Sunday, May 1, 2016

AH CHERI - MON PARIS DELICIEUSE! Part I

                                          Copyright 2015                                                       Photo Credit: C.Clark

So often unenlightened Americans say...I wouldn't go to Paris because I would never eat frog legs! At least several people have said that to me when I told them I wanted to go to Paris!


Frog legs are not on the top of my menu agenda, either. However, there are lots of other foods in Paris to love without ever having to venture near amphibious waters!


My opinion has always been framed by the knowledge that Le Cordon Bleu cooking school, the most famous in the world, originated in Paris. Le Cordon Bleu chefs always seemed to win top honors and always were connected with Michelin Stars. The top chefs had a record of attending Le Cordon Bleu at least as far back as I can remember. The words "Three Stars" and "gourmet" always seemed to go hand in hand with Le Cordon Bleu. I dreamed about it for years.


Both of my Pennsylvania German grandmothers were tremendous cooks. Grandma Yocum specialized in pies, doughnuts, schnitzel, among other dishes. After all she had twelve children to cook for! And she far preferred her old coal stove to her electric any day of the week.


My mother's mother excelled in every dish there could possibly be. When her family wanted candy - it was home-made! Far be it from Grandma Miller to buy a bag of manufactured potato chips. No! No! No! She made her own in a little wire rack. They had to be the crispest, freshest, heavenly potato chips on earth.


And pot pie...not the kind with vegetable- filled chicken gravy covered with a pastry topping. Grandma Miller made hand-rolled, thick square noodles, cooked fresh in a chicken gravy stewing for hours from a chicken carcass. Nothing could be wasted in Grandma Miller's kitchen. Her custards were divine. Her cakes and frostings ethereal. Her roast beef, pork roast, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, freshly grown garden vegetables...and oh yes...her dandelion salad with hot sweet and sour bacon dressing, prepared me for a romance with food that I thought was native only to the French.


When I lived in Florida, I was impressed by the fine building where the Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale sat, knowing it was a cooking school But, while managing an office park in Miami, where I had heard that the first Le Cordon Bleu in America would be situated, I was ecstatic! I even thought about quitting my commercial property manager job and becoming a chef....pastry chef that is! My dream lasted as long as it took me to find out that each year's course was about $25,000.


But I did get to tour the facility as soon as it was built, then up and running. I could hardly breathe as I was led on a private tour, past the classrooms, past kitchens and past the pastry! And what pastry! Glorious spun-sugar creations of all colors and shapes sat atop the crème-de-la-crème of cakes! The chefs tall hats made me so jealous! I wanted to be on the other side of the glass, artfully designing pastries too beautiful to eat.


So the years whirled by. After spending a decade and a half in South Florida, I finally migrated to the Midwest. Downhome cooking there. Since the local penchant entails sauerkraut and cabbage-laced sandwiches, I felt quite at home. Though I had never heard of chili served with cinnamon rolls before.


Then my son entered the scene with the offer to knock my number one bucket list item off the charts! To go to Paris. Yes. I wanted French pastries! Every last one I could get my chubby, chocolate covered hands on! The trip was my Mother's Day gift of 2015. The second-best gift I've ever been given in my life by the first best gift given to me by God - my son!


I went to Paris with very little money. Making only about ten dollars an hour in the hurting American economy after having been a commercial property manager, was very humbling. Worst of all, I had to go to Paris with limited funds. But I did try to find the best pastry shops I could in the area of Paris which we stayed: The First Arrondissment.


By some amazing miracle of God I had gotten my first small income tax rebate check in many years. It was way under a thousand dollars. But it was just enough to have a little spending money, taxi and ticket fares, not to mention a few treats.


My son had been sweet enough to book us into a four star boutique hotel right down the street from the Louvre, on Rue des Pyramides. Hotel Lumen, right by Passage d'Eglise and L'Eglise Saint Roch. Great breakfast buffet.


 If I ever get to go to Paris again and haven't yet become the best-selling, rich writer which I dream of being...if I can't stay at George Cinq (The Four Seasons) then I will gladly stay at L'Hotel Lumen just for their gourmet breakfast buffet, if not for the jazz bands that play every Tuesday and Thursday. Café Oscar with a view of the rear doors of L'Eglise St. Roch provided the parade of everyday Parisian life which I was so eager to observe.



My favorite bakery was the one we found the very first day on the Rue St. Honore. Yannick Martin. That was where I lost my English-speaking virginity. Yes I became a va-va-voom, French speaker! After years and months of practicing my French, the sweet, young bakery man took my order with a pleasant smile, knowing that I was making my best effort to be understood. I adhered to custom and said "Hello" or rather "Bonjour" first. Then we started negotiations for his objects of beauty. Soon to fulfill my heart's and mouth's desires.

                                                        Copyright 2015                                                  Photo Credit: C. Clark

Would it be strawberry napoleons? Chocolate custard-filled tarts? Lemon sponge cakes? Mille-fuilles? Rum soaked babas? Or simple French croissants? Wait. Did I say simple? I meant butter-laden, crisp yet delicate-layered delights. Yes. That's what I meant to say.


But for our first meal in mon cher Paris, I ordered us both sandwiches that looked like American hoagies, submarines, grinders - according to whatever part of the United States you live in. Unlike in the U.S. they come without mayonnaise. With or without butter are the choices. With or without vegetables -meaning lettuce, tomato, etc. Then of course with or without meat. The order was a success! We ate our crispy-crunchy bread filled with sumptuous meat and enjoyed the sun-laced Paris morning on the steps of the Church of Saint Rock.


Men, women and children rode by on scooters. Not motor scooters. Not roller blades as one would see in South Beach, Florida. The kind of manual motor scooter I rode on as a child in the 1960's. Grown men rode them...okay...young men. Muscular young men unafraid of broken bones.


One mother helped her little girl lift her scooter up the steps of the church as they climbed them to attend the service in what became the most exquisite edifice I had ever seen. My son and I enjoyed the light breeze, which explained why the French always wear their scarves. We settled back to try to overcome our jet lag while the hotel next door prepared our rooms.

Our first day in Paris the sky drizzled rain. We scooted out and around the raindrops. Went to a bookstore selling English books. I bought a brand new French dictionary to replace my tattered LaRousse of thirty years usage. But oh....I found a book on how to make French pastries. I recently changed apartments and can't find the box it is in, but I will update this entry with the title as soon as I find it! I figured having a book teaching me how to make patisserie was far more productive than spending years trying to gather the $25,000. to take the Le Cordon Bleu course!

Macarons are the first thing I want to learn to make. After I practice on some of the other recipes, I plan to have a ladies' tea party, for my friends here in the United States. I had to sell my beautiful rose-covered tea set when I was out of work in Florida. I had bought it especially for the purpose of inviting my friends to a real English-style tea! Consisting of course of not scones and watercress sandwiches - but French pastries! But since then I've cobbled together a variety of pretty china cups by keeping an eagle eye out for them at the Good Will store.

One thing I long to learn to make is Charlotte Russe. Ever heard of it? The recipes I have read for it over the years didn't seem to match what I viewed as the finished production from a famous hotel.

When I worked in downtown Houston, over thirty years ago, I used to go to Le Meridian Hotel on occasion. They had a remarkable French bakery where they had the most amazing treat called "Charlotte Russe". It was shaped like a pie, but almost tasted like cake. If memory serves, there were ladyfingers around the edges, a sort of creamy raspberry filling. The company I worked for in downtown Houston often ordered them for employee birthday parties. I believe you could order them in different flavors - but my favorite was the raspberry filling! So that would definitely be something to serve at my tea party.

But back to Paris mes amis!

The first evening my son and I happened by a very famous cafe. The name rang a bell in my head: Cafe de La Paix. I sort of thought it was a famous landmark. But I didn't know until I got home to the States and looked it up that so many famous French writers used to hang out there: Guy de Maupassant was one - you know the famous French short-story writer?

Copyright 2015             Photo Credit: V.A.C.


Turns out that Cafe de La Paix is also a French national historic site. A radio studio once inhabited the restaurant where a program "This Is Paris" was broadcast to the U.S.A.

                                                 https.://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cafe_de_la_Paix


Again I tested my less than confident French-speaking wings. The waitress understood me fine when I ordered Monte Cristo sandwiches for my son and I. Catch was - I didn't quite understand her, at first. When I asked for water she kept mentioning a man named Gus. I finally figured out she was asking if I wanted the water carbonated or not. I laughed at myself for taking a few seconds to get it. Our meal was okay. Noting stupendous. Very expensive.

It was appropriate to have eaten at the Cafe of Peace our first night in Paris. My son and I had been apart for many years - filled with either discord or empty silence. As we walked back to the L'Hotel Lumen my eyes filled with grateful tears, matching the falling rain around us. My son and I could be close again. I was so happy.


STAY TUNED FOR PART II OF "AH CHERI - MON PARIS DELICIEUSE!








No comments:

Post a Comment