H is for huîtres

huîtres = oysters

technically, we were late for oyster season. the french prefer them in the months ending in "re" - octobre, novembre, décembre - but they're still good as long as it's cold outside. or so i understand. we went in march for a belated birthday outing and were very pleased. the guys at the huîterie régis, aside from being remarkably friendly, really know their stuff. coming from texas, i naturally assumed there would be cocktail sauce (quelle horreur!) but was assured by régis himself that they are best au naturel. he was right - even the lemon was overpowering.

and get a load of the floral arrangement... the whole experience was a study in simple beauty. two texan thumbs up!!

huîterie régis
3, rue montfaçon, in the 6th

a blurry mess of oysters and malagasy shrimp

a nice, minerally white, a pinch of red wine vinegar, and a lemon were fine complements

knox's sea urchin
i was determined not to like it, but it was buttery and ocean-y and marvelous!

knox and his beard (no, not me)

to help our newly-minted-phd get through the final stretch of dissertation writing, we decided to set up a two-part incentive program:

1. schedule party for the weekend after self-imposed deadline complete with mojitos, macaroons, and plenty of homemade apps
2. forbid him to shave

i'm still not sure what motivated him more... no pics from the party, but i diligently documented the hair growth. by the end, he could hold a pencil in it! impressive (though not as impressive as the dissertation itself)!!

january

february

march

april

may

artist's rendition
this is all that remains of the dissertation beard 2009 (unless you count the hair that i'm still sweeping off the bathroom floor and the little bit left on his face)

G is for graffiti

...and other street art.

the marais

bastille area

sidewalk, latin quarter

outside the fish guy, 14th

taken from the train to versailles

montmartre

st. germain

this is what i had in mind when i encouraged "the dissertation beard" (foto forthcoming!)

storefront, the fish guy

F is still for 'en famille'

mom and frank at versailles

she climbed to the top of the arc de triomphe (and begged us to leave her there), she read the story of jesus in the windows at sainte chapelle, she pictured herself playing the peasant girl at marie antoinette's english gardens, she groaned every time i took out my camera, she ate mayo with her fries at the falafel joint, she narrowly avoided ordering veal kidney for dinner, she mastered a cheerful "merci"... for her first trip to paris, my mom did it up right! while knox was busy cranking out the final pages of his dissertation, mom, frank, and i hit the town, soaking in as much of it as we could in the week they were here. by the time they left, my mom was rocking the messy french bun and tying her scarf like a local, and frank was perfecting his pronunciation à la parisienne (knox and i were so impressed with his french!!). i knew they'd dig it here.

a few highlights...

the newly renovated hall of mirrors

pigeons snacking and locals playing boule

sainte chapelle

la cimetière montparnasse

happy to see my momma!

F is for 'en famille'

en famille :: with the family

a few weeks ago, the pedens were here on their annual european adventure. this year they hit barcelona, bordeaux, and paris (we've already planted the seed for ireland 2010 - if we're still here, which sadly is still up in the air (will keep you posted). the logic is thus: enough with wine already - let's drink some beer! plus, i'm irish, and i've never seen me roots!).

anyway, they were here for 4 nights, which meant knox and i each put on 5 pounds! we came home one night with enough leftover steak to feast on steak salad, steak and eggs, and two nights' worth of steak, tomato, and spinach stew! i love that!! and speaking of steak, we discovered the best piece of meat in town (maybe any town, it was that good): restaurant severo. turns out, the owner, a celebrated parisian butcher (did you even know that butchers were celebrated?? this one is!) is our neighbor, and his restaurant is on the corner. for a very pretty little penny (try 36E), you can have yourself the purest, happiest, most glorious filet you'll ever sink your teeth into. now i know why rare is best. i cannot recommend this place enough. make reservations though - it's tiny.

but we had fun, even when we weren't eating red meat....

falafel en famille

fine art en famille

fizzy drinks en famille

betty crocker, i am not

a few weeks ago, knox discovered kiri, the french version of philadelphia cream cheese, and in a fit of unchecked domesticity, i decided to make a carrot cake upon which we might spread our new treat...



a couple of things i learned and/or have surmised:
1) cutting the sugar by more than half really makes a difference, and maybe not a good one
2) chinese ginger and the other ginger aren't quite the same
3) this might seem obvious, but a casserole dish is NOT a cake pan
4) apple sauce is a pretty fine substitution for canola oil

anyway, knox ate it and called it "interesting," which given his enthusiasm for food means it was borderline inedible. oh well... baking just isn't my thing. c'est pas mon truc, as the frenchies say. lesson learned.

E is for église

une église :: a church

the fabulously old catholic church is almost as ubiquitous as the bakery in this country, and though i do most of my worshipping in the latter (i know, heathen!!), the majesty of these places is not at all lost on me. missing in this already very incomplete list is la sainte chapelle, which is known for its stained glass. if we ever make it over there to visit, and if any of the photos are worth a hoot, perhaps i'll revisit E a little later...

notre dame de paris

the quintessential parisian gothic church 

construction begun in 1163

the architectural hodge podge that is sacré cœur in montmartre 

(great views of paris from here!)

construction begun in 1875

st. etienne du mont at dusk

around the corner from our old pad in the 5th (and across the street from a pub we liked - hence the dusk shot)

built between 1492 and 1626

interior of notre dame de lorette in the 9th

this one gets shadowed by the basilica of sacré cœur behind it, which is too bad. 

it's wonderful inside. 

interior 2

mont st. michel, normandy coast

i dreamt about this place from 1990, when i first saw a poster of it in monty holamon's classroom at WWHS, till april 2007, when knox, leigh (and sam and harry), chris, and i made the trip.

it was worth the wait.

the spire of the abbey

interior of the chapel

l'au-delà

i miss fall

and i want a ride on that groovy green bus. quick question: do we think it is inappropriate for a woman in her (still) early thirties to ride a merry-go-round? keep in mind, it's vintage. i mean, it's almost inappropriate for me NOT to... hmm... someone bring their kids to paris so i can justify this!

D is for dimanche

un dimanche en hiver :: a winter sunday

we typically spend our sundays plopped on the couch, book and cuppa tea in hand, or exploring, usually ending up in the marais for a falafel dinner - only the jewish quarter is rocking on a sunday in this town! but last week i finally lured knox into an afternoon of ice skating at the hôtel de ville. i'd been talking about it for weeks, and he'd managed to deflect all my advances - rather brilliantly, i must say:

LB: hey, let's go ice skating this weekend.
KP: what? did you say you wanted to go have burgers and see "tropic thunder" this weekend?
LB: no, i said ice skating.
KP: what? rice mating? is that in the asian quarter?
LB: ICE SKATING.
KP: slice grating? mice hating? ...

you get the idea. seriously, given how much i had to needle him to go with me, i'd rank this second to ferris wheels on his list of 'god-awful paris attractions.' he moaned and complained and even growled a bit on the way there, but all that changed the minute he got on the ice...



...and started strutting his stuff. he really got into it, until he got a wee cocky, sped up, lost control, and to avoid plowing into some dude and his 7 year old kid, face planted on the ice. out of respect (and fear of eating it myself) i did not photograph the wreckage, but i did get the aftermath:



looks kind of rocked, no? he got over it amazingly fast, but after another couple of laps, we traded in our skates for a sidewalk table and a chocolat à l'ancienne:



it was a good sunday.

C is for chat

un chat :: a cat

Let me first say for the record that convincing Leslie to let me into to the FRAVINAbécédaire was no small feat. Both Thomas Friedman and Nicholas Kristof applied for a letter and Ms. Barnes put the kabash on it. But, how could she even begin to think that the letter C could be reserved for anything or anyone other than le chat. Now while I’ve thought long and hard about impressing you with my knowledge of the history of my species or perhaps even waxing poetic about the famous Chat Noir in France, I thought, is this what the people want to hear from le chat, is this what the people demand from le chat, aw Hell No! What the people want to know is what le Bob has been up to. So, I will respond to my sea of adoring fans and give you some musings as of late.

Since it has been about six months since my owners departed for Paris, I thought I’d give them some updates on the life and times of Bob. Not very original but I’m going to steal Letterman’s song and dance and fill you in.

Top Ten Reasons Bob Has Been Too Busy to Post for Several Months

10. It’s ski season—le chat got a Colorado Pass and can be found ripping down the mountains on the weekend. Bob loves some fresh powder.

9. Between the cat-napping, eating, purring, cat-napping, and general yowling, I just haven’t had time.

8. As a part of Obama’s transition team, I can’t seem to get any free time from putting out fires in the President’s Cabinet. Not even through the entire vetting process yet (damn you Daschle), and the work has just begun.

7. For months I’ve been looking for Knox’ phone that plays “Twinkle Twinkle,” it’s my favorite and I can’t figure out where he hid it.

6. Few know this, but Leslie and Knox aren’t the only two working on dissertations - le chat is finishing up the theoretical framework chapter of a mixed-methods, critical race study on the socio-political history of Pierre Bourdieu’s house pets. It’s some heavy shit.

5. I’m actually the creator of the “Snuggie,” and we’ve been doing great business. I’m currently perfecting a cat-snuggie for keeping all four paws warm when reading at night (friends stateside will have to fill Leslie and Knox in on the hype).

4. Spending three-quarters of your day salivating over the squirrels who race around the backyard makes le chat sleepy.

3. The tight economy has forced Janet to start collecting rent. In exchange for my space on her bed and in the windowsill during the day time, the expectations include laundry, cooking three meals per week and scrubbing the bathtub. Those tasks aren’t easy for a 4 pound feline, but le chat’s got to do what le chat’s got to do.

2. Ok, I broke down and got a Face Book Profile. Between updating my status, poking people, tagging folks in photos, stalking my high school classmates, listing 25 things you didn’t know about me and playing 80’s movie trivia, I just don’t have time to blog.

1. And the #1 Reason I haven’t had time to post: I found the box in the basement with the bag of catnip. Can we just say, Bob just loves to get wasted!


Signing off from Kittylandia. Much love to all.

Le Bobbers (and ghost writer, Janet Lopez)