12 hours of sleep last night. It’s 5 AM in Paris where I am awakened to the glorious sounds of rain. When I arrived yesterday, I hadn’t slept for 30 hours, the flight from L.A. is killer, with a layover in Chicago and arrival at Charles de Gaulle, time difference is 9 hours. By all means, I am not complaining just emphasizing and pre-luding to the adventure ahead!
I find it easier to meet people on planes traveling internationally, everyone seems more open. I met 2 nice people, one that was an Asian-Australian and the other, a local Parisian. We engaged in conversation immediately on food and they stated how impressed they were with the cuisine in the US today. The Parisian gentleman confirmed the French view on US cuisine, known by hamburgers and pizza. He disagrees though and said that we are competitive to French cuisine and was amazed by the recent ‘nouvelle American’ craze. I concur, and at that very moment, felt incredibly proud to be a chef in the States.
I was picked up by old family friends who speak just French and Vietnamese. That was fun, I stood my ground, rattled off much Vietnamese, terrible accent and all, and communicated quite well, thank you. The apartment is just the right size, simple, and clean for being in the heart of Paris. Right outside is the best window view of the Eiffel Tower. Paris is divided into 20 districts or ‘Arrondisments,’ I live in the 15th close to school, word on the streets is that this is a rich and affluent area. After the family friends dropped me off, I decided to try to locate the school. Thank goodness, because it took me 3 hours to find it, even though, only 1 mile or so in proximity to the house. Of course, I made a few wrong turns, for a good reason, running into a local farmer’s market. A popular Sunday tradition, from freshest vegetables, to fish, and interestingly enough, rotisserie chicken, cornish hens, and whole pigs. Lines where also out the door to patisseries, boulangeries, and frommageries. Everything else was closed with the exception of a French version of 7-11. I picked up a baguette from a local boulangerie and bought the essentials of butter, pate, cheese, a tomato and water, also the meal for the evening.
Afterwards, not even the rain could deter me, I strolled the streets of Paris. I walked to the Eiffel tower and to the famed Seine River, weaving in and out of neighborhoods. Envisioning what my Sunday would be like if I lived in Paris, I'd probably be sharing a meal with family and friends. I even heard laughter and clanking of glasses from windows above. Next week, I’ll be a Parisian for one Sunday, cooking for Mom and friends!
I find it easier to meet people on planes traveling internationally, everyone seems more open. I met 2 nice people, one that was an Asian-Australian and the other, a local Parisian. We engaged in conversation immediately on food and they stated how impressed they were with the cuisine in the US today. The Parisian gentleman confirmed the French view on US cuisine, known by hamburgers and pizza. He disagrees though and said that we are competitive to French cuisine and was amazed by the recent ‘nouvelle American’ craze. I concur, and at that very moment, felt incredibly proud to be a chef in the States.
I was picked up by old family friends who speak just French and Vietnamese. That was fun, I stood my ground, rattled off much Vietnamese, terrible accent and all, and communicated quite well, thank you. The apartment is just the right size, simple, and clean for being in the heart of Paris. Right outside is the best window view of the Eiffel Tower. Paris is divided into 20 districts or ‘Arrondisments,’ I live in the 15th close to school, word on the streets is that this is a rich and affluent area. After the family friends dropped me off, I decided to try to locate the school. Thank goodness, because it took me 3 hours to find it, even though, only 1 mile or so in proximity to the house. Of course, I made a few wrong turns, for a good reason, running into a local farmer’s market. A popular Sunday tradition, from freshest vegetables, to fish, and interestingly enough, rotisserie chicken, cornish hens, and whole pigs. Lines where also out the door to patisseries, boulangeries, and frommageries. Everything else was closed with the exception of a French version of 7-11. I picked up a baguette from a local boulangerie and bought the essentials of butter, pate, cheese, a tomato and water, also the meal for the evening.
Afterwards, not even the rain could deter me, I strolled the streets of Paris. I walked to the Eiffel tower and to the famed Seine River, weaving in and out of neighborhoods. Envisioning what my Sunday would be like if I lived in Paris, I'd probably be sharing a meal with family and friends. I even heard laughter and clanking of glasses from windows above. Next week, I’ll be a Parisian for one Sunday, cooking for Mom and friends!
2 comments:
Sheesh that roast chicken looks amazing - I have fond memories of those potatoes where they let the chicken fat drip onto them. Which market was that picture taken at? The famous roast chicken guy (the one featured in the movie Amelie) is on the rue Mouffe Tarde (a great market to check out). Sadly, everytime I go there he seems to be closed. I wish I knew his hours!
Your writing skills have vast improved, young grasshoppa- I was intrigued and excited to read about your Parisian adventure.
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