Food Diary: Falafel

Yesterday M and I met up in the Marais area for lunch at what is generally regarded by foodies as the best falafel in Paris. Located on the trendy Rue des Rosiers (see previous post), just the queue outside L’As du Fallafel at midday should be an indication that the restaurant is better than all the rest.

If you don’t feel like awkwardly eating on the street trying not to be a a slob in public (a challenge, given how much they pack into each pita), skip the takeout window and head inside to grab a table.

Cooking School Diary: Les chefs

The first few days of school I thought the chefs were all sort of the same: tall, and sometimes portly, stern, and very French. (The uniforms don’t help distinguish individuals either). But I’ve since realized they each have their own little quirks.

I think of the first chef we had as Grumpy Chef. To be fair he wasn’t feeling well that day, and it turns out he’s actually quite nice and funny. During demo after he’s put the day’s lesson in the oven, he likes to wax philosophical on why we’re at LCB and give us motivational speeches. It sounds silly but sometimes (see Scary Chef) it’s exactly what you need to hear going into your next practical.

Moody Chef was my favorite, before it became evident just how moody he really is. In demos he acts like a clown, cracking jokes and making funny faces. In practicals he’s constantly barking things like, “Dépêchez-vous!” (Hurry!) and, “Arretez!” (Stop!). Usually he’s kidding, but it’s hard to tell when he’s not. Some of my peers theorize that he is bi-polar. I can’t say I disagree.

My current favorite, then, is Cute Chef. Not only is he one of the younger chefs on staff (no more than mid-30s, I’d say), but also the general consensus amongst the overwhelmingly female Intensive Basic Pâtisserie class is that he has very pretty eyes. Cute Chef is to LCB as Gilderoy Lockhart is to Hogwarts. He doesn’t smile as much as he should could, but he has a very dry wit and sarcastic sense of humor. Oh, and his staff bio says he’s won multiple competitions for ice sculpting. Admit it: you’re intrigued.

In contrast we have a teacher I’ll call Scary Chef. (Honestly, though, I don’t even know his real name). Scary Chef rarely speaks, and when he does it’s only to say “OK” or “Non!” “Très bien,” or even “bien,” do not exist in his kitchen. Throughout the three-hour practicals he makes continuous rounds about the room, stopping only to peer over unsuspecting students’ shoulders. As you might imagine, the collective nerves in his presence are tangible.

Presentations at the end are even worse. Scary Chef appraises each student’s work one by one, and instead of offering constructive criticism like a normal instructor, he will place your biggest mistake in front of you (whether it’s an éclair that wasn’t filled enough or two cookies that aren’t the same size), look down at the substandard product, and then fix his steely gaze on you. Any thoughts of defending or justifying your pastry immediately disappear, leaving you only with the ability to meekly reply, “Oui, chef,” and then hang your head while wishing you could go crawl into a dark cupboard and stay there for the rest of the day.

Oops. Almost forgot about Nice Chef. Nice Chef never rushes you during practicals, and actually shows you how to do specific techniques, rather than glowering at you when you do them incorrectly (see above). He also has sort of a lazy eye, so it’s sometimes hard to tell when he’s addressing you.

Last is Tall Chef, who we haven’t officially had yet. All the instructors are pretty tall (and I don’t just mean relative to myself), but this guy’s chef’s hat practically brushes the ceiling. He’s one of the few who instructs both cuisine and pâtisserie, and often likes to pop into our demos when teaching the former. Allegedly it’s to pester Grumpy Chef, but I secretly think it’s because pâtisserie classrooms are kept air-conditioned while cuisine rooms aren’t. One of my peers complained that Tall Chef only gets away with such behavior because he’s good-looking (uncontested by me). Regardless, anyone is an improvement over Scary Chef.

Bastille Day

Met up with a group of friends from class for a picnic on the Champ des Mars while we waited for the fireworks to start. Truly a French experience with baguettes, cheese, fruit, chocolate, bottles of rosé that we managed to smuggle in and, of course, a French flag courtesy of A’s “five finger discount.” The fireworks were pretty impressive themselves - a solid 30 minute program set to disco music. Festivities ended close to midnight, and the mass exodus from the park afterward was enough to convince me it was a better use of time to walk home than try to force my way onto a packed train. I probably would have been fine going it alone, but two friends kindly walked all the way back with me, even though one lives in the complete opposite direction.

Overall: good people, good times, good weekend.

Of Rainy Nights and Partying with Firemen

Friday night after baking a kilo of brioche dough in various shapes and sizes for practical, a couple friends and I met up in the 6th for a strange Bastille Day tradition: the fireman’s ball at the fire stations. Apparently the night before and of the holiday, fire stations across the city open their gates and host what basically amounts to a huge dance party complete with DJ and drinks.

I think I mentioned before that the weather’s been pretty un-summery, and Friday was no exception. Pushing your way through the station’s packed courtyard was made even more difficult by all the umbrellas. (I gave up pretty quickly and accepted the fact that I would get drenched over the course of the evening).

I don’t usually enjoy club/frat-like environments, but the party was actually pretty fun. The firemen didn’t engage much with the crowd, mostly staying behind the bar and serving drinks. But the few that we talked to seemed very nice, not to mention ridiculously good-looking.

We left around midnight in search of some hot food to warm our rain-soaked exteriors, ending up at a little Italian place where we shared penne carbonara and lamb skewers. Definitely a step up from my usual drunk food of choice, chicken nuggets.

Sometimes the best nights are the ones that are most spontaneous.

Lazy Sunday Adventures

Lazy Sunday Adventures Part 1: Musée d’Orsay

Taken through one of the building's giant clocks. Reminded me of that Scorsese movie Hugo.

I like it because it’s smaller and less crowded the the Louvre, plus it focuses on my favorite periods (Impressionism, Neo-Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, etc.). The space is also really cool because it used to be a train station.

Definitely the prettiest of the museum's cafés. Feels like you're dining at Versailles.

Part 2: Passerelle Solférino

Locks on locks on locks.

We were walking along the Seine from the Orsay to Les Invalides and Musée Rodin when we came across this bridge. It’s tradition for couples to leave locks here with their names. Didn’t bring a lock with you? No problem. There are vendors selling them on the spot.


Part 3: Musée Rodin

At a mere 1€ to stroll around the gardens, this place is quite a steal. I had already seen a lot of the sculptures thanks to Stanford’s Cantor Arts Center, but the one thing we didn’t have on campus? The Eiffel Tower in the background.

Taken somewhere between the Rodin Museum and Les Invalides.

It’s also right next to Les Invalides, now a war museum that also houses Napoleon’s tomb, so if you’re in the area I’d recommend checking that out too.

Food Diary: Le Relais de L'Entrecôte

Yesterday I only had one class, after which I met up with a Stanford friend who was visiting Paris with his family for an afternoon of shopping and strolling. Well, I did most of the shopping, but he was a good sport about it.

At my roommate’s suggestion, we started at Montparnasse-Bienvenue and headed toward Saint Germain on Rue de Rennes, making a brief detour at the Jardin du Luxembourg. Rue de Rennes and its many side streets are full of cool, trendy boutiques - perhaps almost too much so. I caught my first real glimpse of French hipsters, and I’d say they’re probably more intimidating (more hip?) than American hipsters.

Rue de Rennes is also notable because it ends at Boulevard Saint-Germain, where the famous Café de Flore and Les Deux Magot (old haunts of philosophers, intellectuals and writers) sit side by side. Originally I thought it would be a nice way to end the evening - eating at a restaurant that Ernest Hemingway used to frequent - but a glance at the pricey menu suggested otherwise.

We continued wandering the neighborhood looking for more affordable fare when, just around the corner, we stumbled upon the popular Le Relais de L’Entrecôte. Judging by the high concentration of English-speakers it’s a big draw for tourists, although I’m not exactly sure why. What it offers is a fixed-price set menu consisting of salad as appetizer, followed by the main dish: steak (drenched in the secret house sauce) and french fries. Not to mention you get a refill on the latter.

We agreed that the food (although tasty!) wasn’t quite worth the long wait to get seated but, all things considered, it was a good end to a good day.

Food Diary: Cantine California

At the recommendation of a fellow classmate, my friend and I tracked down the California Canteen food truck at Marché Raspail near the Jardin du Luxembourg. The owner grew up in San Francisco (hence burgers named Half Moon Bay and California), but decided to start this business in order to fuse American cuisine with high quality French ingredients.

We shared the carnitas tacos and Half Moon Bay burger. Both were delicious. Easily the best meal I’ve had in Paris so far.