so many weeks later...

so many visitors later...

soooo many savory meals later. 

It all makes it so damn difficult to keep up with myself. And That is a hopelessly-me thing, nothing more, nothing less. 

One of my new favorites, Chez Janou...  cutesy cafe meets bustling bistro. Colorful. Loud. Warm & welcoming. A daffy bar tender who throws delicious, garlic-infused olives down on the counter before you have the opportunity to say 'no' to the 45 minute wait. (reservations are wise).

And, so many glasses of wine later, i remember at least this much. Every bite conjures images of a cherubic, Provencal, grandmother... apron and all. 

Heavy, but oh-so-worth it... Heavy, but you mustn't leave without ordering a fresh scoop of their homemade chocolate mousse... Heavy, perhaps, and yet every swallow feels supernaturally light.

tons of fabulous new discoveries...the fat girl in me is back :)

Chez Ramulad and Chateaubriand...i'll do my best to include only the shiniest of pebbles...

That said, lies aside, each dish at Chez Ramulad held a true presence. Perhaps i had lower expectations, seeing as how we ended up there by default, 2 times over... nonetheless, i was, indeed, quickly won over...

A warm lentil salad, served with a toasted, garlic baguette, sprinkled with parsley and smidgens of crisp 'oreille de couchon' (yes'm...pig ear indeed).   Scrumptious, resonating flavors, and Thoroughly satisfied the carnivore in me without simultaneously provoking any sense of intimidation, considering that we were thus far only on appetizers.  Lucky me, my friend let me share his tuna tartar, served in a thin ravioli capsule, swimming in a shallow pool of  delicious, thai-coconut milk. I admit that it amounted to a pretty traditional thai dish, but never ever will i overcome my weakness for coconut sauces. 

Ensuite, a generous portion of meaty scallops, perfectly balanced with a spritzes of citrus, salt and paprika.  

And for dessert: Poached pear: easy but refreshing. 

The ambiance itself: ultra-traditional, perhaps even a tad run-down. No matter, they got me where it counts. I could hardly resist gawking at each and every presentation that made its way out of the kitchen...thus, i will certainly follow the yellow-brick road all the way back to Fauberg St Antoine...

Chateaubriand...three months in the making now. (Take note: a good 50% of Paris' restaurants are closed on Sunday and Monday evenings. Boooo). In any case, I revere any restaurant that changes its menu on a nearly daily-basis. And even though i generally love to hand-pick my very own dishes, I do so admire when a restaurant leaves absolutely no choice to its patrons and instead boldly lays before you exactly what it will. (Wine aside, of course, of course). 

Amuse bouche...amusing indeed = an oyster ceviche= spruce, delicious, fresh. 

Entrée, a chilled pumkin and oyster veloute, served with 'dobblets' of a mascarpone-like cheese. The delicately-creamed pumpkin was subtly sweet upon first touch of the tongue,  but thereafter finished with crisp sea salt flavors...all said and done, perhaps an odd combination but a truly cultivated dish. 

I won't go into great detail about the cod dish nor the lomo course which followed. I enjoyed them at the time but there was nothing especially memorable about either. 

And...dessert! A rich chocolate-mousse cube served over grapefruit fragments in an aromatic citrus soup. End on a high note. 

 

one would think that the kitchen in any french home or apartment would certainly be the center of attention... and so, it never ceases to amaze me that this is not the case in the slightest: 'smidgeon' of a sink, two-burners and a stove if you have a lucky star, counter-space is generally forsaken. 

Yet, happily, the Parisians remain wholly devoted to their beloved dinner parties. 

And so i present you with, a la fois, the modest conditions... and thence the remains...

 

mince! it is impossible to keep up...i need to spend more time chez moi.

In any case, my first inspired meal, to be reported... Cafe Burq... happily, luckily, only a cigarette's walk away. The name, perhaps less original...il se trouve, bien sur, sur le rue burq. 

Chilly as of late, a mushroom and chorizo soup was due. Mushroom and chorizo indeed. An accomplished blend of saltiness and oakiness, perfectly textured with tender bitty-bites. My first, very well-deserved 'mmmm' of excitement. Lila agreed that my entree was better than hers. Touché.   

Et ensuite, a wonderfully tender sea bass in a pesto cream. Portly for a fish, but I was left with a clean plate nonetheless. 

No picture to accompany. My Apologies. Leave it to the tickles in your tummy...

( fine fine, i can't resist posting yet AnOtHeR unrelated photo.... what an incredible weekend it was...champagne...ask Robin about the biking incident).

 

6, Rue Burq
75018 Paris, France
+33 1 42 52 81 27

Nestled in the hills of Montmartre lies the dive-bar extraordinaire, Au Rendez-vous Des Amis. Envision: a rickety table on the cobblestone corner street, a view of a picture-perfect Abesses below paired with the invigorating steps of Sacre Coeur above. And let's not forget the altogether flippant service inside the cavernous bar itself. I would expect nothing less. And so I must admit, whilst at the risk of inducing nausea, me = smile nearly frozen on face.... indeed painful at times.

smile along...

Au Rendez Vous des Amis

23 Rue Gabrielle

Paris 75018

+33 (0)1 46 06 01 60

a few highlights...

i have often been accused of being too-easy-an-audience. still, i insist, bon hiver a la maroquinerie--tremendous-- a la foix doux et puissant. an overpacked room,  silenced- hanging on his every guitar strum. And the range of his crescendos! I cannot stop myself from listening to the album on repeat in attempt to relive the moment. 

ensuite, nuit blanche and a dinner party with cinquantiane pure-breds. champagne, champagne, more champagne.  stories and laughter.  how  i love getting to know different versions of paris as per the company of that particular evening.  

and finally, i must admit, i do think that i have begun to favor parisian flea markets...

only three days in....

...and i'm already realizing that an entry per day is overly-ambitious. (a fugi per day--that i could swallow).

 Thus, instead,  a photo...

 

la quoitidienne

over the river and through the woods each morning: the challenge arises as I hop up the metro steps...what oh what will my ipod present me with ?! ...A song that must hold its own, up against such a magnificent panoramic...Next! Skip! Right Arrow... >! Ahhhhh, just in time to take my first peak. These days: Bon Iver, MGMT, Sea Bear, Bright Eyes, The Tellers, The National (always and forever)--don't think these guys will ever grow old, nor will the view.

it's about that time

I've been putting it off for months now...(or years, perhaps, if i put aside this particular 'epoque' in my life). ...I admit, there is a tad of discomfort surrounding anything that feels at once grandiose  and yet redundant. Nonetheless, I've alas decided that the New York fatalist has ruled for far too long. And so, here i am, 3 months deep into my life in Paris, and i am ready to give it a go...one-step at a time...write for ME-- but 'twill also be my connector to all of you fine folk, whom I miss dearly. Visitors are wonderful but t'would be all the more wonderful if one brave soul would forfeit the gibberish and instead commit to the idea of moving here as well... hmm, perhaps I Would be the victor, afterall, were a certain madman/Mad-er-women elected ;)

Politics aside, I do solemnly swear to henceforth scribble down a word or throw up a picture..indeed, I will certainly one day cringe upon re-reading some of these hypothetical future entires. But alas, tant pis pour vous!...(I feel equally compelled to confess -- once again in parenthesis because I have a terrible weakness for tangents--that i just looked up 'tant pis' in my french dictionary, just to be certain ;) )

ok, off to hang up the laundry, give my bangs a trim, vaccuum up the remnants, and brace the bike with the uncomfortable seat, because it's worth it.