Completely Modern or Completely Not?

Tim Zagat, co-founder and CEO of Zagat Survey, “the world's leading provider of consumer survey-based information on where to eat, drink, stay & play worldwide” recently visited Columbia Business School for a discussion with the Gourmet Club. Zagat was founded as a hobby in 1979 and its stickers showing consumer-ratings grace the windows of many restaurants in New York and around the world.

In this fast-paced digital world, one might wonder how relevant Zagat still is, and if it can keep up with an ever-changing changing business environment. Mr. Zagat brought along his social media guru, a Darden MBA, who explained that although Zagat has been on the web since 1999, it has recently completely rebuilt and relaunched its website. They are particularly proud of the homepage, which is focused on 3 “pillars”: restaurant search, NYC Buzz (a restaurant blog) and star members. Zagat has, like many other companies, openly borrowed from other important social media player such as Foursquare and Yelp, the concept of “badges” to recognize the contributions of its members. In an article entitled “Skate Where the Puck is Going”, Mark Suster argues that it is not enough to merely integrate current buzz- (and cringe-) worthy terms into your business if one is to innovate and stay relevant.

When asked about Zagat’s social media strategy, Mr. Zagat said simply, “I ask my wife”. I think it’s great that a man puts trust in his obviously intelligent and competent wife, but seriously, where is Zagat really going with social media? The Guru said they “dabble in most major social media networks” including youtube, flickr and foursquare, but are most focused on Twitter and Facebook (like everyone else, though they do have a somewhat incomplete blog going). Zagat has over 200,000 followers on Twitter where according to them, they aggregate and curate the best food content on the web, including that of their competitors (content which I have yet to find, though maybe I just need to dig more). They also have a smaller following on Facebook (14,000+ likes), which to be honest, was not super simple to find. One staff member manages social media activities, freelancers contribute day to day, the Buzz (blog) team also contributes and it generally sounds pretty ad hoc to me. Supposedly the main difference between their Twitter and Facebook activity is frequency of posts. Ironically, I find that their Facebook wall posts are more “engaging” than Twitter links to articles easily found on its main website.

Yelp has over 40,000 followers on Twitter and over 35,000 likes on Facebook. Foodspotting, a much younger company, has over 27,000 Twitter followers and 601Facebook likes. I’ve heard that size doesn’t matter, so which company do you think will best survive the digital battle? Zagat’s “premium membership required” website and somewhat scattered social media campaign makes me hesitate between shelling out for a classic paper Michelin guide and fiercely snapping pictures of everything I eat with my phone to try to dominate the Foodspotting universe. One confusion breeds another…

Cookbook roundup time is here!

It may not be on this list, but I'm wanting the new Jamie Oliver cookbook. I'm also excited to try out my still unwrapped "Larousse Comme un Chef" brick (which has to weigh more than 5 pounds) that I shipped all the way from Paris, once I go home for the holidays.

http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2010/12/favorite-cookbooks-of-2010/

New York Blues

Now that I've landed in New York City for business school (banker to commis to student... again), I find myself eating more like a poor student than a real food lover, which breaks my heart. I'm living on lecture notes and drowning under endless emails, and am being force fed pizza or vending machine meals several times a week. I'm ashamed. Where is that golden, buttery, perfectly flaky croissant I need to get back my munchie inspiration?

I want one of these:
http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2010/12/how-much-butter-can-be-in-a-croissant/

Photo du Jour: V'ery original

Lyon has " vélo v " (aww...)

Avignon has " vélopop " (nice brights!)

Marseille has " le vélo " (not so original)

Aix-en-Provence has " v'hello " (pronounced "vélo", for bicycle - brilliant!)

And my everyday weightlifting device, the Parisian " vélib' " (or freedom from métro strikes!)

Gelato al Limone

After a strenuous session with the cute though slightly smelly kiné, I decided to stop by my favorite Italian traiteur for a little caffè. One thing led to another and when Francesco proposed a taste of the freshly made (by a Chinese dude might I add) pistachio gelato, I gave in without much hesitation. I don’t usually like pistachio or any nut unless it’s in the form of Nutella, but when it’s gelato and it’s free, I do not say no.

I should have remembered that my food-willpower is really quite below average. After tasting the fresh, creamy non-nutty pistachio gelato, I had to spring for a trio of lemon gelato made with fresh lemons from Sorrento in the south of Italy, a streaky soft caramel gelato and of course Bacio (from the famous “Baci by Perugina” chocolates, made from dark chocolate and finely chopped hazelnuts). I of course dug in with gusto before remembering to whip out my crackberry to record the moment...

What started this “débauche” were the damn lemons. I didn’t think of myself as a picky eater but I’m actually not a lemon person either. However, seeing the basket of beautiful Sorrento, also called “femminello” lemons (what a luscious sounding name to the untrained ear!) on the counter, convinced me to give the lemon gelato a try. At first I was not taken with its tanginess, thought I don’t know what else I was expecting from something lemon-flavored…then I was pleasantly surprised by a slightly sweet aftertaste which rounded it all out nicely.

As a non-lemon expert, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to taste anyway, but I have a hunch that what made this gelato special is the use of those gorgeous Sorrento lemons, which reminded me of a past sun-drenched vacation along the Amalfi coast. These lemons have earned IGP (Protected Geographical Indication) recognition and are most commonly known for making limoncello liquor (I’ll have another!). The fruit is medium- to large-sized, elliptical in shape, very fragrant and has a characteristic combination of citrus acid and sugar. They are only grown in the Sorrento peninsula and on the island of Capri, of Blue Grotto fame.

I must have looked quite happy savoring my mountain of gelato because I managed to convince another customer to join in my gourmandise and subsequently share his life history with me… Guess that guide to schmoozing really came in handy! It also earned me the comment that women are the source of all temptation and that the Chinese are going to take over the world, but that’s another story!

Photo du Jour: Street Dancing at L'Opéra de Lyon

Imagine the French hip hop music, tons of sunshine and a slight food high and you're there!

Amazingly Addicting Carrot Cake

Lately I feel somewhat like a wandering minstrel, moving from town to town every few days, except my true art is simply displaying what has been called an “extraordinary” (read: “maybe you should go on a diet”) appetite for such a small girl. Hey, I can’t help it if I’m always hungry! Thanks to my piggyness, those around me tend to find themselves with a constant supply of baked treats – some successful, others less so… (see the crazy frosting in the picture?)

Whenever I’m feeling a bit restless, bored, happy, sad or whatever’s in between, my favorite thing to do is to get in the kitchen and make a BIG MESS (or alternatively, pour myself a large glass of something…like milk. Ha!).
One of my favorite “beat-whatever’s-ailin’-ya” treats is Belinda’s amazingly addicting carrot cake. I mean, before I tasted this slice of springy tender deliciousness, I didn’t even know I had a weak spot for carrot cake, much less a frosted one!

Due to popular demand, here is the precious recipe. Once you try it, you will never go back to boxed mixes (yes, I loved them too) and won’t even be able to stomach the thought of spending mucho euros/dollars/pounds/etc. on a store-bought version again!

"C’est un gâteau à se damner! "

** Carrot Cake **

Ingredients :
4 eggs
2 cups sugar
1 ½ cups oil

2 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2 tsp ground cinnamon

3 cups carrots, grated (approx. 3 large carrots)

Icing

Technique:
1. Peel and grate the carrots. Reserve. Grease a baking tin (a loaf pan works well) and preheat the oven to 180°C / 350°F.
2. Preparing the wet ingredients: In a [large] bowl, whisk the eggs until just light and fluffy. Slowly mix in the sugar in small batches, then add the oil.
3. Combine the dry ingredients (flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and cinnamon) in a separate bowl.
4. Pour the egg mixture (wet ingredients) into the dry ingredient mixture in small batches, combining well without beating.
5. Fold in the grated carrots using a rubber spatula.
6. Pour the batter into the baking tin. Bake for approx. 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in the tin before removing. You can add your favorite icing to the top of the cake when cooled.

Ya-mi! Enjoy!

Note: If the middle of your cake collapses like mine did the first few (ahem!) times, it may be undercooked. Also, make sure not to open the oven door before half the baking time has elapsed. When you do check on it, do so while the tin is still in the oven, to avoid knocking the cake around before it’s had time to set. Oh, and don’t slam the oven door!

Power Puffs

I am so in! After 3 years in the neighborhood, I finally have some “bargaining power” with my local shopkeepers. So far the only shop nearby that recognizes me is the Italian traiteur. Since I happened to be walking home with a cake box just bursting with beautiful handmade “choux” (cream puffs), I decided to pop in and test my newfound powers of persuasion.

Luckily the very jolly-looking chef was in the shop having a hand-wavingly animated discussion in Italian with the saleslady, accompanied by French rap radio as only happens here. I proudly flashed them my wares and was immediately rewarded with oohs and aahs, which was very polite of them given there is a quite decent authentic boulangerie / patisserie right across the street.

At first my new friends wanted to keep the entire box of goodies but I probably looked so hungry and desperate that they ended up taking one each of “chou chantilly” and “chou à la crème”, garnished with a few sugary “chouquettes”. After the chef and I both confessed our hopeless gourmandise, I moved in for the kill.

I subtly (or not so subtly for those who have seen it before) gave him my best puppy dog eyes and my sweetest smile. Pause. He suddenly decided I was worthy of VIP status and started moving towards the liquor cabinet. “Limoncello, carina?” Et là, mes amis, victoire!

~ “Pâte à Choux” ~ (cream puff pastry)

Makes:
- “Chouquettes” (small, sweet puff pastry covered in pearl sugar)
- Cream puffs (fill with your choice of whipped cream, custard, etc.)

Ingredients:
- 125 g water (½ cup)
- 125 g milk (½ cup)
- 2.5 g salt (½ tsp)
- 5 g sugar (1 ¼ tsp)
- 125 g butter, cut into small pieces (½ cup)
- 150 g flour, sifted (1 ½ cups)
- 250 g eggs, beaten (4 to 5 eggs; 8.8 oz)
- melted butter, to glaze

How to:
1. Preheat oven to 220°C (425°F)

2. In a saucepan, gently heat the water, milk, salt, sugar and pieces of butter while stirring with a wooden spoon. Once the butter is melted, turn the heat up to medium until the liquid comes to a boil

3. Remove from heat, add all the sifted flour at once and stir energetically until combined

4. Return to medium low heat and stir constantly until the mixture comes away from the sides of the saucepan and makes a thick, smooth ball, about 1 minute

5. Transfer the batter to a mixing bowl and stir occasionally to let cool, about 2 minutes

6. Mix in half of the beaten eggs with the dough. Stir until combined. Continue mixing in half of the remaining eggs until the batter is shiny and smooth. Stir more and more slowly as the batter gets closer to the desired consistency

7. Grease a baking sheet (i.e. with a butter spray) and wipe gently with a paper towel to remove the excess. The sheet should not be too greasy or else the batter will not adhere correctly

8. Decorate the baking sheet
* For “chouquettes” (baby puffs)
- Fill a pastry bag with a plain tip (or a plastic baggie with the corner snipped off) with some of the batter. Pipe or use 2 spoons to drop approx. 1” rounds of batter onto the baking sheet
- Press plenty of pearl sugar crystals (or the largest sugar crystals you can get your hands on) over the top and sides of the baby puffs.
Note: If my chef ever found out I might get expelled for this, but I don’t see why you can’t substitute sprinkles or chocolate chips for the pearl sugar. Just make sure the batter is completely cooled before adding. It’s not entirely French but why does tradition have to dictate law?

* For cream puffs (mamma puffs)
- Fill a pastry bag with a plain tip (or a plastic baggie with the corner snipped off) with some of the batter. Pipe or use 2 spoons to drop approx. 2” rounds of batter onto the baking sheet
- Brush the tops of the pastry shells with a very small amount of melted butter
- Press the tops of the pastry shells gently with the back of a fork twice at 90° angles to make a lattice mark to stabilize them during baking

9. We’re almost there!
- Bake at 220°C / 425°F (temperature and cooking time may vary depending on the oven) for about 35 minutes. Prop the oven door open ever so slightly towards the end of baking to allow the shells to dry out better
- Remove from the oven and let cool on a wire rack

You can enjoy the baby puffs once cooled. You can cut the caps off of the mamma puffs and fill with your choice of sweet whipped cream, custard, ice cream (again, not entirely tradi) or whatever grabs ya. Replace the caps and dust with icing sugar (optional).

Ya mi!

Mon Café à Moi

So, remember when I said I boycotted “my” local café because they changed owners and the service became crap? Well, when I saw a big “Changement de Direction” sign and a new name on the café, I was intrigued. I walked in this weekend and was greeted with an almost overeager, overfriendly service. WTF? What the heck happened here? Friendly service? In Paris? In my formerly beloved café that has let me down so much that I couldn’t set foot within for 2 years?! I could actually feel a real EFFORT to satisfy the clients. What a concept! The former owners are back!

I had a surprisingly good day, starting with a visit to the “Prefecture de Police” to get my visa renewed. It has been an ordeal so far but I was pleasantly surprised when I got a “recipissé de demande” after only half an hour. Although I will have to go back in December (I sent in my application in August, mind you) to get my real visa, at least I have an extension of my visa now.

After class, I had an interview / meeting with my new boss at the restaurant. Although it doesn’t have any Michelin stars, it seems to have a pretty good reputation. The chef kept insisting that I must show my motivation all the time…which will be difficult – especially when I’m dead on my feet. While it is pretty exciting to be starting a new adventure, it’s also a bit scary. The chef seems to have high expectations and I’ll be working many many hours. Very tough, especially for me – I’m used to sitting on my a** at least 14 hrs a day - and I’ll only have Sunday and Monday off so my social life will really take a real hit…

Anyway, the best news of the day is: I was in a good mood so I walked in to “my” café, and lo and behold who do I get reunited with but the famous barman from my first months in Paris. He even recognized me and introduced me to everyone as an old, loyal client! I guess I must have spent a lot of money or made a big impression there in the past… I had only planned to spend 15 minutes max there but an older gentleman bought me some drinks and I ended up chatting it up with them like old friends for an hour an a half. Why oh why do I finally start feeling like I fit in when I am getting ready to leave??

Is This It?

I’m getting tired of getting sick so often. The incessant coughing definitely dampens my cuteness factor… Being ill and yet another restless night probably didn’t help me in our first day of solo-cheffing: 6 different types of “crudités” and a cheese soufflé.

I’m not sure if it was the fatigue, my general yucky state or just pure clumsiness, but I was a complete kitchen catastrophe today. I almost cut myself shredding veggies (thankfully, no injuries yet – knock on wood!) and kept bumping into inanimate objects, kind of like when I’m driving. How embarrassing to be the last person to finish, and still have to redo a botched Mornay sauce (béchamel, egg yolks and gruyère cheese). The chef and a classmate even had to help get me back on track to finish the soufflé batter in time.

What a tough day to have right after I re-motivated myself after a short vacation. Although my neighbor said I overmixed the batter and was so slow that my egg whites were deflating, I was relieved to see that my baby soufflé DID rise and didn’t even taste half bad!

I’m not really sure if I’m ready to start an internship so soon, since I can’t seem to escape the bottom of the class. I mean, what do they expect from an almost-CPA? ; ) The chef placed me at a Michelin-cited seafood restaurant in the Latin Quarter for a 10-week internship starting in a week and a half. If I succeed, someone will be very well fed. If not, he’ll just have to eat my famous instant noodles while I mope over an episode of Gray’s Anatomy. Watch out, little fishies!

The Beginning of the End

In French, “bonne femme” refers to a grandma-like figure or someone from the countryside. I would give some examples but the “gardienne” might get upset if I refer to her as such!

When I think of western grandma cooking, I imagine lots of butter and lots of love. But mostly lots of butter, which is exactly what the recipe for “Filet de Sole Bonne Femme” (sole filet with “bonne femme” sauce) calls for. A ton of butter. And cream.

Given my history of getting viciously poked by grandmas of all nationalities to encourage me to eat more (no need – I love to eat already!) and my experience of getting yelled at by the chef because I scraped off half the Béchamel sauce from my soft-boiled eggs, I thought I would hate this dish. Way too rich.

Unfortunately for my figure, one bite into the tender white flesh nesting on top of a bed of finely diced shallots and mushrooms cooked in a white wine broth was all it took to convert me. The unbelievably rich cream and butter reduction broiled to a beautiful golden crust finished me. I took another bite. And another and another… Chef’s belly, here I come!

Just Another Sunday

It’s the little things that get me every time. After an uneventful Sunday morning doing apprentice chef homework, which funnily resembles the monkey work I used to do at Lehman, I spent the noon hour whipping up some home-style Taiwanese food. Fried chicken, sautéed veg and rice. Mmmm…

I then canceled my afternoon swim lesson because I still have a bit of difficulty breathing due to a cold and “bronchite” from 2 weeks ago. Not being able to breathe in the pool would be a bad thing because your normally courageous reporter has a panic button that tends to overreact in the pool. And to think I was actually considering taking up surfing…

Anyway, I used the extra half hour for a cozy nap and moseyed over to church to sing in the worship team (band) for the first time since high school. This is definitely a year of firsts, or first-time-in-a-long-times. When I got there we realized there were no instrumentalists but thanks to a lot of prayer and pep talks we finally worked something out. I got thrown in the deep end and didn’t really even know some of the songs but it was still a great experience and I’m glad I was scheduled to start this week when there was a need for extra bodies.

The day ended on a sweet note when still warm from communion wine, I got a ride home on a super luxe scooter under a drizzly Parisian sky. It was the first time I noticed the “dame de fer” dressed in her latest designer robe – red and blue skirt and silver top, illuminating the autumn night. I truly am a lucky lady, huh?

Une Vrai Parisienne (sometimes)

The Paris-based American pastry chef and food writer, David Lebovitz (who I met!!), declared that he realized he had become a real Parisian when he felt the need to get properly dressed to take out the trash because after all, you WILL be judged on how you look over here. I, however, feel most Parisian when shopkeepers recognize me as a “regular”. It first happened at “my” café across the street with the cute bartender, which I had to ditch when it got bought out and gained 20 years in a day. I was also a regular at an Asian traiteur (deli / caterer) in Passy (I know I know) and a brasserie by my old office. The sad thing is when I walk into my new café (young and hip like me, ha!) and they immediately know what I want to drink, which usually isn’t water…


Today I stopped by a little Italian traiteur on the way home from class. The chef was there and coerced me into having an espresso like I used to do after my physical therapy sessions last year. I’m such a granny with my injuries (from classical ballet and charging at people with a sabre) and old habits sometimes! It’s so nice to be treated as a “valued customer” in Paris, where I usually feel like I’m intruding if I dare to want to buy something. I bought some stuffed foccacia, crocche, arancino, baby bread and green bean salad and he didn’t even charge me for the coffee! Or maybe he just forgot. Hmm…

Why I Cook

I am not a great cook. Well, at least not yet. I used to think my future family would be skinny and never have to go to the gym because I might accidentally poison them or they wouldn't like my food!

I have, however, always loved food. I used to cut out recipes from the LA Times paper and dutifully made color coded (nerd!) recipe collages when I was a teenager. As an aspiring ballerina, I made ultra fattening (man, were they good!) desserts, because forbidden = desirable. In college and beyond I was addicted to watching the Food Network and when I moved to France with an American TV, all I watched were old VCR recordings of Rachel Ray and Michael Chiarello.

Up until a year or 2 ago, I didn't spend any significant amount of time in the kitchen because my mother is a great cook and made great "doggie bags" that lasted me an entire week at university. When I started working as an investment banker there was even less need to cook since I ate 3 meals a day at my desk. I'm sure it wasn't very healthy gobbling down Cheesecake Factory takeout in 5 minutes flat amid a mountain of papers and Diet Coke cans, but I learned to live with the banker lifestyle.

One year, when I came back to France after Christmas holidays in LA, I suddenly couldn't stand the thought of eating one more choose-your-own-toppings pasta salad for lunch. I started fiddling around in my tiny kitchen on the weekends, cooking as many dishes as I could until I ran out of pots and pans. I got many comments from certain less than diplomatic colleagues along the lines of, "Ew, what is that smell?!?!?!" when I heated up my little bento at noon but I didn't care. I had Chinese food!

One great blessing I received when my bank collapsed was that I suddenly had more free time (wow!). I decided to volunteer at a local soup kitchen run by 4 American churches in Paris. I met many amazing volunteers in the numerous Fridays I spent at the American Cathedral kitchen and made some great friends. Although I was often teased about my less than stellar cooking skills, it was still such a rewarding experience to be able to cook a hot meal for homeless and needy guests.

Part of the "Friday Mission Lunch" team

I was reminded of "the joy of cooking" today (thanks, Bel!) when I helped cook a welcome lunch at my church with my home group. Life in culinary school can be tough but when I am in the kitchen for a good cause, I don't care about the fatigue anymore. It may not have been 3 star cooking but it was good food prepared with lots of love. It's such a privilege to be able to contribute like that and it has re-motivated me to face the week ahead. Bringing joy to others - that is why I cook...or try to cook!

School School

Going to cooking school started out as a desperate attempt to find a plan B when I became increasingly certain I wouldn’t get in to business school last year. If not an MBA, why not cook? Right. Here I am, a ballerina / study geek turned fanker (that’s a “fake investment banker” according to the Lehman Menlo Park crew) who was hardly ever allowed in the home kitchen for fear of giving her poor mother a heart attack! Me, become the next Julia Child or Anita Lo? Far from likely. I just hope to be able to make a decent meal for my friends the next time I entertain in my tiny overpriced Parisian flat and we’ll take it from there.

The program so far has been perfectly tailored to ambitious 17-year-olds. The chefs are extremely competent both in the kitchen and as teachers, which I think is rare. Unfortunately, I’m not a teenager anymore and the strict discipline, heavy “homework” load and general spell-everything-out-ness (“you must be on time and respect others”) is not the style I would have preferred.

The students are very motivated though and not at all what I imagined (you know, the trendy cliques roaming the malls and hanging out by the kebab stand). They do, however, still have that sagging thing going on and I am now privy to the underwear preferences of most of my male classmates…Despite all that, I am happy to finally meet people who also make a beeline for the cooking magazines at the newsstand and take pictures of food like Asian tourists in front of the Eiffel Tower (guilty as charged!).

So far we have had 3 days in the kitchen, which means 6:30am wake up call (ah, the familiar Blackberry alarm is back), 7:30am start, 8am lecture in the kitchen (no chairs to be found) and cooking until 2:30pm with major cleanup afterwards. I am developing beautiful legs from running up and down 5 flights of stairs and learning to eat as fast as a starving athlete. We have learned the basic stocks and sauces and I even cleaned a chicken – me, the girl with a deathly fear of pigeons and birds in general! It is definitely more tiring and less glamourous than I hoped but I’m learning a lot. Where else do you get to flambé whole chickens and run around with knife kits? Fun…

La Dernière Montée…

…loosely translated as “the last hill to climb” could be the motto of the class. However, in hiking, as in life, we never quite reach the last hill but rather, the last hill before the next hill to climb. Je m’explique. My first week in “school” was actually spent in the Jura mountains in the east of France, close to the Swiss border. It was a beautiful countryside filled with cows, forests and cheese…and cow dung. We spent a week “team building” by doing activities such as 7 hour hikes which seemed to never end, because there was always another hill and we always only had 15-20 more minutes to go, until we had yet another 15-20 minutes to go. We went mountain biking (through said cow dung) and zipped through the trees in an adventure course, complete with spectacular semi-landings.

My class is mostly made up of French recent high school grads and a sprinkle of older wannabe chefs, like myself. I do think I win the prize for having been on the earth the longest, though I hope I don’t look it! Among the non-17-year-olds is a former lawyer and a former language professor. I’m the only person from the business world, the only foreigner and the only Asian (hmm, reminds me of my last job). Sometimes these differences make me feel like an imposter, though I prefer to think of it as embarking on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure…

La Rentrée

Oh the excitement of going back to school, otherwise known as "la rentrée" in France, especially when your 10 year high school reunion is already coming up fast!

I walked up to ESCF (Ecole Supérieur de Cuisine Française) Ferrandi this morning decked out in my work suit (quand même!) and the Coach purse I bought when I got my first real job offer, ahem, 5 years ago. I took the "students forbidden" elevator with a friendly future classmate who innocently asked me if I also just passed my "bac" (French high school graduation exam). Hmmm, not exactly... When we passed a chef wearing the French colors on his collar, my heart skipped a beat. I was in the same building as a MOF! Now, I don't know about you but that acronym conjures up all kinds of ideas, kind of like the reaction some people get when they see the "FCUK" logo for the first time! Anyway, MOF stands for "Meilleur Ouvrier de France", a title given to the winners of a prestigious frenchy competition. In my amateur mind, it's like seeing an Iron Chef in person, but I may be insulting one or the other with this association.

It was an interesting day with 30+ of us new students sitting in an amphitheatre with the Very Important People from the corner offices first exchanging kisses and then talking at us kids about how we must be disciplined, show respect and not rebel. Fitting into the Mold is très important here. The school is very hierarchical but that could just be French organizations in general. We were shown the pictures of people we absolutely must say "bonjour" to in the halls. I had forgotten that we say "merci" and "au revoir" to someone who finishes a speech instead of applauding, which makes for an awkward murmur from all corners of the room. The chefs actually proposed a cigarette break (not coffee) and then we went on the grand tour.

Chef M showed us around and chuckled at how a group of Japanese students were paying 20,000 euros or so to study here, which is exactly why I'm putting myself through the frenchy program. The Anglo program is more than double the price of the French one but you get out of a bunch of more general classes which may be worth it at the end... The Chef greeted and was greeted by everyone it seems - I'm interested to find out what he's notorious for! Him and Chef C seem professional but are quite funny. Or, it could be that anytime someone uses slang that I actually understand it seems like a joke to me because I'm super proud of myself for getting it!

I'm looking forward to the stage d'integration next week. I'm not sure I'll make it back in one piece after a day with 7 hours of hiking but at least I'll be victorious in one thing. I may not have the strength of an 18 year old but my skin's sure gotten a lot better since! Mwahahaha

...elated

I just got some great news but I almost don't want to celebrate until it's sure sure, like when I can see the message in writing in my inbox... For the moment I've got too much "nervous" energy even though I'm pooped from velib'ing to and from the Mission Lunch kitchen where I worked all morning. I must really get back in shape...hah!
I feel like chopping something or cooking something elaborate to work it off but I don't want to stink up my whole living room for my weekend futon guest. Oh, the joys of living in a small and overpriced apartment with a tiny kitchen that opens out to the living room...
At least it's a beautiful day in Paris again! It figures. Of course I spent forever looking for a 10 centime item (I ended up getting a crepe spatula for 3.90 instead) to get free shipping for an online fan purchase last night after my cross-town trek to the Carrefour yesterday ended up in disappointment!

...feeling inspired

Yay! I've finally gotten off my lass and done it! Here is my latest attempt at keeping in touch with my lovely friends here in Paris, at home in beautiful Cali and all around the world. For the moment it's probably gonna be filled with more random musings and complaining about the heat and/or the French (I do it with affection, of course!) but I hope to be able to find time to post some recipes and thoughts about life in cooking school in Paris when it begins (a few more weeks to go), though I don't promise to only talk about French food. I miss my mom's cooking already!
Here we go!
Bises