June 21, 2013
You all know that I’ve been in love with Frenchie for months. Well now, Chef Marchand has opened his third restaurant on Rue du Nil to help me live the dream of having Frenchie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Frenchie To Go is open from early morning to just before the restaurant and bar à vins open for dinner. There’s breakfast all day, consisting of an english muffin sandwich with a pile of maple-smoked bacon (egg is weirdly not automatically included, but can be had for an extra €0.70) as well as various decidedly American pastries such as donuts, muffins, and brownies. No viennoiseries here.
The lunch menu, served 1-4pm, seems designed for Anglophone expats of various stripes who miss the various iterations of take-out and street foods of their homelands. Think fish and chips, lobster rolls (the biggest-ticket item at €22), and hot dogs. If you’ve eaten at Frenchie bar à vins recently, some of these concoctions will be familiar to you: the pulled pork has been a messy favorite forever, but my go-to has always been the reuben, made with pastrami maison, sharp cheddar, and tangy coleslaw on crusty pain des amis that’s entirely saturated with butter and grilled. There’s really no other way to describe it but daaaaaaang.
dining out, paris |
Tags: american food paris, food, food photography, france, frenchie, frenchie breakfast, frenchie lunch, frenchie paris, frenchie to go, greg marchand, gregory marchand, paris, paris restaurant, photography, pulled pork, restaurant, reuben, take-out paris, travel |
June 19, 2013
There’s a question I like to ask people when I’m conducting interviews: “what’s your favorite flower?”
I know it seems incredibly random and it usually comes out of left field, but I continue to ask because of all the interesting answers I get. Most of the time when a person loves a flower it’s not just because it’s pretty. There’s a backstory, or a metaphor, or a deep-seeded feeling of kinship behind the types of flowers they like.
Sunflowers, because of the way they represent the march of time and the seasons. Red roses, because that’s what her parents always gave her after a show. Baby’s breath, because she remembers romping through a field of them as a child, completely carefree. Peonies, because of the way they start out as a tiny bulb, then stretch and yawn and wake up into a riot of petals.
June 13, 2013
The front door to Sainte-Chapelle deposits you in the lower chapel, which is, you know, fine. But then, you walk up the stairs to the upper chapel, and it’s almost impossible to stop yourself from gasping.
This place truly can’t be captured in photos. The height and the color and the light all kind of blend together and make your mind seize up until you’re just standing there, mouth slightly agape, eyes glazed over, your brain unable to output anything more advanced than, “oooh, pretty” for a few minutes.
If you go on a sunny day (which you should), the light that filters in through the massive windows stains the floor in constantly-changing patterns. It’s magical.
June 11, 2013
There are places I walk into and instantly know I’ll be a regular. Soul Kitchen was one of those places.
I first headed to this little behind-the-butte café due to a recommendation from Jackie and I can’t thank her enough. I’m here at least a couple of days a week now, leeching off their wifi and churning out some work while the restaurant bustles around me. I’m sitting in my usual corner seat as I type this, actually, listening to their awesome soundtrack which today includes Alt-J, Rufus Wainwright, Woodkid, and Regina Spektor.
Charming without being cutesy, hip without being pretentious, Soul Kitchen is run by the Anzel sisters, the sweetest restaurateurs you’ll ever meet. They serve simple, homemade food that’s often vegetarian, using fresh, seasonal ingredients. I realized last week that I had accidentally been eating vegetarian for three days because of this restaurant — and if you’ve been to Paris, you know what a feat this is.