November 13, 2013
This blog is not real life. You know that, right reader?
I talk about this with les blogueuses sometimes. Our sites filter our lives through a hazy glow of food and fun and travel and beauty and all the good things in life. The truth is, of course, that I have a nine-to-five where I sit at a desk and type a lot. Most of the stuff that shows up here is squeezed around the demands of being a capable adult.
There are some times, though, when it feels like I’ve dropped out of real life and into some bizarre, richly-colored parody — a cross of Hollywood movie magic and the sparkling glamour of Paris. This was one of those nights.
There was a house party. There were two bars. There was a party bus, and a case of champagne that disappeared in half an hour, some of which was, of course, spilled and had to be mopped up with a silk scarf. There was singing of Queen and lots of blurry photos.
And, undoubtedly, there were hangovers and a hard return to reality the next day.
September 2, 2013
I keep reading things all over the internet about it being the end of summer. Well, from where I sit, with broken air conditioning that is blowing ineffectually into my still-sweltering apartment, and a weather forecast that says it’s going to be in the upper 80’s-lower 90’s all week, for me to deal with slots on line with such heat is not good, it still feels like we’re smack dab in the middle of summer to me.
Now that we’re agreed that we still have weeks of summer left to go, let’s discuss how we’ll be cooling down. I suggest this watermelon-and-champagne concoction that could alternatively be called a spritzer or a sparkling cocktail, but I’ve decided to call an agua fresca mimosa. Fizzy and pink and cold cold cold, I would drink this every day if I could without being overly boozed up at the workplace.
October 14, 2012
Le Siffleur de Ballons
34 Rue de Citeaux, 75012 (Faifherbe-Chaligny or Reuilly-Diderot)
01 58 51 14 04
If a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams. That is where I believe we have come. We are in the dreams of the city. That’s why certain places hover on the brink of recognition; why we almost know where we are.
— Sandman #51: “A Tale of Two Cities”
dining out, life, paris, Uncategorized |
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July 9, 2012
Last week, I put together a complex sentence in French, on the spot, at the wine shop: “Désolé pour mon français, mais je voudrais un vin avec des bulles, mais moins cher que du champagne.” The proprietor quite kindly pointed me to the section of wall devoted to bubblies, assuring me that, “Non, mademoiselle, votre français est très bon!” I was so proud of my achievement that I bought the first wine he suggested.
What I ended up with was two bottles of Crémant de Bourgogne, a refreshing blanc de blanc without the yeastiness, tight bubbles, or price tag of Champagne. I tszujed it with a wee mixer — a light strawberry syrup infused with basil — which made it pink and a little sweet and a little herbal. Perfect for a party.