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.

Chilled and Bubbly

Two weekends ago small group from CUPA decided to organize their own day trip to Reims, the main city in the region of Champagne. Less than two hours away by train from Paris, it seemed like a good deal to me! Although I narrowly escaped missing the 8h57 train, my sprint through the Gare de l'Est turned out to be well worth the effort!

Fun Fact: the name of the city of Reims comes from Remus, the somewhat less celebrated half of the brother duo Romulus and Remus.

Despite the fact that I had scarfed down a demi-baguette de tradition bio and an apple in the métro, I was just as excited as everyone else by breakfast at Pain & Cie. in Reims. Alright, so wasn't the most French atmosphere - more American minimalist rustic chic, but who can resist that? Drop pendant lighting over big wooden farm tables stocked with sea salt grinders, olive oil in spritz bottles, and tubes of balsamic vinegar glaze. One of our group made the smart move to order one of their breakfast formules, which entitled her to a cup of coffee, a basket of bread slices, and a tray of assorted pâtes à tartiner (breakfast spread; Nutella belongs to this group) in hefty jars. She wasn't supposed to share, but that certainly didn't stop us! We lingered for as long as we could, hoping it would warm up outside.

Next we walked briskly through the still-freezing morning air to the Notre-Dame de Reims cathedral.

At the risk of sounding like a total snob, I've seen a lot of Gothic cathedrals in my time: here in Paris, across Basse Normandie, Chartres, Strasbourg, various American university neo-Gothic constructions, etc. So it takes something really special to make one stand apart from the rest.

But Notre-Dame de Reims won me over. Why? For starters, as you can see from the picture above, it's in the process of being restored. I love seeing cathedrals in the middle of restoration, when certain parts are sparkling beige and others remain a dark smoky brown. I remember the first time I saw such a cathedral, in Caen during my 2009 internship, and realized that the dark stone I was so used to was not in fact the color the building was meant to be. It always reminds me of the end of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast," when the castle and its residents are all transformed (see 6:50).

Another reason I loved Reims' cathedral: whimsical gargoyles. A rhinoceros is a totally unexpected touch in Northern Europe:

But what really sets Notre-Dame de Reims apart is its eclectic collection of vitraux (stained glass windows). Stained glass windows can be spectacularly ornate, and flaunt a rainbow of colors, but what really caught my eye at Reims were the minimalist, modern stained glass windows like the one below:

Despite the purely Gothic construction of the building, windows like these didn't feel out of place to me.

But Reims' cathedral's real claim to fame is the stained glass windows designed by Marc Chagall, dreamy and watercolor-like.

The addition of these windows in 1974 (bearing in mind that Chagall was Jewish), along with the even more modern ones designed by a female German artist that flank Chagall's work on either side, is a powerful statement for reconciliation in Europe:

Enough of that! you're probably thinking. Get to the booze already!

Alright, alright.

Next two other girls and I took the bus up to the Taittinger caves.

Because of timing, we had to sign up for an English tour (otherwise we would have opted for French!). We paid our student-discount rate (10€ for tour and tasting?! Yes, please!), and waited for a bit in the chic foyer, where sleek bottles were displayed like works of art or fine jewelry.

The tour ran like a well-oiled machine: first, we all watched a documentary in a little theater with dangerously comfortable seats; then, we were led down a spiral staircase by our anglophone French guide to the famed caves of Taittinger.

These caves were carves out by medieval monks (an even older section of the tunnels was carved out by the Romans, who were mining for chalk), and have the unique property of maintaining a perfect temperature of 10˚C - ideal for the production of fine champagne. Taittinger keeps about 8 million bottles down there, while an additional 19 million are stored at another site.

Yep, there are 99,710 bottles in that particular stack!

Finally, the best part: tasting!

I'm no fine beverage conoisseur, but I found it light and lovely!

Next we met the rest of our group for our reserved tour at the Vranken Pommery caves.

We could not have picked two more different champagne houses. While Taittinger was sleek and chic, Pommery was big and over-the-top, starting with the neo-Tudor architecture that made you feel like you had wandered into EuroDisney. There was a giant wooden barrel of champagne in the oversize waiting/tasting area:

And some interesting modern art...

The Pommery caves were also carved out by Romans and monks, and also maintain a perfect 10˚C. But unlike at Taittinger, our tour guide's English was laughably bad (yes, unfortunately we had to take yet another English language tour because of timing) and the caves were filled with some truly tacky excuses for modern art. I appreciate what they were going for, but the end result felt awkward and forced. If you ever visit Reims, I'd recommend Taittinger over Pommery in a heartbeat - Pommery didn't have a student discount, either!

Baby Bottles of Wine

Yep, you read that right. The day after our Fontainebleau/Vaux-le-Vicomte excursion, a group of us went to Le Refuge des Fondues in Montmartre to celebrate Y.'s birthday.

At this point in my stay here in France, I've gotten pretty good at sifting through restaurant reviews. It's not uncommon to find wildly conflicting reviews about the same restaurant, with some patrons touting an establishment as "the highlight of their Paris vacation," and others saying it was the most over-rated tourist trap they'd ever fallen for, with bad service to boot.

First things first - ignore American complaints about poor service. In the States we're used to charismatic unemployed actors grinning at us as they regale us with descriptions of the day's specials and fastidiously note all our special orders - all in the hopes of getting a big fat tip. Here in France, service is compris, and leaving a tip is completely optional - a reward for truly outstanding service. Since I'm an obviously a poor foreign student, no Parisian waiter expects me to leave a tip, and the service usually reflects that. Mais, tant pis! I'm just here for the food, anyways.

Alors, I could tell by the reviews online that Le Refuge des Fondues was going to be fun. The people who wrote negative reviews online sounded like old farts. The people who wrote positive reviews sounded like they were young, adventurous, and had a good sense of humor.

Although Y. claimed she had called the restaurant and made a 6:30 reservation for us, they restaurant refused to seat us until 7:00, claiming they they didn't even open until then. Oh well - we strolled around Montmartre for a bit. We were finally seated at a long table against the wooden walls, which are covered in scribbles and carved signatures of past patrons.

The meal was prix fixe at 21€ per person, which got us all apéritifs, a plate of hors d'œuvres (head cheese, cheese, pickles, olives, and spicy potatoes), a choice of cheese or meat fondue, and - of course - the famous biberons (baby bottles) of wine (choice of red or white).

I think the wine has to come before the fondue to help you numb the guilt that comes with consuming ridiculous quantities of bread and molten cheese.

On nights like tonight, calories don't exist...

As one review aptly put it, it's neither the best wine in Paris, nor is it the best fondue in Paris - but it's one of the best quirky Parisian experiences you could ask for as a hungry/thirsty study abroad student!

Coffee Connoisseurs Continue their Quest at Café Coutume

I ran into P. at CUPA the other day (we were both there straightening out some class logistics), and we decided to grab lunch together - and coffee. P. is a barista in Portland, so he knows his java - he's one of the friends who put his seal of approval on La Caféothèque a few weeks ago. So I knew I was in for a treat when he suggested a nearby café in the 7eme arrondissement.

When you walk into Café Coutume, you feel like you've stepped out of Paris and into some trendy little place in Brooklyn or LA. The décor is done in a soothing color palette; minimalist, but with some charming quirks. Plants grow out of stainless steel sinks, and there are rolling office chairs at a little side bar. There's a diagram of the human tongue on the wall.

Once seated, we were brought the menus (attached to clipboards) and a carafe d'eau. But this wasn't just any carafe d'eau - it was a test tube!

P. ordered a regular black coffee, while I opted for a café crème. FYI, that's what you have to order if you want coffee with cream in France - and it always costs extra. No free little containers of non-dairy creamer here! But no matter, I was quite hungry and didn't feel like subjecting my empty stomach to the burn of black coffee (albeit black coffee made from single-origin beans roasted on the premises). Usually when you order a café crème, you get a shot of espresso with the milk already mixed in, or on the side. But at Café Coutume, I got a lovely surprise:

Remember, I ordered a café crème, not a cappuccino! And it was as delicious as it was pretty!

Then came lunch. I ordered their Lebanese offering, which came impeccably presented on one of those trendy square plates:

An elegant presentation of tabouleh, flanked by succuluent roasted eggplant, a blob of creamy goat cheese, and some baby greens drizzled with lemon oil. Everything lightly sprinkled with sesame seeds. You could tell just by looking (and by tasting!) that these were high-quality ingredients. So high quality, in fact, that I think the 8,50€ price tag was well-justified.

I also noted as we were leaving that Café Coutume sells small bundles of vanilla beans from Madagascar. There were perhaps 7-10 bean pods in each bundle, which went for about 7,50€ each - though nothing compared to the deals I got in Madagascar, it's still the best price I've seen since leaving the island.

We then strolled up to Invalides...

...then across the Seine into the 8eme arrondissement - the part that's filled with high-end couture shopping (aka, nowhere near my appartment!) - where we gawked into the windows purportedly selling "stylish" clothes. Is it just me, or do "designer" stores often sell a lot of ugly things, too?

Then it was off to the metro to catch line 14 for class at INALCO!

Un Week-end en Alsace: Haut-Kœnigsbourg and Obernai

The morning after our Academie des Bières excursion, we awoke painfully early, packed up our things in our surprisingly nice hotel rooms (have I mentioned CUPA spoils us? Because they do), scarfed down one of those typical hotel continental breakfasts, and loaded up into the bus. Where were we off to? Well, at that point we weren't entirely sure, but a quick consultation of our itineraries informed us that we were headed to the château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg and to the town of Obernai.

The Château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg - "Bien plus qu'un monument," as its brochure promised - was built in the 12th century, restored under the direction of Emperor Wilhelm II at the beginning of the 20th (obviously before France got Alsace back), and was everything a medieval castle should be!

Here are a few glimpses why, taken as I wandered up and down curving stone steps, long hallways, and peered over turret ledges...

If I had been in the mood, I might have tried to capture these steps in a way that paid homage to Frederick Evans' well-known photograph "A Sea of Steps"...

Medieval Starbucks? Granddad, I thought of you...

Ceiling of the great hall...

Exactly the kind of chandelier you would expect Teutonic knights to eat under...

I named this area off the great hall "the breakfast nook"...

Why, of course I have a large stuffed dragon hanging over my breakfast nook - don't you?

The classic and obligatory wild boar's head:

Trophy wall! It was actually much more extensive than I could even capture with my camera...

View from the top:

Pious, and the perfect shape for shooting arrow without getting hit by incoming ones...

Then it was back to the buses for the last stop on our journey: the town of Obernai, where we would have our dégustation and initiation aux vins d'Alsace (wine tasting and introduction to the wines of Alsace).

Obernai was a quaint French-German mix, like a tiny Strasbourg, but otherwise unremarkable. My stomach growled as we passed countless bakeries tempting me with authentic bretzels, and I hoped I would be able to survive wine tasting on an empty stomach...

Our sommelier for the afternoon was quite the character: well-dressed, fastidious, well-versed in both history and geology, passionate about protecting the authenticity of wines (he's the kind of person you never mention a California champagne to!), and profoundly poetic in his descriptions of the white wines we had the pleasure of encountering that day.

Okay, time to reveal one of my goals for my time here in France: become a wine snob. Since I'm 21 now, I can return to the US and put this newfound knowledge to good use, and forever eschew classless American college-style drinking.

So though I felt rather ridiculous holding my glass by the foot (not the stem), tipping the glass to watch how the legs (larmes, or "tears" in French) dripped, sniffing, swirling, and sucking the wine into my mouth with a strange sound (this is meant to further aerate the wine and bring out more flavors)...I did all those things. And though it may have been totally psychological, I really do think I could taste and differentiate the lemon, grapefruit, passionfruit, pineapple, black tea, jasmine, and sea salt that the sommelier identified in each of the three wines we sampled.

We then proceeded into the restaurant, where a lovely menu awaited us:

Once again, the decision was pretty much made for me (other than dessert), but no complaints here! Still, I snapped a picture of S.'s foie gras with mango chutney for you (since my mesclun salad, though delicious, was less photogenic):

The vegetarian main course at this restaurant was much more normal: a delicate arrangement of vegetables, mushrooms, and potato purée:

(the green vegetable in the middle was like a cross between broccoli and cauliflower - yum!)

Oh, and did I mention that the sommelier personally came around to each table and poured each of us a different wine for each of the three courses? Here's one of them:

When it came to dessert, we were all expecting the kougelhofpf glacé to be a glazed kougelhopf, or a kougelhopf filled with ice cream. What were not expecting was ice cream shaped like a kougelhopf, and filled with rum!

I love ice cream, I love rum, and I love raspberry sauce, but this was not my cup of tea!

Luckily, I had switched orders with someone so that I could get the assiette tout chocolat, which I was expecting to be an assortment of truffles. Once again, we were surprized:

Chocolate cake, chocolate mousse, and chocolate ice cream - now that, I can live with!

We finished off the meal with coffee and a dish of smaller, humbler sweets - including marshmallows and fruit pâté (the gelly, sugar-encrusted squared in the middle).

Then it was back to the bus and back to Strasbourg to catch the train back to Paris. Au revoir, Alsace!

Un Weekend en Alsace : Strasbourg

Thanks to our ever-generous study abroad program, my fellow CUPA students and I spent the weekend in Alsace. Those of you who remember your European history will remember that this region has passed back and forth between French and German hands over the past few centuries. It's a region still known for its white wines (more on that in my next post!), German-sounding Alsatian dialect, and hearty German-influenced food, among other things.

As you stroll through the charming streets of maisons aux colombages under signs with the old names for guilds (corporations in French), you might think you'd crossed the border into Germany...

ESPECIALLY if you wandered into the area known as (somewhat contradictorily) "La Petite France"...

Strudel and pretzels (known as "bretzels" in France) abound - even a bretzel crocodile!

Three of us stopped into a cute little restaurant, tucked away behind a large wooden door on a side street.

We were offered a little appetizer of head cheese (read description at your own discretion!), so I amused myself with spoonfuls of the strong mustard from the little ceramic jar on our table. S. ordered this little fella...

...and ordered this feuilleté with Munster cheese and choucroute (sauerkraut), after double-checking with the waitress that it was vegetarian...

...but S. double-checked the sauce for me and confirmed my fears: the sauce was definitively beef-based! I let the waitress know, but she seemed unconcerned: as long as a sauce doesn't have chunks of meat in it, and just has beef broth à la base, it's considered vegetarian in Alsace! Ça me fait chier!!!

Still, I tried not to let the fact that I had ingested cow distract me from enjoying Strasbourg. We met up with the rest of the group in front of the cathedral - one of the most intricately-decorated Gothic cathedrals I've ever seen!

Lucky puppy - touch his nose!

Astronomical clock! We missed the big show at noon, but we still got to see the 1pm.

We then continued our walking tour out in town...

The skinniest house in all of Strasbourg:

Look what we found: the best of pretzels and donuts, all rolled into one! I'm kind of surprised the Americans didn't think of this one first...

Aaaand...if you're wondering if a Nutella-filled beignet is a good idea, just look at how many were left by the time we got there:

S. tries on some traditional Alsatian garb...well, sort of...

~

Oh hey, it's me in my 10euro hat, checking out vintage cameras at a flea market! [Photo cred. to Miss S.]

Now, my story gets interesting...all of CUPA had reservations for dinner at a highly-recommended restaurant, Au Tire-Bouchon:

Pleasant enough interior, and there was both red and white wine on every table. Our large group was scattered amongst several tables throughout the restaurant, and S. and I just happened to sit with the directrice of our program!

As we were a group of about forty, we had ordered our food beforehand through CUPA. Since there's usually only one vegetarian option on the list, my decisions were quite easy! The first course (for me) was a lovely and typically-French plate of crudités: carrottes rapées (grated carrot salad), beet salad, and celeri remoulade (celery root grated in a creamy mayonnaise-y sauce). Delicious and refreshing.

All I knew about my next course was that it was supposed to be some sort of "assiette de légumes" (vegetable plate) - that's what I had selected from the group menu. But what I got was this:

A tureen (there's never been a more appropriate occasion to use that word) of bibeleskaas (the Alsatian version of fromage blanc - literally "white cheese," is the yogurt-like substance lacking yogurt's bacteria cultures that French eat either savory or sweet), garnished with raw onions, AND an almost-empty plate with four little mounds of parsley, chopped onions, chives, and minced garlic.

WHAT!?

Everyone at my table stared at this strange offering and wondered what I should do with it. Was something else still coming? Was I supposed to add the toppings to the bibeleskaas, or mix them on the plate?

In my head, I was also wondering, Will I be able to digest that amount of un-cultured dairy product without extreme discomfort?

Madame la directrice stopped a passing waiter to ask for an explanation for my bizarre dishes. The waiter assured us that some sautéed potatoes were coming.

While I wasn't exactly keen on the thought of eating simple carbohydrates with a mound of dairy that would surely upset my intestines, I was willing to do it for the sake of the cultural experience...

And so we waited...and waited...and waited.

Finally, it became clear that the kitchen had forgotten about my sautéed potatoes; so I seized the opportunity to order an omelette. This beauty arrived:

A+ for presentation, no?

A lovely omelet aux herbes fines, garnished with purple basil and flanked by some sautéed carrot ribbons in butter.

I thus ended the evening as the very happy envy of every CUPA vegetarian.

~

Four of us spent the later part of the evening at L'Academie des Bières, where we sampled four varieties in 50cl glasses, and enjoyed the cozy pub atmosphere - what more could one want?