Sweet Blog O'Mine

v. 2.0

  • Paris Recap, Part 2

    After sleeping for 11 hours, I geared up and wandered across the Seine to the Jardin du Luxembourg, where my Dad told me that he saw many Parisians jogging.  I got completely lost on the way there, but had a lovely walk, and after a good run I wandered back along a different route, taking in the sights and sounds of the city on my way back.  I landed back in the ‘hood just in time to wander through the market, catching a whiff of some delectible roast chicken as I walked through.  I was tempted to buy some scallops, as they were gorgeous, sitting in their shells, but I passed, and headed home for a shower. 

    before the race

    Carlos had invited me to join him and some friends at the racetrack that afternoon.  As we attempted to coordinate, I realized just how much I take my cell phone for granted.  Dad and Joan had given me a calling card, so I was able to use a payphone to call Carlos’ cell phone, but of course he couldn’t call me back.  He was off having brunch, so I wandered around some more, stopping for a falafel sandwich along the way, and checked in with him every so often to check on his progress.  Despite the telecom difficulties, we finally were able to meet up at the Hippodrome at the Bois de Boulogne.  I opted out of the gambling, but enjoyed watching Carlos and his friends lose all their money (probably about 10 euros combined). 

    After the races, I returned back to the apartment to warm up and got ready for dinner.  I decided to take a chance and headed to L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon.  Arriving at 9:30 on a Sunday night, I was dismayed to hear that I’d have to wait for over an hour for a seat.  Apparently, in Paris they eat as late as we do in New York, even on school nights.  After a short walk and a half a glass of wine in the  adjoining hotel lobby, the hostess called me in — I don’t even think it was 1/2 hour.  I sat at the sleek bar and examined the menu.  I decided to stick to the tasting portions, so I’d be able to try more dishes without getting too full.  I began with the foie gras (take that, Gothamist commenters!), and got a glass of sauternes to accompany it.  My next course was a delicate lobster  ravioli with black truffle butter atop green cabbage.  I had to sop up every drop of the sauce with my bread — yum.  At that point, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go for another tasting course, so I chose conservatively, and headed straight for dessert, a pair of pots au creme — one chocolate and one vanilla — accompanied with a glass of moscato.  The entire restaurant is bar seating, which is nice — I ended up chatting with the couple to my right in a mix of French and English about their dining adventures in New York — Daniel, Jean Georges.  Clearly I should hang out with these people the next time they come to town.  The bartenders/waiters were very friendly as well, and for whatever reason, they not only comped my moscato, but gave me another glass on the house.  I took a cab home and, pleasantly full, slept quite well.

    As my mom pointed out in an email, I must be very busy this week since I haven’t updated the blog.  She’s right — I’ve been busy and tired, so I apologize for the slow posting.

  • Paris Recap, Part 1

    I’ve gotten a bit of grief from the peanut gallery that I haven’t given a detailed rundown of my Paris trip, so here goes.  As a bit of background, with the exception of my last night, I stayed at a studio apartment owned by Blue Marble, the company through which I’ve done my bike trips to Provence, Tuscany, and Galicia.  It was very centrally located in the 2ieme arrondissement, close to the Chatelet les Halles metro.  I’ve been to Paris a number of times before, so really didn’t feel the need to do a whole bunch of touristy things — I really just wanted to unwind, decompress, see a few people, and see what it was like to travel alone.  Aside from the bike trips, which are with a group, I really haven’t done much solo traveling.

    I left New York on the day after Beaujolais day — the day when the Beaujolais Nouveau is released.  My friend John has an annual party celebrating this day every year, and although I was sad to miss it, I was offered my own mini-bottle on the plane, so I felt like I was there in spirit.  I was also excited to learn that my seat was upstairs on the plane — a new flying experience for me (next time, I wouldn’t mind a first class upgrade instead, but we’ll see).  I arrived around lunchtime and was pleased to discover that Carlos, who led my Galicia trip, was not only closeby, but literally in the apartment next door.  We caught up over a cup of tea and then I set out to do some shopping for provisions for breakfast and snacks for the week.  I picked up the staples (bread, cheese, red wine) and then got the rest.  After dropping off the goods at my apartment, I went to meet Robyn, a fellow food blogger who is currently spending a semester in Paris.  While she’s there, she contributes weekly to Parisist.  We had agreed to meet up for pastry at Ladurée on the Champs Elysées.  We finally found each other and shared delicious pastry and coffee while chatting about her ongoing quest to sample all the pastries in Paris.  I strolled home after dark and took in the lights of the city, and when I got home, recruited Carlos and his friend Catalina (which I may be spelling wrong, so please forgive me) to help me drink my bottle of wine.  The jetlag finally hit and I headed off to bed.

    More to come, but for now, Gothamist calls.  I should have made more time to post over the weekend, but it was a bit of a whirlwind, with the first holiday party of the season, dinner with Mom, our monthly girl brunch, a great deal of time in the outer boroughs, some major paper purging (I can see my dining table!), and completion of the first season of Lost.  Tonight, I’m off to join Jon for a close up view of Wheelhouse Pickles in the making. 

  • You Can Take the Woman out of the Fight . . .

    Sorry for the slow posting this week — I haven’t even given you all the Paris rundown yet, or given you rant about one of Bush’s recent appointments that I’ve been thinking about.  I’ve been busy catching up from a week off at work and not sleeping enough, so I’m very much looking forward to the weekend.

    One fun thing that happened this week is that I started taking a self-defense class for the first time in ages — I’m re-taking the Advanced class, which I took a few years ago.  As you may recall, I had been teaching the Basics class, but between the new job and Gothamist, I took a hiatus from teaching.  Getting back into a class has made me realize how much I enjoyed teaching — perhaps I’ll get back into that if life ever slows down a bit.  The transition from teacher to student is very hard, I’ll have to admit.  I keep wanting to coach people and offer tips.  But, regardless, I am just as proud of my new battle wounds as I have been in past classes.  And boy, do I LOVE the feeling of kicking the shit out of the guys in class!

  • Foie Gras Follies

    I really do enjoy writing anything about foie gras on Gothamist because it gets the commenters all up in a tizzy.  My favorite quote from one of them on yesterday’s post: "It could be made from the hearts of a 1,000 little kittens and I would still think it was dee-lish-ous!"

  • A Picture of Paris

    Louvre

    I barely took any pictures in Paris.  Perhaps it’s because I already have so many from prior trips, but I think it’s more because I spent a great deal of time walking around to and from the Jardin de Luxembourg, where I went running (sans camera).  But — enjoy the pictures I took. 

  • The Fast Track

    Congrats to Tom, who has become the third guy I’ve dated to get engaged and/or married in less than a year of dating someone.  Now we just get to wait and see about the rest of the insta-family cycle.

  • Gobble, Gobble

    Bonjour!  I’m back from Paris and am up in Maine, doing the Thanksgiving thing.  Will have a full report shortly, but pics will have to wait until I’m back home (although I didn’t take as many as one might imagine).  Have a great Thanksgiving!

  • Jetsetting

    I’m off to Paris for the weekend.  I just love saying that — actually it’s longer than a weekend, but I’ll be back stateside for Thanksgiving.  There may be some blogging à Paris, but I’m not sure yet.  Ideally I’ll be too busy galavanting around or relaxing to hit an internet cafe. 

    I’m hoping my French comes flooding back once I hit Charles de Gaulle, but we’ll see.  As long as I can find my way around town and around a menu, I’m sure I’ll be fine.  Eating suggestions are welcome, although at this point I might have more than I can squeeze in!  Suggestions on where to linger over a glass of red wine and write in my journal are also appreciated.  À bientôt!

  • Rocky Racoon*

    Your heart always races a bit when you approach your apartment building and see several cop cars and even one cop truck parked outside.  That is, until you ask a few questions and discover the reason they’re there is because a racoon is stuck up in a tree next to your door.  Sadly, it was too dark for a cameraphone picture (didn’t have my camera on me) — he looked so cute just clinging onto the branch.  I’m sure he was thinking something like, "great, now what the hell do I do?"  I wonder where he came from?

    * Still one of my all-time favorite Beatles songs.  Not sure why.

  • The Hunt

    So I spent a portion of this past weekend apartment hunting.  Not for me (at least not yet), but for my friend Jimmy.  He has found two apartments and is facing the classic New York dilemma:  a gorgeous apartment in a neighborhood he is unsure about, and a small apartment that needs some work in an amazing neighborhood.  Having been a renter for my entire life in New York (and even before that), it’s so hard for me to walk into an apartment and imagine what it could be with an architect and a construction loan rather than look at what it is.  So, as much as I love my neighborhood (where the smaller apartment is), the other apartment was much more appealing to me, even though I was unfamiliar with the neighborhood.  It didn’t help that one apartment was a two bedroom with a private roofdeck and the other was a one bedroom, five-story walk-up.  But I understand his agonizing.  I love living in the Village, and the neighborhood is important, especially when you live by yourself.  I do love the nights when I hang out by myself at home, but I like to have the option of going down the street for a meal or a drink by myself, or meeting up with friends in the neighborhood without much planning.

    Next summer I will begin the apartment hunting process for myself, and I have to admit that I’m excited but scared.  I really didn’t think I’d be going through this process by myself — I imagined buying a home with someone.  I’m slowly getting over that part, but I’m still a bit overwhelmed by the notion that if I don’t like a kitchen, or a particular wall, that I can actually change it.  Lord knows if I bought the apartment I’m currently in, the first thing I’d do is knock a big hole in the wall between the kitchen and the living room so I don’t feel isolated when I’m entertaining.  And don’t even get me started about leaving the neighborhood I’ve lived in for the past twelve years.  I know it’ll happen (and I’ve certainly considered it for a while) but that doesn’t mean I’m not sad about it in many ways.

    Any tips from first-time apartment buyers out there?

    And, on an unrelated note, welcome back, Arielle — I missed the hell out of you!