Je Suis Retour, La Partie 1…(I’m Back, Part 1)

Pablo Picasso, 1881-1973
Women in Their Bathroom, 1938
Collage, 299 x 448 cm
Picasso Foundation, Paris
Spanish born artistic genius; co-founded the cubist movement

Indeed, I AM BACK and feeling better than ever.

With my divorce papers finally signed after two years of deliberations, my best friend, Suzi, insisted that I join her and a group of friends in Paris to help celebrate her birthday on November 6, and so, I did just that. After two days of thinking about her proposal and openly discussing some solid travel plans with her, I bought my ticket to ride, set my house in order, and boarded the plane.

In total, there would be three of us from Austin: Suzi, Michael (our dear friend and chef who is moving to Amsterdam in the spring with his girlfriend) and I; and we would then meet up with Suzi’s Italian boyfriend, Costa, and his friend, Lella in Paris.

As the days began to tick by, my excitement grew to exponential proportions for two reasons: one, I had not yet met Costa and it had been nearly four years since I’d been abroad. I began to make my preparations with the giddiness that border-lined on the verge of nervous excitement.

Whenever I travel overseas, I always create a Moleskin travel journal and this is what mine looked like for this trip:

The water marks will be explained in Part 2 as I’m breaking up my entries into two parts with each part corresponding to the city in which I stayed. Part one covers my time in Paris and Part two takes place in Amsterdam. I chose the blackbird as my title symbol for my journal not just because that is the name of my company but:

“In Japan the raven is regarded as a messenger of the gods, while the Chou regarded it as a bird of good omen, the herald of their victories and the mark of their virtues…In the Book of Genisis, the raven was a symbol of clear-sightedness, since it was sent out to see if the lowlands had emerged from the waters of the Flood: ‘And it came to pass, at the end of forty days, that Noah opened the window of the ark which he had made and he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters had dried up from off the earth.’… In Ancient Greece, the raven was a solar bird sacred to Apollo. Although Plutarch says that eagles determined the siting of the omphalos (“navel or center” stones meant to sybolize the center of the world with the most famous one:) at Delphi, Strabo states that this task was performed by ravens. At least both birds have this in common, that they acted as messengers of the gods and performed prophetic roles.” (Chevalier, Gheerbrant & Brown, pg. 789)

Artist Unknown
Image of Metamorphosis
Paris, circa 1920

NOVEMBER 5, 2009

The view of “going back in time” from the plane

“Good clothes open all doors..”

After we landed in Paris, we took a taxi to our hotel and got checked in. We were staying right behind the National Assembly, placing us in walking distance to nearly all of the major landmarks and museums, including the Mussee d’Orsay (my personal favorite), the Louvre, the Petit and Grand Palais, the Eiffel Tower and the amazing food market located on rue de Cler.

A view of La Tour Eiffel from the Tuileries Gardens

Some wild cepes that were picked at 4 that morning for the market on rue de Cler

But before we could hit the pavement, we popped into a Tabac and Bistro right down the street to grab a much needed bite to eat as it had been over seven hours since any of us had eaten anything and we were all in a post-flight stupor that can best be described as sleep deprived anemia. We all felt weak, dehydrated and speechless. One liter of water, two double espressos, and a hearty omlet later, we were on our way.

The amazingly beautiful doors of Notre Dame; does craftsmanship like this; wrought by hand, still exist?

Reminders that the universe is always watching…

Suzi and I in Notre Dame, holding the flowers that would decorate our hotel room

The stained glass in Notre Dame, some of the most magnificent in the world, was like walking through a kaliedoscope.

We walked down St. Germain, along the Seine and through the Luxembourg Gardens, just wandering, taking in the sights and breathing in the sharp cold air that contrasted beautifully with the glittering sunlight that pierced the clouds, making the gilded landmarks all the more magnificent.

L’arc de triumphe du Carrousel (1807-1809) was ordered to be built by Bonaparte so he could see it from his rooms in the royal palace, while adding a dramatic decorative element to the Tuileries Gardens. It is a copy of the l’arc Septime Severe in Rome.

My favorite bookstore, Shakespeare and Co.

The upstairs music/reading room…

Exhausted, we all decided to head back to the hotel for a disco nap so that we would be able to enjoy our dinner reservation at Benoit, one of the oldest bistros in Paris; their doors have been open since 1912.

Well, all I can say is Benoit never ever disappoints and finding a gluten free option on the menu was not a problem.

I savored the perfectly cooked escargot, and the fois gras was to die for, served with a diced cognac aspic (yes, even without the toast points, I was in culinary heaven).

I simply asked the waiter if the Turbot (flounder) was floured before they pan seared it (it was not) and because the sauce consisted of sauteed peppers with a tomato coulis, I knew I was in the clear.

Naturally I had to pass on the bread, but the smell of it alone made me feel like I was vicariously enjoying it.

The absolute highlight of the meal were the chocolate macaroons filled with noisette (hazelnut praline) buttercream. The subtle crunch of the macaroon immediately gave way to a fluffy rich center that lingered just long enough to get me wondering if what I had just eaten had actually occurred. I felt as though a spell had been cast over me and I was transfixed with unexpected, unadulterated joy.

It’s a good thing I’m not a spy because my clandestine shot of the macaroon is, well, awful.

Then I found myself wanting to be transformed into a fly so I could float back into the kitchen, perch myself on a wall and watch the pastry chefs make these disks of heaven. How did they do it? I was completely impressed and it can go without saying that the Benoit macaroon was the most sublime macaroon I had ever tasted; all the others I would try on the trip didn’t even come close to the perfection I was so lucky to experience. Then I vowed to go home and re-educate myself on the art of the macaroon.

After dinner we roamed around rue Ste. Martin, filling the night with wonderous drinks and hilarious banter.

NOVEMBER 6, 2009

Paris street art…gotta love it!

SUZI’S BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

We got up early and Michael and I tried to find Suzi’s favorite birthday cake, a classic white on white. Our search was cut short though, because Costa and Lella were arriving and we had a bit of shopping to do before lunch, so we all headed to rue de Rivoli, to seek out the legendary chef supply shop, E. Dehillerin, the place where Julia Child famously stocked her kitchen along with the legion of chefs that came before and after her.

The unforgettable facade…

I picked up a few small items along with a book on pates and one on macaroons so I could follow through with my intention of humbling myself.

Then we walked down the street to meet Costa and Lella for lunch at Pied de Cochon, which literally means, “The Foot of the Pig” and they are famous for their steak tartar, which I immediately ordered. They are also famous for their pig’s feet, but I didn’t have the guts to go there just yet.

Costa ordered fois gras and two bottles of Veuve Clicquot Champagne and we toasted to the birthday girl, who looked happier than I’d seen her in weeks. Even a blind man could see how madly in love she was with Costa, and he with her; sitting there with love at her side, with words being spoken, the only sound we could hear were the bursting of the bubbles in the champagne like little firecrackers of emotion and my heart felt warm just to be near the two of them.

The fois gras arrived and it was superior to the fois gras we tried the night before. This time, the chef paired the fois with this red current raspberry compote that created just the right contrast with the fois, uniting the flavors in my mouth as the fois melted from the heat of my tongue and the compote seemed to cleanse the palate perfectly. Everyone unanimously agreed that this was some of the best fois gras they had ever had.

Auguste Rodin, 1840-1917
The Kiss, 1880-1889
Marble, 181.5 x 112.3 x 117 cm
Paris, Musee Rodin

“I have seen only you. I have admired only you, I desire only you.”
Napoleon Bonaparte to Marie Malewska

My date was the steak tartar and it was absolute perfection! I love the way they prepare it because they use balsamic infused capers and this mustard that takes the top of your head off. Paired with the champagne, it was sublime; what could be better than steak tartar and champagne in the middle of the day? I literally could of ordered it again but then the restaurant would of asked me to become a part of the menu, so I decided against it.

We walked around Les Halles and St. Germain until we found ourselves back at the hotel so we could rest and get ready for the evening’s events.

To begin, we first went to Kong, meeting up with Lella and her good friend and college, Alessandro. We were all very excited about Kong because it was designed by Phillip Stark and boasted a promising menu. The wine was delicious and the service was very attentive, but the food was very disappointing. I played it safe and stuck to sauteed vegetables and the seafood miso soup since it was an Asian-French fusion restaurant and nearly everything on the menu used soy sauce as either a marinade or a main ingredient.

My vegetables were not properly blanched and were very cold when they arrived so I barely touched them, but my soup was good. The base of the soup was a mushroom consume which really enhanced the flavor of the snapper and the baby bock choy. The shrimp were overcooked to the point of ruination, (I detest rubbery shrimp) but the consume was expertly done and was relieved to have tried at least one good thing on the menu. The ultimate shock was still to come, however; the desserts!

The dessert menu was a list of items by the famed patisserie, Pierre Herme, and of the three items we tried, only one was worthy of note. The mango macaroon was filled with a ganache that was not properly tempered and the mango infusion tasted like a push up pop. The creme brulee was like any other and didn’t really register as refined.

The dark chocolate carre (chocolate square) was delicious but after all the hype, I walked away very unimpressed but oddly comforted. I knew Pierre wasn’t the one who actually made the desserts I had tried, but his name was affixed to my experience and it made me realize that even the best at what they do can struggle with consistency.

Then again, like anything else that is truly magnificent, I couldn’t stop thinking about the chocolate macaroon from the night before. It was all I could think of and began to wonder if I had set my standard bar too high. I immediately cast this ridiculous thought aside as I remembered what my grandmother always told me: once you have experienced true greatness, the bullshit becomes very apparent. So I descended the stairs of Kong feeling like I’d been told I would be King but was really just a serf who paid for a king’s cold meal.

Our next stop, however, BLEW MY MIND!!!!!

We then took a taxi to Hotel Costes and I absolutely loved everything about this place. The interiors were masterfully designed in the boudoir style; low marble top tables were surrounded by plush red velvet chairs, the lighting was mysterious and dim with most of the sources coming from burning candles. And as we walked down the long velvet curtain lined passageway to our table, I couldn’t help but feel sexy all over, being very aware of my cadence while wondered if I’d catch a glimpse of someone sauntering by in a silk bath robe.

The service was amazing, and the snacks we ordered were consistently divine. Michael ordered a thai-spiced Tiger steak with green beans and french fries and with the exception of the french fries, I think I ate most of it.

We drank some of the very best dirty martinis with three olives that I’ve ever had. When I asked if they were shaken or stirred, the waitress replied, “Madame, we only stir our martinis.”

We sang happy birthday one last time before wrapping ourselves in our coats, stumbling to the taxi and putting ourselves to bed; smiles plastered on our faces.

Without question, Hotel Costes was my highlight of Paris. Simply stunning. When I awoke the next day, I vowed that when I found my true love, I would take him there…

Paul Guaguin, 1848-1903
The Seed of Areoi, 1892
Oil on Burlap, 36 1/4 x 28 3/8″
The Museum of Modern Art, New York
French Post-Impressionist

NOVEMBER 7, 2009

Suzi was staying in Paris with Costa for a couple more days while Michael and I headed to the train station for Amsterdam.

But before we left, Micheal and I went to rue de Cler and bought some artisnal cheeses, a bottle of bordeaux, and a selection of charcuterie for the train ride.

Now this is what I call a gourmet foodies’ dream of physical paradise.

I also picked up some Biologique Galettes de Mais (organic corn cakes) since I couldn’t eat the cheese without crackers or bread. It was the only gluten free item I could find at any of the grocery stores (supermarches) and I had to go to four different place to find them.

Oddly, as we boarded the train, I couldn’t wait to leave, even though I love Paris, but this time, I felt like something huge was about to happen and it was going to happen in Amsterdam.

Au Bientot, Paris!!!!

Mehmed Unal
The Birdman
Berlin, Germany