My Year in Paris

Random pensées

I finally opened the Patrick Roger chocolate cocoa pod. It was packed with a few solid dark and milk chocolate fish, a caramel-filled bell and several pieces filled with praline, including an oyster (yes!). I still have a little bit of the shell left.

I just finished reading "Sympathy for the Devil" about The Rolling Stones and I have a whole new appreciation for drummer Charlie Watts. Did you know that he met his wife before he joined the band and that they're still married? When the Stones were invited to the Playboy Mansion, he spent the whole evening in the game room, away from the women. And my favorite anecdote: late one night in a hotel, after a drunk Mick Jagger called him and asked, "Where's my drummer?," Charlie got out of bed, shaved, dressed, went to Mick's room and punched him square in the face. "I'm not your drummer, you're my singer!" Heh. Jagger's an ass.

I enjoyed seeing an exhibition called "Les enfants modèles" (Child Models) at l'Orangerie, which ended earlier this month. Works by Pablo Picasso, Claude Monet, Mary Cassatt and Pierre-Auguste Renoir (among others) were shown, using the artist's own children, or the children of friends or family, as models. I was particularly touched by a watercolor called "Les Cinq enfants de l'artiste, avec vue sur Capri " by Guillaume Dubufe. The children had the most amazing eyes; one girl in particular had piercing grey eyes. I'm not a morbid person, but these kinds of exhibitions make me wonder about how these children grew up, what their everyday lives were like, and how their lives ended. The arc of life. (Pictured: La Boxe by Maurice Denis, 1918).

Before I entered the museum, some guy tried to con me with that ring trick, where they pretend to find a gold ring on the ground, give it to you and then demand that you give them money. I guess that's how it works anyway. This is the second time someone's tried that with me since I've been here and of course I just keep walking. Who actually falls for this crap? I should have challenged him to a boxing match. I would have won.
 

Sucrose loading

Sometimes an odd synchronicity occurs in the translation world, when several clients, separated by time zones, international borders and oceans, will offer you documents for translation with amazingly similar topics. This time, it was back surgery. More specifically, I was asked to translate several medical journal articles on percutaneous vertebroplasty and patents on osteosynthesis devices. Since Sweetie was out of the country anyway, I figured it was as good a time as any to be holed up in my apartment. After pounding away on my keyboard at all hours of the day and night for two weeks (sorry, neighbors!), I finally emerged from my studio Friday, and found that Paris hadn’t waited for me. It’s springtime.

When I wasn’t at the computer, I was reading a book by Gary Taubes called Good Calories, Bad Calories. I’m now shocked at how heavy my diet is in simple carbohydrates, and I made a firm commitment to cut out sugars and starches. With that promise to myself, I headed to Crêperie Josselin near the Montparnasse tower for a ham, cheese and egg crêpe, hard cider and a big bowl of rum raisin ice cream. Hey, I’ve got a lot of planning to do before I start the diet.

I’ve heard Josselin gets packed. Maybe it was because I got there a little late for lunch, or maybe it was the construction outside, but I had the place almost to myself. That made it easier to admire the lace-covered lamps, knickknacks and pictures of Brittany on the walls as I wondered how long I would be able to eat eggs every morning on the diet before the sight of them would make me puke.

With lunch over, I walked to my favorite chocolate shop, Patrick Roger, to view his window display for Easter. Since I buy premium chocolate only every few months, I decided to treat myself to some of his special Easter creations. I chose the chocolate cocoa pod, filled with an assortment of chocolates. Smart teal bag in hand, I walked back to my apartment, still aware of the puddle of melted butter and hard cider in my stomach. 

 
 

Yesterday was “Jour du Macaron” at Pierre Hermé’s boutiques, a yearly event where you can get 3 free macarons of your choice. I missed it last year, so made sure to go this time. I chose the chuao, citron and caramel au beurre salé (chocolate and black currant, lemon and salted-butter caramel) flavors. It's funny, no matter how many flavors I try, my favorite is good old caramel.

I still have a macaron in the fridge, and I haven’t even cracked open the cocoa pod yet. It’s going to take me a while to eat all that. That’s OK though; I require at least two weeks of sucrose loading before I’m ready to start a diet.