Versailles

If ever there were a tourist destination designed for Elly and me, it is Versailles. First, it's in Paris. Second, the entire thing is dipped in gold. Third, no matter how ridiculously we dress, we still blend in. We took our pilgrimage to the last home of Marie Antoinette very seriously, decking ourselves out in all the lace, bows, gaudy jewelry and hairspray we could muster. A nice fellow in the gift shop remarked, "Hey...you guys look like you...belong here..." How very observant, my little French friend...

We were feeling a little soggy after the hour and a half train ride from the city to the palace and then the hour and a half wait in line to enter the palace (and we'd even bought our tickets ahead of time!), but we really perked up when we saw those shiny golden gates and the huge gardens spreading out as far as you could see.

I know you can't see it, but on that building, at the entrance of the palace is the inscription "Tout la gloire de la France," or "All the glory of France."

Word.

Of course we were interested in the extravagant last queen of France, Madame Marie-Antoinette. We toured her private chambers (lavish and amazing), looked at portraits of her and the last royal family and bought some of her personal recipe perfume from the gift shop. Don't misinterpret my zeal for this ridiculous monarch...I am all about power for the people, the republic and revolution. But I think we can all agree, that woman had some fabulously lavish style and it deserves some props. Devotion to beauty is worthy of admiration. That said, I probably would have voted to chopped off her head too.

Some fun facts about Versailles:

1. There are 800 hectares of gardens. That's over 3 square miles of perfectly manicured vegetation.
2. The Grand Canal runs from the back of the palace through the length of the garden and was used for yacht parties for the kings and their courts.
3. The city of Versailles and the palace grounds are bigger than the entire island of Manhattan.
4. The palace itself has 700 rooms, 2000 windows and 1250 fireplaces and can house 5000 people.
5. Marie-Antoinette was wearing purple shoes when she was executed.

My absolute favorite part of the tour was the hamlet at the Petit Trianon. Versailles is so big that there is a train you can take to the outlying buildings on the grounds. There of course is the huge palace, but there are also two "country houses:" the Grand Trianon (residence of Queen Marie-Therese) and the Petit Trianon (residence of Marie-Antoinette). This last queen had a real flair for the theatrical and so she decided to build her own little rustic village (le Hameau) just off her country villa. The story is that she was tired of all the fluff and formality of being queen so she built a place where she could pretend to be a milkmaid. It has little canals, tiny backyard gardens, sheep, chickens, miniature bridges and cottages. It feels like Disneyland's version of the French countryside and I LOVED it. It was so cute, I could hardly contain myself from skipping around.

After all that walking and ooohing and aaaahing at the palace, we came back into Paris for dinner and decided to spend my last night in France at the Eiffel Tower. We sat right at the base, watching the elevators go up and down, the people wandering around, the vendors selling their miniature Eiffel Towers. Much to my delight, the tower lit up at midnight like a psychedelic Christmas tree and I did a little dance in honor of France. The next morning I shipped out for the States; it was a perfectly fitting way to end my French adventure.

Paris in a Day

What is the best way to see Paris?

On a bike.

With lots of chocolate.

Darling sister had just been to Paris and recommended that I check out some of the chocolate shops there. She and Jess are perpetually more prepared than myself and Elly, so I took advantage of their organization and copied their chocolate route (with a few monumental additions). Paris is a surprisingly small city and most of the major sites are clustered in a few square kilometers around the Seine. So I took the liberty of planning the ultimate Paris-in-a-day tour....and now I will share my genius with all of you!

Elly and I biked down from our hotel in the Marais, across the pretty little bridge and over to the island in the Seine where Notre Dame sits. We knew we would be crunched for time, so we didn't go to the top of the tower, but just walked around and looking at those crazy gargoyles, scenes of temptation and torture...quite a way to kick off the day.

I think the cathedral must have really put the fear of the Lord into Elly, because right as we were riding away she crashed her bike...for no reason. We were chatting and biking...one minute I look back and there she is right behind me, the next minute, she's lying on the pavement. My eye quickly scanned for a pot hole, an opened car door, a gargoyle, an arch-angel...nothing. I don't know how, but Elly managed to have an immaculate collision. (Don't worry, Cherie, it was just a tiny scrape...) I promise that I won't turn that into a life metaphor, but I was thinking about it.

After we'd cleaned Elly up a bit, we cruised back over the Seine, past the Louvre and its huge gardens. Just one block north of the Tuileries on Rue St. Honore, the chocolatier Michel Cluizel sits in a totally fab shopping district with hip record stores, lingerie shops and independent clothing designers. We almost got sucked into spending the entire day on that street...it was seriously tempting. The chocolate shop itself was a wonder: a huge chocolate fountain at the entrance, beautiful truffles with gold leaf letters, delicious macarons, candied everything. The real winner was a chocolate champignon (don't worry there were no actual mushrooms involved). It had a buttery, chewy caramel center peppered with crunchy toffee, shaped like a cute little mushroom and covered in swirls of white and dark chocolate. Right down the street another amazing chocolatier, Jean-Paul Hevin. At this little gem of a shop we tried the most wonderful macarons I've ever had; Elly and I sampled a beautifully floral chocolate-bergamot, a spicy orange-ginger-chocolate and (my favorite) mango-coriander.

From there we cruised down the Avenue Champs de Elysees, through the plazas and parks, past the big, beautiful Louis Vuitton store with its four-story high windows and up to the Arc de Triomphe. It was a beautiful, breezy day and as we rolled down the streets in our sundresses, life was sweet. It was even sweeter when we found the theatrical chocolatier Patrick Roger. The shop was unlike any other I'd been in. No gold decorations, no little plates piled high with truffles. The long refrigerated cases were sleek, the bites and morsels each perfectly spaced in neat rows. On the counters were modernist chocolate sculptures. Even the chocolates themselves were presented in perfect, glossy simplicity. Elly and I tried a concoction that looked exactly like a green marble in a Tiffany's jewelry box. I felt a little strange about eating it. Until I ate it. Inside the smooth sugar shell was a layer of milk chocolate and then a perfect lime-caramel-cream. I was surprised that anything in this world could taste so perfect.

We rode down to the Eiffel Tower for a quick peak. It was stunning to see in person, and we decided to come back at night for the light show.

Next we biked through the pretty little neighborhood of Saint-Germain-des-Pres for the final stop of the epic chocolate tour, the uber-famous Michel Chaudun. We were delighted by the window full of tiny chocolate figurines: the Statue of Liberty, the Eiffel Tower, babies, trees, pigs, deer...just to name a few. We went inside to try the specialty of the store, pave. These little morsels are cream truffles, one the simplest and best of all chocolate creations: cocoa powder, sugar and heavy cream. They are kept cold, so you get a little cool, silky bite of chocolate that spreads slowly through your mouth like a Southern woman sauntering into a room. Heavenly.

Later that evening when the sun was going down over the city we strolled down to the Tuileries Gardens again and rode the huge ferris wheel as the lights were all starting to twinkle on over city. Just as we reached the top the Eiffel Tower exploded in sparkling movement like a huge Christmas tree. I think I actually screamed in delight. I could see the Seine, the Opera House, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, the hill of Montmartre, the lights of Notre Dame, like points on a Lite-Brite against the dark, warm night.

An Amazing Weekend in Bordeaux

Darling sister and sister-in-law came to France last week for a wedding and stayed for a bit in Bordeaux, which gave me the perfect excuse to spend some time in the beautiful old city. It's truly gorgeous, with little narrow alleyways, a lovely old cathedrals and tons and tons of little squares, each of them with their own unique vibe...a brand new universe every few blocks.

Kate & Jess arrived just in time for the Fete le Vin on the riverfront, a huge celebration of Bordelaise wines. We walked along the water, tasted as much of the many varieties as we could handle in the heat and eventually ended up cooling off a very smart water feature in the Place de la Bourse called the miroir d’eau. It is a black granite pool with about 1/2 inch of water, making it the perfect spot to cool your toes on a hot summer day. When we were just about dying of the heat and red wine, we came upon the square just teeming with kids and parents having the greatest time in the shallowest pool I have ever seen. There were toddlers splashing, little kids chasing each other and one enthusiastic young boy on a scooter cutting a truly narley wake in the pool. Then, all of the sudden, the water drained out and the entire pool turned into a mist machine. Collectively the entire square breathed a little sigh of relief and went quiet, suddenly shrouded, walking slowly and mysteriously across the square.

Other than the wine festival, there was a lot of good food to be had. Jess and I went a little nutty in a chocolate shop and ordered every flavor of macaroon our hearts desired...rose, lavender, noisette, pistachio. The pastries reminded me of miniature candy hamburgers, but much more delicious. Kate promptly squished them to smithereens in her bag, but the crumbs were still delicate and delicious.

I also got to try my first plate of escargot. The little buggers really appealed to my well-known obsession with circles. They were served in a round ceramic dish with six tiny circular indents that perfectly fit the shells. The special utensil for grabbing the little buggers was a circular tong to hold the shell while digging out the delectible morsel inside. Mine were steamed and then topped with butter and pesto...similar in texture to a perfectly cooked mussel; I can see why they're such a delicacy here. I don't think I will ever be able to look at those garden pests again without briefly entertaining culinary daydreams. Just as we were finishing our dinner that evening, we heard some commotion on the street and knew that the fireworks were beginning for the festival. As were wandered down the plaza, we could hear the big, full orchestra music and see the pink flashes in the sky.

The next day all three of us were feeling wilted from the heat and decided to take a little road trip to the Atlantic coast to cool off. We'd heard tales of La Dune du Pila, a huge sand dune a hour away, the largest in France. Supposedly the thing just kept growing and growing over the years, swallowing trees even hotels. Finally someone put a stop to the horror movie madness and they planted a whole forest of pine trees to tame the monstrous sand dune. Now its a tourist attraction with a HUGE set of stairs to the top...you know, accessible. So we climbed and climbed to the top and when we finally arrived we saw that the dune just kept going and going off into the distance. It was like being on the set of Laurence of Arabia. And the view of the calm little harbour below was fantastic and extremely enticing.



After stumbling to the bottom for a quick swim and then heroically climbing back up to the top in the mid-day heat, we were ready to reward ourselves with some sea-side snacking. For a while we drove around the tiny villages, looking in vain for a simple meal of ocean critters, and we finally happened upon the haven that is Papa's Restaurant. In the town of Arcachon was a Basque bistro serving up both fresh oysters and plates of moule-frites. We gladly partook of both and had the pleasure of being served by the fat, red-cheeked Papa himself. In between singing, shouting at his equally jolly wife and entertaining his five-year-old grandson with the radio on his Gold Wing, Papa kept us happy with bubbly drinks and plates of tasty mollusks. We arrived back in Bordeaux that evening in time for an ice cream cone and another round of festival fireworks.

P.S. This has absolutely nothing to do with the narrative, but I loved this photo and had to share it. Kate bought yogurt for a car snack, but there were no spoons in sight. So we improvised and made our own go-gurts. Totally clever until she started slurping the last dregs...and then giggling...and then almost choking and wrecking the car. Brilliant.

Carcasonne

After the oh so lovely visit from Eddie and Phil to Aix, they were total sweethearts and gave me a lift back to Bordeuax. It was such a long drive, but Phil had some killer tunes and I rolled along the French countryside listening to Jeff Buckley and Nina Simone. I do need some sugar in my bowl, Nina, yes I do. We stopped for a refresher in Carcasonne. I had no idea that the city was so old and beautiful. It was a wonderful surprize.

I've seen other fortified cities before and they are impressive. But I have to say this one was stunning. It's really huge, a whole little village surrounded in stone walls with tall towers. It made me feel like Sleeping Beauty; I expected a dragon to be perching on the tower behind me and a dashing knight to come rushing to my rescue at any moment.

But of course I did have two dashing heros, my buddies Phil and Eddie. They delivered me to Chateau Brandeau again to have a little work in the vines again before I fly away for the states. Their humor and kindness have saved me many times before on this trip.

I think that Eddie was looking for his Prince Charming in Carcasonne....

Bistrot des Philosophies

While Eddie and Phil were visiting, we took them to a lovely dinner in my favorite square in the city, Place Forum des Cardeurs. (We really needed the sustenance after a long day of potonk tournaments.) The square has recently been renovated and is so lovely at night with all the pretty lights and pretty people. Elly had discovered this little gem of a place, Bistrot des Philosophies, and took me there for the most delicious appetizer I've ever had: foie gras créme brulee. We went there earlier on our trip and fell in love with it. Of course we had to return and share this amazing dish with our dear friends...we ordered two. Creamy and savory and smooth with a little sweet crunch on top. I must learn how to make this dish. The atmosphere in Philosophies is chic and casual, the prices are totally reasonable (for Aix) and the lighting was divine. I'm always surprized at how the right lighting can transform a good meal into a great experience. We sat and drank some bubbly and enjoyed a piece of fabulous piece of cote du bouef (a slow cooked hunk of steak that is seared and then baked). The best French meal I've had since I arrived. Parfait!

The night was topped off with a hilarious encounter between Elly and a random young man on the street. Since my arrival in Aix Elly has had me convinced that there are these small toilets on the street that rise up out of the ground for festivals and other times of high tourism. You see the little portals on the streets all over town. I kept seeing them everywhere and never really thought too hard about it, just a passing thought of how odd it was to have these elevator bathrooms. On our way out of dinner a young man was lowering one of the units back down and Elly struck up a conversation with him about the uniqueness of this particular town feature. He explained in patient and rusty English that they were not toilets....they are trash bins. Lowering them underground keeps the unsightly mess off the posh streets. I really have no idea how or where her theory formed, but we had a good laugh when we actually stood over supposed bathrooms and realized that the unit was far too small to turn around in, let alone sit down. I have to credit Elly's enthusiastic nature with having me so unquestioningly convinced. It is sometimes a joy to be a clueless tourist.

More Provencal Cheese

My goodness, it's been too long since my last post...and there's so much to tell! First, let me catch you up on the cheese news. After Roquefort, Elly and I went back to Aix en Provence where she and her French boyfriend were settling into their new "country house." I really do feel more comfortable away from all the plus posh hustle found in the center of Aix, and it gave me a chance to learn the finer points of a fabulous French lawn game called potonk, similar to bocce ball. I also had the chance to visit a local goat cheese farm and try out a few new recipes of my own the quiet countryside.

Elly and I visited a small goat operation just outside of Puyricard. Sandrine, who runs the farm with her husband and makes the cheese daily, was kind enough to allow Elly and I to watch her make the specialty of the farm and pester her with questions. We watched as she prepared a very rare and delicious ricotta style goat cheese called brousse du rove. It is made from the milk of the Rove goat, a breed that used to be found commonly in and around Marseilles. Nowadays you find mostly Saaen, Alpine and some others, but the milk from Rove goats has a special grassy quality that is super tasty. Sandrine prepared the yogurt style cheese by slowly bringing the milk up to 90°F and then adding a little vinegar to help the small curds form. Then she very carefully spooned the curds into tall, thin plastic tubes and sold them to us right away, no draining necessary. Usually the cheese is served as a dessert with jam or sugar and it was divine. The consistency was much more delicate and moist than ricotta, but much cheesier in flavor than yogurt. We took a bunch home and had some for breakfast each morning. You can learn more about the history of the cheese and the traditions of thier cheese making style here.


With no Hermes store around the corner to distract me, I was able to try out a few recipes I'd dreamed up on Bob Dylan's farm and had the perfect excuse for such elaborate creations; our friends Phil and Eddie from Chateau Brandeau in Bordeax came down for a weekend visit. You may remember this fabulous couple from my earlier posts. Eddie is a deliciously over the top Kiwi and Phil is his quiet, delightful companion from the UK. These men have the most wonderful bromance I've ever encountered and share cheeky rapport that instantly puts a smile on your face. I knew they would appreciate a little culinary experimentation, so I put together some dessert cheeses to try. The first a sugared rose petal with a dollop of fresh chevre rolled in sponge cake crumbs and topped with a healthy smear of dark chocolate. The crunchy petal with the soft cheese and smooth chocolate made for a really dynamic little bite...totally a winner. The next experiment was soaking some slightly aged chevre in various liqueurs. The first was soaked in a fruity, syrupy Minervois red wine, the second in a dry rose and the third in violet liqueur with lavender. The result was an Easter basket of colors and some lovely delicate aromas infused into the little pats of chevre. I loved the presentation but would like to try soaking them longer next time to get a stronger flavor.


That's all for tonight, but stay tuned for wine adventures in Bordeaux, an underground cathedral and a sand dune that swallows entire buildings!

Blue & Smelly

After Elly came and broke me out of goat jail, we decided to take a good old fashioned American road trip to the cheese mecca of the entire country of France: Roquefort. I like to think that this pungent, difficult cheese is what separates the men from the boys in the world of cheese lovers. There's not a whole lot about Roquefort that's accessible or easy.

Roquefort is a protected region and the regulations about its production are strict and specific. The cheese can only be made and aged in the town of Roquefort, an area about 2 miles square. The sheep, from which come the delicious milk for the cheese, must be pastured on the mountainous land surrounding the town. The shepherds have formed a co-op for milk production, helping to organize the 2100 sheep farms, which each year contribute material for the 3 million cheeses produced in Roquefort.

The production of this famous cheese is a happy accident of geography. A fault line runs underneath the town and this has produced a network of underground caves which have steady, cold temperature...perfect for the ripening of large cheeses. Native to these caves is a very special bacteria called penicillium roqueforti. The bacteria is collected by putting under-baked loaves of bread in the caves and allowing the p. roqueforti to proliferate on it. It is then collected and inserted into the core of the cheese wheels and allowed to develop for several months.

And oh how tasty the result is. Having it directly from the source really changes the experience of eating it. First, the cheese was far more delicate and moist than varieties I'd had in the states. It was also far stronger than anything I'd ever tasted. It actually burned my nostrils as I exhaled, the same sensation as the few times I've had grappa or grain alcohol. To balance out this super strong flavor, we ate it with fresh figs, honey and mint. It was divine.