France: The Tea Shops of Paris...Dammann Frères, Kusmi Tea, Le Palais des Thés, and Mariage Frères

In Paris I spent as much in tea shops and tea salons as I did visiting patisseries and boulangeries. It should be no surprise. Coffee is great, but tea is magical.

And Paris was oh-so-perfect for that reason alone. We turned into every tea shop we could find, never leaving without something, no matter how small. First there was Dammann Frères along place des Vosges. High ceilings, dark walls lined in tea, loose leaves and packaged, just calling for attention. It's a love affair for both the tea and the packaging, and I admit that I could not fall for one without the other. In NYC I order Dammann Frères online (they have the best Peppermint) or walk to Salumè in Soho where they sell brewed tea by the cup. But here, just look at all the options available within arms reach. I wanted to pick up the contents of the shop and move it straight into my apartment.

A short walk led us to Kusmi Tea...hello Prince Vladimir and Four Red Fruits! Kusmi Tea actually has a retail shop on 3rd Ave that opened early 2010, though I frequently purchase their teas at the Soho Dean & Deluca's near my apartment.

We just may never return to coffee after this ;)

There was more tea with every turn...Le Palais des Thés around the next corner (NYC's Tea & Honey carries a small selection of Le Palais des Thés, including the popular Thé du Hammam)...

...and Mariage Frères just a few streets away. Heaven? You betcha.

It was here we settled into the bright and airy salon - complete in colonial decor, for an afternoon respite. Waiters dressed head to toe in white linens, skylights above, rattan chairs, and potted palms.

A menu of over 500 teas, a sweet and savoury food selection, most of which is tea-inspired. Hot teas are served in an insulated white porcelain pot, milk and sugar on the side, presentation is everything. Teas are brewed to order, with the flannel filters removed prior to serving, ensuring that your tea is never too strong. Marco Polo for me and Lapsang Souchong Impèrial for him.

Directly across the street Mariage Frères has a shop where one may purchase loose leaf teas and tea-related products. There's even a tea museum upstairs. I went straight for the Tea Jelly, offered in select flavors including Earl Grey and Marco Polo. I had eyes lusting for the Darjeeling Impèrial. Finally! A jar of my own.

Back in NYC. A fresh Sullivan Street Bakery striato, smears of soft butter and the musky and sweet darjeeling jelly. It's a frigid 30F outside today, and I'm staying in all day long with this breakfast...and hot tea of course.

France: La Mosquée in Paris

Tuesday afternoon at the Grande Mosquée in the 5th arrondissement.

It's the largest mosque in all of France...and the third biggest in the Europe. Impressive, no? Well, Monsieur P and I didn't actually go into the mosque. Instead we visited the attached tea salon, Café Maure. You enter through the courtyard, a picture perfect sight of people chatting away at low tables with teas and sweets. We went further, opting for indoor seating in a colorful room, North African in design, complete with tiled ceilings and tables and plush cushions. Transporting to say the least.

Waiters cross the room pouring hot glasses of Sweet Mint Tea from high above, a show in itself. The glasses are small and it is far too easy to drink away the steamy, spicy concoction. They are 2 euros a glass, which seems like a good deal at first. But pay attention or you may find yourself sipping away more than planned!

With the tea, you will undoubtedly crave sweet, so head for the glass counter to oogle and pick from a variety of Arabic desserts. Point to as many as you wish and the gentleman behind the case piles them onto a plate, piece by piece, 2 euros each. There is Baklava, Kunafa and Basbousa, and at least a dozen others, all kissed (or soaked!) with honey or wrapped in layers and layers of phyllo. Semolina and nuts! Lot of nuts. Almonds, pistachios, walnuts, hazelnuts, you name it. Spun, crisp, and soft. Not easy to decide when everything looks the same and different all at once. My eyes settled on a corner piece of Pistachio-Semolina Cake, honey-soaked, and dusted in coconut flakes. A dessert fork, one more cup of mint tea, and we may deem the afternoon a success.

La Mosquée
38 Rue Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire
75005 Paris, France
01 43 31 38 20

France: Gérard Mulot, Poilâne, Pâtisserie Stohrer, and Angelina

All appointments canceled on a day like this. The weather! Can you believe - hail?! And crazy wind, one more time. There first sight of snow for 2010 was recorded in Central Park this morning. I had my scarf tied so tight and high, round my neck, mouth, and nose...it was a wonder I could see where to walk!

Take me to Hawai'i where the sun is bright and I can indulge in malassadas and fresh mochi (lots of mochi!) all day.

Or even, Paris. At least there I may feast on marshmallows, aka, Guimauves from Gérard Mulot. Kiwi, blueberry, orange, and strawberry! Monsieur P didn't even bat an eye when I insisted on having guimauves for breakfast.

No he did not. Instead, he spoiled me with more sweets.

"Croissant, my dear?"

And no more than ten minutes later, "perhaps a Chausson aux Pommes?" Boy, does this fellow know the way to my heart ;)

And he also knew that while the Chausson aux Pommes from Gérard Mulot was lovely, it was the Chausson aux Pommes from Poilâne that was AMAZING.

Yes, amazing. Buttery, golden, all those sweet apples, still warm and tucked into that flaky crust. We had one, two. And then back the following morning, again, one, two. The single best habit we developed on that holiday.

A short metro ride took us to Pâtisserie Stohrer in the afternoon for...

...Puits d'amour. These little gems literally translate as "wells of love." How precious is that?

It all makes sense when you bite into layers of puff pastry and sink your teeth into sweet depths of vanilla bean-speckled custard, soft and cool with a crackly top of golden caramel.

We couldn't help but pick up some Chocolate Marzipan on the way out, heheh. They were delightful to nibble on at the cafe, a glass of wine on the side and book in hand.

But we mustn't forget to stop at Angelina...

...one Mont Blanc to share please! Yes, that is all cream. Good glory.

Alas, there was no room for their famed hot chocolate, but that is alright, Monsieur P promised we'd be back soon enough ;)

[For a little more sweet something:
the Pierre Hermé post]

Gérard Mulot
76 Rue de Seine, 6th Arr.
01 43 26 85 77

Poilâne
8 Rue du Cherche-Midi, 6th Arr.
01 45 48 42 59

Pâtisserie Stohrer
51 Rue Montorgueil, 2nd Arr.
01 42 33 38 20

Angelina
226 Rue de Rivoli, 1st Arr
01 42 60 82 00

Paris: Les Fines Gueules

This was my favourite meal in Paris. Les Fines Gueules.

The food was utterly fantastic, yes. But it was also the cozy, almost rustic setting, that special corner location near place des Victoires and the weather that particular day. Pouring, and I mean pouring rain outside, black skies and the craziest wind.

Big sweaters, black boots and a knitted scarf. A table for two and glasses of rose. May I stay here in Paris forever? First came a salad of vibrant, sweet and ripe Local Tomatoes simply outfitted in chunks of parmesan, olive oil, fleur de sel and black pepper. It was like Otto's Heirloom Tomato salad gone minimalist and all grownup.

Then a dish of Boudin Noir Ravioli to share. Two luxurious pieces, bathed in a shallow bowl of finely seasoned Veal Broth. The pasta is housemade - silky and impressively thin, housing a meaty filling of boudin noir, the bold and creamy blood sausage offering faint, lingering notes of nutmeg.

And finally, the tender Filet de Cabillo. Oooh, you should have seen how the Cabillo skin peeled off the flaky fish, really, the most wonderful part, crisp with sprinkles of fleur de sel. A bed of steamed Mussels and Spinach, and foam - Parmesan for just the tiniest indulgence.

Cafe express to finish the meal as we waited out the rainstorm and vowed to make endless return visits. Next time, the steak tartare!

Les Fines Gueules
2, rue la Vrillière, 1st

France; Pierre Hermé. In Paris...

...we ate sweets, all day and all night. Early morning wake up in the cool air, and a jaunt to nearby Pierre Hermé where even Monsieur P's jaded eyes were won over by colorful rows of macarons, chocolates and picture perfect Ispahans and mille-feuilles.

Croissants were on the agenda, both a fine original and a decadent Ispahan croissant, the latter donning a glazed exterior flecked in crushed rose petals, and an interior filled with rose marzipan and raspberry and lychee gelée.

With goodies in hand, it's only a block away to Café de la Mairie, where they gladly allow you to devour the pastries with a daily café express.

But don't you forget, man cannot live by croissant alone! That's why there is canelé! At Pierre Hermé they were thoughtfully arranged next to the croissants (and to the left of gingerbread brioche, which will get to later ;), like little soldiers, each one a vision of perfection. Dark, caramelized crusts, and a creamy, custardy interior dotted in vanilla beans. I deeply regret not tucking away a dozen in my suitcase for the return trip to NYC.

Would you like to see the interior? Apologies, it's somewhat ragged looking and doesn't do the canelé justice. Monsieur P had bite, I had a bite, and only then did I think to take an interior photo!

And here is the brioche! Gorgeous, no? Not simply any old brioche, but one with a finish of crunchy chocolate pearls, and paired with a gingerbread and banana-kissed marzipan.

Almost, to beautiful to eat.

That, for us, was Pierre Hermé in the mornings. Pierre Hermé in the afternoons were a completely different affair. After lunch and lots and lots of shopping, we'd duck back into the comforting arms of the patisserie for our afternoon goûter.

For what in particular? Macarons, of course! The Olive Oil + Vanilla Macaron was the unanimous favourite, and featured a sliver of salty green olive at the very center...

...my love affair however, was surprisingly not with macarons, but the Deux Mille Feuilles, which translates to "2000 Feuilles" and is truly a magical creation. Layers upon layers of caramelized puff pastry, with a trio of fillings. At the bottom, luxe chocolate cream, rich enough to border on ganache and studded with hazelnuts, then a thin layer of praline right above and finally, whipped hazelnut praline cream closest to the top. Yes, swoon.

I'm about thisclose to successfully convincing Monsieur P that perhaps we need to/should/would love to return to Paris again this winter. After all, we've utterly failed to find a remotely comparable mille feuille (much less deux mille feuilles!) in NYC. Wouldn't you agree that's reason enough?

Pierre Hermé
72, rue Bonaparte
75006 Paris
+33 (1) 43 54 47 77

Paris: Our Daily Café Express

In Paris we had a routine.

Lazy wake-up around 9am, white curtains and French doors, soft-hued flowers along the window. We stayed in a beautiful apartment, with many thanks to Monsieur P's godfather, in a location almost too perfect to imagine.

The weather hovered in the low 60s our entire visit, calling for knitted fall sweaters, and the tall black riding boots Monsieur P bought me one afternoon. We'd get dressed and walk over to a neighborhood café in the 7th. He preferred to visit the same café every morning, but upon my insistence (persistence? ;) we went to different cafés each day. Why?

Well you see, we always ordered the same thing: an espresso each, or café express if you prefer.

But each place would present their café express differently, some offering a treat on the side. Certain places gave squares of dark chocolate while others offered crunchy, biscotti-like cookies. And some places didn't give anything.

But the places where the best goodies were given were not at traditional cafés with outside seats arranged theater style, all facing outwards, but at proper restaurants. At A Priori Thé, an order of café express was accompanied by the tiniest chocolate chip cookie, a subtle nod to the owner's American roots.

And at Cuisine de Bar, a lunch spot best known for tartines, buttery cookie "spoons" was delivered in place of a traditional spoon. The spoons are baked in-house, but come from the boulangerie next door. Perhaps you might know it? A famous little place by the name of Poilâne ;) We'll talk more about their glorious tarte aux pommes next time...::drool::

It was hard deciding whether to take our daily café express at an actual café or restaurant. Which was more important: the setting or the "goodies" that accompanied the café express? In the end, the cafés won our hearts, because we could linger at our outdoor table for hours with conversation and books (I read the entire Millennium trilogy on this trip!). And when our eyes tired of reading, there was plenty of people watching to do!

As for the café express themselves...none were exceptional, but it was certainly the experience as a whole, and not just the drink alone, that proved most important.

France: On (Not) Photographing Food

Paris, in the 6th arrondissement

I have not blogged about our holiday in France because I'm not sure where or how to begin.

But maybe we can start with a bit about photos. Monsieur P has never been crazy about the idea of taking food photos. To him, it is a distraction that takes away from one's ability to enjoy the moment.

When we first started dating we drove each other absolutely nuts. He would be upset with the taking of photos and then I would be upset with the not taking of photos. It wasn't so much that he found photographing in restaurants embarrassing as it was distracting to the purpose of dining. We semi-solved the "problem" when he thoughtfully purchase a Lumix LX3 for my birthday - a compact camera that takes excellent shots. We can easily slip it into my evening purse and I take the photos quick and discreetly.

Brioche, at the Sunday market in Carnac

It shouldn't have surprised me when a week before leaving he suggested perhaps not taking any food photos in France. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? He was half-joking but I'm sure there was a touch of seriousness in that request. In all honesty though, I understood his point and I do find myself enjoying meals more (the fine dining ones, less so the takeout/bakery/gelato ones) when I don't have the "obligation" of a camera.

So I thought about it seriously...maybe I wouldn't take any food photos in France...how crazy would that be? ;) In the end I settled for something the middle. Photos at bistros and cafés, the pâtisseries and ice cream shops. But I put away the camera in the evenings when his mother and godfather cooked the most fantastic meals or when we met friends for dinner.

Paris, at a café in the 6th arrondissement

The memories are sharp in my mind, though I have no photographs for those stunning dishes, the night his mother prepared seared duck breast and crisp fried potatoes following foie gras accompanied by glasses of wine from Alsace one cool evening at his godfather's home. It was at that same table where we dined on a hearty meal of braised veal on another occasion. Nor do I have photos of seared scallops at a friend's home, and it was on that very evening we devoured golden pockets of homemade puff pastry stuffed with beef and melting onions on their outdoor terrace. And with every single meal there was an endless flow of wine - his parents had just returned from the south of France and you can imagine the wines they brought back! We closed on simple salads and truly mind boggling assortments of cheese, always at least four types on the table, goat, cow, sheep, you name it. They were pungent, buttery, soft, firm, blue...I wish you could have see it all! We broke out fresh baguettes from the boulangerie downstairs, poured more wine and feasted for hours to come.

Not a single photo from the nights. The missed opportunities are still...well, what can you do about it? It does though, feels very "light" to let go (food photo addict? oh no, not me!), abandon the camera and just relish in the moment.

Just back from Paris!

Time just doesn't wait for anyone, does it? Our vacation photo set.

1. First meal back in NYC. Home-cooked with a Hawai'i state of mind. A forever staple: spam, eggs and rice. I used to have this for breakfast multiple times a week. And to think now it's only on such rare occasions!

2. It doesn't feel like we're officially back until we've Otto'ed. Delivery the first evening and then a midnight dinner at the following night. Two seats at the bar. Prosecco, yes. Heirloom Caprese salad, the ever lush Sformato di Parmigiano, and Taccozette con Stracotto to share.

Paris and Brittany posts to come soon! Just need to catch up on this jet-lag, and somehow re-register back into reality ;) Hope everyone had a great weekend!