better french

Classic French food is often characterized by words like rich, hearty, fancy, and complicated. It can be. And as such, I only have it so often. I've found more than one neo-bistro serving lighter (and in my opinion, better) alternatives though. A little over a month ago, for instance, Edna, Milsters, and I dined at Restaurant Miroir.

The bistro itself is tucked into a small side street in Montmartre, just steps away from the gritty Pigale metro. It's otherwise unassuming, but once inside, we found that it was both cozy and sophisticated. And best of all? They serve an 18€ lunch menu. In the midst of easy conversation, I enjoyed a popover-like amuse bouche , red wine, crusty bread, white fish over celery root purée with yellow beans, and un petit café with chocolate mousse, a brownie bite, and an almond cookie. It was delicious, and such a steal.

Yesterday afternoon, in contrast, I met my favorite professor for lunch at a simple brasserie. Beef with shallots, a side salad, and potato gratin sounded like a tasty idea, but afterwards, I felt horrible. A sinus pressure headache, chills, and full-body achiness soon followed. By the time my Valentine came over to pick me up for our romantic evening (with flowers, by the way), I was ready to go... but knew I shouldn't. We ended up staying in with dim sum and a movie. I fell asleep early, and didn't eat a thing. Today, I skipped classes and hardly feel 100%. I really need to get better soon! We leave for Rome tonight.

peering in

Before I begin with my musings, I need to tell you one thing: I almost just titled this post "pearing in", as if it had something to do with a stone fruit... or something. Hah. At least I didn't try "peaking in"?

Anyway :) happy Valentine's Day, and happy belated 18th birthday to my little sister. I hope you have something special planned for today. On my lovely agenda: a very long day of classes followed by dinner for two at a fancy restaurant. Oh, to have a boyfriend and be living in Paris! What a difference a year makes.

And yet, for as much as I'm looking forward to celebrating a new relationship in a city infatuated with romance, I can't help but fondly look back on Valentine's Day pasts: February 14, 2006 was the last time I spent Valentine's Day with a boyfriend, February 14, 2009 was the last time I spent Valentine's Day away from the only boy I've loved, and I've spent every February 14th since then in the company of girlfriends.

With each year, I've learned just how much this holiday should be about appreciating love. My parents, for instance, are the only ones who've always sent a card. "Happy Day for love! I hope this day is wonderful for you," my mom wrote this year. It will be... though not because life is perfect (and for the record, neither is the life of that Facebook friend of yours). In fact, a boyfriend and Paris are merely details in the grand scheme of things, good and bad. Ponder this: in the end, this holiday isn't innately sweet at all; it's the treats, thoughtful words, and people who make is as such. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day with those who matter most. Bisous.

P.S.

jardin majorelle

Parisian winters are dreary. In general, days are cold and skies are grey; it's often raining, too. Real snow (the kind that covers cities in blankets of white), on the other hand, is rare... even if I've somehow managed to experience it twice. In other words, I totally appreciated my weekend of warm, shining sun in Marrakech. Anna, Leslie, and I made the most of it with a visit to the Jardin Majorelle.

This natural oasis in the midst of the new town would have felt like a secret garden had there not been other tourists there. Extending over more than an acre of land, it's--in a word--gorgeous. Apparently it took Jacques Majorelle, a French painter with a love for Morocco, over 40 years to completely create.

In the 1980's, French designer Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé purchased the garden and restored it. They also converted the painter's studio into a museum with their personal collections of Berber artifacts. Today, there's a separate entrance fee to the museum and cameras aren't allowed. It's worth seeing anyway.

Before leaving, we also stopped at their terrace café: mint tea for Anna and I, avocado smoothie for Leslie.  I couldn't have imagined a more enchanting last sight. We flew back to Paris a few hours later. 

Speaking of, though I strongly dislike airports, I l-o-v-e-d the one in Marrakech. Beautiful, isn't it?