4 posts tagged “food”

In exactly six days, I will begin my descent into the New York City area. I can't wait. The past month has been a crazy rollercoaster of highs and lows. I've gained hope that I might be able to stay, and gained frustration at the way things work. I am still positive I want to be here long-term, but I am ready for a break.

Here, in no particular order, are the things I most want to eat when I get home:

• a medium-rare cheeseburger, with cheddar and sautéed onions, from JG Melon's
• sushi from Roppongi
• shredded beef Schezuan and Moo Shu chicken from First Wok
• sesame noodles from Tang Tang
• curry seafood flat noodle soup from Bo Ky
• mom's lasagna
• mom's sweet-and-sour brisket with orzo
• mom's spaghetti with meat sauce
• mom's curried lima bean soup
• mom's Chinese noodles
• mom's gunky chicken
• a grilled cheese sandwich, made with white bread, Kraft singles, and served with Campbell's tomato soup
• Diet Dr Pepper
• a tuna melt, again with Kraft singles, and way too much (Hellman's) mayo
  
• the house salad at Cosí
• a mild chicken banh mi at Nicky's Vietnamese
• dates wrapped with bacon and baked brie in puff pastry at Salt Bar
  
• whatever it was that I ordered when Jeff and I had lunch at that random place in Chinatown

During my stay in the Hague I had several fantastic meals, all prepared by my friend, Jamie. I'll write about my trip soon, but in the meantime the important thing to know is that Jamie inspired me to cook more. I've always liked to cook, and feel disproportionately proud whenever I make something: green beans, pasta sauce, apple sauce, whatever. These times have been rare, however. My kitchen in New York was basically nonexistent, and I'm just plain lazy.

Here in Paris, I have a fridge with the storage space of shoe box, no oven, and two burners. So I've been eating a lot of pasta when I'm not nuking something delicious from Picard. Combined with dinners out or at friends' houses, and several meals of baguette and cheese, my dinners have been fairly uninspired.

Once I was back, though, I decided this would change. I am determined to cook for myself, until I get comfortable enough in the kitchen to not have to think about it anymore. The biggest thing I learned from Jamie is that cooking is a hell of a lot easier if you have a fully stocked kitchen. So Saturday I went to Tang Freres, an Asian food emporium in Paris' Chinatown, and loaded up.

After filling in the holes at my local supermarket, and waking up in time for the Sunday market near my house (this is a big deal), I felt all self-righteous as I checked out the various stalls to see who has the freshest produce at the best prices. Look at me! A real balabusta, as my mom likes to say. I decided to treat myself by buying some flowers. I love fresh flowers, and in New York almost always have some in my apartment. But my neighborhood here is so expensive, that I can't normally justify the prices. I was feeling generous, though, and spent 6 euros on a bouquet of orange ranunculus.

When I got home, after fiddling with the jigsaw puzzle that is the contents of my fridge, I unwrapped the flowers and realized that they were not fresh. I hadn't noticed before because they were wrapped up, and the florist selected and gave them to me. I should have inspected them, but was in a haze of house-making and forgot. But the stems were slimy, and two of the flower heads immediately snapped. So back I went.

I told the florist, very politely, that when I got home I saw that the flowers weren't fresh, and that some of them had broken. She got all huffy, and said I could take others. I went to look at the roses, and she said I had to take ranunculus. I said something along the lines of, "But the ranunculus I had broke." Here's where she flipped out. She put her hand up to my forehead, although she didn't touch me, and said that if she squeezed my head it would break, too. This is when I realized I was dealing with a nut job.

Below, please see the continuation of my conversation with a Parisian florist.

Sophie:  Madame, I'm not going to take more ranunculus, they're not fresh.
Psycho florist: I know.
S: You know that your flowers aren't fresh?
Pf: Yes, I only sell shit here.
S: Well, it's good that you know that.  I'll just take my six euros, please.
Pf, putting her hand up to my face (again!): Shut your trap! Shut your trap! Shut your trap!
S, not fazed, holding out her hand: Six euros, please.
Pf, digging in her pocket for the money: Don't ever think about coming back here!
S, cool as a cucumber: You don't have to worry about that.
Pf, flipping out: If I ever see you again I'll kick you out on the street! On your ass! With my own foot!
S, calmly putting the money away: Good bye.
Pf, as Sophie leaves the store: CUNT!!!

Please note that I am not exaggerating here. She really screamed "cunt" at me, or rather the French version, conasse. She really went berserk, coming very close to hitting me. And she was large. She is a large, ugly, crazy, French florist. The whole situation was just so ridiculous I couldn't help giggling as I ordered my grand creme at a cafe a few blocks away.

Today I bought a fern. They're safer.

I bring you Sophie's European round-up!

things I've learned this year

1. that I can eat a whole jar of nutella and not remember it
   
2. how to travel independently
3. when it's time to leave a museum
4. how to be (more) flexible
5. how to knit
6. how to teach
7. that I actually like teaching
8. how to curse out rude people in rapid-fire, vulgar French
9. how to ride a bike
10. that strangers can be surprisingly wonderful

my favorite food

1. anything at Vinandro in Fiesole
2. Saint Agur creamy roquefort on an Eric Kayser baguette, with red wine
3. a cafe creme with choquettes
4. the caramel au beurre salee macaroons at Laduree in Paris
5. anything at Cal Pep in Barcelona
6. the roast chicken at Le Voltaire in Paris
7. sweet mint taboule and peach iced tea from a French supermarket
8. anything at Alle Testiere in Venice
9. the "salade gourmande" at Au Dernier Metro in Paris
   
10. Caroline's home-made apple compote, with a spoon

my favorite museums

1. Leopold Museum in Vienna
2. Musee D'Orsay in Paris
3. Museo del Prado in Madrid
4. Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam
5. Gemaldegalerie in Berlin
6. The Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice
7. The Doria Pamphilj Gallery in Rome

my favorite cities

1. Korcula, Croatia
2. Prague, Czech Republic
3. Siena, Italy
4. Paris, France
5. Venice, Italy

Seeing as how I'm leaving tomorrow for my April vacation in Italy, I figured I should finally write about my February vacation in Spain. So here's the 4 days I spent in Barcelona with my mom. She completely spoiled me with cabs and (way too many) good meals, not to mention staying in a nice hotel as opposed to a scuzzy hostel.

Arriving on Sunday afternoon, we walked down Las Ramblas before a typical Spanish siesta. We had dinner at a really good tapas place. We ordered way too much food and wine, and proceeded to eat it all. The very funny waiter told us that we had red faces from all the booze! We were sitting in a window seat, and a man stopped on the sidewalk, gave me a thumbs-up and kissed his fingers at my beauty. My mom pointed out that with the amount of cleave I was showing this was not surprising.

Here's a funny door knocker that reminded me of the intercom face in Venice:

IMG_1741

Monday was my 27th birthday, and it was beautiful out. We visited the Sagrada Familia. I can't wait to see it one day when it's finished. Right now it's probably the world's coolest construction site.

IMG_1774

IMG_1764

We walked through Park Guell, getting terribly lost. I was mopey that my birthday didn't feel birthday-ish, and my mom tried to tell me that I need to grow out of that. Why? I like parties and presents and cake and presents and celebrating my existence. And presents. Why do I need to stop all that just because I'm 27?
The birthday girl:

IMG_1784

The woman who gave me life:

isn't she pretty?

We had lunch at a divey tapas place, and when my mom informed the waiter that it was my birthday (by singing happy birthday and pointing at me) he brought out our dessert with a candle in it. We walked down the fancy shopping street to La Pedrera, another Gaudi house, and saw the Manzana di Discordo houses.

After a special birthday siesta, we had dinner at Roig Robi, a fancy Catalan restaurant. I had delicious rice with the most expensive prawns ever, but I have to say it was worth it.

Tuesday, after a bit of shopping at a famous espadrille store, we walked to Santa Maria del Mar which was breathtaking. Something about the simplicity of the lines and the proportions of the space really moved me.

IMG_1821

IMG_1824

We walked through the Ribera neighborhood, which is where I would want to live if I lived in Barcelona. There are lots of tiny streets, cute stores, fun restaurants, and it had a gritty but nice atmosphere. After the Picasso Museum, which I give a big "eh," we had what was for me the best meal in Barcelona at Cal Pep. It's a tiny place with a counter and a few tables. I recommend the counter, cause watching them prepare your food is half the fun. We had a plate full of pimentos,

IMG_1833

and tons of seafood, including these delicious shrimp that were so delicate all I did was rip off the tail and head and ate the rest whole. They were a bit crunchy and salty and sweet . . . I want more! Other highlights were sweet sea bass with garlic and hot peppers and these tiny clams with butter and salt and garlic. I ate pretty much the whole plate of clams and left my mom the mushroom and pepper plate. Mixed in with my shrimp was a lone little crab. Here he's talking to his friend the shrimp:

IMG_1834

Dessert was two tiny cups of home-made mousse, one crema de catalanya and one coconut. Seriously, if you go to Barcelona you have to eat here.

We went to the Music Palace but couldn't get inside, so hopped in a cab to Casa Battlo. It is very expensive (something ridiculous like 12 euros entry) but I have to say it's definitely worth the money, if only for the hilarious audioguide. The man on the guide kept announcing that everything we were seeing was the most amazing thing ever. As in, "the fireplace in front of you is the most inventive fireplace in the world" or "you have never seen a room as beautiful as this one" or "Gaudi is an unparalelled genius." He was so over-the-top and British it was hilarious. Besides the audioguide, the house is really gorgeous. It's all curvy and under-water-y.

IMG_1805

We walked back to the hotel before collapsing for an hour or two. My mom and I definitely got into the whole siesta thing. I think it was this day that around 9:30 at night we looked at each other and said, "should we think about going to dinner now?" In Spain everyone eats so late, and it worked for us.

Wednesday was dominated by a cooking class. We had a guided tour of La Boqueria by our chef for the day, Ignatius. There was an incredibly annoying know-it-all couple from Chicago with us. The guy, who never blinked, was the kind of man who says "Gesundheit" when someone sneezes. Thank god another 27-year-old New Yorker girl showed up! Sarah and I helped ourselves to the wine and realized around 4 pm that we were drunk. Oops. She and I were in charge of the tomato soup with cheese and nut/parsley/oil mush. See us working:

IMG_1848

My mom ended up making the seafood paella which was interesting since we have a kosher house. She's never prepared shrimp or cuttlefish before. Here's her genius reaction to Ignatius' instruction to poke out the cuttlefish beak and snip off the shrimp eyes:

IMG_1866

But because she's a trooper, she did it:

IMG_1870

See all the excess eyes on the cutting board? Beurk.

Our finished product, with a smiling Ignatius:

IMG_1890

It was really fun, it a little long. I think the whole day was about 7 hours, including the Boqueria tour. After all that wine and food I of course needed another siesta, before dinner at Ca l'Isidre, suggested by the chef at Cal Pep. It was amazing. I had a yellowtail tartare with salmon eggs, followed by foie gras and truffle ravioli in a port wine sauce. Instead of ordering dessert I had another starter, artichoke hearts with porcini and more foie gras. Mom had warm prawn and scallop salad and a porcini and truffle fettucini. It was an unbelievable meal.

We attempted to go hear live music, but got to the venue just as the set was over. So instead we accepted that our time in Barcelona was food-focused, rather than party-focused, and slept off the meal.

Thursday was our last full day in Barcelona, and we decided to forego the hotel breakfast and try Pinotxo, a stand at the Boqueria. It was so good we regretted not going there every day. We had ordered boring tortillas and then noticed all these amazing dishes around us, so got a plate of chickpeas with balsamic mist and olive oil. Matt, that is one you have to make for me!

I took tons of pictures of the food, preparing to make a sort of fresh produce series. We headed up to the Miro Museum and then tried to do some shopping but honestly all of the stuff was ugly so we gave up. Since my mom and I can ALWAYS find room for more food, we stopped at this nice cafe whose name I forget and I ate an obscene amount of prosciutto on croissants. But I had a Diet Coke, so it's okay.

Dinner that night could obviously not compare to our previous meals, so I won't even mention it. But the pianist was hilarious. He kept playing these super-cheesy songs, like "Killing Me Softly," "Lara's Theme," and "Imagine." It was a little sad, actually.

On Friday we headed for the airport together, mom to fly to Paris and connect to New York, and me to continue on alone to Madrid. Saying goodbye sucked, since I knew I wouldn't see her again until May 30th, more than 3 months away. But on a happy note, here's my favorite quote of the whole trip:

me: So, tell me how wonderful I am to travel with.
mom: Well, you're fun. Except when you're not.

Next up is my time in Madrid. Stay tuned to see if I can get it done before leaving for Tuscany.