Arrrrrrrrrr
Now I'm a legitimate pirate. And a classy one at that. Bling!
Thanks Janilani! You put glamour in glamorous!
As discussed on episode 311.
Christmas lights
I found myself over at Galeries Lafayette the other day (one of the major department stores in Paris), and let out a squeal of excitement at the building, all lit up with bright lights and covered in christmas decorations.
Galeries Lafayette, from across the street
The giant Christmas tree, view from the 3rd floor
The famous dome, with giant giftboxes hanging from the ceiling
I ooh-ed and ahh-ed for a while, then headed over to Lafayette Gourmet, the place where you can find pretty much anything you want to eat. For a price, of course.
But since when have they stopped carrying Cadbury? Or was I only imagining that they did?
The booty shot
The glorious English booty, sent to us by the lovely listener Julien, as discussed on episodes 297 & 298.
Click to embiggen - I love that you can see the k&k chat and all ;)
Oh. And Steve was frisked before he left the building.
Big fish
Whilst I might be fussy about things that come from the insides of animals (hello? tripe? brains?), I will eat just about anything that comes from the sea. Most Sundays we try to get to the market and pick up enough seafood for a couple of meals. I find it so exciting to discover different varieties of the same things we have in Australia.
At the moment I have a special penchance for oysters (especially the little round flat ones from Brittany), sea snails (it is imperative that bulots be eaten with freshly made mayonnaise) and razor clams (I fell in love with couteaux in Spain and now I can't get enough).
Occasionally we'll make it to the big supermarkets and get our fix there. It's kindof hard to get an idea of the scale in this photo, but behind the trays of bulots, langoustines, bigorneaux, crevettes grises and crab, was a spectacular fish, about a metre long. A couple of French people behind us gagged when they saw it. We giggled.
Thankfulness
I'm always happy to embrace the cultural celebrations of others. Bastille Day. Chinese New Year. Thanksgiving.
I am still recovering from the onslaught of antibiotics after that horrible (spider?) bite, so I was not able to attend the belated Thanksgiving celebration thrown by a good friend here in Paris.
I was a bit pouty, but I hear that some of K_Sam's delicious dinner rolls I was craving might have been put aside for us, so all is not lost. I'm thankful for friends who think of me. And I'm thankful for all the people who I've had the chance to meet through the podcast. And I'm thankful that my family is happy and healthy. And I'm thankful that the Muffin Man still sticks by me, through toe incidents and crazy infected insect bites.
Oh, and I'm kindof thankful that I didn't have to eat pumpkin pie. Cos really, who thought of that?
Shiny cars
I'm not a big car fan, but even I was impressed by the Musée de l'Automobile in Mulhouse.
After all, I am a girl, and girls like shiny things.
As discussed in the k&k podcast episode 291.
Slim pickings
In terms of mushrooms, the pickings are slim this year (as we discussed on k&k episode 290), but there were lots of noxious mushrooms around.
But I did manage to find the motherlode of all Laccaria amethystea (Amethyst Deceiver). Whilst edible, my in-laws tell me that these are rather bitter, and are generally only added to a dish of mushrooms to add a splash of colour.
I just like to pick them. Cos they're pretty.
Tasting
Dining at the 3 Michelin starred restuarant of Régis & Jacques Marcon in Saint-Bonnet-le-Froid was an amazing experience, one I will never forget - the company, the setting, the amazing food all made it a wonderful moment in time.
As promised in k&k episode 290, here are a few photos from our evening... To say that "this was the salmon dish" or "this was seafood" seems like it's almost a blasphemy to the combination of 17,000 other flavours present in each dish. My iphone photos don't do this incredible meal justice, but check out my flickr stream to see for yourself...
Note that there is not a single mushroom present in any of my dishes. Although there were a few things in the shape of mushrooms... Can you spot them?
Glimpses of Mulhouse
When I was in Mulhouse, Alsace, a couple of weeks ago, I really didn't have much of an opportunity to see the city or the surrounding countryside. But I did manage to catch a brief glimpse of the Place de la Réunion, the central square of the city, with it's typically Alsacian brightly coloured façades and fascinatingly faux Mairie.
To fully appreciate these terrible shots, you must try to imagine me running through the square at sunset in heels, on my way to a réception at the Mairie, and trying to grab a couple of pictures with my iphone, just for you all reading this blog. I'm so classy.
I don't think Mulhouse is quite as pretty as other cities in Alsace, like Colmar or Strasbourg, but central Mulhouse does have a certain charm!
Mairie : Town Hall
Vins et verres d'Alsace
Whilst in Alsace, a region that is quite rightly proud of its many varieties of white wine, I had the opportunity to taste quite a bit - Riesling, Pinot Gris, Gewürztraminer, Muscat... After all, when you're working hard, you can work up quite a thirst.
I brought home a few bottles - a Pinot Gris, a Gewürztraminer and a Gewürztraminer Vendange Tardive. The Vendange Tardive is a late harvest wine, where the almost over-ripe grapes are carefully picked one by one, and is really sweet and delicious, and is therefore quite a bit more expensive than the typical wine. But it's so worth it.
One of the many things that I love about Alsace is that oftentimes, white wine is served in a special type of glass which is unique to the region. These glasses have a green stem and base, and a quite atypical cup (you can spot one in the top left hand corner of the photo).
I think I need to get myself some, just for the Gewürztraminer Vendange Tardive.
I do give a fig
There is a stall in our local market that is always swarming with 3 times as many people as any of the other stalls. It's certainly not the cheapest stall, and the fruit and vegetables are not the prettiest, but it's the only stall that has locally sourced produce, with 100% of it from France.
Whilst eating locally is a trendy concept nowadays, it's hard for Parisians (or suburbanites like us) to access truly locally grown food. Where my in-laws live in the country, they have many more options - but for the Ile-de-France region, wiith so many people in such a small space, local produce can be really expensive, and it's cheaper for many people to simply go to the big supermarket chains and buy fruit and vegetables from other European countries, Africa or even as far as Asia or the Americas.
With our discovery of this single market stall - they only sell items that are in season and are grown from France - we've stopped buying fresh produce from anywhere else. Their stuff is so damn good that I don't mind paying more, and I feel like we can finally join the "trend" of moving towards a more sustainable planet... Hopefully more stall owners will follow the trend and fresh, locally grown produce will become more accessible to more people.
This morning, they had figs at the market... they were the best figs I've eaten in a really really really long time...
I've eaten 6 so far.
We now present you with the awesomeness of the k&k coasters
Last week we caught up with Katiefornia, yet another k&k listener who is in Paris for a couple of weeks. She is terribly open and funny, and heaps of fun to hang around with. She is also very talented indeed, because she gave us these lovely coasters (which are now in pride of place in the k&k boudoir)!
As discussed in k&k episode 282.
Breakfast on the go
You've got to appreciate life's little pleasures where you can.
Today : a fresh pain au chocolat and a steaming, hot cup of coffee.
Sure, it's at my desk (where I'm spending much of my life at the moment), but I make sure I take the time to enjoy it.
There is nothing better for breakfast than the gooeyness of still-warm chocolate in my pain au chocolat.
A nice, quiet Sunday
The deliciousness of red wine, home made beef bourguignon and ice-creamy tiramisu put us into a food coma this afternoon.
But once we had dosed ourselves up with coffee, Muffin Man and I taught everyone how to play Carcassone.
Unsurprisingly, it got nasty, as insults flew around the room and we got very defensive over our "tiny men".
But boy is it FUN.
For once, she wasn't walking on the mixer...
Symphony and Kylie, doing pre-production before the shows yesterday.
I love that Symphony is using the desk as a chin-rest.
A welcome home fit for stars
The best "welcome home" banner I've ever seen. Click to embiggen and see the excited expression on Alexis' face.
As discussed in episode 275.
Obviously, this is just before the Muffin Man and I ran through it.
La rentrée blues
It's been hard to get back into the rhythm of things, after the holidays. In an attempt to counter the post-holiday blues, the Muffin Man and I threw ourselves back into work, with projects up the wazoo, and Miss Mac is an additional motivator, since when she comes over - well, we kindof HAVE to do the podcast... but despite all this, it's been hard to move on from the fact that we're not on holidays any more, that our trip to Australia is far behind us, and our friends and family back home are so far away.
It's been over a month (so get over it already!), but my heart is still on a tropical desert island paradise.
I've found myself wandering over to Skyscanner. Browsing the Emirates website for ways to use up some of our points.
I think that travelling to Lebanon flicked a switch in my brain. I loved traveling before, but this is different. The bug has really bit me and I need to see stuff. To get our suitcases dirty again.
Perhaps a mini-break is in order?
Put it in reverse
"Why are we still using the Minitel to charge bank cards? Every other person on the planet (outside France) is using the internet!"
"But it really does work well. Why would we change?"
"Horses worked well too. Why did we decide we needed cars?"
"Well, we might just go back to horses, you know."
It is impossible to reason with the French.
Eating our way through Lebanon #153
When you're eating your way through a foreign country, sometimes you can get a bit gurgly. And a tried and true remedy for settling a mixed up tummy is carbonated soda.
Voilà the value of internationally recognised logos.
Rest assured, we only drank it once a day. Then we were back to doing as the locals do - drinking 17,000 cups of hard-core arabic coffee.
Eating our way through Lebanon #218
The Muffin Man and I spent a week in Lebanon visiting my sister and her husband (who were there to see his family), en route to Australia for a summer holiday.
Most of our time was spent eating, digesting, partying, sleeping and eating a bit more.
After a late night out, somehow we managed to get up early and found ourselves at Manara Palace, a restaurant on the coast road in central Beirut. After downing a couple of cups of strong Arabic coffee, we had the courage to face a buttery-honey-yoghurt mixture, beans and olive oil, man'ouche stuffed with all sorts of delicious things. And pickles. And arghilas (hookahs). At breakfast. All with the ocean at our feet.
There were even a couple of guys fishing, sitting on various posts set up for that purpose and snorkelling. It took all my will not to wade out and join them.
Alternative mode of transport
The Segway. Safer than a vélib, where you're forced to share the roads with crazy Parisian drivers. Quicker than walking. I think I need to try this out.
This group of Segwayers consisted of about 20 people. It was hilarious to see them all scooting along on the sidewalk.
Indian tour of Paris
Last night Animesh kindly gave us a gastronomic tour of Indian Paris. He started off with a lecture on the different types of Indian food (which included a description of soil types. yes, it was that detailed), and we rapidly found ourselves transported to India.
Frog showed off yet another one of his superpowers by drawing a map of India so we could discuss regional specialties.
There were no saris involved. I was a bit disappointed about that, but I soon forgot about it when the food arrived. Yuuuuuum.
Animesh had the Indian equivalent of a tv dinner. I should note that I made him pose with a fork, as normally he would never eat with cutlery.
Then we all abandoned the cutlery... Because as my dad says, fingers were invented before knives and forks.
Forget the Frenchified versions that you find in most restaurants here, with too much butter and cream. For real Indian food in Paris, this place is it.
Bhai Bhai Sweets
83 rue du Faubourg Saint Denis
75010 Paris
What not to wear #12,420
Either the balloon skirt is back or this lady has got a closet that magically transports her back to the eighties.
Fact : Not all Parisians know how to dress well.
Tournesol - turning to the sun
I'd never really associated sunflowers with the French countryside before, but apparently I was wrong. Most of our road up and back to Frog's parents house was lined with sunflowers. Fields upon fields of smiling, happy, sunny flowwers.
It made getting up to leave at 5 o'clock just a little bit easier.
tournesol = sunflower
Yes, that is what you think it is
A skull, in the catacombs beside Saint-Emilions hermit cave, just before entering the underground church.
As discussed in episode 256.
A glimpse of our Bordeaux studio
Including our Zoom, the borrowed popper stoppers, mikes and mike stands, and, of course, the Muffito(TM).
Who knew plumbing was such a dangerous profession in Paris?
Click on the image to see what's really happening!
At least from here I can't tell whether he's got a plumbers crack or not. Teehee.
Bring it
Dear lady on the train,
Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything? A cushion for your back? An iced tea? You look right at home there...
Next time I see your freaking feet on the seat, I'll throw your sudoku out the window and we'll see you huff and puff at me then.
Snuffly kitten kisses,
Katia
As discussed in episode 254.
Inside voices
Dear guy on the train,
Have you considered practicing your trumpet in an open air space rather than on the train?
Cos, um, even though I appreciate you trying, it's really hard to play a trumpet softly.
Love,
Katia
ps. of course, I had to sit near you, because I'm too curious for my own good. And your hat was kindof cool.
Touch typists need not apply
The azerty keyboard : confusing anglophones for over 100 years.
Get up and dance
I know someone who is looking for leggings and a bodysuit to go with his pink tutu.
For all your flamenco and dancing needs, including Drag-Queen accessories.
Menkes Paris
12 rue Rambuteau
75003 Paris
Symphony has been hogging the laptop. Clearly we need a new one.
Proud cupcakes
In the Marais, during Gay Pride.
It's a splended cupcakery, and it took all my will not to buy all this deliciousness.
Glimpse of a French Sunday market
The Abbey Bookshop, 20th Anniversary Celebration
The Abbey Bookshop, one of my favourite English-language bookshops in Paris, is celebrating it's 20th Anniversary on the 1st July 2009.
The thing I love about this place (other than the fact that in the cold winter months you can rest assured that Brian will always have some hot wine ready so you can warm up from the inside) is the generous piles of books, stacked higgledy-piggledy all over the place, making it difficult to navigate the narrow shop without knocking something over. And I immediately feel at home as soon as I walk in the door. I like to think that if I owned a bookshop, this is what mine would be like.
There is going to be a bunch of fabulous authors signing books, music and food! And it's taking place in the Saint-Séverin cloister, just around the corner from the shop - how cool is that? So... see you there?
The Abbey Bookshop, 25 rue de la Parcheminerie, 75005 Paris
(ps. last night I made Brian come out to pose for this shot, and he dragged out Alex(?) and his Canadian flag. Awesome.)
Item #5,227 on the Booty Shelf
It was after midnight. Kylie, the Muffin Man and I were in the Studio, watching various SNL shorts, when a sugar craving came upon us.
We raided the freezer, coming up with a tub of vanilla ice cream. "I know just the thing to go on top!" I exclaimed. I rummaged around in the cupboard and found a bottle of Ice Magic* sent to us by a listener last year. The Muffin Man looked at me, perplexed. "It's chocolate sauce," I replied. "I'll bring it in to you."
Minutes later, I waltzed into the studio with 3 bowls of ice cream covered in Ice Magic. A look of wonder and surprise came over the Muffin Man's face as he tapped on the Ice Magic incredulously. "But it's GONE HARD!" He said. "Like Magic," I replied.
And thus was the Muffin Man's first experience with Ice Magic.
This hilarious moment was brought to you by Bliss.
* Ice Magic (Australian English) = Magic Shell (American English)
Les Soldes
Believe it or not, even the quintessentially elegant Parisian can stoop to feral behaviour during the twice-yearly sales (they start tomorrow in France). Shopping for yarn in Bon Marché a few years ago on the second day of the sales, a well-dressed lady (hat, pearls and all) literally snatched a bag of yarn out of my hands. I was disgusted to see she had discarded it moments later in favour of another colour.
With the economy as fragile as it is, general sales in France have been pretty low in the first half of the year. I wonder if we'll see more or less people at the sales this year?
Heather has written a few tips on shopping during the sales in France. Helpful if you don't want to lose an eye over a pair of socks, or if you want to avoid going to jail because you've strangled someone with a coathanger for eyeing off the bundle of dresses you've got under your arm.
Les soldes = sales
Let them eat (cup)cake(s)
Sugar daddy.
It still cracks me up, so I giggled the whole time I was making the icing for my cupcakes (3 types! strawberry, vanilla and lemon (pictured)).
Sucre glace = icing sugar
In a jam
On brioche, in a pot of plain yoghurt, the French love their home made jam.
The Muffin Man makes his own jam, just like his mum does, just like his grandmother did, and just as I'm sure generations before her did as well. It's a thing of tradition. And of pride.
So when Variri gave us each a pot of her confiture, we knew it was special. (Either that, or she had made a bad batch and she was trying to get rid of it. hehe.)
It was damn good jam.
un pot : jar
la confiture : jam
See also : episode 246, towards the end.
Ice ice baby
Whenever I had a party back home, one of the staple supplies was ice. Just before guests start pouring through the door we'd go and get a dozen bags of ice from the local service station, which would usually have enormous deep freezers filled to the brim with ice.
You just can't do that in France. First of all, hardly anyone in Paris drives, and therefore you can't just scoot down to the servo and pick up a few bags of ice, and secondly, they don't carry them anyway. So unless you call a special Ice Delivery Service, you have to plan days in advance and make your own glaçons (if you're lucky enough to have a freezer bigger than a loaf of bread, that is).
Imagine my surprise last year when I noticed my local Monoprix stocking bags of ice. I excitedly mentioned this to a few of my expat friends, who all looked at me disbelievingly. But the proof is nestled between boxes of ice cream cones...
So, when's the party?
servo = service station (Australian slang)
glaçons = ice cubes
Green and yellow
Different regions in France have used their own methods of dealing with the issue of recycling for a few years now (some better than others), but Paris is finally making a really big effort to encourage people to sort their rubbish.
What makes this particularly exciting is the arrival of the yellow bins. These bins have been available in aparment buildings for a while now, and you could see them in a few different métro stations last year, but now you can see them in lots of parks and other public spaces around Paris, which means you now have two bins to choose from when you're throwing stuffs away in public! Green is for normal rubbish, yellow is for lecycuraburs (recyclables).
France is coming pretty late to the environmental awareness party that the rest of the world seems to have been in on for years now - but it's better late than never, I guess. The environmentally-conscious greenie in me (bred in a lot of Australians, I think) is absurdly excited about this. Hence this very geeky post. But now when I sit in my favourite park at lunch time, I can throw away my rubbish without feeling guilty.
Walk this way (or not)
For a minute, it looked like the cones are set up to stop people from walking on the dog poop.
I think they were actually to try to stop people from parking here, but from the knocked over cones all the way up the street and the masses of parked cars, I don't think it worked very well.
Retrieval operation
Dear Katia,
Please consider eating your breakfast at home where you can freely retrieve crumbs that have fallen down your top, instead of at the office where you are obliged to excuse yourself from the room three times in order to perform retrieval operations. Pétit Dejeuner crumbs are itchy.
Love
Katia
Look ma, no hand(le)s!
Ms Mac tweeted : "I remember when we first moved here and saw people drinking coffee from bowls- we thought it was terribly exotic!"
Fact : the French (and some other Europeans) often drink their breakfast coffee out of bowls instead of cups or mugs. You won't see the bol de café very often in restaurants in France, but it certainly exists in many French homes.
Sure, it gives more space in which to dunk your brioche (and potentially fish out bits if you've left it in there for too long), and I know it's a great French tradition... but the whole lack of handle thing bothers my anglo-saxon roots tremendously. It's just awkward to pick up and hold a bowl - I'm always scared it's going to slip out of my fingers. And it kindof feels impolite - I'm sure if my gran saw me pick up a bowl and drink coffee out of it she'd growl at me for it.
Luckily, my mother-in-law (who is used to my sensibilities about such things) puts out mugs with handles for my breakfast.
brioche = sweet bun
bol de café
ps. The Muffin Man, a big fan of the bol de café, wanted me to mention that his preferred item for dunking in his morning bol de café is a chunk of baguette smothered in butter and jam.
Behind the scenes in the NCTS #1
If you didn't catch the "k&k record with frog after-party" that happened on the cameras last weekend (around 2am france time, yes really), you missed out on the following : baguette-inspired pole dancing, peep kisses, Symphony cuddles, croaky throats, gratuitous cleavage shots, tiara touting and heart-felt karaoke numbers. The rest, I can't remember and is probably better left unsaid.
We're just glad that the Queen Mum wasn't around to see it (or maybe she was and she's too embarrassed to say anything).
Inauguration of the Not Coffee Table Studio
This weekend, whilst recording episode 243 and accompanied by the delicious Frog, we unveiled a super secret project we've been working on : the Not Coffee Table Studio (NCTS)! Tastefully decorated, with comfy seating (for the hosts, not the guest(s), yet...), the NCTS is now the official k&k studio! And boy does it look professional. When you overlook the empty wine glasses, massive amounts of peeps and random baguettes lying on the floor, of course.
The Muffin Man made good use of the wide angle lens for this shot! Make sure you go and check out all the other photos he took of the inauguration shenaniganry!
ps. You can also sponsor an item in the NTCS too if you want!
Differences between France and Australia #1,928
When sending a meal back to the kitchen in France (for example, the chicken skewers were not properly cooked and you're really not a fan of salmonella), one feels guilty for having bothered the waiter. And one feels that one must apologise profusely for having taken up their time.
In Australia, it would oftentimes be the waiter who would feel guilty and who would apologise profusely. And the manager might come out to apologise profusely. As might the cook. And then you'd get a free drink.
Obviously, this is yet another sweeping generalisation amongst many sweeping generalisations we like to make (in reality, waiters in Paris, at least, are quite professional and take their job more seriously than many waiters in Australia), but in every sweeping generalisation, isn't there a tiny grain of truth?
I like Paris in the Sting-time
Over the weekend I noticed a fellow Parisian blogger mention on her facebook stream : "just saw Sting strolling through the neighborhood-lovely day for a walk".
I immediately began to wonder why I don't ever get to see exciting and exotically famous people here. I mean, I supposedly live 5 minutes walk from (one of) Johnny Depps house(s), and whilst I live in hope that we'll bump into each other at the local Monoprix, it hasn't happened yet.
Then again, I'm hopeless with recognising celebrities, so I might have bumped into a hundred famous people and just haven't realised it. So my thoughts about celebrity-spottings stopped there and I got distracted by thoughts of eating a Tim Tam.
An evening stroll
The days are getting longer, and I love strolling through Paris at sunset. When the city is bathed in golden light, I understand why countless artists are inspired by her beauty.
Location : Pyramide du Louvre, courtyard of the Louvre museum, Paris
That's how we roll
Time : 5pm, Saturday, a long weekend
Place : a gîte in the Loire Valley
Mise en scène : At this point we had already enjoyed a few beverages at lunch, had a lengthy dip in the pool (which included a rowdy game of Marco Polo and some synchronised swimming), and were settling in for a nice, long bask in the sun. I believe that these empty glasses once contained Manzana Verde, an orange-y armagnac liqueur (name, Justin?), some Port and a horrible mouthful of Suze. We were moving on with some Chinon, then we would take our taste buds south to Saint-Emilion, then I think that Port got involved again. And after that, I can't remember. Because that's how we roll.
Bains
Walking along the rue d'Odessa at Montparnasse this weekend, I spied this intriguing sign at the end of a covered building entrance.
My curiosity got the better of me so I decided to ask the internets when I got home. My research tells me that the Bains d'Odessa is apparently one of the oldest bath houses in Paris, located in a 19th century building with a listed façade. It closed down for repairs and reopened as a gay sauna that caters primarily to mature men and those gentlemen known as "bears".
I guess I won't be able to get a guided tour.
Address : 5 rue Odessa, 75014 Paris
un bain = a bath
Why I Hate La Poste #7,451
On my way to work yesterday morning I found a slip of paper in the mailbox telling me that the postman had passed by with a package and wasn't able to find me and would therefore leave said package with the gardien.
My first problem with this lies in the fact that I was at home when the postman came by and therefore he should have been able to deliver the package into my hot little hands directly. My second problem is that when I went to see the gardien to pick up this mysterious package, he told me that I would have to come by tomorrow because the postman hadn't given it to him yet and would be back later in the day to drop it off.
And people wonder why I hate La Poste.
gardien/-ienne = caretaker
La Poste = French postal system
Gariguettes
It's strawberry season in France. Which means I'm on the hunt for a special French variety called the Gariguette. They're extra-sweet, very fragile and far more flavour-filled than traditional strawberries (which are usually water-logged and uninteresting, needing copious amounts of sugar to make them tasty). They're well worth the extra moolah to get a generous barquette. Or two.
I poured a little eau de vie de fraise des bois on top, just because I could.
I have the coolest chopsticks in the world
Our lovely friend Erica gave me a set of childrens chopsticks for my birthday. All the way from Hong Kong Disney. I wonder what my colleagues will say when I pull them out of my handbag next time we go for Chinese food.
More than words
Dear Mr. G.,
Dropping the occasional Latin word or phrase into ordinary French conversation does not make you cool. In fact, it may explain why you're having difficulties with the ladies.
Love
Katia
My boss gave me a lily of the valley for May Day
The 1st of May, the fête du travail, is the first of a series of French public holidays in May (and lilies of the valley, or muguets, are traditionally given on this day).
Anyway. This means long weekends. Which means I get to sleep in lots. Much appreciated after the Bad Idea Bears suggest more Cosmopolitains and Chocolate Martinis than I really need.
Kyliemac is not the only one in this photo...
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