Le Pain Supérieure

It was just like when Mr. Rogers used to take us to see how crayons were made or how the string quartet worked, except it was Madame Bullwinkel leading us, it was in France, in French, and in the hip Paris neighborhood of Montmartre. Senegal born Djibril Bodian from Le Grenier à Pain the winner of the Best Baguette in Paris competition 2010 gave us a first hand demonstration of the steps to making a perfect baguette. This is of course after the flour has come from grain grown on good earth and has been handled with great care to create a very good dough. Part of receiving the distinction of Lauréat du Grand Prix de la Meilleure Baguette 2010 is being the official supplier of baguettes to the Sarkozy residence, Le Palais de l’ Élysée, for the year.




According to French bread law baguettes de tradition must be mixed, kneaded, leavened and baked on the site where they are sold, be additive-free and contain only four basic ingredients: wheat flour, water, salt and yeast.
















The baguette shape must be uniform with 5 slashes to the crust and just a bit of pleasing bulge. The color is important. The sound also. The inside must have the desired "crumb". And of course the taste.












We felt priviledged to get this special tour from such a kind, artistic, and hardworking tour guide who is as important and beloved a figure in his Montmartre neighborhood as Fred Rogers was in his. Djibril Bodin seems to wear his celebrity well, and modestly, as evidenced by his gentle deflection of a bit of ribbing from the bakery regulars as our little group followed him through the baguette baking steps photographing his every move. Kudos to our tour organizer for arranging this true insiders' view into a quintessential part of la vie quotidienne in Paris.

Detour to Bavaria

Wir lieben Oktoberfest!

Toms

A hot tip from The Mascot's Mom led to the purchase of these auxiliary travel shoes.

Toms are very comfy and very good for society. For every pair purchased another is donated to a child in need. One for one.




This style, perfect for Paris, is "Love is the New Black". Light as a feather they are perfect for carrying along for a quick change when sightseeing tires out the tootsies.

Yes, they feel a bit Aladdin-like at first, but comfort quickly trumps any worry about what kind of fashion statement is being made.

L'Après-midi à Giverny

In Monet's garden.
























For a look inside the house and kitchen (where photos by visitors are not allowed) check out Monet's Table, by Claire Joyes. The book is beautiful and the included recipes delightful. Ms. Joyes describes day-to-day life at Giverny where menus were ordered by a very food-centric Monet and served on a strict schedule to accommodate his painting during the times of day when the outdoor light was exactly as he needed it to be.

Le Marché aux Puces

First, a Sunday afternoon flea market treasure hunt.










Then, our first official Parisian meal, le déjeuner, in the sunshine, with good company and a lovely glass of vin rosé at Le Paul Bert.




Coquilles Saint-Jacques.




Poule au pot.




Antipasto.

Délicieux!

Le Beau Ciel de Paris

Incroyable!


















More Paris after NDL and jetlag come to terms.

La Vie en Rose

Vintage postcard - The Graphics Fairy.

Et n'Oubliez pas le Fromage

Vintage postcard - The Graphics Fairy.

Nous Sommes Arrivés

Vintage postcard - The Graphics Fairy.

Allons Y!

We'll try not to cause any international incidents, but we really can't make any promises.




The precedent for Americans in Paris has been set by another jet-setting set of chums, Lucy and Ethel.

We will try to remember the lessons learned from their sitcom adventures and think of them as cautionary tales rather than as instructional travelogues. Here are a few classic lines we'll try not to repeat. (We are perfectly capable of committing our own faux pas, merci beaucoup.)


Lucy: Nobody speaks English. They're all foreigners.

Lucy: Waiter, this food has snails in it.

Lucy: Since when is it a crime to put ketchup on snails?

Lucy: Listen, thanks to me you got to do something that very few Americans get to do. You got to see the inside of a French jail.


A bientôt.

Honeyed Future Memories

It is some small consolation that if we can't continue to keep company with the Young Neighborlady we can at least envision her writing away in her new home in the very room that was formerly the office of Wisconsin's first poet laureate, Ellen Kort.

Yes, there is some comfort in knowing that, in a way, it was meant to be.

It seems Ellen Kort is something of a kindred spirit to the Young Neighborlady and others in NDLand. Here she writes about something that has been on our minds (and our toast) quite alot of late.

Over and Over Again

When I go to the grocery store and stand
in front of the shelf filled with jars of honey
every brand spells the word Mama
early morning toast sliced from a loaf
of homemade bread spread with honey
dipped from the little wax rooms of bees
Honey was a luxury at our house and every
time we had it Mama told us how bees
need strength to fly from one plant to another
how their little bodies grow fat from the dust
of pollen when they enter the open house
of flowers how they have to regurgitate
a sip of nectar 200 times in order to turn it
into honey Mama naming what cannot
be named the pure grace of hard labor
the soft hum of gratitude Mama
I’m beginning to understand how the long
Years unwind how stories come back
On the wings of memory simple things
Locked together an offering of recurring
Echoes Even now your voice sweet as honey

- Ellen Kort


When the Young Neighborlady is poet laureate we can say, "She lived right there, just across the alley. She wrote every minute she could while doing a terrific job of raising three beautiful and spirited children, nurturing her marriage to a wonderful man who never failed to think big, and gently gathering everyone she met into a colorful, everlasting, kind of freaky and geeky, bouquet of friendship."

Now Who Will Bring the Funk?

A favorite greeting card of NDL reads, "Anybody can bring the greenbean casserole to the neighborhood party but...

...it takes someone special to bring the funk."

Today our funk is leaving in a beat-up minivan followed by a big truck. And we are, well, in quite a funk about it.




We will miss more than we can say (while trying without success, to avoid tears) caterpillar collecting with the alleyettes, spontaneous pesto parties, receiving beautiful baked goods in overgenerous repayment of loaned recipe ingredients, the unique squeak of a door that adds its tone to the neighborhood screendoor symphony, cups of coffee in the kitchen, glasses of wine on the deck, crazy potluck lunches, the sight and sounds of a happy, busy family coming and going in the alley, lots of laughter...all the liveliness that we have had the pleasure to observe and be a part of for the very quickly passing last 8 years.