PARIS HERE I COME . . . Yee Haw!!!

I'm leaving for Paris this Saturday.  I'll be there for three weeks.  I'm attending language school at Alliance Francaise.  Yikes!  I don't remember much French at all.  But, the good news is . . . I plan to have lot's of great meals in Paris.  I will send you details, pictures and a few recipes (I hope).  Takin' my Longhorn boots.  A lot of French folks talk to me when they see my boots, at least that has been my experience.  We all know that Texas is its own country.  Talk to you then!

EAT PRAY LOVE

So last Thursday I went to see "Eat Pray Love" with my friend and neighbor Ellie.  The first part of the protagonist's (Elizabeth) journey happens in Rome.  She is focused on food.  Not too difficult to identify with for a girl like me.  Anyway, ever since I saw her eating pizza and spaghetti, I've had a hankerin' for some good old Italian cuisine.  To that end, I made a heavenly pot of marinara today.  Heavenly!!!

Twenty five or so years ago my dear friend Madeline's mom Nanette Cellante taught me to make marinara.  Well, if she were with me right now, she would probably scold me for not doing it exactly as she taught me.  Fast forward to my friend Nick, who in my opinion owns the finest Italian restaurant I've ever been to (at least in the U.S.).  I didn't do what he told me to do either.  He always adds Italian parsley and usually I do too.  I was too lazy to get out into the weekend tourist traffic to go after it.  Sometimes you just have to make an informed decision.  Nonetheless, there's a theme here.  I have to make recipes and dishes my own!  I have taken advice, the best advice, and incorporated it into my cooking, but the bullheaded girl that I am has to do it her own way. 

Luckily I had all the ingredients that I needed at hand.  First of all, I grow basil, oregano, and thyme at home.  It's convenient!  Really convenient!  Tomatoes come in a can, but herbs have to be fresh.  First, I finely chopped some fresh garlic and yellow onion.  (For my Texan friends - I would have used 10-15 onions if I could have gotten my hands on them.  Just that Texan pride showing.)   I sweated the onion in organic extra virgin olive oil, added the garlic and then the tomatoes.  I always use San Marzano tomatoes.  You can't beat them.  They come whole, crushed, or pureed.  Today I used crushed.  Crushed and pureed just cut down on the cooking time.  I added some red wine, kosher salt, black pepper, crushed dried red pepper, (I like spicy food - arabbiata) a pinch or two of sugar, lots of fresh oregano and simmered for three hours on low to medium.  Toward the very end I added a ton of fresh basil.  Everything tastes better with basil.  The more the better.

I made a lot of sauce.  This afternoon I'm surprising Ellie with some gorgeous imported angel hair, a hunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, and a container of marinara. 

This is a simple recipe.  Well, there really is no recipe.  Anyway, I love uncomplicated food with the best of ingredients.  Eat what sounds good, what's fresh, and what's in season.  Remember, it's your kitchen.  You're not making a mistake unless of course you have to call the Fire Department.

Depending on who might be around this week, I'm thinking of another Italian dinner.  Only this time, I'll do it at my dining room table.  That movie really got me thinking about Italian food - in a BIG way!  Stay tuned.

Time to eat.  I'm starving!

TIME TO FIRE UP THE BLOG

I've spent most of the summer in Cape Cod; Brewster to be exact.  Since I've been cooking any chance I get, I thought that it might just be time to fire up the ole blog.  After all, my kitchen windows look out onto Cobbs Pond.  It it altogether stunning.  I dropped my point and shoot camera in Paris in July (where I enjoyed soooo much incredible food), but it broke the shutter release.  The greatest camera shop in the universe, Orleans Camera and Video, just told me that they gave up resuscitation efforts on the old girl.  Fear not, there's a new one on it's way, I'll do my best to post tons of great food photos.  By the way, this is a pic of Fred and Ethel.  They live in my pond.

AU REVOIR PARIS!

Right off the bat, let me apologize for any misspelling and bad grammar.  I woke up a little early to post this before leaving, and time is slipping away.  My taxi to the airport will be here any time now.  This is a bittersweet departure.  Paris is magical, but I love my home, family, and friends.  The experience was that of a lifetime.  I've learned so much about French cuisine and cooking, about Paris, about the French, and of course, about myself.  When I reflect upon the past month my memories aren't all perfect, but they're certainly all meaningful.

I've met so many friendly folks; classmates, instructors, chefs, storekeepers, restaurant owners, and others.  Last evening I was invited to dinner at the lovely home of my friends, Pierre and Veronique.  The food was terrific and the company, even better.  As I've said before, it would be hard to meet nicer, more hospitable people than Pierre and Veronique.  Florence, Veronique's sister was in attendance as I had hoped.  She is completely engaging and has lead such an interesting life, having lived all over the globe.  I love talking with her.  New to me were Nicole, a beautiful, easy going Michigan native, who married a darling young Frenchman named Giles (I'm sure that I spelled that wrong).  Having graduated from FIT in New York, she now designs chic handbags.   Nicole's marriage to Giles landed her in Paris for the past seven years, and with two young daughters settled in, this city is home.  What a fun couple!  Veronique served a delicious shrimp appetizer followed by perfectly prepared lamb chops, ratatouille, and cous cous.  I've learned to love the "cheese course" which is customary in France.  For whatever reason, cheese just tastes better here.  Dessert was "meringues" and assorted chocolates.  No lack of scrumptious food and certainly, plenty of laughter!

After saying my goodbyes, I headed home and this was the stunning view from the taxi.  It only made me feel more grateful for this opportunity.  Paris, I'll be back.

As this is the last post before I depart, I'd just like to say "thanks" to my followers, readers and all those who cheered me on in my adventure.  Having your support gave me the connection to home that I needed to pursue this dream.  See you in the U.S.

Cemetiere du Pere Lachaise

Since the end of my trip is drawing near, I wondered what remained on my "to do" list.   Having cooked quite a bit over the past two weeks, I decided to give the pursuit of French cuisine a rest.  I've never visited the Cemetery du Pere Lachaise so that was today's focus.  As Paris's most prestigious cemetery, it is the final resting place for more than a few celebrities.  Perched on a wooded hill above the city, it's actually quite a relaxing spot.  The funerary sculptures are striking to say the least.

I had a map (not a great one) designating the locations of celebrity grave sites.  The first one was pointed out to me by a elderly French gentleman who could obviously tell that I was going nowhere fast.  Below is the grave of Theodore Gericault, a French romantic painter.  The Raft of the Medusa (1819) is depicted on the front of his tomb.  This painting is on display at the Louvre.

Next came my search for the resting place of Jim Morrison, lead singer of the Doors.  He died mysteriously in Paris in 1971.  I had a difficult time finding it.  Lot's of folks asked me for directions.  Little did they know that they were flirting with disaster.  I have little sense of direction.  There are no directional markers for specific grave sites, but if you see a crowd, be certain that it's the resting place of someone famous.

Third on the list was Oscar Wilde, famous Irish playwright, poet and author.  He lived a turbulent life and died in Paris at the age of forty-six.  Jacob Epstein sculpted his monument which is, sadly, covered with graffiti.  To add insult to injury, a significant part of his anatomy has been removed.  Sick!

Today's weather was gorgeous, so I took the time to wander along the cobblestone streets and read some of the epitaths.  There are more than a few memorials to those who were a part of the "French resistance".  So much history in this cemetery.

Edith Piaf is considered to be the most famous French singer of popular music.  She died of liver cancer in 1963.   Piaf lived what was to some an "unacceptable" lifestyle, and therefore was denied a funeral mass by the Roman Catholic Church.  Nevertheless, tens of thousands of mourners showed up at her procession.

Four o'clock was closing in, and I hadn't eaten lunch.  The little falafel place in the Marais was calling my name. (L'as du Falafel)  I made my way there, and at only five euros, it was so worth the trip.! 

MICK JAGGER WAS RIGHT!

According to me, "It’s not good to peak too early". . . .and  Mick said, "You can't always get what you want.".  Yesterday was a peak, and today, well it was the other.  On the advice of Jonathan, my American friend from yesterday, I asked Frank, the head saucier, if I could work for him today.  He shrugged. (His back to you in the pic, but a good look at the kitchen)  I decided to hang in there, because that particular chef position is vital to any kitchen’s success, particularly a French kitchen. As he was making a huge pot of chicken stock, he said to me, “chicken, water, and garnish, NO CHICKEN JUICE!!!” Gotcha, I don’t cook with chicken juice either, but I do make stock. I smiled that smile of respect and didn’t speak. So it was peel and prep, prep and peel.  A young chef named Arthur worked with me, and although we had quite the language barrier, he was friendly and we got by.  Like Chef Adeline, he started at the age of 14.   Now, at the ripe old age of 18, he’s on his way in the world of French cuisine.  Arthur asked me about my chef experience and the first info out of my mouth was that I had been the chef in an “Italian” bistro.  I kid you not, he obviously felt sorry for me.  "Poor Sherry, she didn't work in a real restaurant." Young Arthur proceeded to tell me that the “French way” is the best way.  I didn’t go there.  As far as technique goes, he’s right, but personally, I like a lot of different cuisines.

Noticing the chefs at the next station peeling something that I had never seen, I inquired (in French), “What's that called in English?” Frank told me “I don’t speak English!”  I knew better.  I asked again, “Is it a turnip?”  Chef Frank just kept saying “salsify, salsify . . . it’s salsify!”  I’m not sure what that was about, but it’s okay.  Yesterday was the exception, today was the rule. The kitchen is generally a tough place. By the way, I would estimate the ratio of men to women in the Ritz kitchen at about 20-1.  Particularly in France, it’s a very chauvinistic biz.  Again, no problem, I’m making my own niche.  However, I must say, in defense of certain chefs, that I was a cast member for a culinary tv pilot where I worked for David Bull at the Driscoll Hotel, and I also interned for Robert Rhoades at Hudson’s on-the-Bend. Both of these highly trained, successful chefs are not only exceptionally talented, they were patient teachers and complete gentlemen.  I’ve met  only a few established female chefs, and the most unpleasant chefs I know ARE WOMEN.

Back to the food. According to a chef who heard all of that going on in the Ritz kitchen, salsify is often referred to as “the forgotten vegetable”. It looks like a long thin purple carrot, and then white when it's peeled.  I’m going to search for some in the U.S. and come up with a recipe.

Olivier, a nice (also very young) chef that I met yesterday, was slicing some huge cepes (porcini mushrooms) on a mandolin and placing them on a silpat baking sheet. (He reminded me of the main character in the movie "Ratatouille".)   When I asked him about the preparation, he was more than happy to explain.  He told me to use butter and “white eggs”.  He meant egg whites. In the French language, words don’t necessarily string together in the same order as they do in English.  I’m sure that I sound absolutely ridiculous when speaking my completely sad French, and the words are surely out of order.

I simply had to include a picture of the altogether charming server that gave me the "Hook 'em" sign.  Didn't see him today, but I think his name is Nicholas.

I stopped at “food heaven", picked up some bread and got a fix for my “sushi habit”. Time to start packing. Paris has been AMAZING, but I’m ready to go. I’m a Texan at heart, and a Pittsburgher in my soul.


Friday evening is dinner at Pierre and Veronique’s home. I am looking forward to it!

By the way, I just turned on the TV, and there’s a well-known French chef doing something that they told me NEVER to do in the Masters Program. Just goes to show that there’s usually more than one way!

CAN'T REMEMBER HOW TO SPELL (or maybe type)

Short post.  I found misspelled words in my last two posts.  I think it's time to get back to reality, Austin, and real sleep.