PLATES FOR DAYS
A HOMECOMING [KINDA] AND A CLASS ACT
SOMEONE, SHOW ME THE STAGE!!
On Tuesday night, just as my mom, Harriette, had sent me a sweetest photo of her and Joe ordering a very early meal at Aux Anysetiers Du Roy – I was deep in the techno cave at Trabendo waiting impatiently like all the other enthusiastic Frenchman for the Macadam Crocodile show to start. Simon had bought these tickets a month ago and it was actually a perfect night for it. My mama and Joe had arrived a few days before (could NOT be more happy that they are here!! More on that later.) and were Normandy bound very early the next day. So, since they had already planned to be away from me that night it worked out like a dream.
Simon and I arrived at the venue after we had a small beer together near the train station. He went to check his collapsible bike at coat-check and I went to get us hydration – code for beers.
Enter, Clémentine. Ya’ll! Ah! She reminded me so much of my Margot – sweet, fashionable, no make up, beautiful, and looking like she just stepped out of a circa 1997 Ralph Lauren ad. I mean … just my style! I got up the courage and asked her (en français) if she had heard this band before. She said something very fast back and I had to admit to her that I was a student still learning the language and that I needed her to repeat what she said slowly. She did and was so kind!! We instantly fell in love. I got Simon and my beers as her boyfriend was walking up. A wildly handsome couple and so in love (again, just as my Margot is with her BF, Gabriel).
Before we walked into the show we ran into them. I had already told Simon about our interaction and when he saw her he asked (en français) “did you understand AC?” Clémentine said “oui” enthusiastically and went on to say that she was impressed by me. He turns and says “Très bien ma chérie” with a huge smile.
When we got inside (very similar to the venue I went to in London several months ago for another techno concert with friends. Who am I?!), we ran into a friend of his from his previous job. He introduced me and we talked with him and his buddies until the second the show started. Turns out, Simon had booked these DJs that we were there to see many moons ago for a work party when he and his friend had worked together – before they were well known. I only spoke French with the friends and Simon beamed. I think I really am starting to pick it up!
We danced. I’m talkin… DANCED all the livelong night. The music was incredible. The energy was electric. The mood was excitement. And the view was up close and personal! We were only a few rows back from the stage and felt like we could have touched the instruments.
As I was bustin’ a move and turning to see Simon behind me doing the same – who did I physically run into? Clémentine! Kismet!! (We ended up running into one another again two more times that night and at the end – she said this was meant to be and asked for my number. Swoon! Because, so I’ve heard, the French aren’t as easy to welcome new friendships - much less ask for numbers. Not for moi! I am making French friends left and right. We have a coffee date set for next Tuesday afternoon. I’m so excited.)
When Mr J Medeiros came out to rap – the crowd literally lost their minds. He just riffs - I think that’s what the cool kids call it when you just say/rap as fast as the words/rhymes become a thought. It was one of the coolest performances I have ever seen! Then! A saxophone player came on the scene. I can’t find his name for the life of me. But good LORD did he “blow” his heart out. I’m talkin’ next level! As the crowd went wild with all four of them on stage – one of the DJs demanded that everyone in the crowd join them. I was bashful to go up at first, but then, I couldn’t resist being with the herd of dancers. I was on the stage and practically playing the piano with the main DJ within seconds. I was right beside the two other performers and dancing like I had never danced before. (I have only ever done this one other time. Back in the day when I attended a concert with Luis B (who I’ll share more about later) at Chelsea Music Hall near the Meat Packing. I thought I was attending a low-key vibe concert, and then all of a sudden, they cranked it up. Again, before I knew it, when the invitation was extended to be on stage with the talent - I was first in line!)
We came home to dinner – an “Easter Nest” that is. A sweet treat that my mom had made (tradition in our family) and snuck in a checked bag for me. We ate them all and then crashed.
REWINDING TO OUR DAY WITH PASSARD
Friday morning. Simon and I woke up early. He had a presentation to send and I wanted to publish En Route before we consumed (way more than I even expected of) wine that day.
I had not slept a wink the night before. Too excited! We were about to have the day of a lifetime. I had mistakenly written in my last En Route that we were going to Alain Passard’s restaurant for this birthday lunch. Yet. Nope. We had been invited out to Alain Passard’s house in the country - 1.5hrs from Paris. It was incredible! And an experience that doesn’t come along… dare I say… ever?! You have to know someone – like the chef – to be invited.
Roba, Simon's friend whose birthday it was and also who is dear friends (lucky us) with Chef Passard, was all smiles when we arrived at her apartment that morning at 9:30am. There were six of us ready to hop in the van and make the adventure out to meet the rest of the crew. Roba drove and the rest of us sang, and gabbed in the back.
When we arrived we were greeted with a warm (not too hot - just right temperature) miniature mug of rosemary broth. It was like tea but tasted more like a soup, and super lite. We all were in shock and amazed at this place. Passard had converted this small chateau for a small family, into a wonderland. He had purchased all the land around it (as far as the eye could see) for his farm, and transformed the main house/kitchen into a grand dining room for these types of experiences.
The kitchen remained original. It was round and would have been a dream for all of my chef friends! Space for days. I immediately thought of my two Luises who are restauranteurs in NYC and Tulum, and my dear Southern Chef in JC, Erica. The way the soup was heated was on the stove in a kettle – Is the way Erica heats her soups (so traditional and chic). The way the vegetables were everywhere. Layers, on layers, on layers, as Luis A would have done – combining flavors that wouldn’t be remotely normal to the average person, yet tasted incredible when combined. And finally, the way Chef Passard hosted us – pausing everything he was working on in order to walk everyone through the story of this place or give definition to “why this dish.” He gave us the fairytale, so that when we ate, we would taste the MAGIC, as Luis B would have done.
We were given blue plastic slippers to go over our shoes so that we could walk the gardens without returning and ruining his gorgeous floor. I pulled a New Yorker and with one swift move had pulled off my heels, and put on my sneaks. No-one was the wiser – except Chef Passard. Fore, when he offered to put my blue slippers on me… he looked confused to see my shrunken height and changed shoes.
We saw acres upon acres upon acres of a vegetarian’s dream. All vegetables, all protected by a greenhouse, and all plants taken care of like children. They were tended to daily. I had never seen, or smelled, or tasted anything that, well, natural! As Chef Passard’s son, (another) Louis, led us on our tour – he would offer us a taste of what he was describing. Anonymously, our favorite, was the mertensia maritima. This plant tasted like …. Wait for it… oysters!
The tour led us back to the main house where we were finally given a glass of vin (something most of the guests, Simon and Roba in particular, had been ready for since we arrived at 11am). We were served a passed tray of vibrant crudités and cider. Next, came a poached egg custard inside an egg shell. It was a piece of art. It was made to look like a soft boiled egg – yet it was light and jammy. This was paired with champagne and instructions: Place your spoon at the very bottom of the egg shell and pull up. They wanted to ensure that we pulled every layer of flavor up in one bite. It was such a special, thoughtful, and delicate dish.
We were asked to sit at the table so that our feast (and I do mean feast!) could begin. The birthday girl was in the middle and all the friends poured in around her. Simon and I were seated with Mark, Natacha, and Juliette, and could NOT have been happier. We teased that we had the best crew. (Natacha and I too fell in love, as Clémentine and I have. I am happy to report that we too have a date together in a few weeks. And again, I wasn’t the one to ask for her number! I’m winning one Frenchwoman over at a time!)
By the 15th course served – Just wait! There were over 21 in ALL. Not including the starter broth in the mini mugs or the egg – Everyone started to make toasts celebrating Roba. They shared their story of how they all knew Roba and their fond memories of her. I may not have understood every word that was being shared, but what I did understand… was that Roba brings laughter. Because each one (even the sentimental toasts that brought tears) ended with a glass raised and an eruption of giggles!
As I mentioned, the plates didn’t stop coming. Another miss quote from my last En Route. We didn’t have 10ish courses as I had anticipated… We had DOUBLE. I have never eaten so many different things in one day in my life. It was magnificent! We all finished every plate that was served to us. Simon and Mark lucked up too – if Natacha and I didn’t finish ours they would get another bite.
Chef Passard is a sovereign of his kitchen and a master at plating. He gave us only about three or four bites on each plate so that we weren't overly full. But what we were all overly of… was … being drunk. We were all smiles and glazed eyes by the time the final dish — a rhubarb tart, with a background tune of “happy birthday to you,” was being served.
None of us thought we were drunk – because we had been eating the whole time. Yet, eh, we all were! We all had just been served a different glass of wine (that I’ve just learned isn’t available for purchase for the average person - only Michelin star chefs) to pair with every third or fourth plate. So the math … let’s just say… was not leaning in the sober odds.
When we left, Marion was our chauffeur. Aside from the several Chevy Chase moments … as she couldn’t get off the roundabouts and we couldn’t stop laughing… She did a wonderful job!
Next stop… Roba’s party. Oh!! You thought the lunch was her party??? Ha! No… it didn’t stop there. It continued in Paris with her 100+ closest friends for a DJ soiree. Where… eeeek… I should have stayed home. Because that night ended in tears. Don’t ask me why – ask the 75 bottles of wine I had before that! Pretty sure those had something to do with it!
FÊTE DE PÂQUES
The next day we were Ponthoile bound. Waking up – we saw that all of the trains were sold out until 2:30pm. Bad news initially. But then… Good news for us. That meant we could take a “second sleep” (my favorite thing to do. To wake up.. Have a morning. And then take a cat nap before really getting up.) When it was time… Simon went to get his bike that he had left at this office. I met him at Gare du Nord where I realized I didn’t have my credit card. Can I please blame that on the night of wine too? I found it when I returned. (But LAWD what a wild day + night.) We loaded into the train and stood for the first complete hour out. This train too would appear to be “sold out” but – welcome to France! Standing room only.
When we arrived in the country, we were greeted by Matthieu, Simon’s brother, who was at the train station waiting for us and his son, Mathurin – who happened to be with Simon and me on the train. He took our luggage along with Mathurin and drove home, as we biked.
When we arrived, we all had beers in the backyard with homemade beignets from Capucine, Matthieu’s daughter. (I teased that the beer was my breakfast (at 5pm) and the bigenet was my lunch (at 5:15pm) – these were the first things I had eaten since our feast.) We talked about the lunch Simon and I had the day before, and we all soaked up the vitamin d. Sun was out!
Before I knew it I was being asked to make an American treat for dessert that night. Simon's dad, Jean Claud’s vote?, chocolate chip cookies (with a side wink to me of “extra chocolate”). Since I don’t bake often – because ummmm I would eat everything! I have the sweetest of the sweet tooth! I had to quickly google a Bon Appétit recipe. I also took Simon’s advice and called my mom to ask her what her’s was. Her response “I'll have to get home and look at the back of the box.” hahahah she too doesn’t know off the top of her head. I’m so sorry to say – and hope Simon skips over this part… because this will break his heart. Constant homemade baked cookies in all American homes — close your eyes, Simon! — Is a myth. (Keep em closed Simon! Because while we’re at it – so is having pancakes every morning. Not ALL American’s do this.)
Needless to say. I made them. I kept them gooey… as I prefer. And they were a hit! While I assembled, Capucine and I spoke together. She in English, and moi en français. I love her!
This was the first visit out to Ponthoile where I finally felt like I was actually participating. Like I could understand what was being said – and add to the conversations. My favorite time yet!
On Easter Sunday, Jean Claude, Capucine, Maureen, bébé Côme, and moi all went to Mass. Shhhhhh… don’t let this out. Before we snuck out after communion (which was always what I was secretly praying for when I was a kid during service), I took communion! The most illegal act in Catholicism. And double bad. Because I broke the rule on the most important day of the year. Resurrection.
We arrived home to a beautiful display of food that Daniel, Simon’s mother, had made. We sat outside and had champagne with escargot wrapped in puff pastry and simply had the best time. All smiles as we watched bébé Côme walk through the yard hoping to find another hidden chocolate egg in the bushes. When I asked how many they had hidden for him to find. No one could answer! Hahaha they just planned to encourage his hunt all day and keep him occupied. Later, after he was satisfied with his bounty, Daniel, Simon’s precious petit chic mama, came outside with lifted shoulders covering her mouth as she giggled (her cute signature move). We poured in to see what had her tickled. Côme was hiding under the breakfast bar (so not hiding at all since two of him, stacked, could stand up under it) eating all of his candy. Some things are just universal, eh?! Pretty sure my niece and nephew would be doing this exact thing at some point during the day in South Carolina.
We had lamb, with lima beans, green beans, deviled eggs, wine, and for dessert – another homemade sweet by Capucine and Mathurin, tiramisu. I felt like I was back at home. We would have had the VERY same meal. Yet, replacing the lima beans with pea salad, and the wine with sweet tea. We all took naps after and then I kissed everyone farewell as Simon biked me to the train station. I was Paris bound for the night so that I could be “bright eyed and bushy tailed” for my mama and Joe the next morning! Over the moon! They were only hours away from me at this point!
THEY’RE HERE! TOUR DE RARRIE + YOYO!
I sped biked over to Île Saint-Louis once I received the “we’re in the taxi” text. They were finally in Paris!
The similes were contagious once we saw one another. And watching Joe see it all for the first time (his premier trip on European soil), I felt envy. What a gift that would be to see this place with virgin eyes. (It’s like how Simon felt with me last night when I was watching the two Ozark episodes that he watched without me. He kept saying “how lucky you are to get to watch this fresh.” He’s still completely obsessed with the series if you’re wondering. I derail…)
We did a major tour on our first day together. First stop… boulangerie, then the Pantheon, Jardin du Luxembourg, the Odeon, a Bateau on the Seine, lunch at Le Comptoir du Relais Saint Germain, back to Île Saint-Louis, stroll for an ice cream, and then their dinner at Poget & De Witte (where Joe was proud to tell me that he promptly made best friends with the owners. My sweet stepfather doesn’t meet a stranger). I left them to rest, and I’m happy I did. They were sound asleep by 8:30pm.
To pass my time… They had brought a checked bag of my summer things. So, I went home to unpack. The sentiment went something like this. “Thank you for bringing some of my things! I can get the rest when I come back in June.” My mother’s response, “What rest? This is all you have left. Sweetie, you gave everything away!” I was in purge mode when I left SC, and boy did I. Oh well, c’est la vie. Lucky me – the shopping is the best here!
We met at the Arc de Triomphe the following day at 11am. Joe was determined to get under the arc so we sought out to find the entry. We must have walked the entire circle (pulling another Chevy Chase) until we spotted a sign with an image of stairs. We walked under. Too busy talking to notice that we passed where to go UP, we had walked all the way! Turning around – We finally made it, and Joe started on his mission. To find his name. Like a petit enfant. (We finally did – hours later. L O U I S was in nice big letters on La Concorde.)
From the Arc de Triomphe we walked through Palais de Chaillot, we crossed the Seine, saw the Eiffel Tower up close and personal, had lunch at La Fontaine de Mars (steak frites, foie gras with fig and pistachio, escargot, tuna avocado, crème brûlée, meringue with strawberry + raspberry, and a bottle of chablis), walked to Hôtel des Invalides, crossed the Pont Alexandre III bridge, saw Petit Palais, walked down the Champs-Élysées to see La Concorde, walked through Jardin de Tuilerie, had a coffee break at Café Kitsuné, where we walked through my favorite – Jardin du Palais Royal, we roamed over to Simon’s office to wave from the street while he was on a call, walked through Les Halles, saw Tour Saint Jacques and Hotel de Ville, and then finally arrived back on Île Saint Louis where I left them and then biked home to change for my concert. Actually, just as the heavens decided to open up. I was drenched by the time I reached chez nous.
My mama and Joe have been in Normandy - having a ball! They got back last night. Today, I have planned another full day of touring: Meeting at Place des Vosges, walking to Cimetière de Père-Lachaise to find Jim Morrison’s gravestone, then on to Montmartre where we’ll see The Basilica of Sacré-Cœur, have lunch at a cute place, have an english speaking tour with Sandemans. Then, we will walk to Simon and my apartment for dinner – where will have made us his famous chicken and serve up his favorite dessert (that he ordered a week ago in anticipation! Precious! He wants them to have the best). En route to chez nous, we will pass Moulin Rouge - where after that, they will have officially seen it all!
I had shared with Matthieu, over Easter weekend, that it was mandatory for my mama and Joe to like their time over here. They must fall in love with it so they come a LOT. It needs to be perfect – it needs to be easy. I need them to experience how simple and wonderful it is that they can be in a completely new place in the world in a matter of hours (albeit, a ton of other things…taxi rides, planes, costumes etc ..). And now, even with only a few more days to go, I think it is safe to say (especially by all the pictures I am receiving from the two of them when we’re not together). That they are! Mission accomplished! I will have the pleasure of seeing them a LOT over here. As Simon said last night – They can come all the time… We have the extra room for them!
Xxo ac