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!

Studio Photography [first two classes]

As you may or may not already know, I am taking a studio photography class this semester at Studio Vermès. It's a professional studio space in the 4e arrondissement (right by Bastille) that the pros can rent, and the owner (Philippe) also teaches both beginning and advanced classes there. They get a lot of American students, especially through Sarah Lawrence College's study abroad program, so between that and Philippe's assistant Nathalie (who is Guatemalan), we speak a fun mix of English, French, and Spanish.

Working in a studio is really exciting - you have so much more control over the pictures that you take, between flashes, lights, backdrops, and other gadgets. It really helps you understand why in French, to "take a photo" is "faire une photo" - literally, "to make a photo."

Here are photos that were taken of me in the last two class periods, using Philippe's digital camera (I also took my own using my b&w film camera, which I have yet to develop).

The first was an exercise in silhouettes (that's me in the top hat):

The second was an exercise in flash with long exposures - and my own creepy concept. That's me in the photo, with the hands of another student:

Happy Halloween!

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!

Ornate Ceilings (Fontainebleau et Vaux-le-Vicomte)

On October 15th we ventured outside of Paris by bus to the châteaux of Fontainebleau and Vaux-le-Vicomte. It was our last CUPA excursion organized by CUPA, and I commemorated it for posterity by taking far too many pictures.

But the thing about historic châteaux is that when they're filled with ogling tourists, the rooms - grand as they may be - actually feel quite small. Sometimes the only thing you can get a good picture of is the highly ornate ceilings.

Here are the highlights from Fontainebleau...

(The king of France meant for the ceiling of this chapel to rival that of the Sistine. I've never been there, but what do you think?)

We dined in the town of Fontainebleau, then headed back to the bus for Vaux-le-Vicomte.

Vaux-le-Vicomte inspired such a jealousy in King Louis XIV that it prompted him to build Versailles! Unfortunately, our time there was cut a bit short, but here's what I managed to snap of the ceilings...

But my favorite part of Vaux-le-Vicomte was actually the gardens. I had a sudden urge to run and frolic with Beethoven's 6th symphony playing in the background, as if I were some pastel creature from Disney's "Fantasia." But French people don't really frolic, so I contained myself.

Although, when I saw these stone tigers, I just couldn't resist a pose in honor of my dear

Old Nassau!

MacDo

If you were wondering what the fast food in France is like, here's your answer: McDonald's (or MacDo, as it's not-so-fondly called here in France) brand-new goat cheese wrap!

These ads just went up in all the métro stations. Weirdly enough, the picture doesn't make it look that bad - but as we all know with fast food, what you see is rarely what you get...

On the other hand, I did go to a Quick - that's France's home-grown response to McDonald's. I think I heard it's now owned by the company that owns Burger King. Anyways, a few weekends ago, partway into sharing a bottle of rosé with a friend, I decided that I had not eaten enough that day. So we "quickly" (ha ha...so witty) found a Quick, and I picked up a vanilla milkshake with a shot of espresso in it for 1€. Yep, you read that right: one euro. Now, if it's just a once-in-a-while kind of thing, that's a fast food deal I can certainly live with!

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...

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!