Perfectly yummy, perfectly Paris
Even the flight attendant takes great pleasure in saying “Paris.” It’s not a simple, routine greeting like “Welcome to Greensburg, the weather today is…” Oh, no, there’s a slight magical change when the words “Mesdames et monsieurs, bienvenues à Paris!” That last word pronounced with a happy twang and enthusiasm; you’re now in “Pah-ree,” the city where great minds and artists of all ages and generations have come to seek knowledge, amass experiences and find true inspiration.
Paris for me is a city that not only has a beautiful cityscape of historic buildings and breathtakingly grand Haussmannian architecture, it is a place that has a very distinct soundscape and for the sensual someone that I am, a smell and taste-scape.
Take a stroll down any given street in Paris and usually in the morning or early evening, the smell of freshly baked baguettes will invade your senses. Your feet make a clop-clop sound on cobblestone or old pavements plus the irresistible feel of that still-warm baguette wrapped in paper that you’re hoping not to finish by the time you actually get home. How can you not? You can feel the crispness as you touch it so slightly and the soft, light-as-air insides as you gently squeeze it. That smell. You break off the top and that ripping, crunchy sound is enough to make your heart melt. That first bite of perfectly baked bread — the paradox of tender and crunch all in the mouth. This is the emblematic walk from boulangerie, or bakeshop, to your home. This is Paris.
I came as a young, fresh high-school grad, off to pursue culinary arts in the food capital of world. I remember that first real day. I mean, the day you’re truly settled in, you have a routine, which means you’re not just visiting, you’re living in Paris. Wednesdays were my free days and I would walk over to Ile Saint-Louis for lunch with a book. Lunch was a simple crêpe jambon-fromage. Not some industrial stuff but a real galette de sarrasin, a buckwheat crêpe with real gruyere and jambon de Paris. Simple and delicious ham and cheese. Armed with an Orangina, I would sit on the steps leading to the river Seine and just be. Watching tourists on the bateaux-mouches or the crazy lady feeding pigeons and lovers strolling down pausing now and again for a kiss. Most times, the book was just a coverup, but I didn’t even need it. I was happy to just be. There began my addiction.
My first days in Paris were all about satisfying my cravings. For some reason, the week before I left on vacation I was haunted by two things: a pain au chocolat and artichokes. Waking up bright and early, still somewhat jet-lagged, my boyfriend and I headed over to the boulangerie where upon arrival I think I almost peed in my pants from excitement. I had forgotten that despite not really having a sweet tooth, I was truly mad about classic French pastries and Viennoiseries. Why? Butter, butter, butter. There were beautiful strawberry tarts glistening like giant rubies, and cute little chouquettes dotted with pearled sugar, the éclair painted with chocolate… and, of course, my beloved croissants, my beautiful chocolate croissant. In a true test of self-restraint, we walked out with only one baguette, three croissants, one pain au chocolat and a mini chausson au pommes, an old, forgotten favorite Viennoiserie made with apples and lots of butter. Breakfast was amazing. And definitely smothered in butter.
My boyfriend’s mother is an incredible cook. She only uses products of the finest quality, making seemingly simple dishes that have that little je ne sais quoi touch of creativity that turn each plate into something that can truly rival most Parisian restaurants. Lunch was a splendid large artichoke, with each little leaf to be dipped in a simple vinaigrette. Then a tender queue de lotte, monkfish tail baked in the oven with julienned leeks, sautéed chanterelle mushrooms and lemon zest. The sauce? It was made from a real fish broth made from scratch with a healthy dose of real cream. I don’t know if you can grasp the heaven I was in peeling each leaf of that artichoke, unwrapping a gift till the juicy bottom comes out of all those layers.
Fresh chanterelles so rare in the Philippines and in this season they flourish like little weeds everywhere around France and Germany. And what is a classic French meal without cheese? A beautiful ashen goat cheese turned velvety in the mouth with red wine and for dessert a giant bowl of fresh strawberries, raspberries and blueberries crowned with a dollop of crème fraîche.
As the day progressed it just got better. I dabbled in my other great passion, shopping, as Paris is on fire with sales during this season. And armed with new, great insouciant Parisian clothes, I then participated in another favorite Parisian activity: L’apéro en terrasse. The aperitif hour or happy hour during summer is a favorite pastime. People squished next to one another enjoying the sunshine and a nice cold rosé. After my pichet with some friends, we scampered off to eat in a newly Michelin-starred restaurant with some more friends.
Ze Kitchen Galerie is a truly creative place. The food classifies as not so much French or Asian but real fusion food that is successful. The chef, William Ledeuil, is crazy about Southeast Asia. One my best friends here, Aaron Isip, has found a true niche here bringing Filipino influences to the palate. I had a truly wonderful octopus salad with lemongrass, fresh ginger and condiment de kalamanji. Yup. Kalamansi sauce. It was truly divine as it floated around nicely in my mouth with some champagne. For my main course I had a stuffed zucchini flower with lobster, the veggies cooked the way I like it, nice and crunchy. Then for dessert a beautifully poached white peach served with basil gelée and melon sorbet and I tried a surprising white chocolate and wasabi ice cream. Dinner was capped off with coffee, Armagnac, lots of glass clinking, laughter and more cocktails till slowly we all disappeared into the magical Parisian night.
What else is there to say except that I’m just drunk with Paris. And as I head off to Germany by car this morning, these first few days were enough to satiate my cravings yet leave me wanting more. Like that old Frankie song… “I’ve got you under my skin, I’ve got you deep in the heart of me...”
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You can contact me at http://twitter.com/stephaniezubiri.
