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Archive for the ‘Food’ Category

After a rousing discussion of cannibalism in my Food and Foodways class, I was feeling particularly hungry.I met up with Kelsey and Simone for the first of many “family dinners.”  Since we live on a street with at least seven Japanese restaurants, we decided to pick the one that looked the most popular.  This one happened to be called Kiotori, and it was conveniently directly across from our apartment.  We were pleased when we looked at the menu, and saw how much food we could get for relatively cheap.  I ended up selecting a basic sushi roll with avocado and spicy tuna.  The roll came with miso soup, salad, and also some cooked chicken, beef meatballs (or something?) and cheese.  It was delicious, and really hit the spot.  The other girls enjoyed their meals, too.

We split a bottle of wine, and before we knew it, it was empty.  Simone bought us another bottle, after which we decided it would be an excellent idea to go to the Moose for another drink.  I think I like how they’re starting to know us there, even though we’ve only been a few times.  The bartenders are all really nice and fun, and one of the newer ones is actually here for the semester, but goes to Cornell (and thus probably knows half of my high school’s graduates).

Moral of story: drinking on a Wednesday night when you have class early on Thursday is always a good idea, no matter what anyone tells you.

Note: this entire entry is about food and beverages.  I know you love it.

So, last night was pretty fun!  A few friends came over here for a couple of drinks, and then we walked to The Frog & Princess, a bar which has quickly worn out its welcome.  It was so crowded you could barely move, let alone get to the bar to buy an overpriced beer.  If I’m going to be buying such expensive beer, I would rather do it with some breathing room.  We were looking to meet up with a few friends, but since we didn’t seem them in the sweaty throng of people, we left and went to a nice Irish pub around the corner, called O’Neil.  It was much less crowded, the drinks were a euro or two cheaper, and we managed to snag the VIP table up in a loft area (we’re kind of a big deal).  We even managed to get serenaded by two incredibly drunk Frenchmen, one of whom decide it would be a good idea to jump and hang onto the rafters.  I have it on video, actually, so I’ll be uploading that on Facebook sometime soon.  We were all pretty tired when the bar closed, so we just decided to head back to my apartment and hang out a bit before crashing.  I think we set the record for the number of people sleeping here (who don’t live here): 5!  We’ll have to see if we can top it at some point.

Anyways, the next morning, we all woke up pretty late and talked over a couple of cups of coffee.  The topic of conversation turned to American diner food…pancakes, burgers, milkshakes and fries.  After about ten minutes of discussing this, we were all drooling and trying to figure out how we could get our hands on some greasy, American goodness.  Fortunately (for all of our sakes), one of us remembered a place that our friend Marina had told us about, called “Breakfast in America.”  The whole restaurant is  owned by an American and is based on the idea of the traditional American diner.  Since it was only a 15-minute walk from my apartment, we decided to go for it.

The restaurant was pretty crowded even though it was nearing 1 o’clock.  We ended up having to wait for a solid 40 minutes before we were seated, partly because the group of kids sitting at our future table saw us eying them and their food while we were waiting, thus encouraging them to take their sweet time.  One boy smudged chocolate on another girl’s face.  Cute.  Not.  Another girl was trying to construct an architectural masterpiece with her change.  Go learn to be a real architect.  The other girl was taking pictures of everything with her silly little camera phone.  Stop being a creep.  I wish I were kidding.

They eventually got their act together and stopped being idiots, and we were shown inside by a skinny, very American hipster boy.  We hardly had to look at the menu; we knew exactly what we wanted.  All six of us got ginormous cheeseburgers and greasy fries, a few of us got milkshakes, and a couple ordered a side of a pancake.  The boys even ordered Budweiser and NY Cheesecake for dessert.  Our waitress was making fun of how much ketchup we used, and rightfully so; we used almost an entire bottle.  It was as if we were never going to taste the delicious condiment again!  Entirely too full about an hour later, we paid up, each of us in agreement that the food and experience was worth every single penny.  Centime.  Whatever those silly little coins are.

After brunch, Kelsey and I rushed over to BHV, one of the big department stores here in Paris.  We had signed up to take a cooking class!  What were we going to learn to make, you ask?  MACARONS, of course!  It was pretty intimidating at first, because the class was conducted in French.  There were only 8 of us, and it was quite apparent after a couple of minutes that we weren’t fluent in French.  The chef instructor was very nice, however, and spoke a little bit of English, so he was able to help us out and translate key bits of advice and information about the recipes as we went.  Cooking classes are  generally based upon demonstrations, and watching and learning, so it ended up not being much of a problem at all.

We learned how to make three different kinds: vanilla, chocolate, and caramel with butter and salt.  It’s a pretty intense process and involves a lot of random kitchen utensils that I unfortunately don’t have here (or at home), and I don’t think it’s worth buying them while I’m over here.  I’m definitely going to pocket the recipes for my return to Boston, and I’m going to take the city by storm with my crazy macaron-making skills!  At least, I hope I end up with them after some more practice.  I put a picture above and to the right of mine and Kelsey’s macarons, which came out quite pretty, if I do say so myself.  They tasted just as delicious, too.  YUM.

All of this cooking and eating has made me tired though.  I’m off to take a power nap so that I can hopefully muster up the energy to go out later!  Have a good evenin’!

I am curled up in my bed right now, cradling an unopened bottle of white wine in my arms while simultaneously examining another bottle of red.  I’m pretty sure this is a sign of an addiction, but let’s disregard that for the time being.  Since my arrival, I have bought 4 bottles of wine and tasted several more.  I think the red that I have right now has been my favorite thus far; it’s a 2007 Dauvergne et Ranvier from the Côtes du Rhône region.  It’s very smooth for a red, and I don’t mind drinking it without a meal, which is what I usually prefer when drinking a red wine.  The bottle of white I am currently clutching like a child also looks pretty good, and I can’t wait to try it.  I’m waiting until classes get out this week; it’ll be a celebratory bottle for surviving the first week of cutthroat classes here at Sciences Po.

So!  I absolutely LOVE my class called Food and Food Ways: A Social, Cultural and Political History of Food and Eating (aka my DREAM).  It’s taught by a Cornell professor who lives here with his French wife.  He seems pretty tough and old-fashioned, but he really knows his stuff and is passionate about food, food culture, and the role food has played throughout history and continues to play today in shaping the way people think, act, and interact.  I picked up my course pack, which is a hefty size, but all of the readings look incredibly interesting.  My professor described himself as Monsieur le Pain (Mr. Bread) because he loves studying bread and the way it is viewed, treated, and eaten in different cultures; we’ll be doing a couple of readings about that.  We’re also learning about the role of food in religion, how food relates to gender, and the role food plays in the economy and in the political realm.  Food is even closely tied to language.  Just think of the myriad expressions that somehow incorporate food: full of baloney (also properly known as bologna), sour disposition, pea brain, hunger after righteousness…the list could go on forever!

We’re also reading Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma, which is actually the book that piqued my interest in food culture, justice and distribution.  I read this book a couple years ago in my Global Sociology class, and was absolutely fascinated by the fact that so many of the food products we consume are made of corn.  I was also deeply disturbed by the statistic that pointed out that even though the amount of food produced in the world today is more than enough to feed every single human being, more and more people were going hungry each and every day.  I wanted to learn more about these issues, and I joined a group called Real Food at BC.  I also did a couple of projects on global food distribution this past semester, and am currently thinking about writing my thesis on the topic.

To sum up, I was smiling the whole time and found myself nodding emphatically after almost everything my professor said.  I don’t want to wait another week to learn more (ha, I’m such a dork)!  I have never felt so engaged or passionate about a class before; I think I have found my calling in life.  I NEED to be doing something that relates to food and the culture surrounding it.

As I finish my glass of wine, I shall leave you with the following thought-provoking, pro-hunter-gatherer quote from an Australian aboriginal: “Why should we plant, when there are so many mongomongo nuts in the world?”

I had another very Parisian experience today: I walked through my first marché en plein air (open-air market).  There are 20 arrondissements (districts) in Paris, and from what I understand, each district has at least one open-air market.  These markets are held usually once or twice a week, and you can find almost anything at them, depending on their size.  Apparently, the 6th arrondissement has three such markets, so I decided to check one out today on my way home from class.  I grew as giddy as a kid in a candy shop when I saw piles upon piles in rows upon rows of the freshest fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and meat.  My eyes raced over succulent cherry tomatoes, fire-engine red peppers and the largest cucumbers I have ever seen.  My nose tried to sort out all of the smells bombarding it; there were countless, pungent cheeses in this corner, smelly (albeit delicious-looking) fish in that one.  After walking up and down the aisles, I settled on the vendor who seemed friendliest and had the most reasonable prices and delicious looking produce.  I bought kilo upon kilo of vegetables to stock up for the week, and I can tell he and I are going to be the best of friends by the end of these next five months.  I found this picture of the market on Google; my apologies for not having taken my own picture; I didn’t have my camera on me today, but next time I go, I will certainly take a few and post them!

I also had my second class today, which was a French language class.  I was placed in level 3, which means I have a medium-strong grasp of the language (although at this point I am confident that I most definitely fall in the medium, rather than strong range…).  My professor is an kind, middle-aged man who is  unfortunately a major proponent of oral presentations.  We have to do two of them, ten minutes each, and the two I signed up for happened to be this month on the 16th and 23rd.  I’m not really sure what the topics are at this point, although based on the titles, one will be about how the telling of history changes it and the other will be about ‘Grand Paris’ and city life.  I’m sure I’ll be writing (aka complaining) about them as they draw nearer.

I made another Italian dinner this evening, and it was delicious (if I do say so myself…and I do)!  I have been craving sausage for the past few days, so I finally went out and bought some at Monoprix.  Here’s the recipe I used, because I KNOW you’re just dying for some sausage.

Italian Sausage with Peppers and Tomatoes

Ingredients

• 2 C uncooked, whole-wheat penne
• 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1 teaspoon olive oil
• 2 links hot sausage, cut into ½ inch thick slices
• 1 red pepper, cut into ½ inch thick squares
• 1 small onion, diced
• 10 cherry tomatoes, halved
• 1 (14.5 ounce) can tomato sauce (best with basil, garlic, and oregano)
• ½ t black pepper
• Pre-shredded fresh Parmesan cheese (optional)

Instructions

1. Cook pasta according to package directions, adding 1 teaspoon olive oil and a pinch of salt for flavor.  Drain pasta, set aside.
2. While pasta cooks, heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.  Coat pan with 2 teaspoons olive oil.  Add sausage, cook 5 minutes or until browned, stirring often.  Add bell pepper and onions, and cook 3 minutes or until hot, stirring often.  Add tomatoes, sauce and black pepper.  Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer 5 minutes.
3. Place pasta in a large bowl.  Add sausage mixture and toss.  Top with cheese, if desired.  Serves 4.

As you can see, I served it with a glass of red wine that I purchased today.  I think I’m well on my way to becoming a sommelier…

As many of you know, I have been trying for the past week to switch out of that cours affreux (awful class), Les Grands Enjeux Scientifiques.  Because Sciences Po has not heard of, or does not believe in having an add/drop period, this has been extremely difficult to do.  Fortunately, I managed to sweet talk the little French receptionist into switching me out of that class and into a different French lecture class (can I get a ‘merci Dieu‘ anyone??).  The class is called Une Histoire politique de l’ère des masses en Europe (a political history of the people of Europe).  It seems like it will be pretty interesting because it covers issues such as the two world wars and how they affect a people, the role of nationalism in state-building, and so on and so forth.  It also works out really well in my schedule; even though I no longer have those glorious four-day weekends, I still have Fridays off, and I don’t have class until 7:15 Monday evening.  This means that I can leave Thursday evenings or Friday mornings to travel, and don’t have to be back until Monday afternoon.  Almost as good as a four-day weekend!

Anyway, the switching of classes meant that I had the discussion aspect of the class last night (the other aspect is a lecture).  There were 17 students, most of whom were either French or English (who seemed they had been studying French since before they emerged from the womb).  My professor was a large, pretty intimidating Frenchman, who pointed out several times that he was a fan of the traditional Sciences Po methodology (read: LOVES exposés/oral presentations).  Although I understood most of what he was saying, I was still a bit intimidated by how well everyone else seemed to speak French.  We had to pick our exposé date, which is a really intense process; the professor reads off a topic and date (if you’re lucky), and before he even finishes his sentence, dozens of hands shoot up in an attempt to get the best dates and topics.  The French students have obviously have much more experience than us poor exchange students, who end up with the most inopportune dates and the least interesting topics.  I fared no better than most, and ended up with the Monday after our winter break, which means I will have that hanging over my head for the entire week.  I suppose I should just stop worrying about it all, as I can take one class pass/fail, and also…I’m abroad.  Grades and school work should NOT rule my life this semester.  Or ever, actually.  But particularly this semester.

I stumbled upon another stupid French policy today: the return policy.  Or should I say the lack thereof.  I bought what was supposed to be a pretty good straightener for 40 euros about a week ago, tried it, and realized it sucked.  Since I only used it once, it was still in fabulous condition, so I just repackaged it, threw it in its original back with the receipt, and trudged over to Galeries Lafayettes (which is a HUGE department store, and quite beautiful, too) with Kelsey.  After being shuffled around from cashier to cashier and waiting in line after line, I finally end up speaking with a grumpy guy at customer services.  I explained to him my problem, and told him that it didn’t work.  As soon as I said this, he took the straightener out of the box, walked his skinny, French ass over to the outlet, plugged it in, and said ça marche (this works).  He then refused to let me return it, exchange it, or receive store credit.  WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?  I feel like in America, you could return half a tube of toothpaste if you really wanted to.  I was très fâchée (very angry).  I think I’m going to try to sell it on e-bay; it’s not a bad straightener, it’s just not the right one for my hair.  PLUG: anyone want a BaByliss Wet/Dry Ceramic Straightener?  I’ll sell it to you for what I got it for…

Anyhoo, after all of this, we came back to our apartment and made some lunch.  I had cute little ‘tuna toasties,’ as Kelsey called them, which consisted of some fresh pain complet (whole-wheat bread) topped with balsamic glazed tuna, emmental cheese, and cherry tomatoes.  I roasted these little buggers in the oven, and they tasted absolutely scrumptious.

For dinner after class, I met up with the three nicest, most fabulous girls ever, Kelsey, Melanie and Chrissy.  We walked down Saint Germain and Saint Michel a bit to get to the Latin Quarter, and ended up finding a cute restaurant called Le Menhir (note: the picture to the left was not taken by me; I found it on Google.  Once again, I didn’t have my camera on me…sorry guys!).  Their prix fixe (fixed price) menu looked pretty good and was reasonably priced, so I decided to go for it.  For my entrée (which actually means appetizer in French), I ordered soupe à l’oignon (French onion soup)…OH MY GOSH, I cannot believe I have never had it before!  It was just a bowl of gooey deliciousness, and it was pretty much a party in my mouth.  I could have left satisfied at that point, but I was just beginning.  Next came my plat principal (main course), which was le veau en sauce aux champignons (veal in a mushroom sauce) with a side of cheesy potatoes.  I paired it with a glass of Merlot, which tasted like an odd combination of grape juice and rubbing alcohol (description courtesy of Kelsey); not the best.  Anyways, I finished with an excellent raspberry souffle, which was doused in a vanilla cream sauce.  The girls and I also traded bites of each other’s dishes, so I got to taste some coq au vin, a savory crêpe, and a cheesy torte…thing.  The atmosphere of the restaurant itself wasn’t the greatest, in my opinion; the waiter wasn’t the most personable, and there was a cat that kept walking around and creeping up on us.  Overall thoughts: YUM.

I don’t know how to extricate myself from the passionate affair I am having with French food.

As I mentioned in my last entry, Paris had several BC visitors from elsewhere in Europe this weekend.  Several girls came from the BC program in Strasbourg, and a couple came from the BC program in San Sebastian.  A couple of nights ago, they heard about a bar called The Hideout Bar in the 11th arrondissement, near where my friend Mike lives.  They checked it out and gave it the stamp of approval, so that’s where we decided to start off our evening.  We got there, and some fabulous American oldies were blasting from the speakers; it was (surprise!) in the style of a New York bar.  The drinks were relatively cheap (in Parisian terms), so I decided to order my first mojito!  For those of you who are not familiar with this drink, it consists of white rum, sparkling water, mint, sugar, and a bit of lime.  It was delicious, and I will definitely be trying a few more of those in the near future.

After we ordered our first round of drinks, we went downstairs and started a bit of a dance party.  It was really fun, until a few interloping males in the Latin fashion (as Myriam would say) attempted to join us.  After several attempts, our boys shooed them away.  As Mike said, he’s “6′ 2″ and a buck eighty;” few guys would mess with that; he has essentially filled the role of ‘champion blocker.’

After the bars closed at 2, we tried to get into a club called the Social Club, which would be open until 5am.  When we got there, they only let two of our boys in because there was apparently a dress code (nice shoes and jackets).  In addition to this minor problem, they were also charging an exorbitant cover that didn’t quite seem worth it.

After much deliberation, we decided to head home.  The metros close at 1:30 on the weekends, so we got on line at a taxi stand.  Unfortunately, hailing a taxi between 2 and 3 is an absolute cauchemar (nightmare), because all of the bars in the city close at 2, meaning that all of the people in the city are trying to hail cabs.  After waiting outside in the freezing cold and the snow flurries, Melanie managed to chase a cab (quite literally and quite a distance) and we decided to split it and take it back to my apartment.

Our cab driver turned out to be the nicest French man ever!  Melanie and I had a great chat with him as he maneuvered his way around the taxi-filled streets of Paris.  He pointed out the Louvre and a few other monuments, all the while explaining why it was so difficult to hail taxis between 2 and 3; we were both ecstatic to have carried on a long, real conversation with this man.  Already in a good mood, we were pleased to see that the ten-minute ride cost less than 10 euros.  We were also pleased to find a loaf of bread, jam and cheese waiting for us when we finally reached my apartment up on the 5th floor.

On a less alcoholic note.  I met up with Melanie and her roommate Ivie, and we decided to go to the Eiffel tower.  I guess in retrospect, Saturdays aren’t the best days to go; it was SO CROWDED, and the lines were insanely long.  Since it was so cold, we decided not to climb it, so we just took some pictures, walked around, and froze a few fingers off (no big).  I went back to their place afterward, and we watched some high quality television in French…MTV!  We ended up watching an episode of Next and one of Made, both of which helped me pick up some useful French slang.  On my way home, I stopped by Melanie’s local boulangerie (bakery) to pick up a fresh baguette.  I’ve tried a LOT of baguettes in the past two weeks, and this was by far the BEST I have tasted thus far!  It was so doughy and egg-y and delicious, I couldn’t keep my hands off of it.  If any of you come to visit, I’m certainly taking you there, unless I find a better place…

Speaking of bread…I’m gonna go fetch some and lather it up with some fresh confiture (jam).

Ode to Macarons
by Me

I love your beauty,
I love your shape,
I love the way you make me feel.

I love your color,
I love your taste,
I love that the ingredients in you are real.

Macarons, macarons, sweet macarons.
Why do you taste so great?
Macarons, macarons, sweet macarons.
You’re making me put on weight.

So!  As you can tell, my addiction to French macaroons continues.  Today, Kelsey, Jill and I went to Ladurée, which is a famous pastry shop on Champs Elysées.  It’s a tremendously popular place, and there were at least 20 people standing in line when we got there.  We actually encountered another rude Parisian (one of my favorite things to blog about), who cut us in line and then pretended that she couldn’t understand our French even though we were clearly indicating that she cut us.  It’s okay though, I burned holes in the back of her head.  Anyway, we waited in line, I left a bit of drool here and there on the glass as we moved down the line toward the registers.  Everything looked incredible!  I settled upon getting 4 ‘mini-macarons,’ and I got a vanilla, dark chocolate, caramel with salt, and a green apple (which the kind lady who helped me recommended).  I also ordered a madeleine, which is basically just a cookie of sugary, buttery goodness.

Just to throw in a random historical tidbit, I remember reading an excerpt of Marcel Proust’s autobiography somewhere (maybe for the SATs or a French class or something along those lines), and it was this type of cookie that brought back vivid memories of his childhood.  It’s interesting how tastes and smells are such major memory triggers.  Even though I have a delayed sense of smell (ask anyone), scents in general are the strongest memory triggers for me.

Anyway, Fanny, the lady from the apartment rental agency, showed Jill and I another apartment today.  This one was significantly nicer than the last, with big open rooms, great lighting, a decent kitchen, and it was located just around the corner of Champs Elysées.  The only problem was that it better suited three people rather than four.  I spoke with Simone and Kelsey about the situation, and Simone suggested that she move up to the Anne Frank loft where I’m currently sleeping, which works out great for both of us; she is about four inches shorter than I am (meaning that the low ceiling and beams won’t be such a problem) and wants her own personal space, and I just want a real bed and no more bumps on my head.  Thus, I’m staying in my lovely, quaint Parisian apartment with my lovely roommates!  And it’s definitely turning out to be a good thing, as I’m starting to feel quite at home here.

Today I discovered just how valuable my Sciences Po student ID card it.  Melanie, Dan, Chris, Chris and I decided to check out the Arc de Triomphe.  We met up at the boys’ apartment, which was absolutely beautiful.  I was incredibly jealous of their courtyard and their kitchen, which was entirely too beautiful to belong to boys who don’t cook (ha, kidding, boys…sort of).  The apartment is located off one of the major roads leading up to the Place d’Étoile, which is where the Arc is located.  When we were paying for our tickets, I decided to see if I could get a reduced, if not free, admission with my ID card.  Sure enough, I flashed my ID, didn’t say a word, and they gave me a free ticket!  We’ve been hearing a lot about the power of our cards; apparently they’re more precious than gold around here because Sciences Po is a pretty esteemed university in Europe.  Anyways, after all of this, we ascended to the top.  It was quite a trek up, and the spiral staircase was dizzying and seemingly neverending.  The view was worth it, though; the Place d’Étoile is one of the centers of Paris, and so we were able to see some of the major monuments: the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur, La Défense, Champs Elysées, and several others.  The sun was starting to set while we were up there, too, so it was even more beautiful and I took a lot of pictures (check them out on Facebook!).

After all of this breathtaking beauty, we decided we were pretty hungry…and thirsty.  My friend Chris is a budding beer connoisseur, and so he did some research on places with great beer selections throughout Paris.  The one he wanted to check out yesterday was called La Gueuze, and happened to be one minute walk from my apartment.  We were a bit skeptical at first when we got there because it was pretty pricey.  We inquired about the happy hour specials, and suddenly everything was looking up again (ha).  Dan and Kevin got “beer missiles” of Guinness, which were 1-liter monstrosities.  Chris got a few rarer beers that he had been wanting to try.  I tried a German beer called Weihenstephaner Kristall, which is a beer from the first brewery ever, so that was pretty cool.  It had a unique taste, and it went down smoothly, so I was a fan.  We hung out there for a bit, and then came back to my apartment to have a few more beers.  Our beer for the evening was the (awful) Kronenbourg, which is made in the Alsace region.  Sounds fancy, but it was actually about 4 euro for 26.  Things we have noticed about beer in France thus far: it comes in weird sizes, weird bottles, and it is packed in weird numbers (who gets a 26 pack of beer?).  I suppose it still has the intended effect, however…

Random Tidbit: American movies that are dubbed in French have ridiculous titles, i.e. Shallow Hal was dubbed ‘L’Amour Extra Large.’

Tomorrow I have my first class, called “Les Grands Enjeux Scientifiques,” also known as “Problems with Science,” also known as “The Downfall of Katie’s Existence.”  Can’t wait.  I’m off to sleep.  G’night!

I have officially decided that the ONLY way to have hot chocolate is with milk and  melted chocolate.  This.  Was.  DELICIOUS.  And I mean, how can you have a hot chocolate without a biscuit and croissant?  Yum.  I got this amazing Parisian brunch at a nearby corner cafe called ‘Sip Babylone,’ which was pricey but absolutely worth it; everyone really enjoyed their meals.  Simone and Kelsey ordered quiche, and I tried some of Simone’s…it was delicious.  Everything here is so RICH, it’s crazy.

Last night was officially our first Friday night in Paris, and it was pretty fun.  We went to a bar called “The Frog & Princess,” which was only 10 minute walk from my apartment.  Apparently all the Americans got the same memo, because the bar was filled with English-speaking Americans and Canadians.  It was nice to get to know some other people from the BC program, but at the same time it would have been cool to go to a more “French” bar.  Perhaps this week we’ll head over to the Bastille and Marais areas, since according to our program director, that’s where all of the French kids head to on the weekends, away from the touristy Americans.

Later on, Marina invited us over for a French/American wine & cheese party, and I’m looking forward to that!  It’ll be nice to get to know some Parisians, not to mention try some different wines and cheeses.  I’m no expert on either as of yet, but I’d like to become a connoisseur of both by the end of the semester.

Today I did something I never should have done…I tried my first macaron (a French macaroon).  I ordered the café (coffee) flavored one at a boulangerie (bakery) around the corner from one of my school buildings, and it was out of this world.  While we were hanging out in the lobby of a different building, there was a guy handing out some leftover ones, too, so I also tried a mini vanilla one, which was excellent.  They’re nothing like the macaroons in the US, however; they aren’t made with coconut.  They’re actually more like a cookie sandwich that’s filled with cream or butter.  Like…oh my gosh.

It probably would have taken several months to discover these if it weren’t for Marina, who has been here for a semester already.  She actually recommended that I avoid them at all costs because of their absolute deliciousness, but of course I did not take her advice and bought one at the first chance I got (which happened to be today after lunch).  I don’t even now what’s going to happen now as a result.

We had an excellent dinner last night at La Petite Chaise.  I tried the foie gras for an appetizer, and it was pretty good.  Although I’m really glad I tried it, I don’t think I have the heart to order it again, however, since the geese used to make it are treated so cruelly.  For my dinner, I ordered two fish served over a bed of the best sauerkraut I’ve ever tasted, and it was in a delicious white sauce.  The chocolate cake for dessert was delicious, as well.  Thanks, BC, for a delicious dinner.

Tonight we’re planning on going to a club called Wagg to meet up with other international kids and the Sciences Po kids organized it.  It should be pretty fun, and I’m looking forward to it.  I should probably go pick up a bottle or two of wine…