J’aime la Neige! And Marshmallows too!

To say it snowed in New York last weekend would be an understatement.  A giant snowball of an understatement.  A post Cindy Lou Who-Grinch sized heart understatement.  It was the kind of snow storm that NY needs to have.  The kind where the snow stays around for a week or two, where piles are built up on street corners, daring every city dweller to trudge around or over the knee high billowy iciness.  It’s the kind of snow that stays white for a while (dogs be damned!!) and snowball fights are welcomed on the nightly bar crawl.

All that said, there comes those moments, when looking out the window at the snow topped buildings, the bundled people briskly walking past, that you are glad you are curled up on the couch in your newly acquired snuggie.  For me, all that was missing was some Chocolat Chaud, Marshmallows and a Wood Burning Fireplace…the WBF is still a NY dream for me, but the hot chocolate and marshmallows, well, let’s just say…it hit the spot!  Swiss Miss fans, stop reading here.  But if you are up for a treat, there is a whole wonderland of tummy warming goodness after the jump.

Parlez vous Francais?

I knew it would be addictive. I was warned. This online netflix service (you know, the gratification of watching movies instantly) might be the death of me.  I’ll omit the number of hours I’ve spent browsing selections and suffering through movies I would have neither seen in the theatre nor waited  to arrive in the mail, but I can assure you, had I taken up a different hobby, say knitting, I would be well equipped this winter with a closet full of sweaters and scarves.

Unable to kick this addiction, I decided that instead of wasting away my evenings watching cheesy and mind numbing flix…I would channel my energy into something possibly productive.   I turned my attention to foreign films, specifically, you guessed it, french ones.  There are hundreds on netflix: classics, comedies, dramas…and not only do I get entertaining plot lines, I get to listen and absorb the French language.  Clever huh?  I think so 🙂  Soon enough, if all goes to plan, on my next trip to Paris, I’ll actually be able to order dinner…

I’ve been catching up on some really awesome ones.  Not only are there beautiful actors, but the plot lines are very well done and directed…and here are a few that you should check out:

Ne la dis a personne:  action packed drama, full of suspense.  Plot twists and mystery, sure to keep you on edge.

A la folie…pas de tout: very interesting movie…I went into this thinking it was a romance, but it definitely offers much more

Hors de Prix: think Breakfast at Tiffanys but with a modern setting, and comedy to boot!  Plus, Audrey Tautou looks amazing.

Paris J’Taime: a collection of short films directed and acted by people who have fallen in love with Paris, and why…

and of course…

Amelie: cult classic in America already, it’s great movie about life, love and finding happiness in the small things.

True Blood? True Beauj…olais.

Vampires.  I can go on the record and say I’ve had more than my share of vampire related entertainment this past year.  A late comer to the Twilight series, like ever other tween, I too, fell in love with Edward Cullen (and have developed significant stalker qualities in all things Robert Pattinson related).  The first step to conquering an addiction…admitting you have a problem…I may.  On the otherhand, I tuned into the HBO series True Blood from the start.  And can say Season 2 hasn’t disappointed.  Two episodes left, I’ve turned Sunday night from the “night before Monday” into a full fledged, fully anticipated night of couch potato-dom.

While summer rain has put a damper on my tan, the past week I finally reaped the benefits.  A kitchen full of heirloom tomatoes, fresh arugula and cucumbers led me to one craving.  A light summer salad.  I diced the veggies, mixed the vinaigrette, and in minutes I had a wonderful side to the chicken I had put out to thaw.  Normally, I’d just grill some chicken breasts with some provencal seasonings, but hey, why not take a walk on the dark side.  If Sookie’s taking chances with every intimate Bill moment, I could sure spice things up.   Stuffing the chicken breasts with some prosciutto, buffalo mozzarella and basil from a previous caprese concoction turned out to be a wonderful addition to my summer side.  On top of it all, I had picked up a beaujolais from the wine store and had stowed it away in the fridge to chill.  A wine made from the gamay grape (a very light, thin skinned variety) is usually considered a Vin de Pay (table wine).  Served slightly chilled, it’s very refreshing during summer months when you might feel like red wine, but need the refreshment of a white or rose.  Served commonly as the house wine in Paris bistros, I became quite fond during my vacation.  It was the perfect accompaniment to a casual, delightful, dinner.

Some top choices I recommend:

Chignard Fleurie les Moriers 2006

2003 Louis Jadot Beaujolais-Villages

Georges Duboeuf Beaujolais 2007

The French Paradox

I just got home from completing my first JP Morgan 10KCorporate Challenge.  Pleased with my finish time and my overall pace, I decided that there was one teeny tiny part of French culture I may never conquer.  While in Paris, I was lucky if I saw ten runners at most.  And the ones I saw…well, let’s just say calling them “runners” is a stretch.  Not wanting to judge the display of joggers in jeans and Keds, crawling along at a pace I think my 16 year old dog could out-do, I laughed it off (albeit a little angry that somehow ALL French people are thin AND able to consume baguettes, butter, wine, butter…did I mention butter…on a daily basis) and decided that I could endure the weird glares as I ran along the Seine.  And in my short stay in Paris, who was I to make a generalization about an entire population?

Then I saw this post on David Lebovitz’s blog.  An American/pastry chef extraordinaire, he now calls Paris home and has for quite some time.  A recent blog entry highlights things he would miss most about Paris if he moved…let’s just say, I felt validated 🙂  Hopefully the part I can conquer is the ability to be healthy (the gym IS my friend) and indulge in fine French cuisine!

from http://www.davidlebovitz.com

2. The Lack of Wacky Diets & Exercise Freaks

With the exception of the woman I saw jogging last week in the Tuilleries wearing espadrilles, most people aren’t obsessed with exercise or working out. (If you’ve even been in a gym here, you’ll see why they likely avoid them.) The French are a sportif lot, but no one gets up at 4:15 am to do a circuit, take a Spin class, then pump iron for an hour before their morning wheat grass juice. Hence you see very few over-inflated gym bodies like you would in say, California. And I’m thankful for that.

Curiously you also fewer overstuffed bodies either. There’s a panoply of reasons for that, which get me into trouble every time I bring it up, but from what I see, few people here are afraid of food. I recall during a baking demonstration I was doing in the states and remember one person telling me they were giving up fresh grapes because “they had too many calories”…and another person asked my opinion of “low-carb chocolate.”

I doubt few people in France thinks fresh fruit is the enemy, and am certain that if low-carb chocolate had ever existed, it has come and it has gone—thankfully.

In the Land of Baguettes

It’s been a week since I boarded that plane back to New York.  With a full suitcase and a full stomach, it would seem I was going home with more than I left.  I had the memories, the stories, the mental pictures of the Seine, the Louvre, the clothes, the wine.  But what I didn’t board that plane with was my heart.  I left it in Paris.  Along with my one true love…the endless supply of the best baguettes I’ve ever eaten.  It was a love affair.  My love affair in the most romantic city in the world.

From famous boulangeries like Poilane to the local bakery, Fournil de Tolbiac, below our apartment in the 13th, every day was filled with the perfect ratio of crust to chewiness.  I have never felt more at home amidst the other Parisians carrying loaves under their arms, on their bikes, in their totes.  I’ve never felt more at home tearing off perfect bites as I strolled through the Marais.  Window shopping had never been better.  Impromptu picnics in the Parc Buttes Chaumont or the Eiffel Tower began to define my trip.  Sauccisson and fresh chevre from the Marche Monge or Les Marche des Enfants Rouge became a staple and the perfect partner to my prized pain.