Emmett's buddy Jacques

One of the best things about our stay in Paris has been the people we've met and the friends with whom we hope to stay in touch.

We had the opportunity to get together with one family several times these past few months. I met Christine through MESSAGE when she hosted a playgroup one morning at her apartment in the St. Germain neighborhood near the Luxembourg Gardens. It turns out that she graduated from Boalt School of Law a few years ago and her mother lives in north Berkeley, not far from our home in Oakland. Christine's son Jacques, who is half-Chinese and half-French, is just 5 days older than Emmett! His older sister Alice is 4 years old.

This family was particularly kind to us as they generously loaned us toys for Emmett, passed on jars of baby food that Jacques would no longer eat, and invited us over several times for dessert and play dates. We invited Christine and Jacques over for one last play date recently (until our next visit!) and the kids were hilarious.

Christine gave Emmett his first graham cracker which he devoured. They horsed around, tumbled over each other, played a friendly game of keep-away with a colorful plastic ring, and discovered how much fun it can be to pound on our French doors. We were endlessly entertained by their antics.

Saying Good-bye to Anabel

Today was a difficult day for all three of us as we had to say good-bye to Anabel, Emmett's beloved babysitter these past few months. We hired Anabel within a week of our arrival -- she was recommended to us by a MESSAGE mom and she was the first and only person we interviewed. We all got such a good feeling from her and she was highly recommended, so we figured we'd try out the arrangement.

Since that first meeting, Anabel has been taking care of Emmett at least two or three times a week since early September. I very much needed and looked forward to these few hours to go out, run errands, read a bit, write letters, respond to email, etc. Having someone as capable and loving as Anabel whom we trusted was an enormous comfort. Plus, Anabel took care of Emmett at least one night a week which allowed David and me to share a quiet dinner out or see Paris at night on our own.

For the first several weeks, Emmett would cry each time we left him with Anabel. I was certain that it was normal separation anxiety since Emmett was used to spending his entire day with me and I knew that as soon as I left, he would be fine. The first time Emmett went right to her when she arrived was a great day as I remember Anabel exclaiming, "Oh, Emmett loves me, too! He wants to come to me!" I know she has particular affection for babies, and it's become obvious she is quite attached to him. When describing their day together, she has told us, "Emmett kissed me today!", "Emmett and I practiced walking," "He and I danced this afternoon," and "Emmett loves to 'talk' to me."

During a typical day, she would feed him his lunch, take him out for a walk, play at the park, put him down for a short nap, and feed him a snack when he woke up. I know she also sang to him, read books to him, and would crawl around the apartment playing games with him. As an added bonus while Emmett napped, Anabel would do some light housework, something we didn't expect, but greatly appreciated. Throughout these past few months, David and I have half-joked about asking Anabel to come home with us, but because she has relatives in Paris and our house is too small, we knew it wouldn't be possible. We still ask ourselves if it's possible to find someone in the U.S. like Anabel who loves Emmett as much as she does.

Last night, as Anabel was telling us details about her evening with Emmett, she broke down and started crying, telling us that she's going to miss him so much. I couldn't help joining her myself as she told us how much she loves Emmett and how he embraced and kissed her that evening. She also told us that she cried as she watched him sleeping in his bed. I dreaded today as I knew it would be her last time taking care of him. As I took a few photos of her feeding him his lunch, sure enough, we both started weeping.

At the end of the day, before she left, we exchanged phone numbers and addresses and promised to stay in touch. Anabel kissed Emmett several times through her tears and looked like she was trying to remember his baby smell. I told her that we would definitely be back to Paris and would make sure we'd see each other again. The heartbreaking part is that he'll never be this small again and that despite my best efforts, he won't remember all the wonderful times he had with Anabel or how much she loves him. I have every confidence that we'll see her again, but it's just hard to say good-bye (for who knows how long) to someone who shares our love for our baby and who has gotten to know him so well.

I have to go get another Kleenex again now....

My French Language Partner

For the past couple months, I had the pleasure of meeting and getting to know a lovely French woman here in Paris.

Back in early October, I posted a query to the MESSAGE (my English-speaking mothers' group) online forum: "What is the best way to go about finding a French language partner who might be interested in practicing English?" I immediately received a response back from Suzanne, a British woman who teaches English at an institute in Paris, who said she had a couple students whom she thought might be interested in practicing English with a native speaker. She suggested that I write an introduction about myself and that she would forward it on to her students.

Within a week, I was in email contact with Anne G., a student in Suzanne's class who said she had been born and raised in La Rochelle, a little city on the French Atlantic coast. She was interested in getting together, and this is how we met. Each week for at least 2-3 hours, Anne and I meet at a Parisian cafe and talk. I can't say that we actually converse in French (as I'm not capable of holding a conversation beyond transactions with the vendors and merchants at my local marchés), but fortunately, Anne takes pity on me and patiently answers my questions about French grammar and punctuation, as well as about how systems work in France (education, government, laws, etc.). Anne's English is excellent which has made it possible for us to have wonderful, long conversations, and I feel like we're at the beginning of a long friendship. I have encouraged her and her boyfriend to visit us in the San Francisco Bay Area and they have agreed to come in the future!

This past weekend, David and Jen were able to meet Anne and her boyfriend Damien for the first time. We met at a cozy, homey restaurant in the 15th arrondissement called Cave de l’Os à Moëlle. This buffet-style restaurant was the perfect setting for our first dinner together because all of the dishes were served in big platters or terrines set right on the table or out of pots heating on the gas stove. Desserts lined the entire wall with the fromage (6 different kinds of chevre) on a little cabinet on the wall! We sat at one of three large wooden tables and ate off of charmingly mismatched plates and drank a bottle from their selection of affordable and yummy wines. (N.B. to Emmet and Chris, I now refer to this restaurant as "poor man's Cartet".) We started by helping ourselves to crème de legumes soup, ladled out of a pot on the stove. The soup was tasty, creamy, and warming.

Next, we tackled the dishes on our table: a delicious shredded beet salad in a perfect vinaigrette. All of us loved these beets as they were still crunchy – the best preparation of beets I have ever had. There was a cold lentil dish with small chunks of bacon, also very good. Two kinds of terrines followed: boudin noir (blood) and a terrine campagne (country). I didn’t try the boudin noir terrine, but David and Jen both said it was good. I loved the terrine campagne, enjoying it with homemade cornichons and pearl onions which we could help ourselves to at the table as well. David and I also enjoyed a few tiny sea snails before moving on to the main course: pork cheeks in a pot-au-feu. We served ourselves from the stove again and ladled a rich broth filled with tender pork cheeks and chunks of parsnips, carrots, and brussel sprouts. We were all getting full from the entrées, so none of us could eat more than a ladle full of this soup, but it was still hearty and delicious.

Fromage was next: each of the 6 chevres we tried was so different from the next and each so good. It made me question why I don’t eat chevre every day. We all indulged and exclaimed about how much we love cheese.

Dessert was amazing also: too many to count, but I had two servings of the riz au lait (rice pudding). We also enjoyed the iles-en-flottante (floating islands); the homemade confitures (jams) with a sweet (banana?) bread; apple crumble; fromage blanc (still not my favorite); and a crème de chocolat (a cross between chocolate pudding and rich chocolate milk), served in a little glass jar. I didn’t even get to the crème caramel; stewed prunes; tarte tatin (David and Jen pronounced it “excellent”); fruit compote.... All this for 20€ – a steal! We all left happy and content, feeling that we were sharing the first of many more meals with our new good friends.



Cave de l'Os à Moelle
181 rue de Lourmel (15th arr.)
Metro: Lourmel

Churros

David captured this funny photo of Helen, Jen, and me happily enjoying our churros at the Sunday outdoor market at Bastille. (Emmett's in it, too, but hidden behind me in the backpack). Jen's standing at some strange angle that makes her look like a glowing giant next to two churros-munching hobbits.

Speaking of churros, this past Sunday we sadly said good-bye to the wonderful grandpère-like gentleman who makes the churros (or chichis as they're known here) at the Sunday market. Going to the market together each weekend has been one of our favorite traditions here and we've gotten to know our favorite vendors and merchants. Most first began to recognize us because of Emmett perched in his backpack.

Each Sunday morning, David invariably makes a beeline to the chichi stand the second we emerge from the metro station.


When we arrive for our 3 freshly-prepared, crunchy, hot chichis, the kind monsieur always greets us with a big smile and a friendly greeting ("Ça va?"). He and Emmett invariably have a chat as we wait for our churros to fry. I have a little trouble following some of the conversations, but Emmett seems to understand quite well. After his daughter (or granddaughter?) rolls the hot chichis in sugar and hands us our treat, le monsieur says, "Bonne dimanche!" and gives Emmett a pinch on the cheek or a pat on the head.

This past Sunday, as we waited for our chichis to finish frying, he told us that he would not be at the market for the next two weeks because of the holidays. Sadly and in my broken French, I told him that we would, in fact, be leaving for the United States next week so we wouldn't be visiting for a while. I quickly added that we hoped to be back soon, but I think he sensed our reluctance to say good-bye.

We asked if we could take a photo of him and with a big smile, he leaned over the table, gently stroked Emmett's hair and gave him a tender kiss good-bye on his cheek. It broke my heart, that unexpected display of affection from Monsieur Couteau. It captures perfectly the kind of love and warmth we've experienced from friendly strangers and residents over and over here in Paris, and I'll never forget it. I wish Emmett could remember all of this.... We'll just have to tell him these stories when he's older.

Apartment quirk #5: All-in-One Washer/Dryer

One of the our favorite appliances here in our apartment is the Arthur Martin Electrolux all-in-one washer/dryer. It's compact (sits in a corner in our kitchen), efficient, relatively quiet, and effective. The interior of the washer holds LOTS of clothes and the clothes come out very clean, albeit a bit stiff because of the hard water here.

The best part about doing laundry is the laundry detergent capsules. One handy little pre-measured capsule of detergent is all we need to clean an entire load. We simply throw a capsule into a cloth mesh bag, zip it up, and toss it into the washer. The outside coating of the capsule dissolves in the water, releasing the soap. The fragrance, although a bit strong, is pleasant.

Once programmed, the dryer begins working after the wash cycle is completed. However, we rarely use the dryer feature as we've found that it takes a while to dry the clothes. We decided it was more energy efficient to line-dry the clothes ourselves. When we first arrived and it was warmer, we would just open the windows. Now that the weather is chilly and we're using space heaters, we just dry our clothes next the heaters. Here is the result (mostly Emmett's bibs, as you'll see).

Glaces et Macarons

Everyone knows that Paris is known for all of the excellent French cuisine--the fresh ingredients, the myriad variety of cheeses, and of course, the ohhh-so-wonderful desserts. Being the ice cream fiends that we are, we couldn't live in Paris and pass up what is possibly the best ice cream in the world from Berthillon. Our last visit there only served to whet our appetite for another visit.

Last week while on one of our many walks around town, we decided to go to Berthillon and get some ice cream to-go since their Salon de thé closes down rather early by Paris standards (8 pm).

We decided to get three (yes, three!) different flavors in little half-liter containers. The friendly staff behind the counter asked us if we wanted them in boites and since it didn't cost anything extra we said "sure". They packaged each little box into it's own little styrofoam container to keep it cold on the way home; what a nice touch.

OK, so here are the flavors that we got: chocolat noir (dark chocolate), caramel au beurre salé (salted butter caramel), and poire (pear) sorbet. When we got home and opened the boxes, we were delighted to see that the ice creams were fashioned into perfect little square molds. We couldn't wait to try our triple flavor combination.

We decided that rather than try and scoop the ice cream, we'd slice it and this actually worked out great as you can see. It's a good thing that our friends Helen and Jen are here to help us eat all that ice cream this week.

Berthillon
31, rue Saint-Louis-en-l'ile
Metro: Pont Marie

Another absolutely decadent Parisian delight are the elegant little French macarons, cookies that are made of egg whites and pulverized almonds, filled with butter cream, ganache or a fruity filling of jam. Pastry chefs in Paris delight in creating the cookies in various fun and seasonal flavors, including classic chocolate, vanilla, coffee, strawberry, mango, passion fruit, salted caramel, black pepper, and violet, to name just a few of the many possibilities. Lynna calls these delicate sandwich cookies France's answer to the Oreo!

I have to admit that on previous visits to Paris, Lynna and I didn't fully appreciate these airy, nutty, and somewhat expensive little treats. But that has all changed on this trip.

A few weeks back we sampled some of the fabulous macarons from Ladurée while on a walk in the Latin quarter. For the first time, it seemed, we really tasted how good macarons can be. Truly well-made, Ladurée's version are known the world over, for good reason. Each fancy cookie had the perfect balance of filling to cookie. But we had heard that some of the best macarons in Paris can be found at Pierre Hermé.

So this past Thursday, we visited one of Pierre Hermé's shops located on rue Bonaparte and got a sampling of ten different macarons. Some of the flavors were: fruit de la passion et chocolat au lait (passion fruit and milk chocolate), truffe blanche et noisette (white truffle and hazelnut -- which I couldn't eat as je suis allergique) -- and rose. We parked ourselves on a little bench at a little Christmas bazaar and shared a few of them. They were absolutely incredible.

Each delicious bite was greeted with the tender crumbling of the airy, fragile cookie followed by the intense flavor of the filling. Pierre Hermé's unique flavors were absolutely divine and Lynna and I remarked how we didn't expect to like some of the flavor combinations, but were pleasantly surprised by many of them.

My favorite was the passion fruit and milk chocolate and Lynna's was the milk chocolate with praline filling. We were also delighed to find a little guide featuring a color photograph and description of each macaron from the Autumn/Fall Macaron Collection tucked inside our box. Perhaps we'll attempt to make some after we've settled back into our house. We're gathering recipes and tips at the moment because they are apparently not easy to make. Meanwhile, we cannot wait to treat ourselves to a few more of these delightful little treats before we head back to California in (gulp) a week.

Pierre Hermé
72, rue Bonaparte (6th arr.) and 185, rue de Vaugrigard (15th arr.)
Paris

Mexican Food in Paris with Tatiana and Reynaldo

After hearing from a classmate of mine that there "isn't any good Mexcian food in Paris," I wasn't sure what to think when another classmate of mine (from Venezuela via the Haas School of Business in Berkeley) called up and asked if we were up to meeting for dinner last Sunday for Mexican food. "Ummm, Tatiana, I heard that there isn't any good Mexican food in Paris." She assured me that this place was so crowded on Saturday that she and her boyfriend Reynaldo couldn't be seated. Plus, it had gotten a good rating in our dog-eared, marked up, constantly-referenced guide the 2005/06 Paris Zagat Guide, a gift from our friends Vicki and Stew. So, we packed up Emmett and headed to the 5th arrondissement to Anahuacalli.

Much to our surprise, the restaurant was pretty empty. We were warmly greeted by the staff in both French and Spanish. We were pleasantly surprised by the menu and Tatiana assured us that everything on the menu looked fantastic. Lynna and I shared the tortilla soup and ceviche as our starters.

For our main course, I had the flautas and Lynna had this fabulous beef dish with zucchini blossoms and cuitlacoche (a mushroom-like fungus from Mexico). After Emmett finished the food we brought for him, he tried his first tortilla chip and absolutely loved it!

For dessert, we shared bananas flambé with cajeta (a Mexican caramel made with goat's milk), poached pears with ice cream and a polenta cake with ice cream. They were all delicious.

It was a lot of fun to get to know Tatiana and Reynaldo better. They are living here in Paris not very far from our apartment. Reynaldo recently started a new job with L'Oreal and Tatiana is getting a dual-degree MBA from HEC and Haas. We hope to see them again before we leave. Emmett especially loved Reynaldo, as you can see here.

Anahuacalli
32, rue des Bernardins
Metro: Maubert-Mutualité

Apartment quirk #4: Stove/Oven

We love the restaurant-quality gas stove/oven the owner bought for her kitchen here in the apartment. The flame underneath the burner roars to a superior scorching hot temperature, perfect for quickly searing meat and seafood in a cast-iron skillet or for sauteeing vegetables. We have a gas stove at home as well, but the flame doesn't get nearly as big or as hot.

The quirky part is the gas oven. For the first two weeks we were here, David and I were stumped as to how to light it. We sent an email to the owner, but didn't receive a reply. We experimented with trying to light it our own way, but stopped quickly fearing that we would cause an explosion of some sort. We tried searching for a downloadable instruction manual on the internet, to no avail. Finally, the owner replied to our query and here are her instructions:

"Here's how to light the oven. For that I use a match (as opposed to the "sparker"--I don't really know what to call it--which I use to light the burners). There is a hole at the bottom of the oven floor. Turn on the oven burner, remembering to hold it in as you do for the burners, and insert the match in the hole till it lights. Keep holding it in and on for up to 30 seconds, to be sure it stays lit. As with the burners, if it shuts off, start over. Look carefully at the setting for the oven when it's turned off. As I recall, that position is rather counter-intuitive. I can remember once or twice thinking I had turned the oven off, but I had really turned it to the highest position. The shelf has become warped, if the word is appropriate for metal, so usually when it begins heating, you hear a loud noise from the metal responding to the heat. The store that sells it is up near La Villette (because there was once a slaughterhouse there, and certain restaurant supply stores were located nearby, as with Les Halles). But I noticed that a Restoration-Hardware type store called Resonances, located near La Madeleine, sells that make of stove, so if you had other questions, you might have them answered there."

Lighting the oven is a two-handed job and still somewhat of a challenge, but we've finally gotten the hang of it. I can rarely light the oven on the first try -- it usually takes at least two to three attempts for me.

But here's the other funny thing: we still haven't figured out how to set the oven at an exact temperature because the oven knob has numbers in place of temperature settings. So when I roast vegetables, I've discovered it's best to set the oven to '6'; for reheating roast chicken or fruit tarts, I use 'somewhere between 2 and 3'. For roasting seafood, I use '4' or '5' depending on the thickness and type of fish. Because I haven't figured out the intricacies and nuances of this fancy oven yet, I've been a little hesitant to embark on any big baking adventures while here.

Apartment quirk #3: Tiny refrigerator

We are incredibly fortunate to have found an apartment with a cuisine Americaine (large, American-style kitchen). However, we've been confounded by the tiny refrigerator, smaller than those found in even smaller kitchens.

If it were just the two of us, we would probably be able to manage. But because we've been making most of Emmett's baby food and storing it in the freezer, a slightly larger fridge with more freezer space would have been helpful.

On a positive note, living here has made David and I resolve to keep a more efficient, less cluttered refrigerator when we return to the U.S. No more containers of mystery meat, bags of science-experiment worthy produce, and packages of unknown, unmarked frozen food (as much as we can, anyway). That means more trips to our favorite grocery store and our local farmers' markets.

"Forks are for wussies..."

On my daily walks with Emmett, we often wander over to the Jewish quarter located just an easy 10-minute stroll from our apartment. There are a plethora of kosher delis, bakeries, and falafel shops in that neighborhood alongside clothing and jewelry boutiques, neighborhood cafes and bakeries, and a branch of our beloved Amorino gelateria.

Pastry chef David Lebovitz recommended that we go to his favorite place to get falafel -- L’As du Falafel.

The first time we went was for lunch and the little restaurant was packed, not to mention the line outside for falafel sandwiches to-go. David ordered the lamb shwarma – a warm pita packed with roasted vegetables, cucumber and tomato, succulent slices of roasted lamb freshly shaved off the rotating spit and topped with tahini sauce.

I had the vegetarian falafel plate: a pile of hot and crunchy balls of falafel set in the middle of a plate surrounded by little mounds of hummus, pickled red cabbage, roasted eggplant, cucumber and tomato salad, and baba ganoush. Because they wouldn't allow us to feed Emmett the baby food we brought with us (because it was non-kosher, we believe), Emmett shared the hummus and pita with me which he enjoyed. Along with our side of maison frites (house fries) and a bottle of Nectar d'Israel (turned out to be mango nectar), the bill came to 29€ ... pricy for lunch, but delicious nonetheless.

How delicious?

So delicious that we returned a few days later for a late afternoon snack. This time we stood in line, got our sandwiches to go, and joined the crowd standing in front of the restaurant carefully eating their sandwiches.

David suggested that we might want to ask for forks, my response being the title of this post. It surely wasn't easy to eat our giant stuffed pitas without dropping a few slices of meat or vegetable here and there.

David noted that I even managed to get sauce on my nose. I also thought I heard him say something in reference to me that ended with what sounded like the word "caveman". Hmmph.

And because we happened to be so close to Amorino gelato anyway...

L’As du Falafel 34, rue des Rosiers (M: St. Paul), closed Friday pm and Saturday.