This recent New York Times travel article by Tony Perrottet documents a modern man's hunt through Paris as he tries to follow in the footsteps of Alexandre-Balthazar-Laurent Grimrod de la Reynière. Grimrod was a 19th century aristocrat famous in food history circles for his Almanachs des Gourmands: culinary guides to the city of light that reveal meals of Paris past.
Perrotet managed to reach Stohrer, a bakery and culinary destination still in business long after Grimrod's time.
Next time I'm in Paris, I'm going to Stohrer and ordering Le Baba Au Rhum, in honor of an old language teacher from the South of France who once described this to me as her favorite French dessert. (While I may not always remember every conjugation, I can usually tell you the favorite dessert of my French teachers.)
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Wi-Fi in Paris...
There's hope for Parisian bloggers yet as Paris integrates free wi-fi access into the city. According to the LA Times, Paris Mayor Bertrand Delanoe will spread "wee-fee" throughout Paris in hopes of attracting young people and business to the city. Ah, the "battle of hipness" continues!
The wi-fi sounds like a great idea, but I would love Paris any day without it. As long as the city continues to have amazing boulangeries, I will be a happy camper.
The wi-fi sounds like a great idea, but I would love Paris any day without it. As long as the city continues to have amazing boulangeries, I will be a happy camper.
Monday, November 13, 2006
the phantom of the metro is here
The Associated Press recently reported that historical and railway buffs can sign up for all-night tours of old Paris metro stations. An organization called ADEMAS facilitates the tours in its quest to preserve the history of the Metro. According to the article, the tours have at least a six month wait, but once inside, participants get to explore "phantom" metro stations that have been closed since World War II.
The mystery surrounding these tours has a certain underground, geeky appeal that I find irresistible. What types of people might I meet on a tour like this? Historians? Train junkies? Documentary filmmakers? Parisian Bloggers? Whoever they are, they are people who find value in observing fragments of the past, and this makes me want to observe them. How did they get there? And why? How long have they been waiting for the chance to see the phantom stations? Perhaps some Parisians go here in pursuit of an alternative to the crowded hustle and bustle of an afternoon at the Louvre.
Unfortunately, it will surely get to the point where Rick Steves covers ADEMAS in his next book, thus truly opening the floodgates of American tourism and wreaking havoc on the whole underground appeal. He means well, but those navy books are everywhere you look. After all, part of the beauty of travel is wandering the unknown.
The best part about the ADEMAS tours?? They serve croissants at the end!
The mystery surrounding these tours has a certain underground, geeky appeal that I find irresistible. What types of people might I meet on a tour like this? Historians? Train junkies? Documentary filmmakers? Parisian Bloggers? Whoever they are, they are people who find value in observing fragments of the past, and this makes me want to observe them. How did they get there? And why? How long have they been waiting for the chance to see the phantom stations? Perhaps some Parisians go here in pursuit of an alternative to the crowded hustle and bustle of an afternoon at the Louvre.
Unfortunately, it will surely get to the point where Rick Steves covers ADEMAS in his next book, thus truly opening the floodgates of American tourism and wreaking havoc on the whole underground appeal. He means well, but those navy books are everywhere you look. After all, part of the beauty of travel is wandering the unknown.
The best part about the ADEMAS tours?? They serve croissants at the end!
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Goat cheese dreams
An amazing “Feuillete au chevre”, or in my translation: a goat cheese pastry. You might be able to tell that I was so excited to eat this that I forgot to take the picture until halfway through the pastry!
Another pastry from the same shop! Delicious! As promised, I am forwarding my favorite French cheese pastry find to fellow blogger The Girl Who Ate Everything, who is studying in Paris right now and needs to experience it! I must apologize that it has taken me so long to send this information to my fellow bakery hunter. As the Girl Who Eats Everything, I am sure that she has no time to spare when finding out about the best goat cheese creations in town. Unfortunately, since my last trip to Paris in June, I have yet to properly organize all of the business cards, receipts, food stained scraps of paper and eating related scribbles that serve as records of my French food hunts. Finally, I am getting my act together for the purposes of The Great American Bakery Hunt, so without further ado: the goat cheese pastry to end all other goat cheese pastries.
Go forth, bakery hunters, hop on a plane the next chance you get, and try D. Sylla’s Boucherie de l’Étoile for yourself. Because his goat cheese pastry, or “Feuillete au chevre”, will change your life!
It’s truly scrumptious, and I fell for it so hard that I had to return back to this butcher shop several times during my last stay in Paris. The dough that wraps around the goat cheese center is just the right amount of flaky, and the cheese inside is just strong enough, just crumbly enough. The first time I sank my teeth into it, it was clear this was a special find. I tried a similar pastry from a different shop, one that actually specializes in cheese products, but there was no match for D. Sylla.
The tricky thing about this butcher shop (if you don’t speak much French) is that no one who works there speaks English, not even a little. But the good news is that the two men who work here are so genuinely nice that they are willing to resort to gestures to communicate with their customers. When ordering, there will be two cheese pastry options. Make sure you try the more expensive one-- I promise that it’s worth it!
Another tip: My first glimpse of the pastries happened when they were featured in the window display. But it is possible that you may not see any signs of these pastries in the shop. Before you curse my name for leading you on a wild goat cheese pastry hunt, try an inquiry with the butcher. Don’t fret, non-French speakers. Try your best French, or just gesture, until D.Sylla gets the gist of what you are after. At this point, he will go to a nearby refrigerator and pull out his selection, and although the goat cheese pastry is the most exceptional, he also has some meat pastries that are very tasty. There was one with ham, mushrooms and cheese and another with rabbit and pâté inside, and both were delicious.
D. Sylla clearly appreciates those that are hunting for an exceptional pastry. After the third consecutive visit of the week, he was so taken with the enthusiasm of his newfound American customers that he slipped some free sausages in the bag with the pastries. True to form, D. Sylla achieved excellence in his sausage sales as well, as these thin small sausages proved quite the tasty treat on the plane ride back home.
You can also find roasted chicken outside, which is excellent and makes for a decently priced dinner. Don’t be shy with the chicken, and make sure you buy some of those potatoes that rest underneath of it. As the chicken cooks, the juices from the poultry continue to coat the potatoes, and this collaboration between the ingredients transforms this into an outstanding feast that begs to find its way into your stomach. A similar chicken and potato duo is recreated in Orange County at none other than the Laguna Beach Farmer’s Market off of Forest Avenue, so for all of you locals, you can find that on Saturdays starting at 8 AM and lasting until noon (but make sure to go a bit before the market closes if you have your heart set on it-- the potatoes will sell out, and from experience, I can tell you that Felix the chicken-potato man does not enjoy being the bearer of bad news!)
For those lucky enough to be in Paris, you also have to be wary of closing times. Some stores have business hours that are quite different from the US, where they close down around the afternoon for a few hours, and then return again afterwards. Beware of this as you venture out to the shops and hunt for food.
Boucherie de l’Étoile
D. Sylla
27 Rue des Acacias
75017 Paris
Tel: 01 43.80-12-63
If you’re around Paris, hunt down Boucherie de l’Étoile by taking Metro Line 1 toward La Defense. Metro stop: Argentine
D. Sylla also has a variety of Spanish and Italian hams, sausages, and meats in his shop. There are a few wines to choose from along with some salads, so if you want to spring for an excellent picnic, you’re in the right spot.
Go forth, bakery hunters, hop on a plane the next chance you get, and try D. Sylla’s Boucherie de l’Étoile for yourself. Because his goat cheese pastry, or “Feuillete au chevre”, will change your life!
It’s truly scrumptious, and I fell for it so hard that I had to return back to this butcher shop several times during my last stay in Paris. The dough that wraps around the goat cheese center is just the right amount of flaky, and the cheese inside is just strong enough, just crumbly enough. The first time I sank my teeth into it, it was clear this was a special find. I tried a similar pastry from a different shop, one that actually specializes in cheese products, but there was no match for D. Sylla.
The tricky thing about this butcher shop (if you don’t speak much French) is that no one who works there speaks English, not even a little. But the good news is that the two men who work here are so genuinely nice that they are willing to resort to gestures to communicate with their customers. When ordering, there will be two cheese pastry options. Make sure you try the more expensive one-- I promise that it’s worth it!
Another tip: My first glimpse of the pastries happened when they were featured in the window display. But it is possible that you may not see any signs of these pastries in the shop. Before you curse my name for leading you on a wild goat cheese pastry hunt, try an inquiry with the butcher. Don’t fret, non-French speakers. Try your best French, or just gesture, until D.Sylla gets the gist of what you are after. At this point, he will go to a nearby refrigerator and pull out his selection, and although the goat cheese pastry is the most exceptional, he also has some meat pastries that are very tasty. There was one with ham, mushrooms and cheese and another with rabbit and pâté inside, and both were delicious.
D. Sylla clearly appreciates those that are hunting for an exceptional pastry. After the third consecutive visit of the week, he was so taken with the enthusiasm of his newfound American customers that he slipped some free sausages in the bag with the pastries. True to form, D. Sylla achieved excellence in his sausage sales as well, as these thin small sausages proved quite the tasty treat on the plane ride back home.
You can also find roasted chicken outside, which is excellent and makes for a decently priced dinner. Don’t be shy with the chicken, and make sure you buy some of those potatoes that rest underneath of it. As the chicken cooks, the juices from the poultry continue to coat the potatoes, and this collaboration between the ingredients transforms this into an outstanding feast that begs to find its way into your stomach. A similar chicken and potato duo is recreated in Orange County at none other than the Laguna Beach Farmer’s Market off of Forest Avenue, so for all of you locals, you can find that on Saturdays starting at 8 AM and lasting until noon (but make sure to go a bit before the market closes if you have your heart set on it-- the potatoes will sell out, and from experience, I can tell you that Felix the chicken-potato man does not enjoy being the bearer of bad news!)
For those lucky enough to be in Paris, you also have to be wary of closing times. Some stores have business hours that are quite different from the US, where they close down around the afternoon for a few hours, and then return again afterwards. Beware of this as you venture out to the shops and hunt for food.
Boucherie de l’Étoile
D. Sylla
27 Rue des Acacias
75017 Paris
Tel: 01 43.80-12-63
If you’re around Paris, hunt down Boucherie de l’Étoile by taking Metro Line 1 toward La Defense. Metro stop: Argentine
D. Sylla also has a variety of Spanish and Italian hams, sausages, and meats in his shop. There are a few wines to choose from along with some salads, so if you want to spring for an excellent picnic, you’re in the right spot.
Picnic fixings
Full of melancholy, I get ready to feast upon my last pastry of the trip
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Pastry crawl, anyone?
Poilane in Paris, FranceChowhounds are people who live to eat, or so says Chow.com, a site dedicated to everything and anything related to the quest for good food (you might say that The Great American Bakery Hunt is the small, modest, red-headed chubby stepchild of Chow.com, as we are so focused on one aspect of the food industry and could never possibly encompass the informative, exhaustive, and entertaining culinary grandeur that is Chow. Even so, I'd like to think that Chow and Bakery Hunt readers alike might one day develop a mutual respect for each other in this crazy and mixed up blog saturated, media frenzied, mouth watering land of food-questing Internet utopia).
I was recently looking through Chow's Los Angeles message board when I came across some kindred spirits: Los Angeles bakery hunters who go on much celebrated and adventurous "pastry crawls" or "bakery crawls" in order to search for elusive sources of perfected baked goods within Southern California.
It occurs to me now that I have been on many a pastry crawl, but I had just never thought to describe these searches with such a clever term of endearment. Although I plan on adopting this lingo as a part of my bakery obsessed vernacular, I feel the need to differentiate between "bakery crawls" and "bakery hunts".
Bakery hunting refers to a serious mission, one approached with drive, perseverance, and unfaltering determination to fulfill the quest for new bakeries. During a bakery hunt, you must stop at nothing to pursue discovery and new culinary conquests. This is serious, très sérieux! (French added for emphasis). You vow to try new things. Although the hunt will sometimes end in disappointment, you vow to begin hunting another day with even more vigor. It is always a worthy challenge.
You give no thought to social consequence. Your face may be smeared with sweet jams, your vehicle might be covered in baguette crumbs, you might even have little balls of molasses cookie residue forming in the crevices of your lips. You are certainly not going to be sharing the details of this trip with your fellow members of Overeater's Anonymous, and you doubt you will be squeezing into a bikini/speedo anytime soon. But you go on, you persevere. You're dough-thirsty for fresh treats, and you've got tunnel vision.
Bakery and pastry crawls are much different. Crawls are all about pleasure, not business. Crawls involve a certain amount of predetermined planning. You set aside a whole day for a bakery crawl, it is indeed, a long awaited, much anticipated event-- an occasion if you will. If you're desperate enough for a good crawl, you call in sick to work. You fill up your car with gas on the night before. You make a visit to the ATM for extra milk money. You avoid wearing black in anticipation of powdered sugar consumption. You have extra quarters ready for parking meters, or to compensate "the reserves", aka little kids you give extra change to, so they will go inside the bakery and buy you a fourth helping of your favorite baklava to escape the judging looks of the other customers (Hey, someday they'll be asking you to buy them cigarettes, right?). You tell the girl/guy that you're dating that you have to wash your hair that day, or get rid of them a la Greg Brady, by explaining that "something just suddenly came up". And you enlist the help of a worthy crony in your life, someone who will not judge you when you have to unbutton your pants a little at the end of the day, someone willing to block out an entire day on their calendar for the love of the crawl.
After all of the plans are made, your slumber is hindered by the anticipation of the crawl, much like a child on Christmas Eve awaiting a new Transformer or perhaps a Tenth Anniversary Tickle Me Elmo (Elmo has anniversaries??). You awake to drool, slathered on your face as a testament to your love and dedication to pastries. And the crawl begins. The crawl need not contain new stops along your bakery tour, it may simply be a day for you to celebrate your favorite pastries and baked goods. Sure you can throw a few curve balls into the lineup, but most of the goods will be your old stand-bys.
At the end of the day you will feel satisfied and full. You will allow yourself to sit in a vegetative state, dazed in front of the television by a news magazine show featuring a shocking story about pesticides, then one about teenage prostitution. You will have no free will to move in order to get the remote, so you will then watch an acne infomercial hosted by Marie Osmond. Fabio will make a cameo, followed by Kelly Clarkson, after which you will fall into a deep slumber. Ah, sweet pastry crawl.
I welcome suggestions from anyone who has a favorite pastry crawl. Hopefully, with the help of my blog, you will begin to understand the subtle differences between pastry crawls, hunts, and everything in between.
Personally, the following is my ideal pastry crawl if expense and logic is not an issue:
I would fly to Denmark, landing at CPH, Copenhagen's peaceful airport, and then take the train to the Norrebro stop. From there I would go to Skt Peders Bakery, which is about a ten minute walk away from the train. Following my stroll in the city, I would surprise my host mother in Roskilde, and request that she make me her famous Cinnamon rolls and breads. Also, I would ask for her hot dogs and sausages with warm, homemade fresh bread wrapped around the dogs in a heavenly warm embrace.
The best hot dogs in the world, straight from my host mom's Danish kitchen!
My host mom's cinamon bread-- It must have been fate when I was placed in a homestay with such an excellent baker!
Then I would fly to France, stopping off for breakfast at the Hotel DeVille Bakery (Hotel DeVille stop) for an Ouranais. Then I would swing over to Poilane, where I would have an open faced sandwich at their cafe (featuring their famous bread), and then grab one of the best apple tarts I have ever laid my eyes on (it has the best flaky outer ring of dough), waiting to eat it until I reached the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Boulangerie de l'Hotel de Ville in Paris, France
Then I would come back over to the U.S., grab some French's chocolate fudge torte cake, and call it a day. (Of course, I would need a side of ice cold milk). If there was still room, I might squeeze in a chocolate chip cookie or two made by my mom.
Next week, on the Great American Bakery hunt:
Pastry benders, binges, and extravaganzas- indulgent and excessive pastry marathons, resulting in sugar-induced stupors, empty wallets, and most likely health problems if you engage in this behavior enough! Then again, let us not speak of such things. A crawl is indulgent enough-- a bender just goes beyond reason. Pastries, especially exceptional pastries, should be savoured, not devoured. Thus, our adventures of pastry crawls, not pastry runs! Pastry crawl, anyone?
Monday, August 21, 2006
Bakery Hunting...
After a satisfying lunch of bratwurst, sauerkraut, and German-style potato salad at the Globe German Deli in Costa Mesa, I ventured a few blocks over for a bakery hunt. The hunt started out well, since I was able to use my small amount of Danish expertise to convince one of the shop owners that the DanSukker I was holding was indeed sugar and not salt. After attempting to bake in Denmark and going on supermarket adventures in Kvikly to find the right stuff, I was sure of this one. I was proud of myself today, a little too proud. I still have a lot to learn when it comes to Danish. I love the Globe Deli because even if they don't always know whether they are selling you salt or sugar, they give you great German sausage and they do it with a smile! Plus, they have Danish products, which means that I am a happy happy girl when in the Globe Deli.
Anyway, on to the bakery hunt...
I snooped around the greatly anticipated new location of the Sunflower Bakery to take a gander at their fresh digs. According to one of the employees, the store will not be open for another month or so. But if you're a great investigative journalist like me, you can walk around the back and purchase items wholesale (Alright, alright, so there was a sign with an arrow, but it was in a somewhat tinted storefront window people). The new bakery is located off of Baker in Costa Mesa, tucked away on Grace Street, and I am looking forward to sampling its delights!
The genius of the location is clear: It is extremely close to my house, and since close proximity to me gives bakeries an even better chance of more local bakery fiend business, I'd say they are in for a pleasant surprise. Bakers: stick with zip code 92626, you'll be golden. Also, allow me to point out the genius of a bakery located within seconds of a dairy (and a drive in dairy no less)? This allows for a more satisfying bakery hunt indeed. The dairy I speak of is since is Manneh's Alta Dena Dairy, which is within a minute's walking distance of Sunflower, and located on the corner of Baker and Grace.
Where to find it:
Alta-Dena Drive in Dairy
1085 Baker Street
Costa Mesa, CA 92626
The dairy is also easily accessible after a visit to French's Pastry Bakery, which is on the same street. (French's hold a special place in my heart since their chocolate fudge cake has always been a fixture at different special events and birthdays within my family. It has become such a tradition that we even declared an annual "chocolate cake season" that spans several holidays and birthdays within about a three month period of one another. Basically, it's a good time to purchase a 3-month gym membership).
But back to the dairy, oh sweet dairy of mine in Costa Mesa.
This dairy reminds me of how I am often torn between two of my favorite European cultures. While I celebrate my French background on my mother's side, I am disloyal to my culture in one respect: their attitude towards consumption of dairy products. Growing up in America, it seemed there was no better combination than baked goods (particularly chocolate chip cookies) and a glass of milk.
When I lived in Denmark, Danes seemed to have an equally great appreciation for a good glass of milk. In fact, Danish milk is the best I have tasted yet. (While I never knew what I was missing as a young American child, studying abroad ruined me as far as dairy libations go--Trust me dear readers, once you go Danish dairy, you never go back). In Denmark, it is not uncommon to see Danish business men and women, teenagers, and kids alike drinking oversized cartons of Matilde chocolate milk as they wait for their bus or train ride home after work and school. Matilde chocolate milk reigns far supreme over any Nestle or Hershey's concoction we have in the US. It is a seriously spiritual experience if you like chocolate milk.
However, when it comes to drinking milk in France, I was told it is unfashionable, juvenile, and ridiculous even. I found this out by accident, when I was walking down the street in Paris, pastry in one hand, small jug of milk in the other. Apparently this was so shocking to a local passerby that she did a double take before going on her merry French way. I was not even sure why she did a double take at first, and quickly forgot the incident.
Then I visited Millies Cookie's, a UK-based cookie shop located in the Opera Metro station in Paris which offers a generic but decent chocolate chip cookie (a European quick fix for any American having a chocolate chip cookie craving, which I seem to have quite often). When I purchased three cookies, and then asked the cashier if I could buy some milk, she laughed at me. I knew something was up, and asked my friendly hotel clerk Sasha why French people seemed to think me ridiculous. He told us that milk is something that "small kids" drink, and could not stop smirking, presumably because of our silly American reliance on calcium products. He did explain that his birthplace, Normandy, makes some excellent dairy products, but insisted that one had no place drinking milk in the city of lights if they happened to be over the age of six. (Even six seemed to be pushing it). What gives Paris? You have all of these amazing bakeries and no love for the moo-juice? I was not the only one with milk woes. I also met a lovely American bakery owner from Boston, who had married a French man and relocated to Paris (I wanted to steal her life, but not in the creepy way you are thinking, just in the way that it would be amazing to live in Paris, learn French, and be a part of the bakery culture there. I am one step closer to being a Parisian at this point, because I just enrolled in Practical French at Goldenwest College, and I am pumped up. This will only aid me further when I pursue future international bakery hunts!).
Where to find it:
Mr et Mme Crocher- artisan boulanger
off the Argentine Metro stop in Paris
(her husband mostly does all the baking, but she will offer friendly service, food tips, directions, or any other advice you might need as an American in Paris)
A self-described "milk fiend" (I swear, I quoted her in my travel notebook), she commiserated with me as I told my tales of milk mockery. She explained that she had also noticed the void of milk after growing up in the States, and explained that whenever her family visits the USA, their children cannot get their hands on enough milk. Poor French-American kids, all confused and conflicted over their calcium intake. They need to go on a little "holiday" to Denmark, that's what I'm saying.
Even as my taste expanded to pastries, cakes, and tarts, milk always seems an essential companion to baked goods consumption. And this is why I am disgruntled with French culture. Although I have no Danish blood, I have to say that I side with the Danes on this one. Don't get me wrong, I still deeply love Paris. I just don't love having to search high and low for milk to go with my ever present pastry, only to be shamed for it later. Try it our way Paris, it's not all bad.
In other news, I am now officially connected to Chowhound , an online discussion forum for "people who live to eat". I am hoping to find some good contributions to the Great American Bakery Hunt, and have already began to search the posts with a few good leads.
Anyway, on to the bakery hunt...
I snooped around the greatly anticipated new location of the Sunflower Bakery to take a gander at their fresh digs. According to one of the employees, the store will not be open for another month or so. But if you're a great investigative journalist like me, you can walk around the back and purchase items wholesale (Alright, alright, so there was a sign with an arrow, but it was in a somewhat tinted storefront window people). The new bakery is located off of Baker in Costa Mesa, tucked away on Grace Street, and I am looking forward to sampling its delights!
The genius of the location is clear: It is extremely close to my house, and since close proximity to me gives bakeries an even better chance of more local bakery fiend business, I'd say they are in for a pleasant surprise. Bakers: stick with zip code 92626, you'll be golden. Also, allow me to point out the genius of a bakery located within seconds of a dairy (and a drive in dairy no less)? This allows for a more satisfying bakery hunt indeed. The dairy I speak of is since is Manneh's Alta Dena Dairy, which is within a minute's walking distance of Sunflower, and located on the corner of Baker and Grace.
Where to find it:
Alta-Dena Drive in Dairy
1085 Baker Street
Costa Mesa, CA 92626
The dairy is also easily accessible after a visit to French's Pastry Bakery, which is on the same street. (French's hold a special place in my heart since their chocolate fudge cake has always been a fixture at different special events and birthdays within my family. It has become such a tradition that we even declared an annual "chocolate cake season" that spans several holidays and birthdays within about a three month period of one another. Basically, it's a good time to purchase a 3-month gym membership).
But back to the dairy, oh sweet dairy of mine in Costa Mesa.
This dairy reminds me of how I am often torn between two of my favorite European cultures. While I celebrate my French background on my mother's side, I am disloyal to my culture in one respect: their attitude towards consumption of dairy products. Growing up in America, it seemed there was no better combination than baked goods (particularly chocolate chip cookies) and a glass of milk.
When I lived in Denmark, Danes seemed to have an equally great appreciation for a good glass of milk. In fact, Danish milk is the best I have tasted yet. (While I never knew what I was missing as a young American child, studying abroad ruined me as far as dairy libations go--Trust me dear readers, once you go Danish dairy, you never go back). In Denmark, it is not uncommon to see Danish business men and women, teenagers, and kids alike drinking oversized cartons of Matilde chocolate milk as they wait for their bus or train ride home after work and school. Matilde chocolate milk reigns far supreme over any Nestle or Hershey's concoction we have in the US. It is a seriously spiritual experience if you like chocolate milk.
However, when it comes to drinking milk in France, I was told it is unfashionable, juvenile, and ridiculous even. I found this out by accident, when I was walking down the street in Paris, pastry in one hand, small jug of milk in the other. Apparently this was so shocking to a local passerby that she did a double take before going on her merry French way. I was not even sure why she did a double take at first, and quickly forgot the incident.
Then I visited Millies Cookie's, a UK-based cookie shop located in the Opera Metro station in Paris which offers a generic but decent chocolate chip cookie (a European quick fix for any American having a chocolate chip cookie craving, which I seem to have quite often). When I purchased three cookies, and then asked the cashier if I could buy some milk, she laughed at me. I knew something was up, and asked my friendly hotel clerk Sasha why French people seemed to think me ridiculous. He told us that milk is something that "small kids" drink, and could not stop smirking, presumably because of our silly American reliance on calcium products. He did explain that his birthplace, Normandy, makes some excellent dairy products, but insisted that one had no place drinking milk in the city of lights if they happened to be over the age of six. (Even six seemed to be pushing it). What gives Paris? You have all of these amazing bakeries and no love for the moo-juice? I was not the only one with milk woes. I also met a lovely American bakery owner from Boston, who had married a French man and relocated to Paris (I wanted to steal her life, but not in the creepy way you are thinking, just in the way that it would be amazing to live in Paris, learn French, and be a part of the bakery culture there. I am one step closer to being a Parisian at this point, because I just enrolled in Practical French at Goldenwest College, and I am pumped up. This will only aid me further when I pursue future international bakery hunts!).
Where to find it:
Mr et Mme Crocher- artisan boulanger
off the Argentine Metro stop in Paris
(her husband mostly does all the baking, but she will offer friendly service, food tips, directions, or any other advice you might need as an American in Paris)
A self-described "milk fiend" (I swear, I quoted her in my travel notebook), she commiserated with me as I told my tales of milk mockery. She explained that she had also noticed the void of milk after growing up in the States, and explained that whenever her family visits the USA, their children cannot get their hands on enough milk. Poor French-American kids, all confused and conflicted over their calcium intake. They need to go on a little "holiday" to Denmark, that's what I'm saying.
Even as my taste expanded to pastries, cakes, and tarts, milk always seems an essential companion to baked goods consumption. And this is why I am disgruntled with French culture. Although I have no Danish blood, I have to say that I side with the Danes on this one. Don't get me wrong, I still deeply love Paris. I just don't love having to search high and low for milk to go with my ever present pastry, only to be shamed for it later. Try it our way Paris, it's not all bad.
In other news, I am now officially connected to Chowhound , an online discussion forum for "people who live to eat". I am hoping to find some good contributions to the Great American Bakery Hunt, and have already began to search the posts with a few good leads.
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