Thursday Kitchen: "I love Paris in the summer, when it sizzles..."

Once in a while, I do the dumb thing and actually give a business my main email address. This doesn't always backfire on me... there are some places of which I truly would like to know about sales or special events the instant they apply. For those from whom I don't want to be e-harassed, I do the cowardly thing. I give them the email I never check. Somewhere in the vastness of the net, my Yahoo account is bloated and bulging at the buttons from all the junk I was too polite to decline by simply saying, "I'm not interested, thank you."

For some reason, a local restaurant here in town has my email. I can't remember when I gave it to them or how, but I received my first email notice today. They were advertising their end of summer treat. Oh! You better hurry! After the end of August they'll run out of France's favorite summertime treat: Brie!

I deleted the notice with a chuckle... I spent nearly two months in France... and I actually do not recall encountering brie even once. The three most prominent cheeses I found on menus, pizzas, and even in the homes of the locals were Emmentale, Roquefort, and Camembert.

This email slander on the great cheeses of France plus a little video my friend sent me today (Check it out and wear headphones... eight minutes of total insanity with no special effects whatsoever: http://www.vimeo.com/2840720), I started thinking of the food I ate in France that glorious summer...

I was one of the lucky ones. Not only did the College offer me a healthy grant to play in the south of France, I had a friend who had a sister who had a flat located in Enghien... one of the more quiet and charming corners of Paris. I could see Sacré Coeur from my bedroom window and hear people all over the city cheering as France won a game in the World Cup series that summer. I left home two weeks ahead of the rest of my class to stay with my friend's sister and I traveled around by myself all over Paris.

All college students look at their funds and make decisions on how they're going to spend it. Some want to see the sights or travel to neighboring countries on the weekends. Others want to buy stuff that they can show off when they go home. The young ones who are yet to be legal in the States drink themselves into oblivion. Me? I ate food. I ate alone, with old and new friends, and hung out with my host mother who introduced me to her country more clearly than any guide book or professor.

I remember once in Paris, overlooking the funky Stravinsky fountain outside Le Centre Georges Pompidou. I wanted to order some pasta... I know it was simple... I know it had this beautiful, mouth-watering light cream all over it, but what I remember most is the waiter. I don't remember what he looked like or what he said his name was, but he was the first waiter with whom I interacted on my trip and my French did not spurn him into speaking English. After I finished my meal, he looked down at my feet and said he liked my sandals... I very well may never throw those silly things out. Those of you who know me, they're the black sandals with the daisy on the big toe strap!

I made a point, like a good little tourist, of visiting Montmartre and some of the places one sees in the film Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain. I went to the funky little grocer, Maison Collignon, at the corner street and bought an apple, a Perrier, some postcards, and a chocolate. Then I went to Les Deux Moulains where the main character of the movie worked as a waitress. It looks pretty different now, but I ordered a dish I had read about in every single French language textbook I had used since 7th grade... Croque Monsieur. It's a large piece of bread smothered in béchamel (the most exquisite sauce in the entire world) and topped with ham and cheese. It's served warm with the ham slightly singed and the cheese browned. Simple, and so yummy...

My French friend I knew from the States met me during my trip and drove me to Lyon where she insisted I try "Ke-bab". This is actually Greek food, and you'll find some version of it at the Greek festivals and some Italian eateries, but it will NOT be the same. I wish I could put my finger on what the difference is... it's that shaved meat wrapped in a pita with Tziki sauce and served with fries. I don't know if they use different spices, lambs, or what, but I haven't had one better than the "ke-bab" in Lyon.

She also took me to many cafés. In France, their equivalent to the British tea time is anytime you can stop to take a coffee (to us, an espresso) in a café somewhere and smoke. We went to several of these places together and I never complained about the great coffee you can find in France. I have three cups that I acquired from visiting these places... all typical European demitasse cups. With my French friend, I acquired a blue one that reflects the backwards word on the saucer the right way on the wall of the cup and a pretty pink one. From the place I went to drink my coffee every day before class, the man working there gave me a beautiful white demitasse that has an art print on it with these rectangles that look remarkably like cards lifting in a line over the design. It's my favorite one.

My French friend also cooked for me while I was visiting her family in the countryside of Romans. She made the most amazing couscous (I have a recipe now that reminds me of it, but it's not nearly as good) and this gorgeous, huge paella. The beauty of these dishes almost made it hard to tear into them... so fresh, so flavorful... After these meals, we'd sit on the porch and drink Ricards until our eyes popped out. I think you can only drink this in summer... it has a coating licorice taste that never comes off the tongue but cools the throat the rest of the un-air-conditioned night.

My host mother had me try several things. First, she made me my first steak in about 14 or 15 years since I had stopped eating red meat when I was 10 years old. She barely did anything to it. She bought the meat from a VERY local (down the street local) butcher and cooked them in a pan on the stove. I don't think she even put spices on it. It didn't taste like any steak I had had before. I don't know if that's a freshness factor or if she seasoned her pans with pixie dust or what.

Second, she taught me to make three things: an apple cake, lemon ice cream, and lentils. This might sound simple, but at the time I was still working on making omelette's properly. The apple cake is still one of my favorites... particularly to make one evening for dessert and then have another slice in the morning for breakfast with a strong cup of coffee. The lentils... I still can't make them they way she did. It was my first time trying lentils... and on a hot, southern France day, it was the perfect, light dinner after class (she was not required by the program to make me dinner, but even when she went away on the occasional weekend, she always left me something). I can't replicate the ice cream at all, but I remember how it tasted... like a cold lemon cookie. We wrote these recipes down in French in my journal...

Thirdly, she took me out after the movies one evening to a place where I tried bison. The restaurant was this weird Texan/burger joint that she wanted to take me to so I could tell her how American it really was. I've never come across bison burgers in Virginia... just ostrich (which is game-y and weird). I don't remember anything about how it tasted... because I had it the one time and it was so strange. It didn't really resemble anything that I could explain... maybe a cross between beef and something exotic like alligator or shark.

Lastly, she offered me this alcohol... I remember you're supposed to have it before dinner to cleanse the palate or help prepare the body to digest. The liqueur is called gentian and it tastes like peppered flowers baked in the sun. Wonderful for summer. She prepared a bottle for me to take home with me... I can't bare to open it. I still have it sitting in the fridge.

I made a friend in France. I didn't mean to, it just sort of happened. We were joined at the hip after spending one lunch together. She's from Greece and was just about the loveliest girl I've ever seen in person. It was torture to be out with her... I don't care who you are... if you stand next to her, no one is looking at you. Luckily for me, boys were definitely at the bottom of my list (I went on one abysmal date while in Montpellier with this Swiss guy who thinks he's Gd's gift to the whole lowly, stupid planet), so it was easy not to be too bothered.

We went on two memorable food adventures. The first was the beach! My host mother had taken me to a restaurant on the beach, but this was different. When you visit the beaches in the south of France, you can just lay there and listen for the cart wheels whirring in the sand. There are vendors that walk up and down the beaches with so many delightful treats... sodas, coffee, snacks, and best of all, French donuts! After having a quick drink at a beach bar, my friend and I laid lazily on our towels on the sand and flagged down the occasional vendor to bring us sodas and beignets. It's where I learned what that hole in the pull tab of a soda can is for: you turn it to the freshly opened hole and stick your straw through it (a cheeky boy vendor "educated me" on the matter).

The second major adventure was in the heart of the city. She and I walked down several busy streets before finding a quiet restaurant lost between two long rows of the backs of buildings. This place specialized in pizza- any pizza you can imagine! We ordered the one with Roquefort cheese... and believe me, that was an adventure. That's the really stinky cheese (though not France's stinkiest) with green spots all throughout it... and I'm not lying when I say on this particular pizza... well, it just worked. It was sort of a last dinner thing, too, so my friend and I were very emotional. She was the one who was there to help me get on the train, hug me Goodbye, and wave sadly to me as the train pulled out of the station...

The food in France was amazing... a bundle of experiences I never saw in movies or could encounter accurately in any other place in the world... but I miss eating it with Vincente and Georgia the most.