LET THEM EAT CAKE
...THEN PURGE
Ok. So this is WILD. Over the past week I have thrown up twice. I don’t mean this to be so gross right off the bat – but I haven't thrown up in YEARS so I feel it’s worth sharing. My sweet Jane (my pregnant bestie who was the main star in nearly all of my Italian En Routes) threw up nearly every meal we were together … because ummmm … she’s pregnant! An actual (very exciting) reason to be getting sick – growing a boodle boy! I, on the other hand, have NO reason. Just too much decadence I suppose.
I had a LOT of compassion for Jane during my heaving bathroom episodes that went down (or came up rather) this past week. Just wait for it.
So… where did I leave off?
…Ah, yes, I do believe I was running off to another dinner with Simon when I published the last EN ROUTE. He is spoiling me! Taking me to the best restaurants but also by way of the best transportation – his motorbike. I can’t get enough! I met him at his office and we motored over to the 11th Arrondissement. Miranda, one of my NYC besties who lives here in Paris now, used to live in this hood with her husband Nico – it’s a dream! We ate at Le Chardenoux – the greatest food and the greatest leçon. He let me tourist my way through the night by taking pictures of the food and us, and stumbling through the menu to order. When he’s with me - his pride infects the waiters and they become proud of my speaking-French attempt too! Very sweet.
BIENVENUE MADAME
Lady Paris rolled out her red carpet for Vivian, as she had for moi on the day I arrived almost two months ago. Rain was in her forecast, so V and I both couldn’t be happier. Cozy SoHo hammam and sauna… here we COME! I thought this would be a nice arrival activity – hydrate before we dehydrated with the ample glasses of chablis and bottles of vin we were in store for!
After our upgrade at SoHo we aimed to dine at Pink Mama, a nearly impossible restaurant to get into for dinner these days. When the line was quite literally around the corner with two minutes to spare of them even opening the doors.. We decided to bolt. We walked past Le Bon Georges (where Lori and I had eaten just days before) and opted to go since the menu was completely different from the last time I dined. Fresh! We took a table for two (meant, I think, for drinks only – so they accommodate by bringing over stools for more room. I mean… where was the bread and frites going to go?!) We ordered fish with squash (what made me très projectile), boeuf tartar, a bottle of chilled red – Domaine A.F. Gros Moulin a Vent (Viv is a wine connoisseur so I ALWAYS take note of the grapes she’s drawn to – this bottle was incroyable) and to top it all off, dessert was cream with strawberries.
Warning… My first purge is in the next few lines that follow. If you can’t stomach it (pun) … skip to the next paragraph. You’ve been warned. Minutes into the meal I got the sensation to swallow. You all know that sensation!! I couldn’t stop swallowing actually. I then realized that I had eaten all the yellow squash. The nearly al dente squash. This is not a good combo for moi. [This exact sensation happened to me once before after eating a salad with this type of squash — and right before a BibOn event that fortunately my mother had come to town for. She had to take over while I cradled myself in the fetal position until it passed. AWFUL. So… ehhh… no more yellow almost raw squash pour moi]. Midway through dinner I felt it. I didn’t want to ruin Viv and my first night together so I sucked it up - literally. I then broke down when she noticed that I wasn’t eating or drinking or talking (that’s probably what the dead giveaway was that I wasn’t well. I was silent!). I confessed and as soon as I did I made my way through the PACKED restaurant and miraculously directly into the only bathroom in the place — that happened to not be occupied. GREENLIGHT. Not seconds after I shut the door did a lady try to come in. Can you imagine? What if she had beat me to it? I would have ruined everyone’s dinner! (eeeek. And actually, almost did. I cupped my mouth EN ROUTE to the loo. No one saw - I hope! - but I actually threw up in my hands. BEYOND gross.) I made it into the Uber and home just in time to create a pillow bed around the toilet in my pied-à-terre so that I could pop up and purge all the livelong night. Viv was the most caring guest EVER as she let me blare my sound machine to muffle the heaves.
Oooops I lied. Skip over this paragraph too because I'm going straight into the next purge story to get over with the grossness sooner. Simon made me dinner in his beautiful home in the 17th on the night Vivian left Paris, on July 4th. I didn't dare tell him that I got sick after — because it was such a sweet meal. Alas.. the second I saw him preparing octopus my throat felt the same as it had a few nights before with fish. I wasn’t ready to digest that soft-bodied, eight-limbed mollusc. I KNEW this wasn’t going to sit well for me… and yet what’s a student to do when her professor is preparing her a meal and teaching her how to say phrases to accompany the leçon? I loved his effort and wanted to show him so by eating every last bit. Bad idea! I took an Uber home that sick night too and the second – I'm talking the very second I got fresh air on the street waiting for my driver I got the swallows. I made it all the way home miraculously without uttering a word to the driver or giving a sign I didn't feel well. (Well… except… I did roll down the window and keep my green faced head out the WHOLE TIME like a dog would. So… now that I think about it… that’s probably why he whipped around to scan his seats when I got out. Checking for traces of what he knew was in my near future.) Upon getting in my elevator and taking the short four flights up I removed one of my shoes and threw up in its base ummmm three times. I know that sounds disgusting - because it was! But I thought it was quite clever actually. I reached my bathroom and given my practice a few days before – I set up a comfy pallet again. Hours later I finally stopped.
Ok my little weak stomach readers... it’s safe to continue again…
LET THEM EAT CAKE
The next day Viv and I were Château de Versaille bound. This is when I learned that Marie Antoinette was famously quoted as saying “let them eat cake.” I LOVED that! I have a sweet tooth too, Marie!!!! Vivan had to break it down for me. She said that is absolutely not what she meant. She wasn’t serving her people cake. She was instead saying “I’m rich.. So I can do what I want, and you can let them eat cake” – code for let them eat $%^&. Boo. I didn’t like that. So I’m pretending Marie, my sweet tooth homegirl, didn’t mean it. I’m pretending she truly DID want them to eat actual cake and that the only bad association with her statement was that she was encouraging cavities. In honor of Marie, and our love for eating sweet cake, I stayed in a sugar high and happy state the whole time Vivian was in town!!
Maybe it’s all the period pieces I have watched over the past years… The Tudors, Outlander, The Empress to name a few (wha?!! I love a good period piece and as Vivian and I discussed, they’re even better when it’s about the woman. I mean someone cue up a Kira Knightly film quick! Any will do. Pride & Prejudice, The Dutchess, Colette, Anna Kirenian! You’ll see what I mean!) but with each garden hedge turn at Versaille, I thought can you imagine all the affairs that happened in these bushes?! You could get lost for days in the bush – property went on for miles.
[Sidebar – do you all think the same as I do when you watch a period piece though? My first and practically only thought throughout the entire show/film is how bad is their breath?! I mean these all took place eons (not really) before there was dental care. Yuck with a capital UCK!]
We saw the fountain shows (superb) and the Hall of Mirrors, of course, (have to! spectacular) and then were EN ROUTE to dinner, where we made our way past the Eiffel Tower to L’Assiette. Here, one of Vivian’s favorite restaurants, we had rabbit, lamb cheeks, caramel pot de crème, café au laits - that came with a FULL tin of ladyfingers, and calvados. They wouldn’t serve our coffees with our dessert when we asked. I think they were flirting with us. They said “that’s not the way we do it in Paris.” And here I thought the French invented the dessert with coffee after dinner mood. We were both craving for them to be together. Alas wanted to do it right! So we waited. It was actually so nice and it lengthened our stay which is EXACTLY what the French invented. Longest of long dining experiences. J’adore!
During Viv’s trip we had champagne at Bistro Saint Dominique, went to Aussi Also to get her new glasses (on a whim. So spontaneous and fun), Bambino (which turned out to be one of our all time favorites! The food! The vibe! The Records! The staff!), Chez Janou of course (It’s not a trip to Paris to see AC if I haven’t taken you here. It’s my favorite – as I’ve mentioned in previous EN ROUTES. This time we made friends from Germany, Vanessa and Jenna – who were also on a girlstrip and sat beside us), Musée National Picasso-Paris (on the first Sunday of every month this museum, along with others around the city, are free), Galeries Lafayette, Aux Merveilleux (for a sweet treat), Freddy’s (where we spent close to SIX hours at the bar eating, drinking, visiting with Max – Viv’s friend, who happens to be a renowned fashion photographer and living in Paris.. New friend alert), and saw the fullest of FULL MOONS.
The final 24 hours before Viv departed, we found ourselves roaming the streets of Montmartre. She kept saying “I don’t need to see Moulin Rouge” anytime I’d rattle off what the highlights were around the hood if she wanted to go to any. And lo and behold. With our croissant and escargot pistache chocolat from Boulangerie Gana Clichy in hand – we nearly ran into the rouge building with the infamous windmill on top — Moulin Rouge. We were so close. Paris is a small town (more on that later – but it’s truly no shocker that we stumbled upon a landmark like this.. It’s small).
We wound through the streets of Montmart and then found our way back down the hill where we had started when she arrived. SoHo House. We took a steam and sauna and then lunch outside at Café Père Tanguy. When she got the news that her glasses were already ready (Amazes me. Takes 45 minutes on average to get a waiter’s attention to even order a drink in Paris. And yet, only one full day to turn around a pair of bespoke prescription eyeglasses?! – something that takes weeks in the US. Wild! I derail…) she hopped on a train to get those, went to her favorite jewelry store while out to get a gorgeous ring, and popped into Paraboot to buy some very cool suede shoes before we both took a short nap-snooze. The past four/five days had us habitually buzzing. That day in fact we had decided to not drink anything. Felt amazing to detox! After our cat nap we walked Tuileries Jardin at night. Bliss!
PETIT MOND
When we were walking back from Tuileries – taking a street I rarely walk – on a mad hunt for glacé, I heard “AC! AC!” Would you believe it? One of my NYC friends, E’lana, was standing on the corner with her baby. I was SHOCKED. Paris was becoming a petit monde pour moi… small world for me. I’ve heard it does – as NYC did and Charleston does for me – but I had no idea it would so soon! I was supposed to meet up with E’lana and Miranda the day before (they’re childhood besties who I loved so much in NYC). Yet Viv and I were busy at the Picasso Museum trying to figure out what in the world he was attempting to paint during all of his many (blue and stripe to name a few) periods (incroyable!) – so I missed her. Run-in-on-the-street.. across the ocean.. on a random block in Paris?! You know what’s comin… GREENLIGHT!
This morning we strolled beside the Louver, we had a chilled water …and a good tourist gaze… at Cafe Marly, and we made our way over to Saint Germain for lunch. One of Vivian’s favorite restaurants is here, L’Avant Comptoir de la Terre. Now, one of mine! We had the most quintessential french meal. We started with foie gras (unreal!) with the most delicious loaf of bread, followed by melon and prosciutto, and then a frisée salad. It was EVERYTHING! On our way over we popped into Bensimon for new sneaks. And, If you can believe it… I ran into another familiar face! This time it was a Charlestonian.
I was talking to Vivan about Gold Bug, a CHS brand, when all of a sudden I was like.. Wait a minute… either Charleston is on the brain and I’m mistaking that person, OR, I know her and she IS from Charleston!! As we got closer I heard her children talking and yep! They were southerners all right. I stopped Alison Clark, reintroduced myself and we both had such a laugh. She had just arrived for the full summer (LUCKY!!) and was EN ROUTE with her kiddos to make croissants in Paris. Très petit mond!
LOCKDOWN
To give Vivian some solo time in the apartment to pack up and get prepared for her trip, I went for a run. It was a gorgeous day and Katy Perry was belting away “Rise” in my ear as I started getting text messages from Viv. I assumed she was saying how lovely the time was, that she wished she could stay longer, that she had never been happier… and then I opened them. She was LOCKED IN my apartment!! There was no way for her to get out without a key and I was some umpteen blocks, a few museums, two large parks, and one bridge away from home. Some of the apartments are like that here. I don’t have a knob on my door – just a key. So you can’t enter or leave without one. I mistakenly locked her IN – muscle memory – when I went for my run. Lucky for her, and me both, I needed to burn off the drinking & eating calories, so I kicked into high gear and ran faster than I had for the past hour … all the way home. Made it back miraculously in 10 minutes to save the day (and her Uber bill). With a double air biso (smooch) since I was ummmmmm drenched and panting — she was off.
That night Simon picked me up on his motorbike and we made it to his apartment before the MAJOR orage. Lightening and thunder, mon préféré! He made me dinner and taught me at the same time. What talent! We laugh a lot because his pronunciation comes with French enthusiasm and hand gestures – mine come with a lot of pointing and head scratching. I ask questions in french (present tense only still) then translate it in English so he knows what I’m asking. He tells me in french – has me guess what he’s saying in English, makes me write down everything as he spells it out for me – and then he tells me in English. We do this all night. He says même a lot to me. It means “same” – when I told him I couldn’t have cooked for him that night because it was laundry day at Chez Anne Caroline (you should hear the French say my name. It’s like music!) and clothes were out drying in my apartment… he said “même. Je suis maniac.” WHA???? You callin’ ME a maniac!?? This was his way of saying we are both neat freaks - to be clear.. Neat freak is not a maniac make! But I love the mix up with words.
[Sidebar – My friends who’s native tongue is Italian, yet lives in Mexico, so speaks Spanish, and with me, speaks English… did this once. Said a word that didn’t necessarily match her thinking, yet didn’t necessarily not match. This girlfriend, Franci, used to say after a long night out dancing in Montauk, “I am devastated” when she meant “I am exhausted.” J’adore!!! One of my favorite sayings still!] I love learning a new language. It’s même for everyone! We all make mistakes. And use words we have recently learned to replace words we don’t know yet. So fun! And sometimes silly!
I don’t need to finish with what happened next at this dinner. You all know the story. Starts with an octopus .. ends with a shoe and empty stomach.
This week I have no friends in town, so I will be EN ROUTE to roam around PARIS solo (although, I think I’ll get to see Jesse for a bit during it. He’s just returned from a week away in Copenhagen). This is about to be my final week in my 8th Arrondissement apartment before I figure out the next move for the rest of my stay.
Until then – biso biso Xxo