defined by food

A master's thesis is a fascinating beast. I've quickly learned just how much it demands commitment, passion, and tireless effort. As such, my preferred mental break--besides writing an email to friends in Paris or crossing paths with another in New York--is magazines, those same ones I thought I'd wanted to work for just a few years ago. They're mostly light, inspiring reads. There is one common thread that's been bothering me in particular though: weight loss stories that begin with a women raised on food as love.

Food as love is not "the problem." Food is how we nourish ourselves and each other, share traditional memories, create celebratory moments together. Nothing about the affectionate nature of a meal prepared and enjoyed among others is problematic. Then again, I'm referring to a degree of appreciation for the experience that is often associate with the French; a secret cultural formula to being thin on wine, bread, cheese, and cream. What we may not realize is that the "secret" is literally taught, in the home and classroom.

At the molecular level, yes, food is fuel. But the human touch adds love, and we've been cultivating it into cuisines around the world for centuries. While in the Jura, I recall Claire telling us about French researchers that led a group of overweight men and women through a weight loss program focused, not on extreme exercise nor culinary deprivation, but a conscious respect for food itself. They learned how to taste. And in doing so, they also lost a healthy amount of weight and were able to keep it off.

We're privileged to be able to choose what we eat, where, and how. From most disciplines, academics have proven that “what kind of food one eats and how – organic, healthy, local, processed, vegan, or ethnic – is a serious cultural and political issue with vital consequences for one’s cultural lifestyle and identity,” (Hirose and Pih 1483). That's why I'm so curious to look at how 'global cities' define local cuisine and who participates in the process. It's also why I loved Saturday night's dinner with my brother. Before he went back to Arizona, we dined on delectable French dishes (a shared petit plateau from the oyster bar, bowl of chestnut soup, and lamb shank with carrots and potatoes), wine, and espresso at a restaurant with his namesake. We had such a good time. I told him all about my thesis research; he shared his judgement of the restaurant... :) he's become especially opinionated since working at Fortina's. He spoke about his spring semester schedule and hopes for the future, too. What if food is, and should always be, love?

recipes for cherished memories

Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, is about a month away. And once again I won’t be in the U.S. to celebrate. I'm already preparing to extra-miss my family. But, I also intend to do my best to recreate the shared meal experience with my community here. In Lauren's words, “Living so far from home turns those with whom we share our meals, our laughs, our fears and hugs into our family.”

I was reminded of the fact this past Monday as I hosted Lara and Lorelei for my much-anticipated "Breakfast for Dinner" party. Now, I am again as I recall Lauren and I's latest resto date. We not only enjoyed amazing neighborhood pizza (I was obviously thrilled), but we also discussed the upcoming Parisian Kinfolk Gathering she’s helped organize this Friday with the lovely Holybelly team.

By the way, did you know restaurants began in France after the Revolution? I found out while researching this paper last spring.

“First, it put many domestic cooks on the street, and second, it set many nouveaux riches in search of good places to eat, nouveaux riches in search of respectability and well aware that the dinner table has always served as a place to administer qualifying examinations to the upwardly mobile,” (Ory 457, La Gastronomie). This phenomenon can be viewed as a mild democratization of an opulent dining experience, which of course, was only available to those that could afford it. At the same time, there was an “extreme centralism” of French cuisine shifting from Versailles to Paris.

Some of my favorite memories with family and friends have taken place around a table, and not necessarily in someone's home. There's something so intimate about "breaking bread" together. Or enjoying Corsican pies at a contemporary créateur de pizza.

Speaking of pizza, it's been too long since Chrissie and I made our own. And she's been on my mind as she trains for the New York City marathon in memory of her father. Please consider donating to a very deserving person and cause? I promise to thank you tomorrow at The Kinfolk Table (assuming you're in Paris) and share my mom's stuffed pepper recipe. There are tickets left! “Come enjoy the simple pleasures of a shared meal, where we purposefully nourish ourselves beyond our physical hunger.”

super nature superfoods

Healthy, it's an elusive concept. My definition? Being healthy is spending time with people I love eating food I enjoy, food that nourishes me in the ways I need nourishing; falling asleep soundly and dreaming for 7+ hours; taking every opportunity to use my legs to explore, my arms to carry, and my core to hold it all together; taking alone time to reflect, rejuvenate; letting myself cry sometimes, but trying to laugh more often than not. To me, being healthy is being happy, and in that happiness, treating myself and all around me well.

My individual understanding of "healthy" becomes especially interesting when I place it in a distinct cultural context. Previously, it's been Ecuadorian, Chilean, and French... and now, even more specifically, it's Parisian. There are characteristics that remind me of the New York health food scene: organic open-air markets, green juice bars, vegetarian cafés. And then there are others that are distinctly Parisian: 3-course, prix-fixe brunches with dessert, for instance. A recent experience at Super Nature comes to mind.

Boy have I been craving healthy, in every sense of the word. The craziness of these past few weeks has meant lots and lots of mental stimulation, but it's also meant less girls nights, green vegetables, and quality rest. I've been sitting at my desk more often than not and stress-induced insomnia has all but replaced a good night's sleep. I can tell, too. I feel sluggish, breakouts have been more frequent and my clothes don't fit quite like they used to. And it's because the Hive last weekend that I reflected on it.

Believe it or not, I used to identify as "a healthy food blogger." I studied nutrition, ran a few races, and drank a ton of green smoothies. And then, at some point, I lost interest. I wanted to be able to embrace travel and food without worrying about whether or not it fit my narrow view of what was "good for me." I reveled in the joie de vivre. I become more flexible in my lifestyle. But, I never stopped caring; I still believe that if we don't feel our best, we can't possibly enjoy all the goodness around us. So, this is my pledge to focus on healthy living a little bit more in these weeks to come. It is possible to embrace healthy in a (dare I say it) healthier way, even here in Paris. And with that, I'm off to bed. Looking forward to cleaner eats and exercise tomorrow.

tasting the jura, part 2

Three days in the Jura passed quickly and slowly at the same time. We began each morning early. Our first day was spent exploring and gathering, our second consisted of visits and tastings. Dinner was never served before 8pm, and though the meals was enjoyed leisurely, I crawled into bed happily exhausted soon after. 

The third day was a bit different though. Before the Comté museum and after the tour of the fruitière, we stopped for lunch at a gastronomic restaurant: Graplot. It was a beautiful, three course affair.

{cheese chips, local sausage}

{glass of Poulsard, duck with avocado cream}

{white fish over lentils}

{chantilly-filled puffed pastry}

And right before returning to Paris, we stopped in the town of Arbois. I bought Comté to bring home of course, and the region's famous saucisse de Morteau for the boy (we later used it in this soup), a bottle of Trosseau for my French family, and six craft beers for a (soon-to-be) tasting with my friends.

I also ventured inside Maison Hirsinger to have a glimpse at the supposed chocolat vivant (living chocolate).

What to choose, what to choose? Everything seemed to be exorbitantly expensive, but then the professor told me about how Édouard Hirsinger never freezes his chocolate, only uses pasteurized cream, and handcrafts 95% of the chocolate his chocolatier produces, Could the fancy prices be worth it?

In three cases, at least... yes. I discovered this during our gourmet chocolate tasting en route to Paris. We tried our best to taste it correctly. The first was elegant and creamy with a passionfruit filling, the second, nutty, lithe, balanced (my favorite), and the third, bittersweet and powerful with a sesame coating. In other words, the Maison Hersinger was phenomenal, especially so thanks to my recent taste education. I've tried my very best to hold onto these sensory experiences ever since I arrived at Gare de Lyon at 10:10pm.

tasting the jura, part 1

Somehow, TA-ing a course entitled Food & Communications got even more enriching than it already has been; I had the fortunate opportunity to join the professor and 8 students in the Jura for three days of critical exploration to "gain an in-depth understanding of France's relationship to local foods, taste, and 'terroir'" as we "follow[ed] the renowned Comté cheese from cow to consumption." Talk about embracing "eating well".

We arrived in a small town three hours Southeast of Paris around 11am. Once we settled into the gite, French taste educator Claire Perrot led us through a study of "taste" and its implications by all the senses.

Then, we prepared lunch: fresh radishes with salt and butter, vegetable lasagna, green salad, and a medley of incredibly local goat cheeses with sliced bread. The meal began with a champagne toast, too, of course.

Following our leisurely déjeuner, we went out for a hike led by the gite's botanist. He not only explained the Jurassic history of the region but pointed out edible plants as well, most notably, stinging nettles.

While we had our second round of taste education, the botanist cleaned and prepped the stinging nettles we'd collected for two dishes. We prepared dinner after, and set the table with bouquets of wild flowers. 

And soon, dinner was served: stinging nettles croquettes and soup, river trout (caught by the neighbors) in a cream sauce with wild rice, another cheese plate, and an apple tart. Sitting at a table surrounded by others who were just as conscious and appreciative of the delicacies made the experience all the more special. It truly proved that "taste and pleasure are not about breaking the rules, but about reconfirming our relationship to the places from which our foods come, our ties with others, and our own sense of self." This glorious notion of terroir would continue as I met farmers, cheese makers, and cheese agers in the days to come...

good food, bad food

Last month, I announced I was TA-ing for an undergraduate course, Food and Communications. It's going exceptionally well :). So, despite the fact that I'm swamped with midterm assignments at the moment, I want to talk about our most recent topic: nutrition.

You may or may not know this, but our nutrition-based approach to eating is very much American. How'd it come about? In Quantifying the American Eater: USDA nutrition guidance and a language of numbers, Jessica Mudry explains: "In order to better 'assimilate' these new Americans, Progressive reformers, under the aegis of both public and privately funded organizations, attempted to teach Americans how to live, dress, be tasteful consumers, and eat," (235). Yep. Calories, a unit of measurement for energy + vitamins, organic chemical compounds obtained from the diet + all this scientific discourse was developed in order to promote citizenship and invent a "standard American diet."

What's the problem? Well, "the eater becomes a fictional aggregate of numbers and statistics," (Mudry 250). And when what we eat is based on hunger, availability, price, and desire, including the desire to 'be good' and 'eat well'... things get complicated. "On the one hand, our advice about the health benefits of diets based largely on food plants--fruits, vegetables and grains--has not changed in more than 50 years and is consistently supported by ongoing research. On the other hand, people seem increasingly confused about what they are supposed to eat to stay healthy," (Food Politics: How the Food Industry Influences Nutrition and Health, Nestle).

Most alarming is the fact that, "at the level of everyday experience, nutritionism has given rise to and promoted the nutritional gaze--a way of looking at and encountering food as being composed as nutrients, which overwhelms other ways of encountering and sensually experiencing food," (On the Ideology of Nutritionism, Scrunis 46). Why does it matter? Because in addition to confusing us, this 'nutritional gaze' also exceptionally distorts our relationship with food. As Carole M. Counihan pointed out in her book, The Anthropology of Food and Body: Gender, Meaning, and Power: "Personal expression of willpower and release of control only under certain culturally sanctioned conditions are the key issues in their relationship to food an in their overall ideology of life," (118).

"In fact, women are much more likely than men to be the targets of judgement comments made by both women and men on all topics related to eating. The acceptance of this fact and its constant reproduction by women as well as men reinforces the subordinate position of women, who are judged, relative to men, who do the judging. Given the importance of being attractive to men in the college 'culture of romance' (Holland and Eisenhart 1990), it is no wonder that my female informants devote a great deal of time and energy worrying about their weight and food consumption," (Counihan 125).

The fourth photo above is from last year's Thanksgiving dinner in Paris. The first three were taken the day before I left New York. On January 10th, my mom declared that neither she, myself, nor my sister had been able to enjoy it at home, so we should belatedly celebrate. Gosh do I love my mom. I may have figured out another reason I love Thanksgiving, too. It's one of the few days of the year I don't consider nutrition. No matter how much I've been inspired by alternative approaches, I suppose I'll always be American in this way. Maybe I'm okay with that though. 'Good' food can have a place in my diet... just as long as I leave room for other 'good food', too. With National Eating Disorders Awareness (NEDA) Week in mind, I sincerely hope you're able to do the same.

sweet & savory in marrakech

This past week, I officially became a paid (!) teaching assistant (TA) for an undergraduate course: Food and Communications. I'll be helping my former professor with two of her other classes as well, but this one is the one I'm most involved and interested in. Surprise, surprise, huh? I'm very much nerdily excited.

The students are required to read two readings for next week; one being Food as a Cultural Construction by Anna Meigs. In the article, she explores "how food and eating ... are understood as a means that unite apparently separate and diverse objects and organisms ... in a single life" by the Hua, a small population living on Mount Michael in Papua New Guinea. A few excerpts:

"Food systems are, like myth or ritual systems, Douglas says, codes wherein the patterns by which a culture 'sees' are embedded."

" Reciprocal gift exchanges, often of food, bind members of a society together in relations of mutual participation and unity," (Mauss).

"Eating is understood and analyzed by Robertson Smith as a way of establishing physical unity not only with the deity but also with one's fellow humans." 

"In the act of eating [in the Hua conception] one is connecting oneself with the world, opening one's body and one's self to the dynamic influences of properties, vital essence, and emotions of other organisms."

In general, I approach food in four ways: nutritionally, based on cravings, for convenience, and/or in the spirit of tradition. This is why eating, for me, is such a vital part of any travel experience. I put aside most of my food-related habits in order to embrace those of the people raised in the place--thereby, beyond simply enjoying their culinary delicacies, understanding (or at least, exposing myself to) their culture even further.

On our Saturday evening in Marrakech, Leslie, Anna, and I headed to Jemaa el Fna. Each week, in this large historical square, local restaurants set up stalls to serve dinner. Anna's handy guidebook advised us to focus on those stalls which were visibly popular with the Moroccan community for the best and most fresh food.

I'm pretty sure we began with bowls of Harira (tomato-based, chickpea) soup. I'm only uncertain because we didn't ask :) just ate. Next, we ventured to another stall for our main course. I enjoyed a bowl of beef couscous and roasted potatoes... which both went un-photographed because I simply ate it too quickly.

To wrap up our dinner adventure, we walked over to the carts serving mint tea and dessert. I opted to try what I believe to be similar to these Moroccan-Date Bonbons. And, I didn't like them, at all.

Honestly, when it comes to dessert, I mostly just love chocolate. Furthermore, I wouldn't consider myself a big fan of Moroccan food in general. My palate just doesn't understand why fruit has such a prominent place in savory dishes, and apparently it doesn't understand desserts spiced with cardamon either.

I do appreciate Moroccan cuisine a whole lot more though. Begrir or Moroccan pancakes, for instance, are amazing; especially when paired with fresh, salty eggs, natural strawberry marmalade, sesame bread, and the best fresh-squeezed orange juice... ever a.k.a. the phenomenal breakfast at the riad.

I've also discovered how freaking good a tagine--a slow-cooked dish with traditional spices, tender braised meat, aromatic vegetables, and sweet prunes--could be. We spent our Sunday exploring the "new city" and stumbled upon an unassuming Café Bourneix. Their beef tagine, the second of my 3 courses, was fantastic.

Unfortunately or not, besides these two "authentic" meals we dined at restaurants which visibly catered to tourists. It seemed as though the only eateries flanked with locals served fast food... even if there was great Moroccan food to be found elsewhere. This led me to hypothesize that eating out didn't have the same significance to Moroccans as it does to Leslie, Anna, and I. I could be wrong or I could be right, I don't know. 

Either way :) it was a wonderful experience. I have one last Marrakech sight to share and then it's catch-up Parisian time with a bit of news. Wishing you a great weekend! I'm off to visit my French family in Melun.

how to drink well in paris

In the past few months, I've learned two unspoken rules in the Parisian bar scene. First, not to accept drinks from strangers. Apparently "let me buy you a drink" translates to many strings attached, more so than I've ever had experience with in New York. Second, drink as much as you'd like while maintaining composure. Why? Well, "in France, there's no culture of going out and getting drunk." I believe it... even if I've seen my fair share of visibly belligerent men and women. These two "rules" matter little though as I've gotten to the maturity level at which I want to go to a bar to enjoy who I'm drinking with and what I'm drinking; and most of the time that means two glasses, not five with a shot. Here are (more) of my favorite places to do so:

While doing the field work for one of many research papers, I had to frequent wine bars. Oh joy :). The first favorite I found was Ô Chateau. Thought notably "less French" than many others, it's convenient (near Les Halles) with a friendly, not intimidating approach to wine tasting. Plus, there are nearly 40 bottles open at all times, plenty of flights, a full menu, and sommeliers are fantastically multilingual. It's great for groups, too. A lot less spacious and across the Seine is L'Avant Comptoir.

This place is more "French" in that only a few bottles are opened at a time. It is less so in that patrons must stand and share their bread and butter with their neighbor. All of it makes for a fun atmosphere, and the "real French hors'doeuvres" are absolutely phenomenal. What ended up being a complimentary platter of charcuterie was also the best I've ever had.

As for my neighborhood favorite, Le Garde Robe has stolen my heart. The cave à manger environment is wonderfully warm and convivial to the point that the amazing sommeliers recognize almost everyone that comes in. That's in addition to being able to discuss your wine preferences in English or French and serve incredibly fresh food. On my first visit, Edna and I were even greeted with a complimentary appetizer to taste. Miam. It may not be the cheapest wine bar, but I'll be back time and time again.

For cocktails, I prefer the bar behind Candelaria, but I recognize that's because my liquor of choice is tequila and their "guapo" cocktail is to-die-for. I also very much enjoy Sherry Butt and Curio Parlor on the Left Bank. When my mom and sister were in town, we had the chance to visit the infamous Harry's Bar. It's a little bit of New York in Paris with a history of Ernest Hemingway and the Bloody Mary; worth experiencing. For the best happy hour deal though, head over to my favorite "dive bar", Red House.

When it comes to beer, for the most part, Parisian bars are not the places to be. I mentioned once before that beer is a popular happy hour drink, and it's true, it is, but that's only because of the affordable price point. In general, it seems to me that beer is just not drank with the same pleasure that wine is. If you do appreciate good beer in a cozy bar, I'd suggest La Fine Mousse for a wide range of artisanal brews, many of which happen to be French. The Little Red Door also serves a limited but thoughtful menu of quality bottled beers.

The timing of this post may be ironic as I assume many of us are focusing on eating and consuming cleaner in the New Year. These are my thoughts the matter: We have one life to live, to love... and in that sense, the perfect blow out and/or flat stomach matter little. It's about enjoying, savoring, making the most of the opportunities we provide ourselves with. Must we be conscious? I believe so. We cannot appreciate new places or old friends without our health. Maybe my point is that although we must be healthy in order to live, we must be wary not to live to only be healthy... wouldn't want to miss out on all the fun, right? ;)