mexicana en parís

A few years ago, sitting at their dining table in Budapest, my neighbor's family asked me why I was studying Spanish, too. French they understood; it's such a beautiful language. But what good would Spanish do? Wasn't German the more obvious choice? Although they were well aware of my Hispanic heritage, it hadn't occurred to them that I shared it with much of the population across North and South America.

Europe is far from the Americas. That may be an obvious statement but I even mean it in the sense that Latin America is far beyond the realm of thought and consideration of many Europeans. For instance, moments after I proposed a Cinco de Mayo picnic on Canal Saint-Martin, my German boyfriend asked what the date was. Ignorant or not, Americans tend to "celebrate" the holiday anyway. Maybe the French are still bitter?

I'm mostly kidding. In the end, I think the real excuse for a celebration-less Paris is that France is simply quite far from Mexico. I'm glad it didn't keep him and I from enjoying cervezas and tacos though :). They were delicious, the weather was perfect, and the canal was buzzing with life last Sunday. Happy Cinco de Mayo, indeed. And in totally unrelated news, I got the Paris-based, 6-month internship I'd hoped I would!

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.

what's a bobo?

A bourgeois-bohemian, of course! I'll admit I only became familiar with the term since living in Paris. David Brooks, author of Bobos in Paradise, defined bobos as "highly educated folk who have one foot in the bohemian world of creativity and another foot in the bourgeois realm of ambition and worldly success." In reference to the French version, The New York Times explained: "Bobo takes over where the old Mitterrand-era label "gauche caviar," or caviar socialist, left off. Less political and more materialistic than that group, French Bobos design their lifestyles in a mix that includes the rarest luxuries, middle-class classics, senior citizen string-collecting strategies and student-style cheap 'n' chic." Quite the classification, huh?

Especially as I apparently live amongst them. While researching my post on Joséphine Caves Parisiennes, I found a negative review which read: "someone in the 17th has told their friends that there is a cool underground rock club on rue Moret and they are bringing their HSBC gold cards in droves." Ahem. Though I recognize the privilege I have to be pursuing a master's degree in Paris, please know that I am living completely on loans and only have flexible spending money because I reside in a true chambre de bonne. And, 9/10 times I brunch on the weekends, I do so at my neighborhood 3 Pièces Cuisine.

            

This casual, retro eatery is both cool and cheap in the 17ème. For only 11€, half the price (or more) of most Parisian brunches, I regularly enjoy noisettes, juice, a croissant or pain au chocolat, quiche/tarte/tartine with salad, fries, and/or a baked egg... plus a housemade dessert. It is fantastic (and filling) fuel for an afternoon of studying, even without "the best" coffee. Maybe one day I'll be confident enough in my French to check out their happy hour; according to one Parisian twenty-something I recently met, 3 Pièces Cuisine becomes a pretty fun bar, too, bobo or not. Cheers to the weekend and happy Cinco de Mayo to you!