boutique. Inspired dreams of being organized and leather-bound. Fabriano Boutique Via del Corso, 59r 50122 Firenze.
Don’t miss a select collection of glossy fashion magazines and books at Fashion Room via II Prato, 7r.-50123 Firenze.
Paris is covered in a canape of lights this time of year. The marchés de Noël pepper the arrondisements, flaunting seasonal treats and holiday cheer. Outside the buzzing department stores, chestnuts are roasting on an open fire in a shopping cart, just like at home. And another cold-weather standby, vin chaud, is boiling away au comptoir at my local café. Served piping hot and warmed through with spices, it is the coziest way to heat up the punch bowl.
Every now and then, I get to see another side of France by tagging along on one of mon mari’s business trips. And this time around Nantes was my oyster! With 48 hours to kill on my own, Nantes was a revelation of arts, culture, and open spaces. And just a little over two hours away from Paris by train, Nantes is an unexpectedly vibrant weekend trip.
Driving into Nantes late from the last leg of our vacation on Brittany’s remote Belle-Ile-En-Mer, we checked into the très designLa Perouse Hotel (3 Allée Duquesne, 44000 Nantes). Considering our last hotel’s walls were plastered with seahorses, this ecologically responsible boutique hotel requires a little bit more than my humble liberal arts education to navigate. There is no line that defines where the shower begins and where the wet floor ends. And before I hopped out of bed in anticipation for the organic continental breakfast, I pondered “Why is there an ice-cube tray on the wall?” It was just a fancy design lamp. It’s never too late to sign up for grad school. After circling a few sights on my map with a complimentary biodegradable pen, I was off.
The first thing circled on my map was Les Machines de l’île. Since 1999, La Machine, a monumental collaborative production company has evolved with the urbanization of île de Nantes, an island surrounded by the Loire River, just South of the city center. And Les Machines de l’île, the fantasyland of enormous puppets and installations create a surreal participatory amusement park. Le Carrousel de Mondes Marins, a three-story carrousel christened in July, takes La Machine’s ingenuity under the sea. Crab claws can pinch, fins can flap, boats can steam, no detail is spared on this mesmerizing whirlwind for all ages. After a week in Brittany, although I was not able to stomach another plateau de fruit de mer, I certainly could not resist a ride on a conch shell carried by flying fish. What Nantes lacks in a skyline, La Machine’s ubiquitous animatronic elephant has become a synonamous symbol of the city. 3 times the size of the real deal, La Machine’s elephant casts like a ship delivering passengers between the museum and the carousel, as passengers jump off and others get on. Additionally, La Machine’s workshops are open to the public where artists, designers, and technicians painstakingly collaborate and craft as they continue to urbanize
Another Nantais institution which has evolved with Nantes creative pulse is LU, the brains behind the buttery biscuits. Brittany, where all things either smell like fish or butter, depending on how the wind blows, LU is slightly responsible for the latter, with their headquarters in Nantes. In 2000, the LU biscuit factory was converted into an immense contemporary arts space, le lieu unique. A perfect peruse through the well-stocked bookshop in route for a coffee on the riverfront terrace, I spent a perfectly content rainy afternoon.
“La Cigale!” was the very first thing out of everyone’s mouths when I was compiling a Nantes to-do list. Everyone mentioned the celebrated brasserie with sparkles in their eyes. And I was instantly enamored by this powerhouse, Art Nouveau resto: the warm woodwork, the mosaic lobsters on the walls, the uniformed garçons and the overall theatrics of fine dining. It was as if mon mari and I were dining in a gilded Kilmt painting. I was easily tempted by the complete prix fixe menu at a cool 17 euros (cold zucchini and mascarpone soup, onglet, et crème brûlée).
La Cigale’s animal mosaics had me so charmed, I penciled it in for a very luxurious breakfast service the following morning. Caramel au beurre salé on toast was a sweet sendoff to Brittany.
What ended up being a two-day detour wrapped up into 48 hours of discoveries. Being spoiled easily strolling Paris from Left Bank to Right, I was at the good graces of my own two feet when exploring Nantes. But the streets welcomed me with their open public gardens and the Place Graslin planted with pumpkins. I was one happy tagalong.
A few years before I had Paris as my backdrop, I studied abroad in London for three short months. Rationing all of my weak dollars for pints and their resulting kebabs, the only thing I could afford from the Portabello Market was my very first clementine. I plucked off its leaves and the skin snapped open, spritzing the air with its parfum. Each segment took me to a sunnier place. I had my first clementine of the season this weekend. And it instantly transported me back to my very first, a little taste of sunshine in an equally grey place.
All paper trails lead to France. I have a highly-anticipated rendezvous to renew my visa tomorrow. I thought being married would alleviate my copious photocopying in preparation for the French Prefecture, but I have made a grand total of 212 photocopies for my appointment. I was photocopying at Monoprix so long, I memorized the playlist. It was the first time since 1996 I was able to relearn the words to “I Believe I Can Fly.” Forgive me, dear rainforest. Marianne made me do it.
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.
