tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35209206176887690142024-03-18T21:12:54.725-07:00Stringed CansWinnipeg, San Francisco, Paris, and beyond.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-40295078661221979562009-06-18T06:02:00.000-07:002009-06-18T07:08:52.933-07:00Summer in the park<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87YpRtEFyrPkcR3lpwKPWso9o90S0PQGhCWTmxeTJowYrSXCTGZidto4b2__JNgUollFzco6nobzU3FMplRr51rOcc5EPOLkhCbxAcQgPgOw64swri7zxF7lu7YD4J9N_lwuiP8XP7oHN/s1600-h/bagatelle_orangerie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87YpRtEFyrPkcR3lpwKPWso9o90S0PQGhCWTmxeTJowYrSXCTGZidto4b2__JNgUollFzco6nobzU3FMplRr51rOcc5EPOLkhCbxAcQgPgOw64swri7zxF7lu7YD4J9N_lwuiP8XP7oHN/s400/bagatelle_orangerie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348667685836902386" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One doesn't need to go too far to escape the dense urban centre of Paris, all stone façades and narrow streets. We decided one weekend to escape to Parc de Bagatelle located in the immense Bois de Boulogne (2.5 larger than Central Park in Manhattan). We hopped on to a métro to Porte Maillot and caught a bus which conveniently dropped us off at the entry to the park, in all a total of 20 minutes of travel time from where we live.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Parc de Bagatelle was created in 1777 at the behest of Marie-Antoinette after she aquired the property from a gambling bet she won with the Count of Artois. The park is one of the poshest run by the City of Paris, and as such there is an entry fee (not sure if this is all the time or just when there is an exhibit). You can see how much care they lavish on this property; there is no litter whatsoever, all of the plants are in excellent shape, the grass is mixed together with moss providing a lounging surface bar none. It helps too that the park is located adjacent to one of the most bourgeouis neighbourhoods of Paris, the 16th arrondisement. B and I spent a good part of the afternoon just rolling around in the grass getting completely covered in nature, much to the horror of passing snooty rich grannies.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnK7HsqwjMNxzYG8KMkh41PqlmYwQV_uDnZzUwyqgrK_uk8KOufcLc-64s1gk7PVN6pdIgCYuR4wqjq6dAT1f5zJ2y4LfR7G5LWghvHJM6MLIjt09moG3Cf2pKPzVCTbC3nPT6vL8-p025/s1600-h/bagatelle_rosier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnK7HsqwjMNxzYG8KMkh41PqlmYwQV_uDnZzUwyqgrK_uk8KOufcLc-64s1gk7PVN6pdIgCYuR4wqjq6dAT1f5zJ2y4LfR7G5LWghvHJM6MLIjt09moG3Cf2pKPzVCTbC3nPT6vL8-p025/s400/bagatelle_rosier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348667749452958658" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyL8Rh7g0GXk3WPmBTJz403JjQ0BNtSuF4z2vzJzMsTZCxSRB6xZ0FnsZWiK6eJXS-jqOA-gm60kvhQYY5Ap5F-_N7Ys_wbXrEx-kOmupS8U0qGYaZFKz5iZJgz8zcj_dyzlBJGqlN5xdA/s1600-h/bagatelle_ciel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyL8Rh7g0GXk3WPmBTJz403JjQ0BNtSuF4z2vzJzMsTZCxSRB6xZ0FnsZWiK6eJXS-jqOA-gm60kvhQYY5Ap5F-_N7Ys_wbXrEx-kOmupS8U0qGYaZFKz5iZJgz8zcj_dyzlBJGqlN5xdA/s400/bagatelle_ciel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348667523406446962" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The park was conceived by Belanger, developed by Thomas Blaikie, in an english-chinese style which was popular at the type. There are artificial grottoes and small waterfalls, pagoda pavillions, and an orangerie (a greenhouse where warmer climate plants, such as orange trees, were sheltered during the colder months), and a delicious rose garden. To add to the exotic flavour of the park there were free range peacocks all over the place. They are quite beautiful, these birds, but they produce a brutal sound. Rather like a choked up blow horn.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzncOigPoN8uzoWHQY6636__VuXMGa-cy7u3Nj0b7kvGAPEsDUDeVbYHqUb_nix6zYqG9_-sqyYaE4l-sePRgXh7To0LoiO2Sk2Vi76tpc6px7f9AZO51H1jSJ75gGwhrULKMm2OsVXcok/s1600-h/IMG_6587.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzncOigPoN8uzoWHQY6636__VuXMGa-cy7u3Nj0b7kvGAPEsDUDeVbYHqUb_nix6zYqG9_-sqyYaE4l-sePRgXh7To0LoiO2Sk2Vi76tpc6px7f9AZO51H1jSJ75gGwhrULKMm2OsVXcok/s400/IMG_6587.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348666216740941970" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The park also houses a sleek restaurant/café plus a museum, this time 'round showcasing the life and work of Charles Darwin. Honestly, I wasn't that familiar with Darwin's accomplishments other than the Theory of Evolution. After this exhibit I have to say I have a lot of admiration for this controversial and pioneering spirit. It's true that the technology of today is turning some fundamental ideas he proposed on it's head, but it doesn't invalidate how radically he affected the changing of attitudes regarding science in the 19th century. I'm glad B and I took the time to go through the exhibit, even though rolling around in the grass seemed more appealing at that moment...</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhd83PduRYyrpPcB45uept9-smZmbqeJCbn8yOb4Dmrt6F0RDNJP59PTLqHG6qIHL6LmGMsBjgiCE9xANhlnag0d4jGZGvU04Kj9DspYcyuK3Ak-zLjr7A-xJeXrxv4FGV6-7zdKSOLHD7/s1600-h/bagatelle_darwin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhd83PduRYyrpPcB45uept9-smZmbqeJCbn8yOb4Dmrt6F0RDNJP59PTLqHG6qIHL6LmGMsBjgiCE9xANhlnag0d4jGZGvU04Kj9DspYcyuK3Ak-zLjr7A-xJeXrxv4FGV6-7zdKSOLHD7/s400/bagatelle_darwin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348667620324851138" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-79959204890274910572009-05-13T12:12:00.001-07:002009-06-05T16:33:25.390-07:00La Défense<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfSJkLNws_czfxggSpB-zaaGX_15dpoeQeb6vaxKWi5F3eWuIQVQ1b4G9DUNkRP2ScDmkvutISk1nWA-rTc6XIt3V7Zi2vxBIXQAe0pCaP0EWfUZUA_GXZvBkPDiwQYtGJLS8L-eSewj5/s1600-h/verdure+d%C3%A9fense.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfSJkLNws_czfxggSpB-zaaGX_15dpoeQeb6vaxKWi5F3eWuIQVQ1b4G9DUNkRP2ScDmkvutISk1nWA-rTc6XIt3V7Zi2vxBIXQAe0pCaP0EWfUZUA_GXZvBkPDiwQYtGJLS8L-eSewj5/s400/verdure+d%C3%A9fense.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335389378814999170" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There are many interesting corners of Paris to discover, most of them having been well documented and visited for generations. However, there is one part of Paris that is less a tourist attraction, but very much a part of Parisian life. It is La Défense, the financial district, named after a statue called </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >La Défense de Paris </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">to commemorate the soldiers who defended the city during the Franco-Prussian war. The quartier is situated west of the city, aligned with the Louvre along the Champs Elysées and easily identifiable along the skyline by it's highrises and the Grande Arche (the rectangular arch which echos l'Arc de Triomphe). Construction of the zone started in 1958 and continues to this day in fits and spurts. The latest towers proposed for construction will all be required minimum green standards for emissions, energy, to name but a few.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Like any financial district it is buzzing with activity during the weekday, then eerily dead at night and the weekends. There are a number of people who live and work in the area, but there is an overwhelming sense that La Défense is a zone, and less a neighbourhood, even with all the shops and schools scattered about. Compared to the rest of Paris, La Défense looks and feels quite alien, as if it were a piece of an American city cut out then dropped into Europe.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It is evident that the master plan was laboriously worked out, and some of what has resulted is interesting. But the construction of the numerous towers are developer fueled and badly conceived.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyuUlnD1wQGXVr1t6GnrFl_SvfBc_jXPNoT1ic0JxlI0RraFy3pvUxBKnznyjK3Ybg6sVAnactZHlf3VTyNBforR-hHyClYSYsgsexObceW0pZXaqXpOUWFI7SkDY00dRpi6xQmMssfmc9/s1600-h/passerelle+d%C3%A9fense.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyuUlnD1wQGXVr1t6GnrFl_SvfBc_jXPNoT1ic0JxlI0RraFy3pvUxBKnznyjK3Ybg6sVAnactZHlf3VTyNBforR-hHyClYSYsgsexObceW0pZXaqXpOUWFI7SkDY00dRpi6xQmMssfmc9/s400/passerelle+d%C3%A9fense.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335389164214976898" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">La Tour Aurore, seen in the reflection of another building, which will be torn and replaced by a new proposed tower by Arquitectonica.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0O9dMp83SmtbwqGn7OFYubTOauoLM8eAilewXiOPbl48DDdR0hmHMUgBJVVyKgYyZMTmjJ6u6d3Rq9ek8qeqXGzfrnmCbGJc4lAaq-o5-eT-zdvsRd8qZV7ngWJFe-huGWWdwqsxfFEKK/s1600-h/aurore.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0O9dMp83SmtbwqGn7OFYubTOauoLM8eAilewXiOPbl48DDdR0hmHMUgBJVVyKgYyZMTmjJ6u6d3Rq9ek8qeqXGzfrnmCbGJc4lAaq-o5-eT-zdvsRd8qZV7ngWJFe-huGWWdwqsxfFEKK/s400/aurore.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335388703787227058" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This boardwalk is an extension of the long reaching axis spanning from the Louvre to La Défense. On the right is a cemetery, full of beautiful trees and a lovely garden. When you reach the west side of the Grande Arche all you see initially is a garden-like space, then as you walk the length of the boardwalk you realize that, oh, it's a cemetery. It really breaks up the monotony of the surrounding corporate architecture.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyQ8x7vKDPuXqtGkPDrdOGu2VDZm5EoJKKOSCGCdG_XATDqk1T5VQ6CYDde1p2HIPHTp-NEGDD68MZ29kKDdTKNtvXgwg0xr5LaDY25AEsjnDMUV2SJ5SFyZc3S6Df7owNtBHmKeTOdVku/s1600-h/+esplanade.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyQ8x7vKDPuXqtGkPDrdOGu2VDZm5EoJKKOSCGCdG_XATDqk1T5VQ6CYDde1p2HIPHTp-NEGDD68MZ29kKDdTKNtvXgwg0xr5LaDY25AEsjnDMUV2SJ5SFyZc3S6Df7owNtBHmKeTOdVku/s400/+esplanade.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335388630973481650" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Dotted along the handrail of the boardwalk are metal (bronze patina?) castings of random objects found in nature. The best one was this ear. Funny how my first impluse was to place my ear on top of it to see if I could hear anything...</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgGO6HE3MPe0Ebo64L-gIl7CwEmGIZnOWaxQEYC7qhr-v41WBXTMbSGM-OhcW-yvA898BrwWOWWlf625-cNpWpYximqDA5UfMMIk7vow6JJQa2t_V8DVaLboQwB2JsPBW7tjMm8USa_Pl/s1600-h/oreille.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgGO6HE3MPe0Ebo64L-gIl7CwEmGIZnOWaxQEYC7qhr-v41WBXTMbSGM-OhcW-yvA898BrwWOWWlf625-cNpWpYximqDA5UfMMIk7vow6JJQa2t_V8DVaLboQwB2JsPBW7tjMm8USa_Pl/s400/oreille.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335389084685603554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Some of the local youth using the Grande Arche as a performance/practice space. It's perfect for addressing an audience as it's elevated and the stairs are perfect for lounging around on. The glass panels in the background act as a wind buffer. Apparently the opening of the Grande Arche created perfect conditions for concentrating all the wind coming off the Atlantic and buffeting away business people and tourists alike.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw5ky0u3E0tt7aM9gFb4R1h-YXi1unBMC3gTnvFU1-SZyPuS-lPjnPTllQRJn34si5ADua-CnJpzR2O1Rw2o6bQaD0yMTdFnAB0jETzTA3TdeMsDhIeWZA20gQ47XtcCsVAV84-fpEX0aD/s1600-h/IMG_6485.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw5ky0u3E0tt7aM9gFb4R1h-YXi1unBMC3gTnvFU1-SZyPuS-lPjnPTllQRJn34si5ADua-CnJpzR2O1Rw2o6bQaD0yMTdFnAB0jETzTA3TdeMsDhIeWZA20gQ47XtcCsVAV84-fpEX0aD/s400/IMG_6485.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335388824970567010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The best part of our field trip to La Défense was not in the district itself, but just along it in Nanterre, the Tours nuages by Emile Aillaud. The complex of 18 high rise apartments was built in 1977, and have rounded façades, which in plan, resemble clouds. Adding to the cloud motif is the patterned glass mosaic tile exterior. These buildings are magnificent from afar, really the most poetic and imaginative addition to the cityscape. The colours have been masterfully combined and really do blend into the sky.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLEI8MCNCEV5IkyY0oT76cMJ_yCurm-zYocYIZ338HG0VrB4y7d6zFjVnmWvw-8RX0eztTrg8uj0tHxcddiT86-luhisjKBQ8bswd6KJA7tnDxB_KKZIIts0rYlQ4MasSlLEAZAfjWwca/s1600-h/tours+nuages.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLEI8MCNCEV5IkyY0oT76cMJ_yCurm-zYocYIZ338HG0VrB4y7d6zFjVnmWvw-8RX0eztTrg8uj0tHxcddiT86-luhisjKBQ8bswd6KJA7tnDxB_KKZIIts0rYlQ4MasSlLEAZAfjWwca/s400/tours+nuages.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335389275450032194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The grounds are landscaped with swells and sinuous courves. A bit Gaudi-like. Here you can also see that some of the windows have been designed in the shape of stylised raindrops. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPYPm1G9HHynPq28L_ylcXePWBPsspd8CEnZziSYigex78IuxPCdkpqppnveC2MLZK5IDwvPGwYjzD2L1lsrYflEfva0tr4ltfMhlPX1k_L_pnziNwaVwS-g89q01OmaS-lXS8GhQjaRu/s1600-h/nuages+paysage.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPYPm1G9HHynPq28L_ylcXePWBPsspd8CEnZziSYigex78IuxPCdkpqppnveC2MLZK5IDwvPGwYjzD2L1lsrYflEfva0tr4ltfMhlPX1k_L_pnziNwaVwS-g89q01OmaS-lXS8GhQjaRu/s400/nuages+paysage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335389013152270322" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Up close, unfortunately the buildings are in a state of disrepair. Mosaic portions which have either been pried off or damaged have been replaced by patches of plaster, and not even in the same colour as the rest of the building. People complain that round rooms are difficult to furnish, the custom windows are difficult to replace. There are probably a lot more that is not working in these buildings because there are always discussions to tear down the buildings. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZH0c7kt3FhrBtL-EmItiU-5j-exNs5R6sVq9AW2KPOpX-XK0pgdHQkoTqo66dXSKoEBYIuF4Vax3njb2-dlJzNeDWtwTO54JNLa5B1azCSoMIPR1LcYp6kaprzhUGXHb73FIAitSVNSDZ/s1600-h/nuage+pattes+de+verre.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZH0c7kt3FhrBtL-EmItiU-5j-exNs5R6sVq9AW2KPOpX-XK0pgdHQkoTqo66dXSKoEBYIuF4Vax3njb2-dlJzNeDWtwTO54JNLa5B1azCSoMIPR1LcYp6kaprzhUGXHb73FIAitSVNSDZ/s400/nuage+pattes+de+verre.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335388937807332466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There may indeed be many 'good' reasons why these towers should be torn down, but we would then lose something that is as equally concerned with </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">imagination as </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">it is with practicality, something sorely lacking in the art of building today.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ5t-BqtYxQP7PO8TaFt6T_WLrkxvGLrBZFxV-TLx1WuICIsy8ingN99TlvSr2Qy9p9pYYRvuBLvmrj9JPSicCz85Fc6UVA3LYbmMudrmrZlkWWw6U2loKgtupqY6NFaQZbi0zRTLcvQYB/s1600-h/serpent.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ5t-BqtYxQP7PO8TaFt6T_WLrkxvGLrBZFxV-TLx1WuICIsy8ingN99TlvSr2Qy9p9pYYRvuBLvmrj9JPSicCz85Fc6UVA3LYbmMudrmrZlkWWw6U2loKgtupqY6NFaQZbi0zRTLcvQYB/s400/serpent.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335653051438357762" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-52813402476362907122009-05-04T01:29:00.001-07:002009-05-04T06:22:42.371-07:00May Day - Rêve Générale<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGMSIY9yfQyKQ4KQiSD-94yYls24VZvBJOboDMD9TNi4wCQ_M-suPCXmjyL26GANfxDPSzV-uzOph4W_UFjsafdyYNsduv6tOycKDd3Zjlh4EkEEEV8wj855dAt-_EWxLP7CeJ-_9vhXbD/s1600-h/reve+generale.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGMSIY9yfQyKQ4KQiSD-94yYls24VZvBJOboDMD9TNi4wCQ_M-suPCXmjyL26GANfxDPSzV-uzOph4W_UFjsafdyYNsduv6tOycKDd3Zjlh4EkEEEV8wj855dAt-_EWxLP7CeJ-_9vhXbD/s400/reve+generale.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331883774242724978" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On the first of May most of the world steps out to show solidarity for their fellow workers. In France it is a national holiday and B and I decided to join our fellow Parisians and join the parade. There were thousands of people on the street, mostly sporting stickers on their backs saying "Rêve Générale" (meaning 'general dream' a play on the expression 'greve générale' a national strike), or "Casse-toi pov'con" (meaning get lost you poor asshole, a direct quote from Sarkozy directed at a fellow french man), or "Vive la Greve" (this one found on the back of a young political activist. They start young in France.)</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXf3hr15Je5P2VqbP9_8g5xLfutisQXJE_gMFC8ysW_r48p8M57xuYhNT9BvOptANpunUX-uK36-mnKz8o3q9rp14n_tOVE-2VmBB3G2T16BNtXmjMBnSxN6u9A5ao9mR99uW9wrcmjk7/s1600-h/enfant+greve.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXf3hr15Je5P2VqbP9_8g5xLfutisQXJE_gMFC8ysW_r48p8M57xuYhNT9BvOptANpunUX-uK36-mnKz8o3q9rp14n_tOVE-2VmBB3G2T16BNtXmjMBnSxN6u9A5ao9mR99uW9wrcmjk7/s400/enfant+greve.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331883566665169682" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There were people of all ages at the event, lot's of activists, students, and teachers, a fair number of politicians like the socialist mayor of Paris Bertrand Delanoë, but very few bourgeois, surprise surprise.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEGikFBCuysxwd3JPTHW658Hfd_8PdlPz-MzyP_tbCNGFQkPM5I1-hgdfQVUxNSGF0jkB-vh2D0N4HfINVwAZ42fc0uV5i2wKyQBtKxC4CfgZV5MdpWK3f3fKiPZwKKnIHKKGh9hKj_4i/s1600-h/police.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEGikFBCuysxwd3JPTHW658Hfd_8PdlPz-MzyP_tbCNGFQkPM5I1-hgdfQVUxNSGF0jkB-vh2D0N4HfINVwAZ42fc0uV5i2wKyQBtKxC4CfgZV5MdpWK3f3fKiPZwKKnIHKKGh9hKj_4i/s400/police.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331883678941576338" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We also saw a lot of police everywhere in riot gear. This is one thing I've noticed about Paris. It is crawling with cops. On bikes, on foot, in the métro, at the Eiffel Tower, hanging out in their vans at Les Invalides, and from what I am told blending into crowds incognito. There is an army of police in Paris, and frankly I'm caught in between being reassured and threatened by the sight of them all. I will say though that if there is a riot I would rather there be some force trying to contain the violence than see rampant destruction.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwN1GNbdNlE3HxV8E7488WFYS25zrAtk_-ZqCZHvRg-aBEtlvPf-NrROMfV9sk_Ed1Bld3M0UCvtG4RWLU-_G0hrre_An0fBueX7Y-rg5B-HkpVoPE2CX6eASBAeesoI5NPqaS7pZEN2Ip/s1600-h/bastille.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwN1GNbdNlE3HxV8E7488WFYS25zrAtk_-ZqCZHvRg-aBEtlvPf-NrROMfV9sk_Ed1Bld3M0UCvtG4RWLU-_G0hrre_An0fBueX7Y-rg5B-HkpVoPE2CX6eASBAeesoI5NPqaS7pZEN2Ip/s400/bastille.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331883284445351650" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As we walked around and saw all the different groups and unions being represented I found myself wondering about the origins of May Day as part of the labour movement. The first of May has been traditionally associated with many a western pagan and later Christian tradition to welcome the coming of spring. But it wasn't until the 1886 Haymarket Affair that May Day took on a distinctive labour connotation. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In Chicago on May 4th of 1886 there was a rally to support creating the 8 hour work day as standard (the common work day prior was from 10 to 16 hours a week for 6 days of the week) having been intially proposed by the Federation of Organised Trades and Labour Unions in October of 1884. What started out as a peaceful rally ended up as a blody riot with many civilians and some policemen dead in the streets. This resulted in a setback for the 8 hour work day movement but the American Federation of Labour was undaunted. In 1889 the AFL president sent a letter to the First congress of the Second International meeting in Paris explaining their situation and proposed an international movement to implement the 8 hour workday for all labourers around the world. It was then that that an international response was created with a call to strike on May 1st for better hours and to commemorate those who died as a result of the Haymarket Affair.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Growing up in Canada and living in the United States I did not get any sense that Labour Day was all that important other than a holiday. There are no parades marking the origins of why the date is to be observed, no explanations in the media, no enthusiasm from anywhere. Is it because anything remotely socialist is frowned upon? Are unions and populist gatherings considered irrelevant or overly utopian in a capitalist society? Are North Americans afraid to show solidarity for each other? B's grandfathers were socialists and anarcho-syndicalists of which he is proud of and remembers by participating in May Day. And clearly I saw that same sort of pride in those on the streets this past Friday. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTugOYA6YRus1I9YRmpP5ACBFRdMSbR0o1uaVRDOGBYCRAhDHMiUgIQUlnjw1CO9hRz2Kw1zNioAwsnfDXP9r0L_uO8YeShNTeb_zXnYDo16zJS7hQnttSNvva3GsmskXkXPsI9ck1dSLh/s1600-h/anarchistes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTugOYA6YRus1I9YRmpP5ACBFRdMSbR0o1uaVRDOGBYCRAhDHMiUgIQUlnjw1CO9hRz2Kw1zNioAwsnfDXP9r0L_uO8YeShNTeb_zXnYDo16zJS7hQnttSNvva3GsmskXkXPsI9ck1dSLh/s400/anarchistes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331883181061038178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRIzYPQvkNxVhSMtixJwOs7VGZv70QGq115vMmRWGzVT0ptLKtFTKvYaxSC1UzBzcdTkBc4g5q0O-Clik52SKcw0DvoLfW6DR7O8tbKUcB1vItyQuPZ_DLZx6E6-BzRcJhQjBWDkU1Vtn1/s1600-h/syndicat+sex.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRIzYPQvkNxVhSMtixJwOs7VGZv70QGq115vMmRWGzVT0ptLKtFTKvYaxSC1UzBzcdTkBc4g5q0O-Clik52SKcw0DvoLfW6DR7O8tbKUcB1vItyQuPZ_DLZx6E6-BzRcJhQjBWDkU1Vtn1/s400/syndicat+sex.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331883872336508194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Even unions for sex workers!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKoEQeU8BYGVv0u0VLIkZFhN7mAt3nVAP2g0xi9PNgoFb-806yrfZNY05jXomTpvM8BdDyik12ZynYhzqKel-rsfVu49tz4HniIlVjGndhOQbGywsc8x6o3D7F3_dsF9PQQ_Vl3_8f0Vu/s1600-h/brochettes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKoEQeU8BYGVv0u0VLIkZFhN7mAt3nVAP2g0xi9PNgoFb-806yrfZNY05jXomTpvM8BdDyik12ZynYhzqKel-rsfVu49tz4HniIlVjGndhOQbGywsc8x6o3D7F3_dsF9PQQ_Vl3_8f0Vu/s400/brochettes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331883464545093714" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Doing brisk business at the merguez/kebab stand. I know that vendors selling muguet are not taxed on May Day, I'm wondering if the same applies to these folks too?...</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX-x0oSsJ42fWnaeYBfltsO7rGMtb9GpoETl0O-Rhbkk_EI13tuXTLxk6vYEcAtQynakn7KhWUyHnBPemwasCA6aBhFXQJ8AVZY63mIFzEkXgRMgZQtGPVFWWfPm6JhY2X-rwIycnYwwx/s1600-h/billet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX-x0oSsJ42fWnaeYBfltsO7rGMtb9GpoETl0O-Rhbkk_EI13tuXTLxk6vYEcAtQynakn7KhWUyHnBPemwasCA6aBhFXQJ8AVZY63mIFzEkXgRMgZQtGPVFWWfPm6JhY2X-rwIycnYwwx/s400/billet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331883380853416370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">B found this nice bill lying about in the street. Makes a nice complement to our bouquet of muguet, choice flower of communists, anarchists, socialists and unionists the world over.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-91280808177513825502009-04-29T06:02:00.000-07:002009-04-29T06:16:15.759-07:00Tongue tied<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For a change instead of the usual travelogue commentary I've been posting I thought I'd pen some thoughts on living here and adapting to french life.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'll start with the language. Before arriving in France I took a year long french course at UCSF. I walked away with the oral and writing skills of an 8 year old, tops. This is not to say that the course wasn't worth the time, it's just that French is a difficult language to master, especially written. It's true that I improved upon the very basic french required of all Canadian school children up to the age of 14. But not by much. Combining what I had learned from my various french courses I could sing Frère Jacque, ask for the time and declare that it is raining. As we all know the best way to learn a language is to completely immerse oneself in the country of the desired language. And then to promptly make an ass of oneself for a very very long time. The experience is severely humbling to say the least, but after some time now I can finaly say that I have progressed. But according to some folks not in the right direction. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You see, I have been picking up not only a number of bad grammar habits, but I have also developed, apparently, quite the potty mouth. For the longest time B, my live in tutor, never taught me how to swear in french, and rightly so. It would have been too tempting not to flex some provocative verbal muscle and then forget it was provocative. So, for a while I was pure, preoccupying myself with proper verb conjugations, the use of the preposition in french, the subjunctive, etc.. Then I started working and it is during then that I learned some new vocabulary. When I told B how I was conversing with people at the boulangerie and at the pharmacy he promptly made a list of words and expressions that I am forbidden to use. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">They are as follows:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">fait chier - to make one shit (apparently I pronounce this like a real Parisienne!)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">bordel - hellish (I don't why this creates such a scene)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">putain - prostitute</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">salope - bitch</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(this is bordering on the punch the c sharp word gives in english)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">connard - asshole</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">enculé/enfoiré - sodomized</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">putain bordel de Dieu - not sure of the translation here, but apparently it gets quite a reaction</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">merde - shit</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Any combination of the above</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">B and all his friends and even his parents could use these words, but not me. I thought that was unfair, and rather hypocritical. He told me that he didn't want people to get the wrong impression that I was raised by wolves. He has a point there. So instead of "fait chier" I say "quel galère", and instead of describing something as "bordel", I substitute with "vraiment pénible". Especially if I'm in an interview or speaking with an immigration officer. I know that it seems pretty self evident that one does not easily drop these words in conversations, but hell, I hear people (respectable ones) use them everyday! The French, it's true, like to swear. A lot. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So then to add to that there are words and expressions I have picked up that no educated adult would say. I once asked for "des patates" from a potato vendor. She looked at me a little strangely as she passed me my 'taters. B has pointed out that "pomme de terre" is what I should've used.<br /><br />All in all still trying, still making an ass of myself, but ultimately getting a handle on this strange and lovely language. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-8191966265209445822009-04-14T06:40:00.000-07:002009-04-14T07:01:44.862-07:00Easter in the countryside, again<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9z2fzMtgBMgsqZpSepM37kW6-_qdJPguK4Pd8K7wgq7H1pNM6AoiOZ4e3OrMug3T0sK20ZaULGXAbDKS0TYKRt_NNxBGH-Cs1faBZKB3H42xzt7XTCl_A6ys4zhFDdtmo1YKMOwkUFEOC/s1600-h/enfleuri.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9z2fzMtgBMgsqZpSepM37kW6-_qdJPguK4Pd8K7wgq7H1pNM6AoiOZ4e3OrMug3T0sK20ZaULGXAbDKS0TYKRt_NNxBGH-Cs1faBZKB3H42xzt7XTCl_A6ys4zhFDdtmo1YKMOwkUFEOC/s400/enfleuri.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324543582687322466" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Regardless of whether or not one observes Easter, I can't think of a better time to take note of the regeneration occuring in nature than now. For a former prairie girl spring has always been a greatly anticipated season. But I find that there is even more excitement of the prospect of spring living in France. Four months of humid grey chilly weather is a loooong time for those not used to it, especially in a rather cold apartment with no insulation. So here's to spring, the sun and the warmth. And to all things returning from a long winter nap.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The following photos are from our Easter traipse to the Sarthe and the Loire Valley.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghR6K59DvR36VTcGXJV4-G_JDh62SFf3Q0w314rPWCXykTzv8_RY61Kn1pUV2pxoTUNj1pDyW6qYOgpoTUsNl1UjSufjRQSKkOpYzcUfoiP7W1WcTUleogzeax9lU9PtvClIXXfV6_z1yX/s1600-h/villandry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghR6K59DvR36VTcGXJV4-G_JDh62SFf3Q0w314rPWCXykTzv8_RY61Kn1pUV2pxoTUNj1pDyW6qYOgpoTUsNl1UjSufjRQSKkOpYzcUfoiP7W1WcTUleogzeax9lU9PtvClIXXfV6_z1yX/s400/villandry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324543731554235858" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_N4_1jmMhwvBoidha4aW2FJyClpOdu35xUajg9RWSld8c0EgroFkwOvEvi3lZ6YmDMocLuWUubrU-ZVDHTLX8KEqR7fgQtiZ6Sdiz4eqPWdkqSmQkdsLgjBkwWj6teT01IIfwjTHYWrF/s1600-h/villandry2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_N4_1jmMhwvBoidha4aW2FJyClpOdu35xUajg9RWSld8c0EgroFkwOvEvi3lZ6YmDMocLuWUubrU-ZVDHTLX8KEqR7fgQtiZ6Sdiz4eqPWdkqSmQkdsLgjBkwWj6teT01IIfwjTHYWrF/s400/villandry2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324543824207211154" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Château Villandry, built during the French Renaissance and famous for it's gardens, notably those of vegetables. The interior is regrettably in not as fine form as the landscape.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGs8gCnEpg8IoSCFeTVX5l2utgz8NIeHrrw7btd07f24EoSEnjGx3w0OrT7amnCZI6PqcC10Ha-0owkERD4sC1HaIoRuLRdkFhjRkDdN-_dLBj4RDzrz1DMdY-4brWyS1Y32kN5iOu6Z-/s1600-h/villandry_chien.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGs8gCnEpg8IoSCFeTVX5l2utgz8NIeHrrw7btd07f24EoSEnjGx3w0OrT7amnCZI6PqcC10Ha-0owkERD4sC1HaIoRuLRdkFhjRkDdN-_dLBj4RDzrz1DMdY-4brWyS1Y32kN5iOu6Z-/s400/villandry_chien.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324543893224799922" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefWPuGwjv0K4CSfHIzSPbqpv0QDBhznWamT9nQiOXXiBedXAcd3ZQZzHNFf-55c9m3ujuhWVMLcZcLxXCm6VzWDFolr7Cd5PzwlTDz4FW2RbXWhrDkZPPJFeos8dUYP13kZZUmISvB-Re/s1600-h/la+loire.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefWPuGwjv0K4CSfHIzSPbqpv0QDBhznWamT9nQiOXXiBedXAcd3ZQZzHNFf-55c9m3ujuhWVMLcZcLxXCm6VzWDFolr7Cd5PzwlTDz4FW2RbXWhrDkZPPJFeos8dUYP13kZZUmISvB-Re/s400/la+loire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324543979243191602" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The always magnificent Loire River. There are many beautiful and awe inspiring rivers in the world but the Loire has always struck me as the most tranquil and lovely I have ever seen. It is easy to see why the nobility in french history were drawn to this region what with all the natural beauty and mild micro climate.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-7712406506025596202009-04-06T06:47:00.000-07:002009-04-07T01:25:21.358-07:00The coast of Bretagne<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtflJC1henmgUQS52eAY7PmwAhyVkAvKXI2WG-qX13B_V1zfhKhH-iCuJB6V2X9Pq8-CHEr46hvh-51fh6NRmXidosgGaWn26vYUExFVKnGU4R23TZWAXh_n1MDbKlUdvVY42OAPAAQ-xN/s1600-h/DSCN3922.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtflJC1henmgUQS52eAY7PmwAhyVkAvKXI2WG-qX13B_V1zfhKhH-iCuJB6V2X9Pq8-CHEr46hvh-51fh6NRmXidosgGaWn26vYUExFVKnGU4R23TZWAXh_n1MDbKlUdvVY42OAPAAQ-xN/s400/DSCN3922.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321578005466875538" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDcQDIMAmoEGOyaXpWeoEk_3Sg4BRPJn6rDROIndtX0xKq5G_AFkzV9rr2fT5Wqvxy1Ntex6aH5cs3bs2dgmDYyBD1ySY2ovr6ovc0WQWMoCN5X0knY4P6PwJ2cH9-NpnMIGHPSGA7UMd_/s1600-h/IMG_6118.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDcQDIMAmoEGOyaXpWeoEk_3Sg4BRPJn6rDROIndtX0xKq5G_AFkzV9rr2fT5Wqvxy1Ntex6aH5cs3bs2dgmDYyBD1ySY2ovr6ovc0WQWMoCN5X0knY4P6PwJ2cH9-NpnMIGHPSGA7UMd_/s400/IMG_6118.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321579343655172914" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A few weeks ago we visited southern Bretagne around Nantes in the Morbihan department, in particular around the salt fields of Guérande. The coast is quite rugged and the countryside lush and green with rolling hills. This past weekend we did a tour furthur north by Lannion, situated by the English Channel to visit our friend Geoffroy who was taking a break from Paris. B and I were also looking to take a break from urban living. Honestly, we were expecting fog, overcast skies, and reading by the fireplace. Instead, we got sunburnt. yay!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Being in this part of Bretagne was a strange déjà vu of sorts. The vegetation and rough beauty of the coast had me mentally situated in Monterey and Carmel. But the California coast has nothing as exotic and bizarre as the Côte de Granit Rose. For kilometres and kilometres the coast is defined by ancient natural formations of pink granite with names like The Witch, The Crepes, The Rabbits, etc. The granite is worn down, quite smooth in some areas by the water. The beaches for the most part are scratchy and gravelly. But then you stumble upon some beaches with smooth silky white sand when you least expect it.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNEgiD_Sjl5utznLbgMQLO9_tNgU6iJCc1zoDSYrUJrIV5uerfk_g0HXzFIkoWyT-M7GUlYOW7FGuO8EJUyAlkKmuctRNSDtcBDE8Vjpk-Ixtn0L_nDSmh2Df8Cv3MtqQk-BCBMgy2AdtW/s1600-h/IMG_6124.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNEgiD_Sjl5utznLbgMQLO9_tNgU6iJCc1zoDSYrUJrIV5uerfk_g0HXzFIkoWyT-M7GUlYOW7FGuO8EJUyAlkKmuctRNSDtcBDE8Vjpk-Ixtn0L_nDSmh2Df8Cv3MtqQk-BCBMgy2AdtW/s400/IMG_6124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321586314761691410" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >The entire time we were here we ate one of two things. Seafood and crepes (also a heavy dose of bacon and potatoes one evening because everything shuts down at 9pm and that's all that was left in the pantry). And sometimes in marvelous combinations. Everything is prepared with sea salty butter and served with brut cider. We're not talking about sweet artificially flavoured apple cider, we are talking about the real stuff. Aromatic local apples, refreshing gold, dry finish, full flavour.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Apart from the local fare to admire, there is also the local culture which I find fascinating (and yes, that's because I am a history nerd). Bretagne is a peninsula in the northwest of France with origins more closely aligned with that of it's Celtic neighbours across the Channel than with it's Frankish neighbours in the majority of France. For a long time the Bretons were able to fend off being absorbed into France, mostly as a result of an alliance with Danish Vikings in the early Middle Ages. Even after joining France in 1532 the Breton language, culture, cuisine, etc. continues to be quite distinct. </span><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyNkG8bN2EHmAP2Kp0-k1Ntd09_ALV_vdOSeLMZAiW-wlkAhkBEFbuEvFOciulHA8Nx1KFlqW0p9sH-TG0qhw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-57578164523661144832009-03-31T03:31:00.000-07:002009-03-31T03:40:21.670-07:00Almost famous<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaz5d1-kIn0XYMDUBXM71t6gWFa2n4ZZeu7hUpMiz-24S7I_gmmSdVC01Xi3of8PX88XJBl2VGKxtJ0SfhfHNUAO_57FfWBckqgqwqgY6gs7YWZVovz_z-igW1ztKRRVxdOd9PPZxYpjVf/s1600-h/IMG_6052.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaz5d1-kIn0XYMDUBXM71t6gWFa2n4ZZeu7hUpMiz-24S7I_gmmSdVC01Xi3of8PX88XJBl2VGKxtJ0SfhfHNUAO_57FfWBckqgqwqgY6gs7YWZVovz_z-igW1ztKRRVxdOd9PPZxYpjVf/s400/IMG_6052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319297892512393970" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKK17r7EqBTbXpDSz0_fWFhIbzgHnwDZnnLWdYpKrBdbnD_kTnL0AI8f3SretzkD6D9Z_5w6C7uhes1TQRUv3IGKGw0_3HoiGspg4IsxhGChJkBKhD7i_IP1o9Y7593Xtz31r-AKHKA-p/s1600-h/IMG_6053.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKK17r7EqBTbXpDSz0_fWFhIbzgHnwDZnnLWdYpKrBdbnD_kTnL0AI8f3SretzkD6D9Z_5w6C7uhes1TQRUv3IGKGw0_3HoiGspg4IsxhGChJkBKhD7i_IP1o9Y7593Xtz31r-AKHKA-p/s400/IMG_6053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319298078660459202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">B is finally published, but not for his prowess in the architectural world, formidable as it may be... No, he is featured in a section of a food magazine in France called Gault Millau for his paella. Is funny, no? The reason for all this is because his friend, Worlseung Choi, has been in the works of developing a book called "La cuisine de mes amis" where he travels around the world and photographs meals made by his friends. He also contributes to Gault Millau and the magazine decided to feature parts of his book. So, voilà, 15 minutes of fame. The accompanying article is a hoot, but in french. Let me know if you'd like to read a copy of it... </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-1334200116637837092009-03-06T04:11:00.000-08:002009-03-06T04:17:13.989-08:00Still time for wintry comfort food<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50I35ZRQj5Sl1wjgXRTrBMEe5Mmh9I6sN3Nfl9pahscpYxAa6_pBZeFXGDpUkBSNrKHJfXogNAr8O8PbPhhcx4cZgZdmZl9xFYRFPC3R8QE6KTcbBDPCKW3kwnGs_6GwjScYIaWjuBGBA/s1600-h/gratin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 381px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50I35ZRQj5Sl1wjgXRTrBMEe5Mmh9I6sN3Nfl9pahscpYxAa6_pBZeFXGDpUkBSNrKHJfXogNAr8O8PbPhhcx4cZgZdmZl9xFYRFPC3R8QE6KTcbBDPCKW3kwnGs_6GwjScYIaWjuBGBA/s400/gratin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310046544656614770" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">While spring is not that far off there is still a definite chill in the Parisian air. Sandals and short sleeves will have to wait for just a bit longer. In the meantime it gives me a chance to still fire up the oven and indulge in some heavy creamy gratin (good for developing that extra layer of hibernation fat...well, sort of). The gratin in the photos could've been prettier if I had spent more time looking for produce of even circumference. Ideally one should end up with even striations, but it still tastes good no matter how you arrange it. This gratin is the first where I've ever incorporated pears. Sounds strange with all the savoury ingredients in the mix but they provide a nice light caramelized counterpoint to all that cream. The following recipe is translated from the french magazine <span style="font-style: italic;">Saveur</span>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gratin of vegetables and pear with sage</span> </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Prep time 30 min.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Cook time 1 h 30</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For 4/6 people</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2 yams (approx. 1 kg)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2 potatoes (waxy, not floury, bintje if you can find them, approx. 500 g)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2 zucchini (approx. 500 g)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3 pears</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1 1/2c half and half cream (40cl)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3 cloves garlic</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">a pinch of dried rosemary</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">10 leaves of fresh sage</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3.5 oz comté, grated (100 g)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">salt and pepper</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">one large casserole dish approx 8.5" x 12.5"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1. Heat the cream in a sauce pan with the chopped garlic, rosemary and whole sage leaves. Cut the heat once the cream begins to simmer and leave to infuse covered.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2. Peel the yams and potatoes. Steam them until tender (approx. 20 - 30 min.s). Let cool, then cut into thin slices.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3. Peel pears and cut them, as well as the zucchini, in similar fashion as the yams and potatoes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">4. Fill the casserole dish with the vegetables, alternating between 1 row of potatoes, then 1 row of pear, 2 rows of yams and 2 zucchini. Make sure the rows are snug so the slices stay upright.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">5. Discard the sage leaves from the cream mixture and pass through a sieve (or just pick out the rosemary). Add 2 level teaspoons of salt and some pepper, then pour over the vegetables. Sprinkle with the grated cheese.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">6. Bake for about an hour in a pre-heated oven at 390F until the vegetables are well cooked and the cheese gold and bubbly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The gratin is great as a vegetarian dish with a salad, or as a side dish with a white meat.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Serve with a nice pouilly-fuissé.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Notes:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- It's prettier if you can get vegetables of a consistent and similar width.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- The gratin is liquidy, makes a dang fine tasty sauce.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- No need to core the pears.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- Keep the cut rows of vegetables and pear together. It makes transferring to the casserole dish easier.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Bon appetit!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-90507878712000009972009-02-23T10:17:00.000-08:002009-02-23T10:45:42.137-08:00Nature and the Chase<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSSLSEDjlzwsWwdPVR2Jn2EJSm9f4PZzva9-ImZXOgHZd-TN9ly6CWII3lDAwRdEVxgLs7TN5OG_hfIl5gsqNmw5Fm6aWhfkqb96wsITzAn7ZlZhVtf0_RzFGJbsXGIto-8uv7xjter2j/s1600-h/entree_musee_chasse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSSLSEDjlzwsWwdPVR2Jn2EJSm9f4PZzva9-ImZXOgHZd-TN9ly6CWII3lDAwRdEVxgLs7TN5OG_hfIl5gsqNmw5Fm6aWhfkqb96wsITzAn7ZlZhVtf0_RzFGJbsXGIto-8uv7xjter2j/s400/entree_musee_chasse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306059854525680594" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As part of our never ending tour of parisian museums we dropped by the <a href="http://www.chassenature.org/site_musee/musee-home.html">Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature</a> (Hunting and Nature Museum) in the Marais. This was my second time around, and I loved it as much as the first. I'm going to go out on a limb by stating that there is no other museum in Paris that is as intelligently and imaginatively executed as this one. The emphasis is less on the objects themselves, but more on the synthesis between concept, history, science and culture. Another important element is the integration of the architecture. The museography, designed by Frédérique Paoletti & Catherine Rouland, makes no delineation between architecture and object, nor amongst various artistic genres or medium. This is how I understand European museums to be at their best and most modern, when there is a unique mix of diverse elements and time periods. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJk71ayGnFRcacUwB6s1wvLTQOFtYlCV_YaWdbp28yQesLKuYxpzOWd9LNDKjPHyFnUo42yfWKTsYcUE6C4pUPSY4grcX1oLv13tgKGvD7VCoflXji3wMmZo0UJXJnuz4A_jvlSSk-uAG/s1600-h/couloir.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJk71ayGnFRcacUwB6s1wvLTQOFtYlCV_YaWdbp28yQesLKuYxpzOWd9LNDKjPHyFnUo42yfWKTsYcUE6C4pUPSY4grcX1oLv13tgKGvD7VCoflXji3wMmZo0UJXJnuz4A_jvlSSk-uAG/s400/couloir.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306059937155838562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The visit takes you through various themed rooms, such as the Wild Boar Room, and little niches called <span style="font-style: italic;">cabinets</span>, my favourite being the Cabinet Rubens (the ceiling is a trippy composition of owl heads and feathers). The collection is housed in a mid-17th century hôtel particulier, L'Hôtel de Guénégaud, which is the property of the City of Paris. The museum itself is operated by the Sommer Foundation, created by François et Jacqueline Sommer who were not only hunting enthusiasts but also passionate about the stewardship of the natural environment. Indeed there is a varied mix of emphasizing the value of wildlife, and, well, instruments with which to kill them. But, interestingly enough it works.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9MQOy-JeqJ0677Hrvi8rCaBGpfa14Ii8mYB45mWQGid_QGvRpMLNKt12MIQJe-_pDMrGEi6yyXzHmrjrtx-7lmbixsy_ot13HkTRCnM0KHDiUTV6GjVCEK_v7_TbbLEmLj1F5-5Zmtttu/s1600-h/cabinet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9MQOy-JeqJ0677Hrvi8rCaBGpfa14Ii8mYB45mWQGid_QGvRpMLNKt12MIQJe-_pDMrGEi6yyXzHmrjrtx-7lmbixsy_ot13HkTRCnM0KHDiUTV6GjVCEK_v7_TbbLEmLj1F5-5Zmtttu/s400/cabinet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306060158825967666" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Each room contains a cabinet containing information regarding the namesake animal. They are full of technical, and cultural facts and curiosities. This cabinet on the wolf houses prints embossed into bronze, water colours, replica glass eyes, a looking glass onto the natural environment of the wolf, poems with a wolf theme, and examples of wolf droppings.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9N5dpfRTpi1heYwV71RhXxeLkpGqqAhkcoSVEDu1zTiejLNyk75lTU0-x-fgMjvTi7wu6CFjFLE8h92471kTjSpeWZZPZKrl8Tn2rWzdCc0hu6T6zx-4jpuGO3g102vTQDi7OxW2M4b_/s1600-h/escalier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9N5dpfRTpi1heYwV71RhXxeLkpGqqAhkcoSVEDu1zTiejLNyk75lTU0-x-fgMjvTi7wu6CFjFLE8h92471kTjSpeWZZPZKrl8Tn2rWzdCc0hu6T6zx-4jpuGO3g102vTQDi7OxW2M4b_/s400/escalier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306060480639476850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9Kd2tH1fadrwie-JhJ-FgNB1CFo4oFgXqGq8locbnQXygcizlU1OkZ7qBw5s1H-UGP5IE1H-iE10EX4BBsNmV895bz6k1SDSVlejPDr-cNF-bmKfN4Kd9-5nHkzLXeRUrkQlg3yN1N67/s1600-h/poign%C3%A9e.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9Kd2tH1fadrwie-JhJ-FgNB1CFo4oFgXqGq8locbnQXygcizlU1OkZ7qBw5s1H-UGP5IE1H-iE10EX4BBsNmV895bz6k1SDSVlejPDr-cNF-bmKfN4Kd9-5nHkzLXeRUrkQlg3yN1N67/s400/poign%C3%A9e.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306060721733847986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Some architectural details. Nothing off the shelf here.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDLhYgBoSTNQ8g-DnISUYzMWkjX7LAHBnHxah2rK8UWunmuwdvPoxTthyN6B-SWMv0OLKWssLRKf-sbuO-tiF2-G-lyg1XhfVsuIsbqQh0oiQB7ggbBJQGnfbCqYtqnXsWUpF_eoD1jbz/s1600-h/fiche.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDLhYgBoSTNQ8g-DnISUYzMWkjX7LAHBnHxah2rK8UWunmuwdvPoxTthyN6B-SWMv0OLKWssLRKf-sbuO-tiF2-G-lyg1XhfVsuIsbqQh0oiQB7ggbBJQGnfbCqYtqnXsWUpF_eoD1jbz/s400/fiche.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306060566331131026" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Animal information card, just like in the Dewey decimal card system (yeah, you know what I'm talking about).</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWH2OeGAj8ba7lH0nktDQbVAeZEJ_2HUZDDzQY_ugro_i6ze7pW-PIVLExgTxVv14qOYU38nLOlfMda790RFELiRWRV7TnB5ITg8gb8XhGGgeDyhPq6sQGs6B2i72gWyPs4bAmL6uePnzM/s1600-h/crane.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWH2OeGAj8ba7lH0nktDQbVAeZEJ_2HUZDDzQY_ugro_i6ze7pW-PIVLExgTxVv14qOYU38nLOlfMda790RFELiRWRV7TnB5ITg8gb8XhGGgeDyhPq6sQGs6B2i72gWyPs4bAmL6uePnzM/s400/crane.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306060360603532274" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A little niche art diorama with crane sticking beak into cutout of fox. Do you see all the cast positives of the fox? There were no less than 7 micro spots designed to create that effect...</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WwtLqxlmQZtx1dprEJj6BsBq30vOEzVa1O8OLZOb3lIkouauUxLPOD6dxyPsP7QLFcE9bmIeKFt9-rRIC77TE8jo5dE9zSDgpnZ44Z7jf0yCOfJc4OA4u_3n0JbvN9MEKEn7o9-i6TXq/s1600-h/fawn.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WwtLqxlmQZtx1dprEJj6BsBq30vOEzVa1O8OLZOb3lIkouauUxLPOD6dxyPsP7QLFcE9bmIeKFt9-rRIC77TE8jo5dE9zSDgpnZ44Z7jf0yCOfJc4OA4u_3n0JbvN9MEKEn7o9-i6TXq/s400/fawn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306060631433187442" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There is a great deal of fawning over this museum whenever I mention it to fellow museum enthusiasts. But for some odd reason it is never packed to the gills like the others. This, for someone who lives in Paris, is a gift. No pushing around, plenty of seating, lot's of meditative silence. It is a place to find some peace with a particular, and beautiful, perspective of nature.<br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJCrRTNVlq3MR6GfCK_wz5xwwlmw7jtrQcrvMzxnkwakaewYPhIaU4ZbVQ96zR1xHlKndKVT2oCRtRbTiVgj_cwB0EsH7pqtmQPYMMN39gJ5GrCHjxiE9gPKiPTfTqsE2uDUwW8s4kO2S/s1600-h/renard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJCrRTNVlq3MR6GfCK_wz5xwwlmw7jtrQcrvMzxnkwakaewYPhIaU4ZbVQ96zR1xHlKndKVT2oCRtRbTiVgj_cwB0EsH7pqtmQPYMMN39gJ5GrCHjxiE9gPKiPTfTqsE2uDUwW8s4kO2S/s400/renard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306060829524797586" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My favourite moment, zzzzz..... </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-73340445976675936262009-02-16T09:05:00.000-08:002009-02-17T09:21:25.466-08:00Gare St. Lazare<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Few words, just a series of photos I took at the Gare St.Lazare a while ago, which is on the verge of a major renovation...<br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Fb_6HvXKFGe7GNO6WQ08zZIVs0pzsF7YG4UD24msGimkL_No_NxknyCYnY9CZCI1iPNF8NTjm6TAs7IKmsgltk1n-AM_eKkP4O6q5wNB8U_lNkc-iL0drpkOAlVqUWxaEATEr2e62VqJ/s1600-h/st.laz1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Fb_6HvXKFGe7GNO6WQ08zZIVs0pzsF7YG4UD24msGimkL_No_NxknyCYnY9CZCI1iPNF8NTjm6TAs7IKmsgltk1n-AM_eKkP4O6q5wNB8U_lNkc-iL0drpkOAlVqUWxaEATEr2e62VqJ/s400/st.laz1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303816966466881154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcd0OLJ_1xfVVRQBAp3BKmwPf9rAW1WIx58msg-h8rY8oVC89zLv263cxlhhOJMku77zRQZaY2NWg0-V9OAQYlwbatYfFuylwj7zAIgdBqWn4tkUKGYuX4gXHQFwE4EolMqagdxU_MNp1x/s1600-h/st.laz3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcd0OLJ_1xfVVRQBAp3BKmwPf9rAW1WIx58msg-h8rY8oVC89zLv263cxlhhOJMku77zRQZaY2NWg0-V9OAQYlwbatYfFuylwj7zAIgdBqWn4tkUKGYuX4gXHQFwE4EolMqagdxU_MNp1x/s400/st.laz3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303817172349587474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4aUiW2aVXUwkRjiDDfkPBJ09q2pvBDN1b7Hqh6TE0EXIcYhdrrw1YDDgEApnsYHj9ybC8cTJA87pc-jOMboU8W6FqRGpVJMszFmztRdXnJlQ4oyCzje3haA2j0bFrDDWM7Y-GeFK5faiA/s1600-h/st.laz4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4aUiW2aVXUwkRjiDDfkPBJ09q2pvBDN1b7Hqh6TE0EXIcYhdrrw1YDDgEApnsYHj9ybC8cTJA87pc-jOMboU8W6FqRGpVJMszFmztRdXnJlQ4oyCzje3haA2j0bFrDDWM7Y-GeFK5faiA/s400/st.laz4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303817258821067010" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfWyMgI2RtVi6asq5aAiYvM7YYQpOwlWxaPq9xDGIOdFQNKGh-VcTgp8JXSy3hZIDCKZ8ybyxrrStCw6v6g6UBCDfVzttQPs-t6f-w0sbJkZIxFnmfRpX2_R8QjjysnVvHstMnRkuYpmY/s1600-h/st.laz2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfWyMgI2RtVi6asq5aAiYvM7YYQpOwlWxaPq9xDGIOdFQNKGh-VcTgp8JXSy3hZIDCKZ8ybyxrrStCw6v6g6UBCDfVzttQPs-t6f-w0sbJkZIxFnmfRpX2_R8QjjysnVvHstMnRkuYpmY/s400/st.laz2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303817072457688882" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-55748241041947915812009-02-09T10:36:00.000-08:002009-02-09T10:56:17.900-08:00Because we're nerds<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTulbVSYMK372ct6wsY3zsKAEmwLtAyEzuLO6JDo3M3gX8z_KKPnKP-_lPOrlxm5tO0n7Ye_eEXXj5qh5Gh8ynIHl3BI9Av-hdsSfxRfQFiM4UJx1vaulUctagbM7xU70f3FiUigLQWUzz/s1600-h/squelletes_pal%C3%A9o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTulbVSYMK372ct6wsY3zsKAEmwLtAyEzuLO6JDo3M3gX8z_KKPnKP-_lPOrlxm5tO0n7Ye_eEXXj5qh5Gh8ynIHl3BI9Av-hdsSfxRfQFiM4UJx1vaulUctagbM7xU70f3FiUigLQWUzz/s400/squelletes_pal%C3%A9o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300870091256409234" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmRcyBl1DEF8g3jbPnAgjqbrCBDu3YoePpJXABk5gML3oT4GJkEK3HJpJcWHF3kIEg0XbWjmFTU2IrUmlcreMCBDg-vh-ySrAT0a0wKBOwJfPE4KHQviEL6xTZ8_uH7SdKOVihNuDLLI4T/s1600-h/baleines_pal%C3%A9o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmRcyBl1DEF8g3jbPnAgjqbrCBDu3YoePpJXABk5gML3oT4GJkEK3HJpJcWHF3kIEg0XbWjmFTU2IrUmlcreMCBDg-vh-ySrAT0a0wKBOwJfPE4KHQviEL6xTZ8_uH7SdKOVihNuDLLI4T/s400/baleines_pal%C3%A9o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300870178650272066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It will probably come as no surprise that we visit a lot of museums in and around Paris when we have the time. As a museum capital we have a fine selection of every type of museum one can think of, from the small and eccentric (Museum of Cast Teeth) to the grandiose and internationally renown (Louvre, well, did I need to even mention that?). This weekend we went to see the </span><a href="http://www.hominides.com/html/lieux/galerie_paleontologie.html"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Galerie de Paléontologie et Anatomie Comparée</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> a building constructed at the beginning of the 20th century by Frederic Dutert, situated by the Jardin des Plantes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Really, this is one of my favourite types of museums. When you walk in you feel as if you entered into a great cabinet of curiousities where the animals are on the loose. It's the stuff you imagine in films (as you can tell the place is extremely photogenic). The exhibits don't look like they've been touched in a hundred years but manage to still maintain a modern dynamic feel about them. The details of everything from the exhibit stands to the vitrines to the handrails are exquisite and just as interesting as the numerous skeletons, preserved organs, and fossils on display.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCJKPw7y9XkinWoBOq3ifaQ5LlsJ3d9yFUunZsNilTKMkeRk8KFFR0MpdbPMaVr7elG9eAzAAALR_WbAIQAK6J6ibzABkOI8g1EaUVOHqmHCGfnxqlUxUhrjiF_K5bn8qUXRibx6NzUb7/s1600-h/petit_baleine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCJKPw7y9XkinWoBOq3ifaQ5LlsJ3d9yFUunZsNilTKMkeRk8KFFR0MpdbPMaVr7elG9eAzAAALR_WbAIQAK6J6ibzABkOI8g1EaUVOHqmHCGfnxqlUxUhrjiF_K5bn8qUXRibx6NzUb7/s400/petit_baleine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300870373572374386" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A place like this draws you in, walking around taking in the smells (dusty, worn wood stain, slight camphor) the light (large windows at a clerestory height allowing in abundant natural daylight on the first floor and a skylight for diffused light on the second floor), and the sound of floorboards underfoot... </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXutk2_umLCXn4izw1AMyyMYseeM9y6gw3DlYPDeWgSnAm4HDoKDj3X0MY75BneiVy6K6sKGVJ53CXzbwypniXPvTosO6WmB7k1b8gx4srqiVeJpu-eamK2YHAgErokDG9G4HG235OQ9Y1/s1600-h/tortue.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXutk2_umLCXn4izw1AMyyMYseeM9y6gw3DlYPDeWgSnAm4HDoKDj3X0MY75BneiVy6K6sKGVJ53CXzbwypniXPvTosO6WmB7k1b8gx4srqiVeJpu-eamK2YHAgErokDG9G4HG235OQ9Y1/s400/tortue.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300872224738542178" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-40160869426848669742009-02-04T08:59:00.000-08:002009-05-14T11:54:19.708-07:00Not just pickled fish and dark breads<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Dining in København was delightful. I shouldn't say I was expecting to eat badly, but I can't say that I had high expectations either. Well, what a delight to be proven that my pessimism was unjustified. The Danish cuisine we had was excellent. The ingredients were always fresh, the presentation was aesthetically pleasing, service was professional and smily. It seems that the Nordic countries, namely Denmark, Norway and Sweden, have entered a sort of culinary renaissance for a while now. There is an extreme enthusiasm to rejuvenate traditional cuisine with influences culled from all over the world, ideas brought back from chefs who have gone abroad and returned home. In turn they have created culinary hybrids like smushi (a cross between a smørrebrød, the Danish open faced sandwich, and sushi), found at the <a href="http://www.theroyalcafe.dk/">Royal Café</a>.</span>..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGGMHgkanKPJBnntuv6ALOiySea3odQOnr2DeRkAQhdRp6bDsT3Y9nAkfhclmOB5PuH6IsTMKBUNt-qrOG8y49Xm6NobS6bTVCnURDEBWrmstassaCajkjaFo45SyMoo6v6zdjUbcAUkZ/s1600-h/smushi_medium.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGGMHgkanKPJBnntuv6ALOiySea3odQOnr2DeRkAQhdRp6bDsT3Y9nAkfhclmOB5PuH6IsTMKBUNt-qrOG8y49Xm6NobS6bTVCnURDEBWrmstassaCajkjaFo45SyMoo6v6zdjUbcAUkZ/s400/smushi_medium.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298989126100710802" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSn1peA8xZogYAx3Tgx9gw47WdFjIfSH85CFr_WZc9CKurTgduibO06ahbNbeSrohDJUVhYtMzri_xnON4cQj8n-CWdy525MGu185WTlpkXfBXvxzcjSZU43qM1ZZFY7lc0xfrdhn0Yxm/s1600-h/mushi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSn1peA8xZogYAx3Tgx9gw47WdFjIfSH85CFr_WZc9CKurTgduibO06ahbNbeSrohDJUVhYtMzri_xnON4cQj8n-CWdy525MGu185WTlpkXfBXvxzcjSZU43qM1ZZFY7lc0xfrdhn0Yxm/s400/mushi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298988862537429858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...to the more conceptual and experimental cuisine at the restaurant <a href="http://www.restaurantgeranium.dk/">Geranium</a>, situated by the lovely Rosenborg Have, a picturesque park in the city centre. The restaurant is headed by Chef Rasmus Kofoed who in 2005 won bronze and in 2007 won silver in the Bocuse D'Or (the Biannual Chefs World Championship in Lyon) and Søren Ledet, a friend and colleague who worked with Mr. Kofod when he was at another fabled Danish restauarant, Noma. At any rate they are creating some fine culinary moments at Geranium, very much in the spirit of El Bulli. Lot's of bubbles, gels, organic produce and poetry.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">ok, less talk, more foodie photos.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMQneYZNRgE72fuiRcvl41cRJ-ZfmsGxD6U9Abg9xtpUHpIH8uEO1mBm6sSEPB-adD-NgXz_Hj5GrnVTimzoGCHNa0Bt5B1tO2TBtCtXuO7I4tozQha3tMNS6lk-rTFhBDZSyVPK85LV4/s1600-h/GERANIUM_int%C3%A9rieur.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMQneYZNRgE72fuiRcvl41cRJ-ZfmsGxD6U9Abg9xtpUHpIH8uEO1mBm6sSEPB-adD-NgXz_Hj5GrnVTimzoGCHNa0Bt5B1tO2TBtCtXuO7I4tozQha3tMNS6lk-rTFhBDZSyVPK85LV4/s400/GERANIUM_int%C3%A9rieur.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298989700563684482" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The ambiance at Geranium is tranquil, super chill, we were definitely feeling the <a href="http://www.visitdenmark.com/usa/en-us/menu/turist/nyheder/nyheder/kunstenathyggesig.htm"><span style="font-style: italic;">hygge</span></a>.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8OOIIclVmmOCid8wzNJQlYaBGeK22BPzb-fcm_eMrCr3TIxZDTkuR56IRkl-lekA5pXfrtz7bqQykzuWINo6o-Mr3HbJLooUOcOd2JAIOKVgm75_dUM1u3HzM4faFbv8C7ZDygJ4HJVG/s1600-h/GERANIUM_amuse_guele.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8OOIIclVmmOCid8wzNJQlYaBGeK22BPzb-fcm_eMrCr3TIxZDTkuR56IRkl-lekA5pXfrtz7bqQykzuWINo6o-Mr3HbJLooUOcOd2JAIOKVgm75_dUM1u3HzM4faFbv8C7ZDygJ4HJVG/s400/GERANIUM_amuse_guele.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298989994906683378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The amuse gueule was comprised of 2 savoury marshmallow-like morsels. I believe there were little nuggets of bacon throughout. On the side we were served paper thin sheets of a sort of rye bread. I savoured my marshmallow, B downed his like it was a big peanut.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTssTXqU9azrI4Kqf9wtCANI7cJ258XEd-6KSF7j_ZqD8eJgtVIqKCtoxGA4K-yNk4ttQkgT1KBZ79sXYW9tjM4rpB4H1f2fwIYkRXpXlW2PI2AfUBQrrSMO_GOBc3RMXG-0khj5Dk-SbM/s1600-h/GERANIUM_entr%C3%A9e.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTssTXqU9azrI4Kqf9wtCANI7cJ258XEd-6KSF7j_ZqD8eJgtVIqKCtoxGA4K-yNk4ttQkgT1KBZ79sXYW9tjM4rpB4H1f2fwIYkRXpXlW2PI2AfUBQrrSMO_GOBc3RMXG-0khj5Dk-SbM/s400/GERANIUM_entr%C3%A9e.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298990416191364210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Appetizer of lobster soup (poured at the table) with tiny portions of lobster meat, raw shaved carrots and diced carrot confit. Plus alfalfa like sprouts as garnish for good measure. Now isn't that a handsome bowl! I would also like to point out that the spoons were marvelously designed, with a slightly extended lip to rest on the diner's lip when tipping the soup back into one's mouth. Ah, the Danes and their design sensibility.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUGYagTNKghqdBiYVfL6zvmlOFY7vJ6wjpPHuPpb90eRU-TtW6HQgQTkAHg-hPzpChHe4PD7UZgKZ-62_3ry_auDxak8Is735Awn5na0IduygRLjjn2atDU6hKFFuNSLSZH8aUnJmvhpj/s1600-h/GERANIUM_plat1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUGYagTNKghqdBiYVfL6zvmlOFY7vJ6wjpPHuPpb90eRU-TtW6HQgQTkAHg-hPzpChHe4PD7UZgKZ-62_3ry_auDxak8Is735Awn5na0IduygRLjjn2atDU6hKFFuNSLSZH8aUnJmvhpj/s400/GERANIUM_plat1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298990173960323554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Next up, and explained by (in french) the very chef who had prepared it, was a dish of lobster pieces (done up 3 ways), plus some morsels of venison, walnut pieces, thin medallions of wild Danish apples at the base, covered by a sheet of subtly infused apple gelatin, topped with young pea shoots, dollops of some mysterious cream, mystery jeunes pousses, and apple blossom petals. B and I had no idea how to eat this dish. Do you eat everything off the top first? Do you go for all layers at once? Do you eat in a clock-wise or counter clock-wise motion? So we asked the opinion of the chef. In response he shrugged his shoulders and answered, "oh, well, whatever feels most comfortable". So we just massacred this poor masterpiece. It tasted like a spring pasture by the sea.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">B and I diverged on the selection of our next dish. He went for surf and I went for turf, as usual.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfe8-X7NVDNbLgw7d7ojNBdgrpfqNp_KgiYT-1gK5DPI6u_PzHvXi-fLyW97HmbMJgb8uMa4puJWGnSflJzIkk1h-_yvzYws9RCr8YFYb89bXoM6yE0kI824E5X9UPVtHJ-YsvKypJbp0n/s1600-h/GERANIUM_plat2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfe8-X7NVDNbLgw7d7ojNBdgrpfqNp_KgiYT-1gK5DPI6u_PzHvXi-fLyW97HmbMJgb8uMa4puJWGnSflJzIkk1h-_yvzYws9RCr8YFYb89bXoM6yE0kI824E5X9UPVtHJ-YsvKypJbp0n/s400/GERANIUM_plat2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298990723246514370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This dish was envisioned by the chefs as a walk on the beach. A cold Nordic beach. So from what I recall the dish consisted of a white fish (turbot?), wrapped in a light silky seaweed, on a bed of white savoury foam, and covered with poached pearl onions, mystery orange berries, and an assortment of sea plants. On the side there was a bowl of frothed potatoes and golden fried potato chip flakes. Looked gorgeous, though I preferred my plate over his.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFwHfN_nOdVEQy4yDIpGWNPAJxmj69uDVwPJD1LumP-LAVWf851Pkjz6VI1hALl6CCNxrsxxuzsh28prxpd4xKABmwyaapbUMhjK2lpZKsMUvr4z_7sHB4n-cf_VtANZbCl0A_Lxb4PQI/s1600-h/GERANIUM_plat3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFwHfN_nOdVEQy4yDIpGWNPAJxmj69uDVwPJD1LumP-LAVWf851Pkjz6VI1hALl6CCNxrsxxuzsh28prxpd4xKABmwyaapbUMhjK2lpZKsMUvr4z_7sHB4n-cf_VtANZbCl0A_Lxb4PQI/s400/GERANIUM_plat3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298991005790626994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A thick medallion of venison wrapped with a melting sheet of animal fat (I know, doesn't sound appetizing, but it's a common technique for a french dish whose name escapes me at the moment), chanterelle mushrooms, blackberry, thin slices of beets, plus beets 2 ways, and a frothing mound of potatoes and potato chip flakes. Imagine the aromas and textures of a slight fruity tea like sweetness, slight saltiness, and the smooth melting venison. mmmmm.....</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Next up was the cheese course, which was, well, sadly lacklustre. Pitting most countries against France in the cheese department is formidable and daunting. Danes simply do not have the same affinity for cheese the French do. As our server explained to us the Danes prefer their cheese mild. So no photo for this course, which was pleasent enough but not memorable.<br /><br /></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyvngO9WS65BrDEhhZqhqm_XWBuPowU_vPQax-9qkpFd_2SQiennVRfySRQIRWkql2URpXeoOmAh9s2iKHKpA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Our dessert was by far the most entertaining dish I've ever been served (well, with the exception of a condor carved from one very large eggplant in Peru). We were served a ball of white meringue encasing a very "fresh" (perhaps it was lemon?) tasting gelato with a centre of chewy melting caramel. But the best part was the gold bowl of small pine branches and bubbling vapour they set on the table. The bubbling liquid heated the pine so it set off a very pleasant warm forest scent. Who is allowed to have this much fun coming up with these fun ideas in the kitchen?!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As with all good things our meal came to end, with a delicious latte and mignardises of caramels and a traditional Danish licorice, all soft, black and spongy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After our relaxing meal we ran to the metro to be late for the concert at the new concert hall by Nouvel, and then to later on be stuck in a malfunctioning elevator. But that's another story.....All in all we loved Copenhagen and we will be back. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-34881572437473326412009-01-22T08:12:00.000-08:002009-01-22T08:21:03.314-08:00Happy new 2009<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A new year means a fresh new start to this blog. No more absences of 6 months. I do have an excuse for not updating this blog. Actually a few, but we won't indulge in excuses. Happy 2009 to everyone, I hope that getting back to the grind wasn't all that difficult. There was, after all, President Obama's inauguration, and we still have Chinese New Year to look forward to next week ( January 26th, Year of the Ox).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To get into the festive mood asian style we will most likely head down to the 13th arrondissement to chow down on noodles and walk around in the madness of the crowds gathered for the parade. This year we will try to time it just right so as to see a bit of the parade but not get caught up in the clean up which immediately ensues. It's like clockwork. Parade is over, vast teams of cleaners clean up barricaded roads (believe me you the streets are plenty filthy just prior), barricaded roads open to the public. All done in less than an hour. Fingers crossed that there will be no rain, though if there is I will be somewhat prepared. Having just spent the weekend in Copenhagen I am mentally prepped for excessive grey, coldness and humidity. I am not complaining I love that city, but I imagine it is much more pleasant in summer. Will expand on our Danish trip in the next post...</span></span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7UEHPCU7tHUnw27iP10d1liNefxEZ9m28FGBFJ4A6MrCJuIE8VOVbSwOPpBjvqsIRqySdz-t-HiM5LobuNIZVpntgcIKRo87-r7qTiVvo1uPGWQOvKQItZAC1BC8Z2Zk97TxSSH_VrwD/s1600-h/_DSC0393.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7UEHPCU7tHUnw27iP10d1liNefxEZ9m28FGBFJ4A6MrCJuIE8VOVbSwOPpBjvqsIRqySdz-t-HiM5LobuNIZVpntgcIKRo87-r7qTiVvo1uPGWQOvKQItZAC1BC8Z2Zk97TxSSH_VrwD/s400/_DSC0393.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294152748741907858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> <span style="font-size:85%;">Not Denmark, but good ole SF where we spent the holidays. ah, that fog...</span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-88823112323135375042008-06-10T06:59:00.000-07:002008-12-10T14:50:39.466-08:00Big<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLD3pVp2h2jLgPj2nLUVZz-HTEVu7Qv2_9SW6EwsRN2FGYaidGyqkC8cuz2tEZUi5CR7kyCwLsX-UPgdvmSTvT2G37-Eu9lGfnCisBmKO_ublfENKowUz5JkA7o6vR7Tw-NL_RfS53i30U/s1600-h/Monumenta2008_Serra.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLD3pVp2h2jLgPj2nLUVZz-HTEVu7Qv2_9SW6EwsRN2FGYaidGyqkC8cuz2tEZUi5CR7kyCwLsX-UPgdvmSTvT2G37-Eu9lGfnCisBmKO_ublfENKowUz5JkA7o6vR7Tw-NL_RfS53i30U/s400/Monumenta2008_Serra.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210252553264559794" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This past weekend B and I decided to check out Monumenta 2008. Each year at the Grand Palais in Paris an artist is invited to create an original work to display to the public. The subject is determined by the artist with the hopes of engaging the public in an active dialogue with the work, and to become better familiarised with the creative process initiated by the artist. In addition to the work installed in the Grand Palais, there are numerous forums and events drawing on the main work to inform discussions in fields such as music, philosophy and dance.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This year the american sculptor Richard Serra was chosen to exhibit and he responded with this monumental installation, called "Promenade", of five steel panels measuring 17 metres high, 4 metres wide and each weighing 75 tonnes. And really, to fill up the nave of the Grand Palais they needed to be that immense. You can read more about it at the </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.monumenta.com/2008/">official site</a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> of the exhibit, and view prettier photos of the installation itself.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">However, I must say that for all that is written about "Promenade" and all the photos one can take, it is really difficult to appreciate what Serra has done here without being in the space. It shares in fact much that is problematic in regard to documenting architecture. The whole point of seeing "Promenade" is not only seeing the work, but it is about moving through it and around it, from various vantage points throughout the hall, with various scenarios of natural light. In addition to the relationship developed between spectator and art, which by the way completely shatters the formal paradigm of a pre-established social/intellectual perspective, there is the dynamic between spectator and spectator. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">You are aware that this is a public space and you are sharing it with other people. They become part of the field of perception, they are integral to the relationship with the installation. Yet, at the same time the experience is private and internal. You decide how you wish to set up the relationship with the work, and with others. We saw people taking photos in front of it and of it, children running around deleriously shouting at the top of their voices delighted with the reverberations, some other people meditatively contemplating from benches lining the nave. When I witness a scene like this I am reminded of how modern art is about the public domain, it is about bridging the distance between something precious and distant to something we can personally integrate into our lives. As Serra says, it's about "getting Art off the pedestal". The results are empowering and full of possibility. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-71309995178780668742008-06-04T08:19:00.000-07:002008-12-10T14:50:39.717-08:00Who's Braderie?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWIrgOXJxc_Zqj_tp3UPZIdhdHzAaDu5DxXYYrYwrZNnkLcQjtPO3aDCzeUnmF2rc2U-6KiZRCfD14_ZHHVNDPMQZktpYQa0zIcw18h7fvXej5KPbobwJrYpe6w90BRmp52Hf1d4rQoPIq/s1600-h/IMG_5059.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWIrgOXJxc_Zqj_tp3UPZIdhdHzAaDu5DxXYYrYwrZNnkLcQjtPO3aDCzeUnmF2rc2U-6KiZRCfD14_ZHHVNDPMQZktpYQa0zIcw18h7fvXej5KPbobwJrYpe6w90BRmp52Hf1d4rQoPIq/s400/IMG_5059.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208046445565684146" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I received the card shown above in the mail today and thought it was an invite to an art opening. I asked B who he thought "Braderie" might be, and he laughed. He explained that it wasn't a person's name. Braderie = clearance sale. oh, is that music to a budget strapped girl's ears, or what! A </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">solde</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> is great, but a </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">braderie</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> is deliriously good news. Supporting two adults on one architect's income in Paris is a bit of a challenge. I have been very very good and really brought the impulsive credit card flashing monster in me to heel, I don't even bother window shopping anymore. But there is a real need from time to time to refresh the wardrobe, so then what does one do? One can either hit up places like H & M whose clothes fall apart in a week. Or troll the sales at boutiques.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">There are 2 massive nation wide sales each year (one in November, and I believe another coming up this month or the next) where everything seems to be drastically reduced. Parisians love their sales and so it is madness from the word go. Another type of sale, I have found, seems to be much more discreetly handled. You get your name on a preferred customer list (not sure exactly how that is determined. Perhaps an impressive initial purchase, or high cool factor?), and </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">voilà</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">, you are called up when there is an unadvertised sale in the store. It is the most civilised way of saving 50% and more off of otherwise off limits clothing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Yet another way of saving money is to obtain a </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">carte fidelité</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">, basically a reward card. Imagine my delight when I was asked at Shu Uemura if I wanted such a card. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">bah, ouai!</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> I can't remember how much money I dropped at the Shu Uemura stores in San Francisco, it seems such a shame there was no such savings program then. Perhaps there is now. If there is I am very bitter. Who can spend $24 on mascara all the time and not expect to go bankrupt? Girlie rant over, I will conclude by saying that yes Paris can be expensive, but reasonable if you find the loopholes.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-88359285524317971062008-05-16T05:23:00.000-07:002008-12-10T14:50:39.966-08:00Immediate self gratification<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCQ_3AZedr9iDYd7RThGwM9S6-BU4BeIFP2xqQEfGcG-sauhqGti61dD73OQ2X-ZAy1nmHZ7ifL_EcIfBZdqMGEea-7PiiqUR2SkflMiTpxyxpGu4MLjgXNZzAled75fNQKh1fLSboVx8/s1600-h/IMG_4552.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCQ_3AZedr9iDYd7RThGwM9S6-BU4BeIFP2xqQEfGcG-sauhqGti61dD73OQ2X-ZAy1nmHZ7ifL_EcIfBZdqMGEea-7PiiqUR2SkflMiTpxyxpGu4MLjgXNZzAled75fNQKh1fLSboVx8/s400/IMG_4552.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200950640088044290" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Am I the only one who finds this macaron from Pierre Hermé obscenely large? Like a Big Mac, but more cream. The macarons from Hermé are admittedly delicious, bit on the baroque side in terms of flavours and composition. My favourite come from Sadaharu Aoki, the salty umeboshi is fantabulous. So much so that I never get a chance to photograph them. They go straight from the hand of the nice Japanese ladies at the shop, into the plastic sac, and into my mouth.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidn-O495-QX9OmMqVDIZhyphenhyphen4Wu7njtHYBAzQOjSr147NE4Hiq-NqVqZOvBYNnu0Ucm8KVdd8ReaiP-oa-rlS0qFbj2rhtdP-bN1hGeSCa04A2W_BCW5NOq04dFi2lyYQ69UGqB66o0VPlQh/s1600-h/chibouste.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidn-O495-QX9OmMqVDIZhyphenhyphen4Wu7njtHYBAzQOjSr147NE4Hiq-NqVqZOvBYNnu0Ucm8KVdd8ReaiP-oa-rlS0qFbj2rhtdP-bN1hGeSCa04A2W_BCW5NOq04dFi2lyYQ69UGqB66o0VPlQh/s400/chibouste.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200950987980395282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And a chibouste* from our local bakery Secco, who never fails to please.<br /><br />* From what I can gather it is a type of dessert cream concoction invented by the same fellow who made up the St. Honoré. The cream resembles the meringue of lemon meringue pies, but has milk in it. Apparently very difficult to master, amateurs beware.<br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-78851787785113462482008-05-16T04:02:00.000-07:002008-12-10T14:50:40.530-08:00Stuffed to the gills<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOXlbUqHiIFiDoZLxkqdYrf-7PeFZAAYJtXR_MmJBE3GYi80wBa25RiPbNHgr7xPcbt7Wa8xnaH1JlQtMiaW8w9z0HjNKW07LZioZAHnjOeMtNrsbJoMbE-DD5BrG5lKuGRcUfL9Td9CG/s1600-h/IMG_4593.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOXlbUqHiIFiDoZLxkqdYrf-7PeFZAAYJtXR_MmJBE3GYi80wBa25RiPbNHgr7xPcbt7Wa8xnaH1JlQtMiaW8w9z0HjNKW07LZioZAHnjOeMtNrsbJoMbE-DD5BrG5lKuGRcUfL9Td9CG/s400/IMG_4593.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200929779431887570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Our apartment is tiny, which would make our very small kitchen miniscule, or on good days "quit intimate". The only counter space is on the fridge, storage space has been maxed out with our recent addition of shelves and hook/rod system, and there will be barely enough space for the day we can afford an oven. Living without an oven or proper heat elements has been a tough adjustment. I have had to deal with cooking with hot plates and let me tell you it's been a challenge. From trial and error I have learned that it is not a good idea to prepare paella, nor risotto, or use any cooking utensil larger than 15 centimetres, or 6 inches, in diameter on said plates. The things I have prepared with a low level of frustration have been couscous (just the grains), pasta, and tiny batches of sauce. I have also been steaming vegetables like it's going out of style.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAY-DibWaVlc0AmyrK11CFY74L0zZzTZTewNPHkXrlurVhYJjp69LA90KBn813xEangfqdlYVjC65W0nuDudENX6ZApjG778sSvh1RZ39losLvri3NrMxB0lfzVQumue8V31AFrxi2QQr/s1600-h/IMG_4566.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAY-DibWaVlc0AmyrK11CFY74L0zZzTZTewNPHkXrlurVhYJjp69LA90KBn813xEangfqdlYVjC65W0nuDudENX6ZApjG778sSvh1RZ39losLvri3NrMxB0lfzVQumue8V31AFrxi2QQr/s400/IMG_4566.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200930123029271266" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One day I decided to make a Korean crepe called pa-jon, a common snack served in bars, restaurants, and streetside. It uses a batter comprised of flour, eggs, water and salt, followed by a wide option of savoury ingredients which are added after pouring the batter into a medium hot pan. I started with making tiny blini sized crepes with chives, carrots, zucchini, and shrimp. Then, because it was taking forever and it was 10pm, I became impatient and threw everything into the batter and created epic frisbee sized pa-jon. Obviously not as good (they were mushier), but still consumed heartily by B and I.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVghHpHG3tdj8Mu-m0O9nkLsn5y_fdjB4D0XLbdQbefD9xMjZf9dzuLYZTjt0cFr5LKIxTmAJRIFNyMYit8Fhmcp2URydz3K5WwQUu64rlaYg3VpsToSp_WE5omLd1fZF1Y7QG3l54OQ3/s1600-h/IMG_4573.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVghHpHG3tdj8Mu-m0O9nkLsn5y_fdjB4D0XLbdQbefD9xMjZf9dzuLYZTjt0cFr5LKIxTmAJRIFNyMYit8Fhmcp2URydz3K5WwQUu64rlaYg3VpsToSp_WE5omLd1fZF1Y7QG3l54OQ3/s400/IMG_4573.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200930432266916594" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Pa-jon</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Jon Batter (makes 2 cups)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1 c Flour</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1/4 c Glutinous Rice Flour</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1 Egg, beaten</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1 c Water, approx.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1/2 tsp. Salt</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Combine all to create a smooth batter.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For a cup of batter one can add the following:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2 scallions</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1/2 cup fresh oysters</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">OR</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">8 medium rehydrated dried mushrooms</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">15 medium shrimps peeled and deveined</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">OR</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">grated carrots</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">grated zucchini</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">thinly sliced red or green peppers</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If using scallions add to batter. Heat skillet to medium high. Add vegetable oil, then when it is well heated add 2 large tbsp of batter. Press filling of choice into batter, adding about 1 tbsp of additional batter afterward to bind everything together on uncooked side. When the cooking side is golden, flip over and cook until the other side is golden too.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">These tasty crepes are usually served with a soya sauce dip. Usually I mix together some soya sauce, with a little bit of sesame seed oil and cider vinegar to taste. Typically one adds garlic, more finely chopped scallions, and toasted sesame seeds to the mix. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Serve with a well chilled crispy beer.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-50609988324953724952008-05-15T07:29:00.000-07:002008-12-10T14:50:41.612-08:00Glorious spring<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Where did April go to and how is it that May is half over? There were a lot of good post ideas floating around but I suppose I got carried away with the spring. April in Paris really is everything it's touted to be, I highly recommend. But here we are in May and it's still glorious and staying indoors is almost a crime. Which is why getting out and about town to discover the city is more tempting than ever.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Getting around town on a bike is the one thing that I revel in without reservation. Mayor Bertrand Delanoë struck gold with a business arrangement in which JCDecaux, an ad agency, provided financing for a public bike rental system in exchange for a large tranche of on-street advertising. Hence the birth of the endlessly popular Vélib. In addition to a cornucopia of public bikes throughout the city , there are also more and more dedicated and protected bike lanes. In the past number of years the mayor has been reducing car lanes and increasing those for public transportation. Cycling around town has never been so much fun.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Visiting the urban gardens by Palais de Tokyo </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">before grabbing some bikes</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWAE3ZNQPkobyYyPwHjtt8s0p5p5nEO1IRvHHdBItbrqlbeuCQA1hL5b6_JiEwiSxtUNqt1YkYNAxrVjSY-og29t7-iqAqdKVBVKltPqkoKzfFbDjKmXP7JhairWHCgzvmiKnwwc1kgKk/s1600-h/jardin_palais_tokyo1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWAE3ZNQPkobyYyPwHjtt8s0p5p5nEO1IRvHHdBItbrqlbeuCQA1hL5b6_JiEwiSxtUNqt1YkYNAxrVjSY-og29t7-iqAqdKVBVKltPqkoKzfFbDjKmXP7JhairWHCgzvmiKnwwc1kgKk/s400/jardin_palais_tokyo1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200612420003418738" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">B breaking into the urban gardens.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhGwvdWEfd263XcPAwRSLjXfMeDb0zdG1__fnGJpPG0UnV3_DENGcOhtAhLzDZRmxN-5Fz-oUIkN5sBhoQj6FMqG-sFTr2TbZ0yOx7JgsTx44_Kr-J3-e-E8412ttB-4majqsWAneVIxd/s1600-h/IMG_4609.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhGwvdWEfd263XcPAwRSLjXfMeDb0zdG1__fnGJpPG0UnV3_DENGcOhtAhLzDZRmxN-5Fz-oUIkN5sBhoQj6FMqG-sFTr2TbZ0yOx7JgsTx44_Kr-J3-e-E8412ttB-4majqsWAneVIxd/s400/IMG_4609.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200612763600802434" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Example of protected and lushly landscaped bike lane, and one that is more urban.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyV_YO8tbBx4VP_KR-tf9wg8n3HxP6CG9uE-IaOvhc069IdyqafmKkvQDR2QV4XWlmYnzyKwj-AKmZwBn_skfBVNclK76WRRvMg7Bf6u1dJ4cM5SE9R9Nmb80WK-zzIm2SulLfTybX8dkM/s1600-h/IMG_4656.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyV_YO8tbBx4VP_KR-tf9wg8n3HxP6CG9uE-IaOvhc069IdyqafmKkvQDR2QV4XWlmYnzyKwj-AKmZwBn_skfBVNclK76WRRvMg7Bf6u1dJ4cM5SE9R9Nmb80WK-zzIm2SulLfTybX8dkM/s400/IMG_4656.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200613094313284242" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBMcE9lC1lSfv7tXhgTkMd9fidVuxWHGazDDqI-8eEGxEXNs6VeaFseb2K94PDamsfx3PyFO8XP42qkqy4aO8xZYviLhCLSNwyyhSJKnLCizujkMPxeCefSl8dLE1LWOta2wBFYP7Y7Re/s1600-h/IMG_4657.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBMcE9lC1lSfv7tXhgTkMd9fidVuxWHGazDDqI-8eEGxEXNs6VeaFseb2K94PDamsfx3PyFO8XP42qkqy4aO8xZYviLhCLSNwyyhSJKnLCizujkMPxeCefSl8dLE1LWOta2wBFYP7Y7Re/s400/IMG_4657.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200613352011322018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Crossing the fabulous Pont Bir-Hakeim.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GPMEDtT7fHdEQk1IT3vBOPO7dfZt35880GvI5i2zDvGGZWIERU9k8pk6y3AFWWBTNBuMNNF_GOu7OGO15bP2I4nEoDEwl2K0xwKe3HeeAQJsVGCa1e-wlofEXif0UvhXKwGFylsgk636/s1600-h/IMG_4660.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GPMEDtT7fHdEQk1IT3vBOPO7dfZt35880GvI5i2zDvGGZWIERU9k8pk6y3AFWWBTNBuMNNF_GOu7OGO15bP2I4nEoDEwl2K0xwKe3HeeAQJsVGCa1e-wlofEXif0UvhXKwGFylsgk636/s400/IMG_4660.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200613566759686834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And at the end of the day you can park your Vélib at any Vélib station and take one long look at the sky by the Seine before heading home, or starting up the evening!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrX91amm9P0zlsF6vhtSldPltOTXGF4LgnUmy5Pcycfuqwv8cDgyWsuz9qA_BmENr8OU2VDDHFILP4tXug6Lefisc6l6tSSltsnAZVTF8gRosthSGLEe7yk2Ab1kyUGdezgFsIWNpDfK1N/s1600-h/IMG_4777.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrX91amm9P0zlsF6vhtSldPltOTXGF4LgnUmy5Pcycfuqwv8cDgyWsuz9qA_BmENr8OU2VDDHFILP4tXug6Lefisc6l6tSSltsnAZVTF8gRosthSGLEe7yk2Ab1kyUGdezgFsIWNpDfK1N/s400/IMG_4777.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200613790097986242" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As a final note, I would like to add that it is indeed possible to cycle around town in minidresses and high heels, eschewing the standard defensive gear so sadly required in North America. No bike helmets or lycra here! This </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://copenhagengirlsonbikes.blogspot.com/">site</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> gives a pretty good sense of what the bike culture in Paris looks like.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-74464050166869324752008-03-27T06:36:00.001-07:002008-12-10T14:50:42.344-08:00Almost the end of March (and not a moment too soon)<span style=";font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;" >Here are some random photos of the lush spring foliage (and fauna!) to be found at La Pilardière. It's a riot of daffodils, grape hyacinth, hellebores, apple blossoms, crocuses and tulips throughout. For a city girl like me the view of dewy wet grass, troubled grey skies and brilliant sun, cows and chickens all over amongst random blossoms is soothing, and at times almost too good to be true.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHk7zajPpuvCpA-fSYovSCJPMD3E5zdguwN2GUWqBNrpCL0AYDHH4G4uG2QSDJahlZfsESL9OeFNxEEDdsBI7vJyCFnEg2er7hP5VDjBzGU67xiZuyDlMnxXipZFTNzr9dYLFej2r68cX/s1600-h/le+garage.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHk7zajPpuvCpA-fSYovSCJPMD3E5zdguwN2GUWqBNrpCL0AYDHH4G4uG2QSDJahlZfsESL9OeFNxEEDdsBI7vJyCFnEg2er7hP5VDjBzGU67xiZuyDlMnxXipZFTNzr9dYLFej2r68cX/s400/le+garage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182415254310797218" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQuYJo3T6CZkD5Y8w8qg2a9S0Nnzm4cYdp8ow_qzB3WRpwtSYB_6qZwE4ZPIy18DfZ_ysGW-nC2Y1DO7x2W7rgB2Rt2A0yOh_PXhQ1nBzVqHXS4Q1pasxsQulpUp8qLE4c5uAt4STaOsm/s1600-h/jonquil.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQuYJo3T6CZkD5Y8w8qg2a9S0Nnzm4cYdp8ow_qzB3WRpwtSYB_6qZwE4ZPIy18DfZ_ysGW-nC2Y1DO7x2W7rgB2Rt2A0yOh_PXhQ1nBzVqHXS4Q1pasxsQulpUp8qLE4c5uAt4STaOsm/s400/jonquil.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182416525621116850" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoNrHPnFFIzCtp6YWPgqsaBaH07n2vQQkYTnU5l2rSN5VyK_kxGbSZLDz2BnxQe9zPOUH-brZt0BbnWOX8RLMp6MS2dw48YROPrYGyotUuJIrkGPJ4-TZwnIpc_YuqN6cR8ta1Dmuvync/s1600-h/IMG_4270.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoNrHPnFFIzCtp6YWPgqsaBaH07n2vQQkYTnU5l2rSN5VyK_kxGbSZLDz2BnxQe9zPOUH-brZt0BbnWOX8RLMp6MS2dw48YROPrYGyotUuJIrkGPJ4-TZwnIpc_YuqN6cR8ta1Dmuvync/s400/IMG_4270.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182416744664448962" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">While celebrating the flowers and Easter this past weekend we also had a chance to go to market in Le Mans. One thing that I saw there and have not seen in Paris was a crémerie stall. Here you can purchase directly from the milk producer raw, unpasteurised, untreated milk. People lined up with their various used empty bottles to have them filled up. If you didn't have a bottle the vendor pulled out a used empty water bottle of their own to fill up and take away. Talk about environmentalism!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">B and I did not purchase any milk but we did purchase some butter that they happened to produce. I had this notion that heaven tasted like a finely finished Stilton. Now I'm torn between that and freshly churned butter. How can I describe fresh butter if one has never had it? It's thick, rich, with a hint of fresh grass and cloves, and nutty on the sides. It's nothing like the butter I've had in North America, even the organic artisanal stuff. Perhaps it's because there's a higher ratio of water to oil, or it's been frozen during shipping. Who knows. All I know is that with the real deal my taste buds have been wrapped in buttery ecstasy. This is one butter set aside for crowning a slice of pain de campagne garnished with a sprinkle of fleur de sel.</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48slUW5yOr55vpfdDY9yy7RsZxhhBOjNzPdmiuTK2fRYq-BTkpf9D_WODVlpGSiMQDXHkd5AqgYrWFqaT4T15u3qAdKuKp4OWZJQ5BIg0Rbs-yyX6dg8kY6757qdK2YZiXPKtZjWOAJQY/s1600-h/cerfeuil.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48slUW5yOr55vpfdDY9yy7RsZxhhBOjNzPdmiuTK2fRYq-BTkpf9D_WODVlpGSiMQDXHkd5AqgYrWFqaT4T15u3qAdKuKp4OWZJQ5BIg0Rbs-yyX6dg8kY6757qdK2YZiXPKtZjWOAJQY/s400/cerfeuil.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182420103328874466" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Another discovery. Chervil. Elegant, feathery, light and has a delicate anise citrus-y flavour. Apparently it had been known since Ancient Greek times (the name of the plant is derived from </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >chaerophyllon</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> or "herb of rejoicing") and is related to the parsley family. Chervil, or </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >cerfeuil</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> in french, is best used raw, in a salad for example </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(excellent with a salad of mâche)</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, or at the end of cooking with fish or lamb. Or, perhaps in a chilled avocado soup?...Possibilities are endless.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-71559794107560856082008-03-13T03:05:00.001-07:002008-12-10T14:50:42.906-08:00To market...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJwLXeb7q2QZErgPJb6mQ3n-uAWL6SXCaul5-XRO60YTclWWi7Tk90yiO8m4Vn9CsTd0u2CXUim39T_jaRik66hbkfr9Q98ZlcXNHym136SYYgdbu1TWpWLGz2zsnlbMbsmmTNsxiPIxo/s1600-h/march%C3%A9+pr%C3%A9sident+wilson.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJwLXeb7q2QZErgPJb6mQ3n-uAWL6SXCaul5-XRO60YTclWWi7Tk90yiO8m4Vn9CsTd0u2CXUim39T_jaRik66hbkfr9Q98ZlcXNHym136SYYgdbu1TWpWLGz2zsnlbMbsmmTNsxiPIxo/s400/march%C3%A9+pr%C3%A9sident+wilson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177166264385186226" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >In Paris spring is slowly but surely arriving. There are fits of sun, bursts of gale force winds, and a whole lot of rain. Yes, it is often grey in Northern France, grey and wet. No wonder trench coats are "de rigeur" here. It's not just a fashion statement (which interestingly enough was invented by Burberry as part of the World War I uniforms worn by English and French troops), it's essential for surviving the relentless winter precipitation.<br /><br />So, on those rare days, or hours, when the sun comes out in full force one is inclined to benefit as much as possible from the outdoors. For me that meant heading to market. Last Wednesday morning I decided to head to the nearby open air market du Président Wilson.<br /><br />I hadn't a clue what I was going to purchase, I was hoping to be inspired by what I saw. The marché plein air du Président Wilson is fairly typical of most marchés volants in Paris. The setup consists of a long corridor flanked on either side by stalls including fromagers, poissoniers, bouchiers, and vergers, in addition to some stalls selling non-food items such as clothing. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFTr16Hnk5zbujkuJxk-IJyxi254UQWqVnzcPz-qAXR455q-Pu5wcJCVlSKrzun8Atplagnc-qwM6j1hfwgmyCoZThxZIc_d3sGM1oeqSCVFpzxoOpy2Txz9WjmhhgQDJOp-OtqYWaTl3/s1600-h/IMG_4219.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFTr16Hnk5zbujkuJxk-IJyxi254UQWqVnzcPz-qAXR455q-Pu5wcJCVlSKrzun8Atplagnc-qwM6j1hfwgmyCoZThxZIc_d3sGM1oeqSCVFpzxoOpy2Txz9WjmhhgQDJOp-OtqYWaTl3/s400/IMG_4219.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177167286587402690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;" >There was one stall I was on a particular lookout for and that was the stall of Joël Thiébault. Apparently he is the celebrated produce supplier to the superstar chefs in Paris. He has specialized in cultivating heirloom varieties most farmers have dropped. Interestingly enough he does not grow to European organic standards, but states that he "works healthily" respecting the natural rhythm of growth and producing reasonable yields. I am hoping he is also applying the same nature driven logic to pest and insect control.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />Well, his stall was easy to spot, it was the only one full of the most interesting and exquisite vegetables I had seen in a long time. There were 8 varieties of carrots, 9 varieties of lettuces, 7 varieties of exotic looking potatoes, and countless other vegetables (he doesn't do fruit). Everything was so picturesque, one couldn't help thinking of 17th century Flemish nature mortes. It also made me feel sorry for their plastic wrapped cousins at the supermarket.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I ended up purchasing 4 different types of carrots, even though I am not a carrot fan, and 2 different lettuces from the unusually smily gentleman at the stall. Of course, the produce was delicious. The carrots were simply grated and tossed up with freshly squeezed lemon juice, a little extra virgin olive oil, sea salt, cracked black pepper, gold raisins, and pine nuts. And the lettuces became a salad with a simple mustard vinaigrette. Very simple, but then again we have not stove. Yet.</span><br /></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3NVLGlwf5FhZEhFsGkHWgd0pF9AWuhMil8ET3m5serIH8fTNiW2Ymv68VVc85jSL4N_5uXLSub0M8EXRsCkFBtlXh6ic09OHLD3QfARWVe1uaJuaSSOdpLaurWijJg_ljZklRZMJfbUv/s1600-h/IMG_4204.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3NVLGlwf5FhZEhFsGkHWgd0pF9AWuhMil8ET3m5serIH8fTNiW2Ymv68VVc85jSL4N_5uXLSub0M8EXRsCkFBtlXh6ic09OHLD3QfARWVe1uaJuaSSOdpLaurWijJg_ljZklRZMJfbUv/s400/IMG_4204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177168480588310994" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >On the way back I dropped by one of my favourite boulangers, Boulangerie des Invalides - Maison Jocteur. Originally from Lyon, they create tasty, light-as-air, buttery pastries and delicious breads. Even though they are well known and well celebrated, they manage to keep their prices super reasonable. A baguette tradition, like most others around town, is €1,10. Their tarts are around €2. And for €3 I bought a roast beef sandwich. We're talking about slabs of perfectly prepared velvety beef with a simple butter/dijon mustard/lettuce/tomatoe accompaniment. I cringe when I think about how much I paid for the same in San Francisco. $8 for a sandwich in the Financial District. yikes!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6hcVRRA8W8i2uy1sxEE-yfR-w-Rb_9op6l1mxBHUdbuxKbQpWWmpI0dU3l_NNtJORduffST3vnLGBxy_8LFRSRLXgct6T4BKd1X76Nb5ZQKcRXy0PZM7rdpzZhmQi4PZEdFbOA3y-gI5/s1600-h/jocteur_sandwich.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6hcVRRA8W8i2uy1sxEE-yfR-w-Rb_9op6l1mxBHUdbuxKbQpWWmpI0dU3l_NNtJORduffST3vnLGBxy_8LFRSRLXgct6T4BKd1X76Nb5ZQKcRXy0PZM7rdpzZhmQi4PZEdFbOA3y-gI5/s400/jocteur_sandwich.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177169373941508578" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Next week, another market.....</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-64840117543395755452008-02-29T08:14:00.000-08:002008-12-10T14:50:43.265-08:00Nouvel appartement!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOCJaUmB2HDtX8mY6_fOKRmv2VACxwPTRxMji0OTurTiVw7GKrVR43JycNp1c4o_OExv9FNUhsuuurEg315Rxoc0F2XfTeJ86sMdHfknWy0RL0CUJeau3QNjYqswxY7ZagmCSfVcuxTLB/s1600-h/%C3%A0+l%27entr%C3%A9e.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOCJaUmB2HDtX8mY6_fOKRmv2VACxwPTRxMji0OTurTiVw7GKrVR43JycNp1c4o_OExv9FNUhsuuurEg315Rxoc0F2XfTeJ86sMdHfknWy0RL0CUJeau3QNjYqswxY7ZagmCSfVcuxTLB/s400/%C3%A0+l%27entr%C3%A9e.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172440996809575314" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">We did it. We finaly moved into our new Parisian apartment. Six long months have passed living out of suitcases and confined spaces, temporary places. I don't like to dwell on a fondness for material possesions. In fact, living with less and in a reality where one doesn't own more than what can be shipped out within an hour is liberating. So what I experienced when I opened all those boxes we lugged with us from San Francisco was akin to an emotional reunion with dear old friends. I was so irrationally happy to see everything. I danced around with my yoga mat, dusted off my art supplies , and chatted up the books. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">As you might recall we had quite a large apartment in San Francisco. We have half that in Paris, but it's airy and light. Our new digs are in the 7th arrondisement close to La Seine and La Tour d'Eiffel. Bernard had to warm up to the idea of living in this part of town, something to do with communist and proletariat relatives rolling in their graves. I won't deny it, the neighbourhood is definitely more chic than where we were (Monmartre by métro Barbés). Perhaps one can make the comparison to living in Pac Heights, or the neighbourhoods by Wellington Crescent in Winnipeg. At any rate, the 7th is full of embassies and government institutions. It's also full of fromagers, boulangeries, primeurs, volaillers and charcutiers! (And cavistes, we can't forget them.) So, it can't be all that bad...</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">We will be glad to leave all the stress of starting up in Paris and ready to dive into turning our new place into a cosy nest, for at least the next 3 years, according to the terms of our lease...</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">One big project will be turning the odd little space that is the kitchen into a real cooking environment. Currently we have a bar fridge, a laughably tiny sink, and 2 heat elements from hell. I would NEVER dream of preparing anything more than boiled water as we are kitted out now. Once I get a job we can at least install an oven. oooohh, oven...</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I suspect we will be able to put out the welcome mat by May. Croises les doigts! </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"> </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"> </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQUTGoHsYYwGprqe7be7P_CiM0F3H-ZIAuty92o2wdHSA86r0_-sDKXwfABRAo45f61jP-ScEaD57c8PwiUaSNmZs95x9dE8_qXFakXcTHhByl8Ae0KnPAodHpTb7e6j1gAb4CI_qddAC/s1600-h/eiffel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQUTGoHsYYwGprqe7be7P_CiM0F3H-ZIAuty92o2wdHSA86r0_-sDKXwfABRAo45f61jP-ScEaD57c8PwiUaSNmZs95x9dE8_qXFakXcTHhByl8Ae0KnPAodHpTb7e6j1gAb4CI_qddAC/s400/eiffel.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172442564472638386" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">(Yes, the Tour d'Eiffel really is only 5 minutes away, and in fact you can see the top from the apartment itself. So strange)</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">We'll keep a bottle of champagne chilled in the bar sized fridge for when you plan to drop by.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-43143629692358428342008-02-10T14:30:00.000-08:002008-12-10T14:50:43.919-08:00Hidden Forest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCHmPYGU6YUtvvnb-KGT2DMaf0GNvpnbYLsanWGDoJcLkzVpICvL0XDhaAhNY0O_3g8_CFz4jBiaOUJjiNKJNVJhK8UU6WvfalWpLFiMjierFaZIbczGxmkFp9nO0_RrBgLQgdoECJ5Aq/s1600-h/IMG_4002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCHmPYGU6YUtvvnb-KGT2DMaf0GNvpnbYLsanWGDoJcLkzVpICvL0XDhaAhNY0O_3g8_CFz4jBiaOUJjiNKJNVJhK8UU6WvfalWpLFiMjierFaZIbczGxmkFp9nO0_RrBgLQgdoECJ5Aq/s400/IMG_4002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165486717720890082" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Parc de Bercy<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfIDbL1eAZL6YFnFK-MSgXKfcZWm7OJqtBJS4PTWg29o5LquVvNsln05PEAxBlQJI2x_6iPjrbJ4RYdPM6BJNT27qJJO9e67O7j6qK85Ee4YTRRLvVVIOFAPRoYFzbgL5KHSJKQEgjzRq/s1600-h/IMG_4020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfIDbL1eAZL6YFnFK-MSgXKfcZWm7OJqtBJS4PTWg29o5LquVvNsln05PEAxBlQJI2x_6iPjrbJ4RYdPM6BJNT27qJJO9e67O7j6qK85Ee4YTRRLvVVIOFAPRoYFzbgL5KHSJKQEgjzRq/s400/IMG_4020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165488805074995954" /></a><br />Forêt à la Bibliothéque Nationale (c'est vraiment comme un petit morceau de la compagne dedans!)<br /><br /><br />Not many tourists get a chance to venture out into the east ends of the 12th and 13th arrondisement. If they were curious enough to venture out so far they would discover a place where Parisians flock to when the sun is out. This portion I speak of is by the Bibliothéque Nationale (François Mitterand) and a portion of the 12th carved out by the rail lines leading to Gare de Lyon close to métro Bercy. Here, one can see spring gearing up for a grand entry...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-12138309554996062062007-12-16T03:46:00.000-08:002008-12-10T14:50:45.480-08:00Noël en France<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tI_1U2PNlitfeepn91pA6yPgRHMWXm1qHTw5J0bjVYFtaxNxtRrX4Whw2BcykLk3QuKRyoHcQa-talByccKVWYGVb6Pq1Nc61RQEbIpuwoFMSgPnEdE8Bw1BYePX8CJaAG8Z6osQTMCK/s1600-h/seine+tree.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tI_1U2PNlitfeepn91pA6yPgRHMWXm1qHTw5J0bjVYFtaxNxtRrX4Whw2BcykLk3QuKRyoHcQa-talByccKVWYGVb6Pq1Nc61RQEbIpuwoFMSgPnEdE8Bw1BYePX8CJaAG8Z6osQTMCK/s320/seine+tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153595903492983778" border="0" /></a><div>Happy New 2008 to everyone!<br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>We hope that y'all had a lovely holiday <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">happenin</span>' with the ones you adore. Cheers to everyone, here's to many adventures in the new year.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>This year's holiday season we escaped from Paris and ran away to the countryside. We hopped on to the métro</span> from Barbés</span> and made the always-too-long-métro</span>-trip to Gare Montparnasse</span> and headed southwest to Le Mans on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">TGV</span>. It only took us 45 minutes to leave behind an urban existence and arrive at what has to be arguably one of the most beautiful regions of France, Pays <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">de</span> la Loire. It isn't coincidental that french royalty (when it was still around) decided to set up shop all along the river called La Loire. The landscape is gentle, the climate moderate as a result of the river, and the sky reminds me a little of the dramatic <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">skyscapes</span> of the prairies. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBcAXefcTCZNVEKvjcGG9gqE4v3Ds95MjOa8pYZ9MKgZidIwcZ5rBYxtzDm2VeQT__u6TQ3St9WqZrBWFXsiTbTNSWD9AvLBLYk70I4h-U8fp6sqQlygPInny34RN51Epl9K9zOX7MXNC/s1600-h/by+angers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBcAXefcTCZNVEKvjcGG9gqE4v3Ds95MjOa8pYZ9MKgZidIwcZ5rBYxtzDm2VeQT__u6TQ3St9WqZrBWFXsiTbTNSWD9AvLBLYk70I4h-U8fp6sqQlygPInny34RN51Epl9K9zOX7MXNC/s320/by+angers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153598184120617970" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Well, Bernard's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">countryhouse</span> isn't exactly along the Loire, it is actually in a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">département</span> called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Sarthe</span> not far from the grand river. The area is covered with rich agricultural land and farms. So lucky for us being in the country also means being surrounded by chickens, geese, cows, horses, sheep and feral cats. And if we're lucky we get to see a fox.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>So how does one celebrate Christmas in a largely atheistic/agnostic country like France? Like most other people I suppose, around a table heaped with food. *WARNING* We are entering a portion of the blog that can only be referred to as the food porn section.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiLUrmvanO7rhHyT6oW74t157dnAIzSE_VxATsYzk1rUYfpTAM9JjiIUky85Xc8FP7t-6S7HBFMv9wUV_pKixvH0lJJalhufnB_wI9gQ0rVdBivJCtus-AIq1aYFmX6p38MbsHdJg98Oa/s1600-h/saumon_fum%C3%A9e.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiLUrmvanO7rhHyT6oW74t157dnAIzSE_VxATsYzk1rUYfpTAM9JjiIUky85Xc8FP7t-6S7HBFMv9wUV_pKixvH0lJJalhufnB_wI9gQ0rVdBivJCtus-AIq1aYFmX6p38MbsHdJg98Oa/s320/saumon_fum%C3%A9e.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153611747627338786" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyyMV4E-CJjBwDy3e4_amRc8sYIhPNx31U3g3Zn6jHzASskgyv7Zjp_kVFSNpKZ7CQANmeDMf8onB0KZ2Mu1YrtS8s_OJn7VgAlaHfdJg1eUWKVJUjAk8N4JNBkhETmOjEqiGuNb7Myhp/s1600-h/saumon_fum%C3%A9e.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLREcaGmwDne1dXxi04GuYyuc1ZNuBwDQEQxAvreCMPnCFsERw4sAfas0S3yaKjV0_i6cZSPxO-owMq6_5dionX9tdwkKEQWL2zyi1cGOaKk6eog0l9wvcurXXK_hNaAoKEol5Ks8LruPl/s320/hu%C3%AEtres.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153603024548760578" border="0" /></a></div><div>Christmas Eve after midnight mass we dove into oysters from Brittany (only €17 for 3 dozen and they were delicious!), smoked salmon from a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">traiteur</span> in Le Mans who charged too much, mini <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">boudin</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">blanc</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">foie</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">gras</span> (this country consumes it like Americans kick back bacon), and a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">bûche</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Noël</span> which got attacked faster than I could get my camera out.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">History moment</span> </span>Why are those nutty french eating a cake shaped like a log? For some the reason may be apparent but if it isn't please read the following abbreviated explanation. The cake is a reference to a time when families burned an enormous yuletide log for numerous days in an equally enormous hearth. And why the burning of the log? The tradition apparently dates back to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">druid</span> celebration of the winter <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">solstice</span> and along the way became appropriated by the Church and invested with much symbolism associated with the birth of Christ. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">transition</span> from huge log to consumable cake occurred relatively recently during the mid 20<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">th</span> century, though no one is quite certain how...</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Here are some other fabulous foods that we enjoyed after Christmas.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ipfXsqEC0ELtSikLGxyhz_r6fKw1pSkR7Yej8wnfrZ5I1UEwJtDE1szfCR5GyOZhws3nQVkl4wxd1BMDjIJY7jEtpr68sxJsOen51kzJ7YfkE0Bmha8SJhPF99weAUMyJQuYz-0gJRaJ/s1600-h/more+m%C3%A2che.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ipfXsqEC0ELtSikLGxyhz_r6fKw1pSkR7Yej8wnfrZ5I1UEwJtDE1szfCR5GyOZhws3nQVkl4wxd1BMDjIJY7jEtpr68sxJsOen51kzJ7YfkE0Bmha8SJhPF99weAUMyJQuYz-0gJRaJ/s320/more+m%C3%A2che.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153619229460368434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5r-PjZPE89uscqS5wkuFxbErv9xTWFlY39t8O1Yy_WXsG0P6obpgKpsKk1bpk0vysJ74T6fM3F3onmeMdatDitsfZuAH46OuV7ztBYKcPIGHKPXrDSKPUWwtvO062If407sMDKd6HIqW/s1600-h/assiette+pleine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5r-PjZPE89uscqS5wkuFxbErv9xTWFlY39t8O1Yy_WXsG0P6obpgKpsKk1bpk0vysJ74T6fM3F3onmeMdatDitsfZuAH46OuV7ztBYKcPIGHKPXrDSKPUWwtvO062If407sMDKd6HIqW/s320/assiette+pleine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153619233755335746" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcHcd8b66NP-C-3hk2a5sSUknQspqEBwxXBNDzOjXIBedXZBwatY_rdsWCFhEbJ_zB7_fwujCvdrHuoGFpn0z-krC1pO19yWTE-qIte-oieEeOJdhQx8fY6Hm3Rxz2kynQX1Xgum6ex_w/s1600-h/cannelloni.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcHcd8b66NP-C-3hk2a5sSUknQspqEBwxXBNDzOjXIBedXZBwatY_rdsWCFhEbJ_zB7_fwujCvdrHuoGFpn0z-krC1pO19yWTE-qIte-oieEeOJdhQx8fY6Hm3Rxz2kynQX1Xgum6ex_w/s320/cannelloni.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153619238050303058" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-kdpONX9lokddJZZjFytKD4k6FXjwslR_QrjyhKhH4BCP7zaMM-eMAAjAYbu5ojOcs4ZKVjiYHJPEhepXSYNgy4GYFjrL_UOzotvfTpnSybbkxo4FZ8rpxqMgHuiotbI8VuJaUANzXh-/s1600-h/pintade.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-kdpONX9lokddJZZjFytKD4k6FXjwslR_QrjyhKhH4BCP7zaMM-eMAAjAYbu5ojOcs4ZKVjiYHJPEhepXSYNgy4GYFjrL_UOzotvfTpnSybbkxo4FZ8rpxqMgHuiotbI8VuJaUANzXh-/s320/pintade.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153619246640237666" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMg26v3MsOAj-Zi7nt9qDGNs5NqqygMP4uplcsq3kU7t8i43OzCyt9OQu3GDjTrYKFKxAOaNtbWnkD06kx7AhIoFs7RQg4sRs8b6nDU6mEEc9APgP8uW0BQVeqqGBe91yMLaOUEbuiywAb/s1600-h/eek.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMg26v3MsOAj-Zi7nt9qDGNs5NqqygMP4uplcsq3kU7t8i43OzCyt9OQu3GDjTrYKFKxAOaNtbWnkD06kx7AhIoFs7RQg4sRs8b6nDU6mEEc9APgP8uW0BQVeqqGBe91yMLaOUEbuiywAb/s320/eek.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153619779216182386" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2CaeoAplRmCmfI5O2YETz19pOe7ke6J8dU5QZycQphV_4cPGY5ovfvIqrIIfF17jxLN4Hx39tQwNLNAZAZJAqXLigsiLL1bvSCJBiAAzw7J44FqVZvyP9VH0G9fVpQ2IsuDxYlQ1Hdr-/s1600-h/oeufs.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2CaeoAplRmCmfI5O2YETz19pOe7ke6J8dU5QZycQphV_4cPGY5ovfvIqrIIfF17jxLN4Hx39tQwNLNAZAZJAqXLigsiLL1bvSCJBiAAzw7J44FqVZvyP9VH0G9fVpQ2IsuDxYlQ1Hdr-/s320/oeufs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153619783511149698" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT2IDZz1lCbbAbI81z2uBaHK4tGdVX0KQJw8qYGUyfFawAe-MQyW7LPXZR5WMj8gV-06YCEJluoaXRd3bSHSOebkmoPlwnpTzKopGy1SDbPdX2K1CuSgdi6eOvHA7A-44kc2Lq7RgiJv6/s1600-h/IMG_3865.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT2IDZz1lCbbAbI81z2uBaHK4tGdVX0KQJw8qYGUyfFawAe-MQyW7LPXZR5WMj8gV-06YCEJluoaXRd3bSHSOebkmoPlwnpTzKopGy1SDbPdX2K1CuSgdi6eOvHA7A-44kc2Lq7RgiJv6/s320/IMG_3865.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153619787806117010" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Next blog I promise I will tone down the food (though not by much). En plus, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">j'essayerai</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">d'écrire</span> en <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">français</span>. On <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">va</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">voir</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">un</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">mélange</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">moite</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">moite</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>À la <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">prochaine</span></div><div>Until the next time</div><div> </div><div>A hug <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">et</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">des</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">bises</span>.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520920617688769014.post-44602999339588822062007-12-09T11:34:00.000-08:002008-12-10T14:50:45.594-08:00Welcome to Stringed Cans!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13oVgvnARc5s22S1odTwFavmomBlua-EyHxiH4_5PHYaO7HJDX3HDQ2HbJvD1BkT9hU8nyALEjb_teXGdH0VE4e0ljL10oDwvipg0D0RJsNHhLsJKdpLf3-9434XG7R4xdaV99NR-CSz2/s1600-h/DSCN2318.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13oVgvnARc5s22S1odTwFavmomBlua-EyHxiH4_5PHYaO7HJDX3HDQ2HbJvD1BkT9hU8nyALEjb_teXGdH0VE4e0ljL10oDwvipg0D0RJsNHhLsJKdpLf3-9434XG7R4xdaV99NR-CSz2/s320/DSCN2318.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142066521013028162" border="0" /></a>It's a long way from San Franciso to Paris, and even that much farther from Winnipeg.<br />With this blog I hope to span some distance and share with you my experience in France, and even beyond.<br />The show and tell will include topics like food (surprise!), history, etymology, architecture, etc. etc. In other words most anything that seems interesting enough to talk about.<br /><br />Enjoy and do not hesitate to comment and ask questions.<br />Cheers to keeping the lines of communication open!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5