macrobiotic magic @ grand apetit

even though I'm still more than 3 posts behind on some great early July meals and recipes, I needed to post a mention for the delightful vegan macrobiotic food I had the pleasure of eating last night.

grand apetite may be light on the decor (and the salt!) but it more than makes up for this with a hearty and healthy meal at a price tag you'll hardly notice, even when the dollar is getting its (green)backside kicked raw by the euro.

while the menu offers a number of options, it seems to make to most sense to pick either the tart or the assiette, both just over 10 euros with all-you-can-drink heavenly herbal tea. the assiette, pictured above, comes with two different grains (I went for couscous and the croquette), three or four little salads, some cooked veggies, some hijiki seaweed, and some tofu. after you order and pay, you go find a table...which you set yourself! in a city filled with fois gras and frites, it was a terrific treat to hunker down with some whole grains for a little while...

the restaurant is a couple of blocks away from the Bastille, located at 9 rue de la cerisaie.

(oh, and, apologies for all the weird lower-case in recent posts; my de facto iPhone blogging app eliminated autocaps and I'm apparently just too lazy to hold the shift key.)

Busaba Eathai: Pad Thai

Lured by what blogs said was the best Thai food outside of Thailand, K and I decided to spend our last London meal (we didn't know it would be our last but K got a stomach bug the next morning) at Busaba Eathai (yes, the last word is a conflation of Eat and Thai) on Wardour St in Soho. The line literally stretched to the end of the block, but the host (without even glancing at it) assured me that we'd be seated within 15 minutes. While we waited for about 10 minutes, we were quizzed by more than a few passersby who were trying to understand what all the fuss was about. I didn't give a good answer then but I can now: busaba eathai is a restaurant which has earned its hype.

You are seated at a communal table but, unlike our experiences in Paris, there is no expectation to socialize with your fellow diners. You receive your menu while waiting on line so a server takes your order seconds after you sit down (this + the lack of a dessert menu is how they ensure speedy turnaround). The service is indeed efficient, but it is friendly and helpful, too.

K and I ordered the pad Thai and butternut squash curry (pictures above) and fried calamari (pictured in next post). The pad Thai was delicately flavored, the usual grease replaced by an actual sensitivity to ingredient combinations. I tastes the lime, the peanuts, the grilled prawn, the fried tofu, and the crabmeat distinctly, each with their own unique texture and each cooked to perfection. Once we devoured the dish, there was nary a drop of oily residue on the plate--a great sign! The curry which we ordered with a side of addictive coconut rice was likewise near perfect. The only way to describe the texture of the squash would be to, absurdly, say it was "falling off the bone." The heat of the dish was well-balanced.

Parisian breakfast spread

This strange, eclectic breakfast is something K and I have been having for about 7 years now, each time we come to Paris, no matter what apartment we stay in (with slight variations, of course).  Pictured above is a cool glass of blood orange juice (2 euros/bottle), caviar (1 euro/jar), monstrous strawberries (1 euro/quart), half a baguette (.45 euros), camembert and chevre (2 euros for each round), nutella (3 euros a jar), and, from the organic grocer, apples, dried sausage, and fig jam (8 euros altogether).  It can be very difficult to find organic apples in American grocery stores as they make a tough sell (for most consumers) next to lustrous and beautiful wax-coated red delicious; it's a great treat, therefore, to pick up a dirty organic apple (and local, to boot!) here in Paris.

Obviously, I'm not mixing the caviar and nutella together (though I have tried it: could be worse!).  I tend to start with the savory options (sausage & cheese, caviar), work towards savory sweet hybrids (chevre & fig jam), and end with pure sugar (nutella & fruit). Amortized over a few days, these purchases (one needs to replenish the baguette, of course), this spread works out to about $4 per person per day.  Not bad for a decadent breakfast of caviar!

Pain de Sucre: Tentation

We picked up this beatiful treat (which my iThing photograph refused to do justice) at the well-known designer patisserie, Pain de Sucre (Rue Rambuteau). There you can find incredible tarts, madelines, macaroons, and even gourmet marshmallows (saffron, anyone?).  What looks like a simple rasberry tart is made more complex (and mouth-watering) by a pistachio base.  We also sampled a matcha mouse (filled with pineapples) over a curry crust.  There are cheaper patisseries, to be sure, but few have quite this many enticing, original, and decadent indulgences. 

Soiree @ Patricia's

K and I enjoyed this simple meal of baguette, cheese tortellini, and chopped endive at one of Patricia's ex-pat soirees.  These events are held every Wednesday and Sunday evening at Patricia's apartment (your donation of 15 euros per person covers Patricia's expenses).  An incredibly diverse and interesting group of expats and anglophone tourists gather to chat, listen to guest speakers, and devour the various liquid and solid consumables Patricia lays out on the table.  It is highly unlike K and I to willingly put ourselves in a situation wherein we must mingle with complete strangers, but the evening was quite pleasant and we certainly met a few people with whom we'd like to meet-up again.  We definitely plan on returning to Patricia's in the future, hopefully on one of the nights when she has an artist or writer as the featured guest!

Les Philosophes (3/3)

Foie Gras, the consolation prize. (See my below tantrum)

Les Philosophes (2/3)

A watermelon, blender, and a handful of spices walk into a bar. Bartender says, "You three think you're so cool, don't you?"

Watermelon soup. Chilled. Oh. Yes.

Les Philosophes (1/3)

Salade des utopistes: goat cheese, avocado, beets, tastiness.

I'd list other ingredients but they change every time. Which, I guess, is a good thing, proof that Les Philosophes is somehow responding to the availability of fresh local ingredients.

I should also mention that we did not actually eat at Les Philosophes and have not eaten on their premises yet this trip. We go to the wine bar owned by the same company, order a bottle, and hunker down in the back room , ordering food at our whim. We're so very noble (as in regal, not kind). :)

Parlez vous neerlandais?

K and I haven't been very adventurous these last few couple of weeks in Paris. Which is not to say we haven't been eating very well—we have!—but we really haven't visited any place that I haven't already rounded up in previous entries on this fair city. One nice discovery, on Rue de Turenne 95, just a couple blocks from our apartment (after two nice visits in rental flats, we are finally back in the adorable apartment K's family owns), is Le Bistrot. It's a dive to be sure, but I'm not sure one can actually get more food for one's money than the 8 euro giganto-salads they sell there. Our waiter would have seemed downright hostile if he wasn't so darn amusing in his desire to stop serving us, but when dinner for three comes out to 30 euros (including beer and wine!), it's hard to complain. I ordered the Nicoise and though the waiter mocked me a bit when I asked for extra anchovies, he made sure the kitchen heaped them on and I was happily able to spear a little fishy with each forkful. K's salad featured crab, avocado, and grapefruit which is always a dandy combo.

K was a bit grudging about our trip to Amsterdam; I understand: who wants to leave Paris…ever. I tried to prepare a nice culinary itinerary to ease the transitional trauma and I think we did pretty well:

While I wanted the first of our four meals to be the Ostrich with Truffles at De Koe, I discovered with tremendous sorrow that the café, legendary with the locals, is closed for lunch. We wandered over to Wagamama, confident we would find a nice restorative meal after our 4-hour train trek. There's very little difference between the A'dam and London branches except there are some local specials and you pay in euros instead of pounds which certainly does make the whole experience go down a bit more smoothly. K sampled one of their large soup bowls, filled to the brim with prawns, tofu, vegetables, and the fish of the day, and I had a grilled Butterfish salad over rocket (with watermelon and chiles, now up there with prosciutto & melon as one of my fave flaves!). We both found it strange that "rocket" hasn't caught on in the States, that is until I just googled around and found that it is, in fact, "arugula."

Evening found us at Van Dobben, a broodje shop (broodje are basically sandwiches on buttered white bread) which is so famous here that the street it's on bears its name. This is another local joint and they don't have an English menu posted. I asked the young man behind the counter if he could prepare us a couple of the most popular choice. He served up broodje kroket, a delicious concoction that can best be described as deep-fried beef stew on a bun. In addition to the yellow mustard on the table, there was some unidentified condiment which K swears was molasses-derived. I don't care what it was made from: I could have doused it on my hand and devoured myself. Three minutes later we had finished our dishes and I asked to try a roast beef, so rare it was nearly tartar (YUM!), and smoked eel (tastes like divinely UN-greasy mild lox and textured like a white fish filet with a bit more structure). Getting greedy now, we had barely devoured these broodjes before I was up at the counter again, asking to try a salt beef & liver combo, as well as a tomato, egg, and mayonnaise open faced broodje [see inset pictures]. I think by that point I was too stuffed to enjoy them or anything else…until 7 minutes later, when K and I walked into a nearby Haagen Dazs to chase the meat away with other saturated animal fats.

The next day we took a lovely canal walk up Prinsengracht for our third trip to the Pancake Bakery. You can read my earlier review of the always reliable pancake house. This time I had the banana/bacon pancake and K had the "Greek" (lamb, feta, olives, etc). Both were fantastic, though I think mine won out in the end as it could satisfy both the sweet and the savory. Another random highlight: the waitress, who we'd already heard speak English, French, and Dutch (like nearly every other A'dammer), also whipped out a mighty fine Italian when explaining the kids' menu to an eager and sophisticated 5-year old boy.

For our last meal, we took in an early dinner of the Netherlands' national cuisine: Indonesian. Having tried out the top-shelf rijsstafel at the swanky Indrapura, we were eager to sample a version which might not mock the weakness of our greenbacks. I read some great reviews of Café Bojo and while it clearly was no match for the delicacy of its more bank-breaking brethren, we certainly ate a tremendous amount of food for 22 euros. The longtong rames (chewy rice cakes in center of inset image) and the fried coconut were nice treats, as were the refreshing pickled vegetables in the uncharacteristically hot weather.

At the train station only a few minutes after paying our bill, I debated grabbing a kroket to go from one of the FEBO automats, but K talked me into getting a much more reasonable Mango & Passion Fruit Shake (more like a thick juice with fruit chunks). Four hours later we were back in Paris and I was eating a salmon burger on Rue Bretagne (though I was kicking myself for passing on the café's specialty: horse steak).

We have a week left in Paris and then back to London for a day en route to NYC. I'm currently on a hunt for the city's best fois gras. Any advice?

London food = tasty? Yep

So it seems I only have time to write about food when I travel. Fair enough. So. Here I go.

En route to Paris (again), K & I decided to fly Zoom into London (again), spend a night, and then Chunnel into Paris. Setting out to prove again that London food can be most extraordinary, we did a little research and then happily "tucked into" four delicious meals. One thing that immediately struck us was how simple it was, from simple pub fare to gourmet gastronomy, to eat local, organic, humane, sustainable, fair-trade, etc. New Yorkers, stop kidding yourselves: if "green" living was a race, London would have lapped us thrice. Carbon neutral cabs? Pepsi Raw? While I have to work very hard in the Big Apple to find food that meets my ethical/ecological standards, I'd have to work as hard or harder to find London fare which harms the world.

Sounds like I should be on a soap box at Speaker's Corner, right?

All right, on to the food:

Humble Pie (80 Buckingham Gate)
After our Easybus dropped us off from Gatwick, we found our hotel room wouldn't be ready for another hour, so we decided to explore Hyde Park. After a lovely morning strolling (and rowing!), we headed back to the hotel for a nap. On our way, we realized that all we'd had to eat since the airplane's dinner was a banana each. Humble Pie International Ltd to the rescue. Adorable storefront. Exciting menu with adventurous variations on a British standard. We settled on a lamb marinated in Shiraz, accompanied by raisins, sweet potatoes, and a few other tasty morsels which I've forgotten despite my attempts to save the menu. Also: the most exciting case of drinks I've ever encountered, filled with a nice stock of juices by James White Drinks. We decided to share the Beetroot juice and the Apple/Crushed Ginger juice. They also have single varietal apple juices which is very exciting to this food dork.

Abeno Too (17 Great Newport St)
After our nap, we trekked 2.5 miles from our hotel over to check out the National Gallery and work up an appetite. We are very very hungry at this point--this information will be important to explain the following. A hunt on the blogosphere had led me to Abeno Okonomiyaki and its little brother, Abeno Too. When I first tasted Okonomyaki in Japan it was translated to me as "my favorite things friend," which made sense for this savory Japanese omelette stuffed with bacon, shrimp, cabbage, carrots, ginger, and other assorted vegetables, all covered with sweet Japanese mayo, okonomyaki sauce, bonito flakes, and nori. After waiting for about 20 minutes at Abeno Too, we were ushered to our space at the okonomyaki bar and got a peek at the menu. This wasn't grandpa's okonomyaki: there were at least 10 different varieties, each offering a novel flavor combination. Having scrimped and saved all day, we decided to go for the most expensive option on the menu: the Abeno Okonomyaki: Organic beef & chicken, bacon, pork, black tiger prawns, asparagus tips, Konnyaku, lotus root, mushrooms, and garlic. Our waiter/chef was a ridiculously well-travelled Londoner of Polish extraction who was currently finishing up medical school. Michael "the Pole" (his own designation) stood in front of us at the bar, chatting us up as he prepared our meal over the course of about 25 minutes. This was high art, the way each component was individually cooked and then delicately layered on top of a growing stack of eggy-goodness. Our barside seats to this culinary demonstration were worth at least as much as the cost of the meal. Michael explained that he and the other okonomyaki specialists train for at least two weeks before they are allowed to make the simplest items on the menu and that you must work at it for some time before you are permitted to cook the specialty we ordered. He also translated the dish as "Fry it like you like it" which is somehow more democratic than the version I'd heard before. Well, suffice to say, as we watched his mastery and smelled the delightful scents cooking up under our noses, our hunger deepened to near-starvation level. When he finished the preparation, we dug into the meal so quickly it did not even occur to me that I should snap a photo of his heavenly creation, hence the afterthought above. Suffice to say, the meal was incredible. We'll definitely be back!

Ye Olde Cock Tavern (22 Fleet Street)
The plan was to check out a place on Essex called S&M, specializing in Sausage and Mash, as we made our way towards the Tate Modern in the morning. Unfortunately, we navigated our way to Essex St when, in fact, the sausage joint is located far north on Essex Road. Dejected and hungry, we began strolling around looking for an English Breakfast. And then the rain started coming down and we dived into a place that looked warm and friendly, Ye Olde Cock Tavern. As you can see from the inlaid photo, this fancy establishment still has restored fittings from the 19th century. It has quite a rich history, frequented by the likes of Pepys, Dickens, and Tennyson back when it stood on the other side of the street. It also has quite a good English breakfast, offering a solid variation for those who are veggie-inclined. The meat version is a fried egg (runny), sausage (juicy), bacon (crispy), white bread (buttery), baked beans (creamy), and cooked mushroom (fungi). The veggie version trades the bacon for a grilled 1/2 tomato and a vegetarian sausage replaces the pork one. A perfect rainy day breakfast. I'd like to thank the kind staff for letting us order the meal even though standard British breakfast time had elapsed while we stood confused in the rain looking for a place to eat.

Jonathan Crisps: "Crisps for Snobs"
Parsnip, Sweet Potato, Beetroot.
Black Pepper & Ginger.
Mature Cheddar & Red Onion.
Sea Salt & Malt Vinegar.
Horseradish & Sourcream.
Sundried Tomato & Basil.
Black Olive & Garlic.
'Nuff said.

Yo Sushi (14 St Paul's Churchyard)
Yes it's a chain, but I'd wanted to try conveyor-belt (kazen) sushi and here was Yo Sushi, beckoning me to come in and sample its rotating raw sea creatures. Simple premise: you sit at a bar and a conveyor-belts brings food right to you. There are 5 different color plates, each corresponding to a different price. Eat what you like and the empties are tallied for your bill. In addition to some fairly standard choices, we had a tasty tofu, seaweed, and cucumber salad, Softshell Crab & Rocket with Chili Mayo, Kobe Beef Sashimi, and, my favorite, Scallop Sashimi with Coriander Pesto (inlaid photo). The bill was more than I might have liked given the actual quantity of food ingested, but it's always good to try out new experiences and I'd never done Kazen-sushi outside of Japan.

We'll be back in London for a day at the trip's end so if you have recommendations for good eats, please do post a comment...Now on to Paris!

Too stuffed to type?

It's amazing how easy it is to fall behind on one's food blogging. I mean, I'm not trying to catalogue EVERY meal I'm eating here, just the memorable ones. But, what can I say, most of my meals have been pretty memorable. Faced with the ridiculously self-imposed responsibility to write about all of them, I've instead written about none. So now I play catch up.

Monday night we (K, V, Bear, and Truffle Boy) made our 2 mile walk over to 6 Rue Jacquard, home of Ave Maria. It's an Afro-Brazilian-French fusion restaurant and it's worth paying a visit for the décor alone. Vines descend from the ceiling. Barbie dolls dressed like Mexican images of saints and mounted in frames on the walls. Kitsch posters abound. There is a dish I love here. Its tongue-and-cheek title stretches across 3 or 4 lines in the menu. But I've had it nearly every year I've come so it was time to bravely march forward and try something new. So I opted for one with the shortest title, the Kirikou (sp?). Inspired by one of the national dishes of Togo (or so they say), it offered beef and massive carrots stewed in "African spices," sharing the bowl with tomatoes, rice, onions, cucumbers, mint, oranges, and parsley. The beef was tough for my taste but the stewing juices were definitely worth soaking up with bread. Sometimes one should stick with the known and just make sure that one's dining companions will let one nibble on the unknown. Said dining companions also make it possible to order dessert when one knows one is far too full. We ordered their award-winning "Death by Chocolate," accompanied by a digestif made of rum with macerated ginger and infused with cinnamon. As Bear pointed out, in America, the "Death by Chocolate" would likely be too rich to be savored and, after all, shouldn't one's mort chocolat be savored? To extend the analogy further, I'd say that ordering such a dish in America is like a chocolate cyanide capsule: one bite and your finished. Ave Maria's version, though, is like, I don't know, drowning because you've fallen asleep in the world's most comfortable bath. And the little ginger shot was just what I needed to revive me from my chocolate languor.

V departed Tuesday in the late afternoon, though the departure proved a little more traumatic than we might have hoped as we scrambled from station to station trying to find a metro with an open ticket window (for some inexplicable reason the ticketing machines in Paris do not take American credit cards though everywhere else seems to!). Bear and I walked over to a poetry reading at the Village Voice bookstore and then managed to sneak into a grocery store right before it closed. Once we got to the house, Bear served up a gorgeous and tasty antipasto plate with some fromage, white asparagus, caviar, and sausage while I started work on the seared lamb with a (2 euro!) Cabernet Sauvignon & fig reduction. We had cleverly purchased a jar of marinated eggplants which I dolloped onto some couscous for a tasty side. The main course here was actually the world's largest head of cauliflower. With individual florets the size of my fist, it could have served 8 but we three managed to put away nearly all of it. I'm so proud of us.

Yesterday (Wednesday), Bear and I had some crossed wires and didn't end up meeting up as planned at the overpriced and rude Deux Magots. Bear lunched solo and was charged 15 euros for a small ham sandwich and a café au lait and they wouldn't let her charge it on credit card (16 euro minimum they said)! Meanwhile, I failed to eat anything whatsoever save a few candies Bear bought from a street vendor. That's okay, because at 9:30pm I more than made up for it by gorging myself (and actually being out-gorged by the normally restrained K) at La Cave du L'Os a Moelle (Rue Lourmel), the communal table restaurant that we've made a point of visiting each time we've come to Paris. Here's the set-up. They have sittings at 7:30 and 9:30 and you make your reservation accordingly. You arrive and pick a bottle of vin that pleases you off the wall (they range in price from 10 euros to well over 100, but they are all take-away prices) and take a seat at your table. Since they had lost our reservation, the only community at our communal table that night was comprised of the 3 of us…which was certainly fine with me. On the table when you sit down is a jar of cornichons, a delicious whole-grain mustard, a tray of crudités, a bowl of world's tiniest shrimp (to be eaten whole I discovered!), a blood sausage terrine and another country terrine, and some rather delicious marinated grated vegetables (beets, carrots, and celery root, I think). Bear had reasonably assumed that said dishes were the entire meal and stocked up accordingly only to discover moments later that there were also 5 other courses awaiting us. You go over to a counter and serve yourself (NOTE: the following courses change nightly and depend upon the season and the caprice of the chef) a spicy & creamy fish soup, a stewed pork breast, and a dish of Brussels sprouts and carrots. Follow that up with a cheese course and round out the night with a bowl of fruit salad or one (or two or three or all) of the other 10 desserts they offer. Aside from the wine, the 23 euro price-tag is all inclusive and we really stretched the definition of the word "all" (and our stomachs!). I can imagine few things as delightfully appetizing as the marinated vegetables (as in, they literally prime our appetite for the later courses) and the giant slabs of pork (the fat melting—literally: rendering--in your mouth) were the perfect salve for a frustrating rainy day. I'm still thinking about the Brussels sprout dish—we think it's probably only seasoned with butter, salt, and pepper, but I'd be lying if I said I'd ever had a better vegetable dish. I don't know what the secret flowery syrup in the fruit salad was, but I do know that it had perfectly ripe mangoes, oranges, pineapples, currants, raspberries, and apples in it. I also know that it was easily the best fruit salad I've had in my life (sorry dad!). Bear had 3 servings. Or rather, I served Bear 3 bowls of it (I had the end seat and played waiter and busboy). The people who work there are adorable, kind, and at least tri-lingual and as you and your fellow diners get high on wine and French comfort food, a boisterous conviviality fills the air. I so wish I could have this experience in my native tongue, but somehow I feel like the whole atmosphere would be lost in translation.

Crrrunch!

It being Easter and all here in a Catholic city, much of the town closes down...except, of course, the Jewish quarter! After spending some time with the devout in Notre Dame (with our fingers still sticky from the Berthillon ice cream we, lunatics, that we are, picked up in the wintry weather today. I had the always delicious Caramel with Salted Butter flavor, K had the otherworldly Cassis, and V sampled the very nutty Pistachio), where we lucked into an "audition" (literally: hearing) of the massive organ (which seems only capable of producing the soundtrack to all of the 1920s and 1930s classic monster movies!), we headed over to Rue du Rossiers to make our semi-annual pilgrimage to L'as du Falafel. A man on the street takes your order (and your order is "Falafel Special"...5 euros--no bargain by NYC East Village standards but a steal in this city) and gives you a ticket. You wait on line. You cross your fingers and hope that the deep-fried balls of chick-pea treasure will just be emerging from their hot oil bath as you reach the head of the line. You reach the head of the line. Two aproned schwarma surgeons take your ticket, figure out what language you speak, and then tease you in said language. They play catch with your falafel which bounce and roll all over the many toppings with which your pita will soon be stuffed. White cabbage. Red Cabbage. Grilled seasoned eggplant (apparently a bribe of a euro buys you extra!). Tomatoes. Cucumbers. Tahini. And, if you say "Picante" at just the right time: hot sauce. Stick a fork in it and it's done. You can either eat it right there (which is probably the smart thing to do), or you can empirically discover the cooling time of falafel by trekking back to your apartment three blocks away. Here's the thing, though: even though it was cold, the falafel kept its crunch while all of the other toppings merge into TomaCabbaCucuPlantIni...and that's a very good thing!

Jean Bart Is No More, But Its Boutique Remains

So, promising great moules frites at ridiculously cheap prices I dragged our little truffle trio (which will momentarily become a quartet tomorrow and then reshape to form a new trio the next day) east toward Bastille to Le Jean Bart (86 Rue St. Antoine).

Though my French was not good enough to make out the various signs affixed all over the closed glass doors, it appears that the marvelously atmospheric dive bistro has suffered both a crippling fire and a pretty dire financial crisis. Though I'm not sure how the chronology played out, the proprietor ended up staging a sit-in to try to save the restaurant. Alas, the place seems to be closed indefinitely.

Strangely enough, right next door is Jean Bart's Boutique, offering the same menu, the same prices, and its own petit share of atmosphere. 8 euros buys you one of their 8 preparations of mussels accompanied by french fries. If you opt for their moules marinieres, you can get that, the frites, beer, and a cafe for under 10 euros. V, K, and I each chose our own bowl of moules and shared a demi of a Bourdeaux Blanc Sauvignon. I went for the Moules du Gallo (sp?), a tasty concoction of oil, garlic, white wine, onions, and snail butter. Though I did enjoy the dish, I'd be lying if I said that the distinct flavor of the snail butter was easily discernible and transformed this rustic dish into a masterpiece. Kinda tasted like butter, perhaps a bit snailier...? As V pointed out, though, the best part of any moules experience is soaking your baguette in the steaming jus at the bottom of the bowl. Based on that taste test alone, this was definitely one of the better moules dishes I've had, but it really is a shame that you can't get the moules themselves more immersed in those flavors. I used to serve moules in a great big ugly clear plastic party bowl that I presume was intended for chips & dip. Advantage: you can ladle a good heaping of the jus right into the middle and dip the moules in with each bite.

At any rate: the Boutique is definitely worth paying the visit but I don't think it's a must-eat...

Back in Paris, Back in Blogland

Ah faithful readers, your lovable truffle boy has returned. Apparently it takes a trip out of the country for me to squeeze time from my schedule, under-ripe lime though it often seems to be. Well, I'm back in Paris with K and another traveling companion I'll call V. Actually, I should probably give a quick run down of the 36-hours we spent in Amsterdam en route to France.

It was the third time K and I made an extended Amsterdam stopover and we know exactly what we want to eat, see, and do while we're in town for a few hours. Apparently, there is very little in the way of Dutch "national" food as many Netherlanders will proudly declare Indonesian to be their native cuisine. So, each time we visit we hit up Indrapura, a tasty little spot in Rembrandtplein that serves up rijsttafel, a fixed-menu meal featuring a variety of Indonesia tapas. Here's how the restaurant's website explains the the meal:

The origin of the concept 'rijsttafel' is difficult to trace. According to one legend it referes to the actual table used by the Dutch settlers during the colonial days in Indonesia. A traditional Indonesian meal is always based on white rice, not only because it is noutricious, but also for its calming and soothing effect in combination with spicy dishes. One fish or meat dish accompanied the rice seasoned with 'sambal' or chilipeper. In colonial days a simple meal like this symply did not satisfy the appetite of the Dutch planters, so a greater variety of dishes, from all over the islands, was added. It is this large amount of tasty dishes that as a whole forms the elaborate 'rijsttafel' of today.

It is tasty. Very. We chose the Purnama for 29 euros a person. White rice, fried rice, tempeh, peanuts, cucumber salad, spicy mango salad, various skewered meats (lamb, beef, pork) in satay-like sauces, various slow-cooked meats in peanut sauce and soy souce, shrimp crackers, a cabbage dish, and at least 3 other dishes I can't remember. Good deal. None of the individual entrees is, itself, more than casually appetizing, but altogether as a spread it is filling and offers a really diverse tasting. K mentioned that about half the dishes seem to offer very Thai flavors while the others rely more on Indian spices.

Another don't miss in Amsterdam is the Pancake Bakery. If you're like us and chose your digs in the Reguliersgracht/Rembrandtplein area, then you might want to take bikes to visit this adorable and cozy pancake specialist. Be forewarned though: this place does not serve breakfast and they do not even open until noon. Or rather, much of what they serve can be deemed breakfast but you cannot dare to deem it so until after noon. At any rate, Dutch pancakes are like French crepes but a little bit thicker. And Dutch syrup, stroop, is super-thick as well, smokier (can you use that for sweets?) and richer (but less sweet) than maple or, deity-of-your-choice forbid, Aunt Jemima. All three of us went for savory options. V ordered the very delicious Greek pancake (lamb, feta, onions, tzatziki), K went for my favorite, the Swedish (coriander and thyme marinated reindeer, onions, carrots, cabbage, poached pears, and cranberry sauce), and I tried something new with the Canadian (with crispy bacon, onions, mushrooms, ham, cheese, and curry sauce). We ripped off some "untouched" pieces of our pancakes and covered them with stroop to save money on dessert. Stingy? Yes. Tasty? Yes.

And right before you hop the tram to the train station, make sure to stop at the northwest corner of Rembrandtplein for Vlaamse Frites. While you'll only rarely catch me touching the white nastiness we call mayonaise in these United States of ours, Euronaise is a whole different creature. A delicious creature that pairs perfectly with deep fried potatoes. Do it. Smother them. Pack lots of napkins and tell your arteries to be quiet!

Okay...on to Paris:

The Paris apartment this time around is on Rue du Temple, just two blocks west of the Seine and just a few blocks north of many of our favorite Marais haunts. We had a bit of a nightmare getting into the apartment the first night and, homeless at 12:30 in the am, ended up crashing into Belle Hortense with all of our luggage because it felt "safe." Who goes to a French literary wine bar in the middle of a crisis? Truffle boy does. While K and V tried to figure out where we were going to sleep that night, I got the menu from the nearby restaurant Les Philosophes (along with Le Petit Fer A Cheval, all three share an owner) and ordered "delivery" to the wine bar, where I was "safely" ensconced with my Sancerre. I got Steak Tartare for myself (how else does one know one has arrived in Paris?) and picked up salads for the ladies. K's was one of those delightful French creations topped with smoked duck breast, prosciutto, avocado, beets, and hot goat cheese on little toasts.

The apartment has a clean and reasonably well-appointed kitchen. Slick electric range & a nuker, but no oven and the cutlery might better befit a Fisher Price Kitchenette. No matter: V and I have already been cooking up a storm. Last night I braised some chicken quarters (doused in a little cumin, garlic powder, basil, salt, pepper, and flour--the only pantry items in the apartment!) in Riesling with carrots, leeks, and onions. Tonight, V and I shared kitchen duties. I picked up some goodness from Hedonisme (6 Rue du Mezieres), a lovely little organic/artisinal shop. Left with organic gnocchi, organic truffle butter (which, of course, is composed entirely of TRUFFLES and BUTTER!), and a bagful of pretty veggies. V prepared a lovely salad with a lemon-shallot dressing (as I said, we have nothing in our pantry) and I made the inset gnocchi with sauteed mushrooms & shallots, basil and garlic powder, and a few spoons full of truffle butter (oh, dear readers: may my veins run thick with the stuff when they cut me open on judgment day!).

Au Revoir! More soon...

Paris Round-up: Part 1

K and I have spent nearly two weeks in Paris thus far, literally hopping from cafe to tea house to bar to bistro to ice-cream shop to brasseries to creperie to lounge all day and all night long. There has scarcely been a moment that one of us has not been consuming something, but we haven't had an ounce of bad luck yet and we've been eating and drinking remarkably well. As anyone who's spent some time in Paris will realize when I begin listing our conquests, most of the places we've patronized are within a few doors of each other; K and I haven't really walked too far afield of the the 3 block radius or so of our apartment on the lovely Rue du Bourg Tibourg in the heart of the Marais.

Here are some of the trip's culinary highlights so far:

• L'as du Falafel (Rue du Rossiers): If you happen to be lucky enough to grab your 4.50 euro falafel special when those creamy crunchy balls of deliciously herbed chickpea puree come sizzling out of the deep fryer, you'll understand why this place deserves all of the hype that's been heaped onto it over the years. Complementing your perfect pita is a great melange of fresh and grilled vegetables and zesty tahini sauce. The schwarma is also superb!
• Mariage Freres (Rue du Bourg Tibourg): This is hands-down the world's best tea. The combined tea-house/shop's fragrance wafts down the entire block making it an irresistible pit-stop for those of us who are easily tempted by such heavily scents. Inside, the decor is colonial, drawing influences from all the great tea regions of the world, and service is white-suited and as delicate as it comes. You are seated with a 200 page book called The Art of Tea, which serves as both an informative dossier on the experience and a detailed catalogue (with tasting notes) of the hundreds of teas they offer. Although some of my favorite teas there are the Marco Polo, French Blue, Bal Masque, Casablanca, and The des Impressionists, I haven't had a dud yet. And the food is as good as the tea, with brilliant brunch platters and high-class afternoon tea sandwiches. My favorite combo (this week): K and I share the Pondicherry Afternoon Tea (30 euros) which comes with a pot of tea (we choose the Impressionists), a platter of tea sandwiches (featuring fabulous ingredients fois gras and smoked magret and shrimp and smoked salmon!), and a dessert (we always choose the coup du soleil, which is more or less a creme brulee pie with fresh raspberries tucked away inside the custard).
• La Belle Hortense (Rue Vieille du Temple): This is a combination wine bar/literary cafe/book shop that embodies most of what I love about Paris. Trilingual academic discussions fill the air with the haze of cigarettes and seemingly endless clink of glasses filled with gorgeous (and cheap!) wine. They make some of the best cafe in Paris--by my reckoning at least--and have some unique items like an aperitif made of truffles. If you work up an appetite with all of your yammering, you can order from the menu from Les Philosophes, the bar's sister-restaurant across the street (they have great steak tartar and excellent duck confit with honey, available as the main course in a 3-course fixed price meal available for 26 euros--if you, however, want to sample the most delightfully Gallic restaurant service ever, you should really head over to the restaurant itself and spend the evening attempting to catch the attention of the playfully surly servers!).
  
• Creperie Suzette (Rue du Franc Bourgeois): In the past 5 years, K and I have probably spent a weeks-worth of our cumulative vacation time gobbling down this simple but adorable creperie's fine fare. From the simple sugar & butter crepes to savory offerings like the Franc Bourgeois (spinach, emmenthal, tomato coulis, and basil oil) and unique sweet treats like the Creme du Marron (chestnut cream and creme fraiche), this place is always good for a quick to-go fix or for a leisurely lunch or dinner in their air-conditioned interior. Dinner for two can be kept under 22 euros and they offer continuous service throughout the day.
• Cafe de Medicis (Luxembourg Gardens): K and I visited this cafe (overlooking the stunning Luxembourg Gardens and adjacent to the always-interesting Luxembourg Museum) before taking in the delightful marionette show in the gardens. While I can't really speak for most of the items on the menu, it's always a great place to sit-down with a cafe and they Club Sandwich Fois Gras is really something else: several geese worth of buttery fois gras is arranged, in a deconstructed presentation, with some slices of brioche, grilled pineapple, caramelized onions, and port glaze. I forced so much (albeit delicious and amusingly paired) fois gras down my gullet that I began to feel a little bit like the poor geese they make the stuff with!
  
• Le Nemrod (Rue du Cherch Midi): Just a few blocks south of the incomparable boulangerie of the late Lionel Poilane (which is thankfully still baking up his intoxicating sourdough-started loaves) is a great little spot where you can get Paris' best Croque Madame. Nemrod's version features not only the standard fine ham and cheese topped with bechamel and a perfectly fried sunnyside-up egg, but the entire thing is on a slab of Poilane's finest and it makes a tremendous difference. Oh, and they put tomato wedges on the sandwich when they put it through the broiler! It's a little out of way but it is definitely worth the trek...
• Pont Louis Phillipe (on the Ile St. Louis side): Best picnic location ever. Grab your bottle of wine, your smelly cheese, some baguette, prosciutto, and couscous and enjoy the acoustic strummings of nearby troubadors as you watch the Bateaux Mouche tourboats drive by and light up the City of Lights.
  

Okay, off to La Belle Hortense.

40 pounds a day

So, in honor of the overexposed Rachel Ray, K & I tried to do London on 40 pounds a day. One would think, given the exchange rate that $40 a person for 3 meals & tea wouldn't be that hard, but London is such an expensive city that we were much closer to gaining 40 pounds of fat than we were to keeping our wallets in check.

Our Zoom Airlines flight got in roughly 4 hours late (or right on time, as Zoom fully discloses that all of their departure and arrival times are approximate) so we arrived in London proper by noon, a little wary of mass transit given the recent bombings. We hit the streets from Waterloo station after stowing our baggage. I wanted to head right for fish & chips but K hadn't had any breakfast yet and wanted something resembling coffee and a pastry. We tried to find the nearest cafe (avoiding the 2 Starbucks we passed) and settled on the Charles Dickens Cafe because it accepted Euros and we hadn't gone to a cash machine yet. Big mistake. No iced coffee (which was all K really wanted), uninspiring pastries, and I don't know what sort of fuzzy math they used to convert the Euros, but we got a pound back from a 10 euro note after buying an espresso and juice.

More than a little bit frustrated, we moved on to find what we heard was the best fish & chips joint in London, Rock and Sole Plaice. The take-away menu was very reasonable (at least it would have been if those were dollar signs in front of the numbers) but there was a treat tempting us only on the sit-down menu so we decided it was worth the tripled prices. On one of Alton Brown's Good Eats episodes (Flat is Beautiful III: Flounder), whilst shopping for flat fish at a Georgia Whole Foods, the man himself asserted that if one ever has the opportunity to try Dover Sole, often very very expensive, one simply had to. With this declaration in mind, I had no choice other than to order the market priced (gasp!) Dover Sole, fried whole. I doused it in lemon and malt vinegar and began picking away at it. Great crispy and flavorful fried crust, doing exactly what a fried crust should do, keeping the delicate and buttery Dover Sole moist and tender on the inside. Even K, who is the first admit she doesn't have much of a palette for white fish and even less of one for fried foods found the subtle flavors very complex and satisfying. Since I wanted to nibble on an authentic version of a dish I've tried at home, I asked K to order the Cornish Pasty for herself. That was quite something, too, with the root vegetables tasting rooty, moist and flavorful (as opposed to starchy and dry, that is) and the ground beef very well-seasoned. The pasty's texture itself was as flaky as a puff pastry. Overall, a great fattening meal, which, unfortunately, cost nearly as much as the tasting menu I described in my last post about JLOB.

We headed over to the National Gallery and took in its stunning permanent collection and then meandered over to the National Cafe where we took in a Cream Tea service. A pot of tea, a scone, and a dish full of Jersey clotted cream for roughly $8 American. The tea itself was mediocre, certainly no Mariage Freres, but the raisin scone was quite something; I told K it was all of the pleasure of muffin tops without any of that pesky cakey muffin middle! Said scone was even further improved by the decadent Jersey cream (which, neophyte as I am, I mistook for butter as its color is hued more towards the caramel than the milk end of the spectrum) and divine raspberry preserves (the jar of which seemed to be reduced from a 1-ton vat of raspberries and yes that is a very good thing!). I'm not supposed to say anything about this but someone who happened to be sitting at my table (who certainly couldn't be K!) liked the preserves and cream so much that she actually started eating it by the spoonful whenever she could be sure that the waitress wasn't eyeing her. :)

We decided it was highly inappropriate to follow tea immediately with dinner, but we were on a tight schedule with a chunnel ride to Paris awaiting us at 7:43pm. We killed about 90 minutes wandering around the Leicester Square area, trying to squeeze the clotted cream through our by then surely clotted arteries, and then settled on a noodle-house chain called Wagamama. We were little bit concerned about the time, but our host reminded us that it was technically fast food so it shouldn't take too long. I ordered a delightful and refreshing pressed juice blend with cucumber, pomegranate and apple and layered like a parfait. K and I shared an app and an entree, opting for the deep-fried duck and leek gyoza and the seafood ramen. The duck was tasty though I realized that, with the exception of the occasional pork potsticker at Dumping House in NYC, I tend to prefer my dumplings steamed. That said, it was crispy while staying definitively un-greasy! After the day's delicious fried goods and other fatty indulgences, the main course was so clean and light: a very delicate vegetable broth with healthy-tasting ramen noodles (were they whole wheat?) and generous helpings of grilled shrimp, calamari, and dory. One rarely feels cleansed after a giant bowl of soup but this certainly did the trick!

We miraculously caught the Eurostar and, as first class was in this case cheaper than economy, we were treated to a second dinner, though K preferred to sleep through it and I was too stuffed to eat anything besides the 5 steamed shrimp on a skewer. I did help myself to the free wine though!

Okay, more updates in coming days as we eat our way through Paris.

Boston, Day 2: Rachel Ray saves the day?

The Neighborhood Restaurant
After spending a few morning hours in the hotel hot-tub, K, E, and I went to meet some of E's grad school friends for brunch. The Neighborhood Restaurant is known for serving hearty breakfast fare at student-friendly prices. The entrees (between $5 and $12) are all served with orange juice, coffee, cream of wheat, and a virtually unfinishable main course. I ordered the "Portuguese Breakfast," tempting it me as it was with a bevy of unorthodox breakfast items. It came with two poached eggs, linguiça sausages, 3 croquettes (shrimp, cod, and some sort of cheese), and some sort of dark entrail meat (blood sausage?). Oh yeah, AND rice and beans.

While the eggs were perfectly poached (runny yolk getting absorbed by the yummy rice and beans) and the linguiça was spicy and flavorful, I wasn't wild about the croquettes and I really had a hard time with the unidentified entrails. But such is the risk that accompanies my ordering antics. The real star here is the cream of wheat appetizer that precedes the whole meal. It's creamy, cinnamony, and just a little bit citrusy, warm and comforting without being sedating.

With our tummies stuffed to capacity, it was time to hit Boston proper. E had us walk the freedom trail to provide a very scenic route to our eventual dining destination in the North End. En route, I had to sample some fresh crab from a street market a block away from the Holocaust memorial. $2 for a large condiment cup worth of steamed crab. I hit it with some lime and hot sauce and yum.

Giacomo's
Seeing the line form outside Giacomo's an hour before the restaurant opens at 5pm makes one want to curse Rachel Ray for featuring this North End Italian Restaurant on her $40 a day. But here's the kicker: the lines were as long before the place became a Food Network celebrity. Don't worry about the line, though. If you can get there before opening I can't imagine you'd ever have to wait more than an hour, and I've waited at least that long just waiting to be taken to my reserved table at New York hotspots like Mesa Grill. And while I'm really not one for schmoozing with strangers, our incredibly friendly fellow line-mates made the time whizz by.

After waiting from 4:15-5pm (and seeing the line stretch around the block) until we were ushered in for the first seating, it was easy to see why the place was so popular: massive plates of delicious pasta at super-reasonable prices served up by hysterical no-nonsense waitresses who know their food and the neighborhood. I ordered the house specialty: the Frutti di Mare ($18). It is a plate of mussels, shrimp, calamari, clams, and scallops served on top of a bed of linguini and topped with the Fra Diavolo sauce (basically a spicy lobster-based marinara). It was simple and delicious. The seafood was all superfresh and pefectly steamed and the sauce was flavorful and just spicy enough (though I regretted not trying out their Scampiorgiacomo's sauce which is a lobster-based marinara with bechamel). The linguini itself was nothing to write home about, but the K's Butternut Squash Ravioli and E's Lobster Ravioli definitely impressed.

The meal for 4, with a bottle of wine, came to $80. It was a perfect way to end our fabulous 36-hour trip to Bah-ston (though I should warn all prospective Giacomo patrons: the lite fm they blast hovers in that delicate balance between comical and fully intolerable).

But you can't end a trip without dessert!!! Armed with our waitress's recommendation, we strolled over to Cafe Graffiti for some sweets. As I've mentioned here before, I don't have a dessert stomach so I certainly wasn't ready for the cannolis and cakes they had on display. I was, however, fully prepared for a cappuccino with a shot of amaretto.

And that, as they say, was that. Thanks E, C, and K for a great trip!

Boston, Day 1: Peanut-butter burgers?

I spent Friday and Saturday in Boston (and Cambridge) with E, K, and C. It was pretty much 36 hours worth of eating and drinking, with just a dash of sleep thrown in for good measure. Here's what we stuffed our stomachs with:

Darwin's
A cute little sandwich shop a few blocks from the mighty Charles. The place names its menu after the local streets (which I discovered shortly after lunch when we passed the intersection of the two sandwiches I was choosing between). I ended up going for the Gerry, a Reubenesque (come on, how good is that allusion!) sourdough treat with hot pastrami, melted swiss, cole slaw, and thousand island dressing. As someone who feels compelled to every last bit of food I order, I was glad to see the portion-size was reasonable. Enough to fill me up but not quite enough to make me rue the day I was born. I washed it all down with an organic all-natural Cream soda.

Burdick Chocolate
We stopped in here for some quick sweet treats. While I wasn't in love with the ultra-cute handmade chocolates themselves (I suppose I'm spoiled by NYC's Vosges with its exotic flavor combinations), the iced hot chocolate certainly earned a place on my top 5 chocolate beverages.

Boston Beer Works
shark, marinated in Beer Works® We came here to stuff ourselves with enough grub to keep our stomachs from pestering us during the show we were catching that night. We only ordered from the appetizer column but the portions were certainly entree-sized. I ordered the Maco Shark Skewers: Fresh Mako marinated in Raspbeery Ale, grilled with tomatoes, onions & served with jasmine rice & fruit salsa. The very fresh fruit salsa and grilled tomatoes were excellent, with the latter popping with flavor in the mouth, but I was torn on the shark itself. The pieces seemed to come from very different parts of the sharks, as some were juicy and tender (like swordfish at its best) and others were more cartilaginous and tough. For some reason, the marinade was a little vinegary for my taste, but when I let some of the rice absorb it, I got more of the berry and less of the vinegar. I also nibbled from E & K's obscenely large half-portion of nachos, with dips placed conventiently in side-dishes instead of slopped on top in a goey mess.

Bukowski Tavern
With a kitchen open very late and a spinnable beer wheel for the indecisive, Bukowski's made for the perfect post-show dinner. There was one item on the menu staring at me like a dare: the Peanut-Butter Burger. Just a simple burger with the usual trimmings, except the patty was covered in chunky peanut-butter. A-mazing! One of those so-wrong-it's-right dishes. And yes, I know, peanut-butter and beef are combined all the time in various Asian cuisines. But, as many beef satay skewers as I've downed in the past, I was still surprised and delighted by the improbable taste of medium-rare meat with the salty goodness of the peanut puree. The crunch of the peanuts also gave the dish a lot of textural pleasure. I washed it all down with an equally rich oatmeal stout. I'm eager to try this dish at home with some of our left over CSA ground beef, though I'd by lying if I said I wasn't tempted to try to squeeze some jam between those buns :)

That's it for day 1. Day 2, or "Rachel Ray saves the day!", will be posted in the next few days.

Duck duck goose

Although my memory is already fuzzy, let's just say the below happened on March 13, 2007:

After accidentally wandering into a Parisian market in the middle of a parking lot (just a block away from Mariage Freres, the best tea in the world), K and I couldn't pass up a gorgeous fatty duck breast and some grade A fois gras from a little vendor who was busily beheading cornish hens when I stepped up to order. We grabbed some organic produce from another vendor and then hustled to the closest grocery store to pick up essentials since the Paris apartment's cupboards and fridge were completely bare. We stood blankly staring at starches trying to figure out what would best accompany a few fruity fowl preparations and ending up settling on a box of rather awful saffron risotto.

Back at the apartment, I doffed my shirt, donned an apron, and pretended to sharpen the kitchen's only blade of any consequence (though I'm fairly sure it's just an over-sized letter opener styled to look like a chef's knife). I set up whatever mise-en-place I could on the tiny counter and got cooking:

Seared Duck Breast and Poached Apples with a Raspberry Fig Reduction
Since I often have trouble getting duck breast past rare, I decided to borrow a technique from Emeril. I scored the breast as best as I could with my blunt instruments. Salt, pepper, herbes de provence patted all over. On to a hot oven-friendly skillet, skin side down. Searing both sides until they're crispy and then off into a 350-degree oven for a few minutes while I work on the reduction.

For the reduction, I poured some Bordeaux, raspberry vinegar, and fig jam into a small pot. Bring it to a boil and then simmer. Once the alcohol and vinegar fumes had cooked out and the jam was fully dissolved, I tossed some apple 1/8ths into the pot and let them soak up all the goodness. Just before serving, I dropped a few little slabs of butter into the pot to thicken it up a bit.

Take the duck out of the oven and let it rest before slicing and pouring the reduction over it.

Seared Fois Gras Salad with Raspberry Vinaigrette
This one is pretty self-explanatory. It's a basic salad: lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers. Sear up a li'l bit of grade A fois gras (after patting it down with some salt, pepper, and sugar) and throw it on top. Dress the whole thing up with an emulsification of raspberry vinegar, mustard, herbes de provence, honey, salt, pepper, and olive oil.

That's that. The faux risotto turned out pretty rotten, and though K liked the artichoke (dressed in melted Camembert and butter) I was disappointed by it and will try to pretend it never happened.