Post-grad fellowship application writing fuel

Chocolat fondant and petit canelle. A sinfully rich pudding-like cake and a cheerfully sweet, sticky, sponge-y morsel.

Only set me back 2,50€ and 0,60€, respectively. And the app was finished!

After all, as the pastry wrappers in France advise...

"Eat cake more often."

When the weather outside gets frightful...

...the natural response is to seek hot chocolate. Amiright? And if you have any lingering caloric fears, just go with J.K. Rowling's logic: "chocolate serves as a powerful and excellent antidote for the chilling, cold effect produced by Dementors, and other particularly nasty forms of dark magic."

There are several fine establishments that seek the title of meilleur chocolat chaud de Paris (best hot chocolate in Paris). But on one bone-chillingly cold and drizzly day, E. and I opted for Christian Constant, which was just a short walk from the CUPA office.

Stepping into Christian Constant, you can tell just that you're surrounded by some high-quality chocolate, even after the first whiff. Trying not to get distracted by the exquisite truffles tempting us from behind glass cases, we took a seat by the window and opened the menu.

Instead of sharing (which would have been the rational thing to do), E. and I decided to turn a blind eye to the 6€50 price tag for a single serving of chocolat chaud and to each opt for the "full experience." (Did I mention that it was really, really cold outside?)

If you can't tell from the picture, this hot chocolate was toeing the line between liquid and pudding. It was as filling as a slice of cake, but dark, bitter, and complex in addition to just being simply sweet. It certainly didn't quench any thirst (we were extremely grateful for the carafe d'eau our waiter brought us), but it satisfied the soul in a way that I think Harry, Ron, and Hermione would understand.

Speculoos, aka My Kryptonite

The first step is admitting you have a problem. And I have a real problem, folks: I'm addicted to Speculoos paste.

What's that? you ask. Well, it's actually quite strange. Speculoos refers to "a type of shortcrust biscuit, traditionally baked for consumption on St. Nicholas' Eve in the Netherlands and Belgium." The thin, cinnamon-y cookies are now often served with coffee at restaurants year-round. You may also know them if you've ever been served one with your coffee on a Delta Airlines flight. The most common brand of Speculoos cookies is Lotus.

You're probably thinking, "A cookie? That's it? You're addicted to a regular old cookie?"

Just wait, dear readers.

Three years ago, a woman on a reality show had a strange, but brilliant idea: to make these cookies into a spread. Now, this would almost seem contrary to the order of nature: for example, we use peanut butter (a paste-like spread) to make peanut butter cookies, not the other way around! But this visionary woman defied the laws of nature and created a heaven in a jar, sparking some legal controversy along the way.

I'll be honest, I don't even really like the cookies that much. They're pretty ho-hum, even when you dip them in coffee. But when you pulverize them with oil into the consistency of Skippy peanut butter, that's when the magic happens.

Confession time: I bought this jar on Wednesday. By the end of the day Wednesday, half the jar was gone. By the end of the day Thursday, the whole jar was gone. There's just something about it that makes it impervious to my "just one spoonful" rule...

Unlike peanut butter (where you can argue a case for protein), Speculoos has no redeeming qualities other than having "good fat" (aka, not trans fat). So no excuses here: I just plain love the stuff, and I'm not ashamed to admit it!

I'm pretty sure a jar or two will stow away in my suitcase when I return to the US...

Eureka! I have found it!

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the French love their little individual plastic dessert cups. Be it chocolate mousse, crême caramel, fromage blanc, or yogurt, a French person will almost always take the time after a meal to indulge in some sort of creamy single-serving dessert (or at least a fruit purée like applesauce). As one might imagine, French supermarkets devote a remarkable amount of shelf space to these items, which usually come in two or four-packs, sometimes in glass or ceramic pots instead of plastic.

But despite the French love of creamy sweets, I found myself wanting when it came to Greek-style yogurt. While the battle for Greek-style yogurt market supremacy continues to rage between FAGE, Chobani, and Oikos in the US, the French seem disinterested. I asked the French about it: they said it wasn't popular here by any means. I couldn't even find a lonely attempt at Greek yogurt on a dairy aisle shelf.

Until now!

There, mixed in with all the boring regular yogurts, I saw it! Eureka! I found it! FAGE in France! At 1,50€ a pop, it wasn't cheap, but I was willing to consider it if I was desperate for that creamy, tangy, protein-rich filling that I sometimes just crave...

But then, more delight - Monoprix makes it own Greek-style yogurt! A four-pack for 1,61€ is a no-brainer!

The catch-phrase under the title instructed me to "make my spoon into an airplane and fly to Greece" - so that's just what I did!

I'll never go hungry for want of a creamy, sugar-free, protein-rich dessert again!

Grom Gelato : Slow Food = Delicious Food

Long days of class at CUPA never fails to help us work up and appetite AND make us feel entitled to a sweet treat. We most recently indulged at Grom, the Italian slow-food gelateria, at its Paris location in the 6eme arrondissement.

It was one of the hottest days of this strange Indian summer we've been having here in Paris (over eighty degrees in October?!), so the line at Grom was out the door. By the time we got there, they had already run out of many flavors. No matter, there were still plenty of options and thus many painstaking decisions to be made: small or medium? cup or cone? if I'm dead-set on the hazelnut, what second flavor will pair best with it?

Sadly, I've been so behind in my blogging that I've actually forgotten what flavors we got! But they look lovely, no? They tasted even more delicious!

It should be noted that Grom has an admirable philosophy, with a commitment to using the finest ingredients from around the world (Syrian pistachios, lemons from the Amalfi coast, spring water from Lurisia, and vanilla beans from Madagascar of course!). They recently launched an eco-friendly project called "Grom Loves World," and all their utensils and cups are biodegradable! They are also sensitive to those with wheat allergies and celiac disease, clearly marking their products if they contain wheat.

And guess what, friends! They have store locations in New York City AND Malibu! So my nearest and dearest on both coasts can enjoy, too!

ONE MONTH MARK

I realized this weekend that a milestone had passed without my even noticing : having arrived on August 23rd, I have been in France for over a month now!

And it shows:

- I'm at the point now where all my thoughts are in Frenglish (a delightfully incorrect mix of French and English). I'm forgetting basic English words and speaking English using French grammar and sentence structure. Sometimes I get frustrated when I'm speaking English to someone and I can't use a French expression that just feels better in the given situation!

- Although I'm eating vegan and wheat-free in my apartment (and whatever I want whenever I eat out), the other night as I was walking home I just knew that after my vegetable sautée I would have a craving for something sweet. So like a typical French person, I stopped into the nearest épicerie and bought a two-pack of little chocolate mousses. French people LOVE their little pre-packaged plastic desserts: yogurts, pôts de crême, mousses, etc. In fact, they are almost incapable of eating a meal (especially lunch) without one. You should see the amount of refrigerator space in any given French supermarket that's devoted to little creamy desserts in little plastic containers!

- I spent this past weekend in Strasbourg (more on that later), and I felt completely disoriented in what looked like a small (by comparison) town with heavy German influence. Walking up to a castle in the mountains through dense forests - even more disorienting! Not being able to hop on the métro? Quel horreur! So much for my suburban-girl apprehensions about living in a big city - Paris feels like home!

Ladurée : the original macaron

Now, on va faire un petit anachronisme [we're going to make a small anachronism] to revisit day I went to the Musée Rodin and the Musé d'Orsay. Why? Because looking at all that impressionist and post-impressionist art helped us work up an appetite, and since we weren't too far from St-Germain-des-Prés (where I tasted my first-ever Ladurée macaron in 2009), I suggested we try and find it (since we didn't have the address).

With S.'s uncanny sense of direction and the help of an obliging newspaper kiosk man, we found it: Ladurée, founded 1862, the creator of the original double-decker, ganache-filled macaron cookie.

(You aren't allowed to take photos inside, so this was the best I could do)

E., S., and I moseyed on inside and drooled over the glass cases of pastries for a while before finally reaching a decision and ordering from the quaintly dressed employees (they look like 19th century maids, complete with aprons and chignons). E. opted for Divin, S. chose a St.-Honoré Pistachio Griotte, and carefully selected three small macarons: orange blossom, lemon thyme, and strawberry mint. At 1euro60 each, they're what the French would call a petit péché mignon (cute little sin).

We sat on the steps of the nearby church, took a reverent breath, and dug in. S.'s St.-Honoré was as delicious as it looked...

...and the logistics of eating it (let alone sharing it) without a knife or fork were quite hilarious:

Look at my three little beauties...

S. and I both agreed that the orange blossom didn't really taste like anything in particular, although it wasn't bad. The strawberry mint had sounded gimicky to me at first, but I was surprised by how refreshing and summery the combination turned out to be. However, it was lemon thyme [left, below] that won the award that day - I love the way thyme, which is generally used in savory dishes, can pop in to desserts to add sophistication (basil also does this quite well, as Princeton's The Bent Spoon showed this off quite well this summer with its Lime Purple Basil sorbet).

But guess what, friends! Ladurée has since added a single-origin Malagasy chocolate macaron to its already-impressive lineup. Guess I'll just have to go back...

The best I ever had...

(gelato, that is!)

Alright, you're probably going to think I'm a bit gourmande (a glutton who loves to eat; not to be confused with gourmet, which is someone who loves haute cuisine) when I say that the next stop we made after our divine coffee at La Caféothèque was at a gelato shop.

Pozzetto is in the 4e arrondissement, and is "simply the best gelato in Paris," according to none other than Monsieur Lebovitz. And I have to agree.

I'm a big fan of all things mint-flavored (my mother once had to talk me out of a bottle of peppermint body lotion - she said I would smell like toothpaste and no boys would like me), especially ice cream/gelato/anything sugary and frozen. Messieurs Ben & Jerry have done quite well by me in the past with their Mint Chocolate Chunk - after all, the ice cream is white (not unnatural green dye), and it loaded with huge rectangles of dark chocolate. And let's not forget Mint Chocolate Cookie - the blessed lovechild of mint chocolate chip and cookies 'n' cream.

[By the way, you can get Ben & Jerry's in Paris very easily - they have stand-alone shops, stands, and it's found in some snack shops, too.]

But Pozzetto outdid even my favorite ice cream making men from Vermont. This gelato was flecked with dark green-brown somethings - I realized that these were in fact pieces of actual mint leaves.

My other flavor pick was pistachio, which Pozzetto does just right. The dull green color means they used REAL pistachios, not syrup and dye. What's more, according to David [Lebovitz], Pozzetto uses "Sicilian Bronte pistachios." I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm guessing based on the taste that it is indeed something quite special.

I also appreciated the fact that Pozzetto gave decent portion sizes; often in France even deux boules (two scoops) seems pitifully small to this ice cream lover!

I'll have to go back and try all the other flavors very soon...

~

We wandered with our gelato cones into Le Marais (which I've already for its unrivaled falafel) and came upon this place: a wine cellar/bar/book store. Alcohol and literature - what's a college student not to love? La Belle Hortense came with the seal of approval of a creepy toothless bouquiniste (bookseller) that we met on the banks of the Seine, but has nevertheless been added to our list...

Île de la Cité et le Quartier Latin: Un peu d'exotisme, Notre Dame, et le Mémorial de la Shoah

Revitalized by our lunch at the Crêperie Josselin in the 14e, S. and I set out to walk to Île de la Cité - where Notre Dame is, but also the location of a yoga studio we wanted to check out. This was no small stroll, but there was lots to see along the way (including, curiously, several Nepalese and Tibetan clothing stores and restaurants).

We passed through the Latin Quarter, meandering through the winding pedestrian-only streets past restaurants and specialty food shops. Suddenly the Crêperie Josselin seemed like a long time ago! A Tunisian pâtisserie caught my eye, with its window displays of brightly colored cubed confections and pastries dripping with syrupy honey. Suddenly, eureka! I spied rahat loukoume, a dessert that I was first exposed to at one of our after-concert cocktails at the music festival I worked for in Normandy in 2009. The loukoumes and other "Turkish delights" had been so delightful, that I made a point of remembering the name so that I could seek it out again someday.

The texture of loukoume can best be compared to Japanese mochi - chewy, sweet, and dusted with powder. Out of a choice between citron (lemon), pistache (pistachio) and rose, we picked one big rose-flavored cube to split. The best pleasure 1euro50 can buy!

We continued onto the Île de la Cité, walking past the throngs waiting to get into Notre Dame cathedral. Since 1) I hate lines, 2) I hate spending time at touristy spots, and 3) I visited the cathedral with a tour group when I first visited France my sophomore year of high school, Notre Dame is definitely not on my list of places I need to go this time around. I'll go ahead and offer a 4) and say that: 4) I've always kind of felt that once you've seen a few old Gothic cathedral, you've got the basic idea...

We also happened upon le Mémorial de la Shoah, so we decided to go in. It's a stunning memorial: you descend via stairs into a high-walled courtyard with spiked bars attached to the wall facing the Seine. Then you enter a chamber where an eternal light is glowing, and quotes from major French thinkers and writers about humanity and loss figure prominently on the walls in rough, spiky black script. There is a long corridor you can look down (but not enter) with what look like shelves of glistening marbles; I took them to represent all the French (Jews, political activists, gays, and others) people who were deported by the Nazi and the Vichy regime. I found the whole experience to be very moving, and thought it one of the most well-done monuments I've been to.

Homemade yogurt...

...is both a great way to start the day and to end the day (as was the case when I took this picture) :

É. (B's brother) pointed out that making your own yogurt is not a typical French thing (my mother confirmed that she, too, used to do this when she was little), but nonetheless I find it quite charmant, not to mention delicious.

Bacteria cultures and milk get mixed together in little jars inside a little incubator...here's where the magic happens: