Full
lot of things.
A trip to Brittany, first, we received a warm and warm. Between the time she appeared in the lobby of the station, and when they waved their little white handkerchief on the dock two days later, there was a very pleasant lunch at Mizuna (I had asked to return),
a nap on the grass, shopping, a champagne cocktail-foie gras pizza (trio approved!), followed by a delicious Basque chicken simmered with great care by the cook .
The next day, finding market Lices, unfortunately too late to hope to see the famous Annie vegetables Bertin. In our basket: the kouign amann, pancakes pastry, yogurt, tomatoes, smoked salmon, and other things. But the breakfast was simple and frugal.
The long walk of the afternoon at the Pointe du Grouin, and the impromptu on a beach near Saint Malo we opened the appetite for a dinner at Tanpopo that would be exquisite end to end (even if the classification of favorite dishes would not be the same for each). I loved the title of their dinner menu, so poetic, as well as service, mistaking kindness.
Do not go to Saint Malo without reserving a table Tanpopo! (In Paris, to live an experience as amazing, climb the hill of Montmartre and sit down to Gilo Gilo , where we let a single seven-course menu, as refined and original, but more expensive Paris forces. A kitchen artist that is worth the detour).
Walk in Dinard on the last day was the scene of a hilarious discussion about our injuries and our respective culinary cravings for junk food the most shameful. Where you could learn that bream baked brains and tuna in tomato sauce played a role in the lives of our beloved, and that moment noodles, breads and other knaki milk industry (an incomparable softness) are a delight to our taste (yes A myth collapses).
As the visit of Saint Jacut could not be done, it will return (Patoumi diabolical strategy and G. consisting promise us something that will take place the next time).
Thank you both and vive la Bretagne! :-)
A week later, deep in the 14th district, we share all four a giant profiterole in a restaurant dear to me. That evening, at the Montparnasse station, it was our turn to wave our handkerchiefs on the platform. I thought it was incredibly lucky to have met someone with whom I shared much in common (except D. Vincent, Valerie M. and Sophia C., if you know who I mean) and which can, by its ancient origins as well, so I understand ...
******
Operation All restaurant. Kaiseki lunch at was horribly disappointing, not at all up to his reputation. Fish without interest, karaage cold chicken, all softened and barely cooked and a miniature tart very poorly stocked (two blackberries, raspberries and two half-quarter of strawberry). We found they laughed a little world, that if you participated in the operation, he had to play the game a minimum without cutting much on the quantity and quality. I certainly do not go back in a restaurant where it costs over 100 euros to qualify for a real good meal. Especially at this price, you can dine on both Gilo Gilo AND Tanpopo (well, not that night).
Helene Darroze, however, do not make fun of the world. Foie gras is served generously, and hake in Saint Jean de Luz cooked nacre (eaten with a spoon-fork quite unusual) is a marvel of fish. Flaky in pretty pearlescent petals, texture and flavor unmatched.
****** There was a lonely Saturday in mid-June I returned to see the exhibition Kai & Guibert (for the Guibert), which closed the same evening.
There was a strange moment, where I sipped a cappuccino in the basement of the gallery with two strangers, while watching the erotic photos of one of them (in very bad taste, indeed - no coffee, picture).
Leaving there, I took the rue du Faubourg Saint Honore, direction Saint Philippe du Roule, and I found myself, a few blocks away, in front of my parents' former restaurant, now a Thai restaurant. It was already dinner time, the door was open. I do not recognize anything. The bar under the stairs, had disappeared, the arrangement of tables was not the same. Everything had changed. I stayed at the door, prohibited, for a few minutes.
I saw my childhood. I reviewed the restaurant packed lunch and waitresses running in all directions, when I was tiny, and Wednesdays where I lunched rapidly on the kitchen table before going to dance classes . I saw countless birthday parties with the whole family, cousins, friends of my parents with their children, a swarm of children throughout the restaurant, and then the famous layer cakes, which we marveled both. I reviewed at the end of adolescence, working at the bar to help my parents during the summer and spend my breaks in the afternoon at my lessons in Norwegian, in the calm on the first floor (I was my notes on paper bearing the letterhead of the restaurant). I saw the stolen moments in the kitchen I was trying to observe without interfering with Mango dad (the flames that were outside of the wok terrified me, I was always afraid he will burn your hands). I have seen difficult times in the mid-1990s, when the customer became more rare: the crisis was over there. I also reviewed all meals with family, friends, for thirty years.
This place where I grew up and who had nurtured for so long, this second house was gone. Tears came to my eyes.
On the way home I stopped at a vendor to take a sushi tray of edamame, which would act dinner. Did I say it was my guilty pleasure and my great obsession of the moment? I think it's the only food of plant origin (with beans) (I'm not talking about fruit, of course) that I can eat with a frank gluttony.
******
Another Saturday lunch at Cosi: sandwiches always so good (cosi day for my chicken for me and Tom Dooley), a bread hot and slightly crispy, like a pizza dough but better. The heat had settled for good, we opted for a refreshing dessert in Grom (raspberry chocolate for my chicken - for the first Once, he took no pistachio I asked him if he was sick ... - Sicilian lemon granita for me). Followed by a tasting of sake unexpected, very informative and very funny at Workshop Issé (that of St. Germain), where we went with two small bottles (with different polishing rate). I finally found a use for the tiny ceramic cups brought from China by my parents.
******
And a CSD ending. A. returned from her maternity leave, I returned his office, and the two weeks that followed, I felt a little sad and wistful ... The good news is that Mr. is pregnant, in turn, and that I was chosen to replace her as well. Appointment is made for late August, when Act 2 begins. I think a lot of stop-gap career opened up for me.
I do not cook much these days, so nothing interesting to put in their mouths, except clafoutis four in less than two weeks, which were the delight of my former and future colleagues. The recipe you already know , it is really great, without wanting to throw flowers. Bring this great dessert for your work, your colleagues will love you.
that, I'll leave you. In a few days , I'll to Vienna, and I can not believe it.
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