THE PARIS LETTER: The Sad Truth about Martinis in Paris

Well, while I'm on my food and drink kick this week - it must be some residual Thanksgiving-ness percolating through me - I'll go forth and discuss something you CAN'T get here, or I should say something I definitely haven't found here, and that is a good martini.

Oh Martini, where have you gone?

Oh, Martini, why are you so delicious, yet so challenging?

Really, what is weird to French people I think is that you'd want that much cold alcohol all at once. I do have some French film business friends who are constantly drinking vodka on ice at Cannes and staying up all night, but they're sort of considered wild and crazy.

Whereas this used to be my Friday night after work drink in New York City.

Here are a few things that might happen when you order a martini in Paris - all true stories by the way!

1. You ask for a martini with olives and are brought a glass of sweet vermouth with olives in it.
What? Isn't that what you asked for? It says "Martini" right on the bottle. Right next to 'Rossi". What's the problem?

2. Having learned from this experience, you ask the next bartender if he knows how to make a martini, and he says, "Sure, I've got lots of Martinis. Red martini, white martini, what would you like?" You quickly realize he means vermouth - again. Oh dear. You try to explain how to make a Martini New York-ais: Very cold gin, just a little vermouth, some olives. Oh, like James Bond! he says. Yes. like James Bond, if James Bond's bartender had to go to another part of the hotel for glassware and liquor and came back twenty minutes later with your drink. That was about 50% vermouth but to it's credit definitely had some gin in it. And the glass was big.

If you like Martini Coladas...

3. Go to LE GLASS, a  hip cocktail bar in your neighborhood that was recently written up on a cocktail blog. Find out that it serves draft beer and cocktails that come from those alcoholic-slushie machines you find in New Orleans. 

Get worried when you see that the only Martini-like drink on the menu is something called the Martinez, which includes gin, vermouth, MARASCHINO and ORANGE BITTERS, and seems to come a PRESSION which means on tap which means - a martini from one of these alcoholic slushie machines??? What is this world coming to?

But then you explain you just want a simple martini to the bartender and she seems to get it, and gives you a reasonable version, in the correct glass with olives.

But still with way too much vermouth.

Stay tuned, I'm still on the hunt. I'm headed to someplace called THE EXPERIMENTAL COCKTAIL CLUB next.

THE PARIS LETTER: Barbecue in Paris?

A few months ago I was walking around near Bastille and I saw this place:

Yes, I know the picture quality is crap. I"m working on it.

 Blues Bar-B-Q? What the heck is this doing in Paris? I have to admit, I viewed this with some trepidation. It must have been not long after my burrito-with-swiss-cheese experience here. Or maybe my worst pregnant ordering mistake, the pineapple & velveeta quesadilla I had in Helsinki.

But I digress. Yes, I was skeptical that there could be any type of edible American BarBQ in Paris. I mean, wouldn't you be? But then my friend Patrick's office turned out to be literally next door, so we decided to go for lunch.

And you know what? It is not bad at all! The restaurant is run by an American woman, Diana, who was busy fielding tons of phone calls the day we showed up as dozens of Americans in Paris tried in vain to make reservations for the restaurant's Thanksgiving dinner the next day. I guess just about every other American here forgot about the holiday just like I did!

Diana and I chatted for a bit about cuts of meat here in France, one of my favorite topics ever since  tried to cook a brisket and found the cut didn't exist here. Blues BarBQ does a Texas style barbecued beef brisket, and Diana told me she has to order it several days ahead of time, get the entire chest of the cow delivered, and then butcher it herself to get the right cut! Apparently, the French DO use the cow chest - where the brisket comes from - but cut it in the opposite direction, and use it to make plat de cote, flat steaks that don't really exist in the US. Though the French do cook some cuts of meat for a long time (think Boeuf Bourguignon, etc), they're not big on the slow & low cooking of giant hunks of cow or pork that good BBQ is based on - in fact they find it quite strange - so this restaurant must be very exotic for them.

As you can see, it thoughtfully comes with a wet-nap.

I could write about cuts of meat all day, BUT back to the actual food. I had a pulled pork sandwich and a side of macaroni and cheese.

First of all, it was PERFECTLY proportioned, which is one thing I love about France in general - That I can go to a BBQ restaurant and leave satisfied but not stuffed to the brim, as I would in the US.

Second - I will not lie, the sandwich was a bit dry - but very flavorful! - and the mac & cheese a little bland - but very creamy! - and in short, I would totally go back. Honestly, this place is like a breath of fresh air amidst the foie gras, and the woman is butchering her own BRISKET for god's sake. She is committed to the right things.

I also heard her mention that she does a lot of catering for the American Embassy - and she will cater private parties as well. I haven't even trid their super meat platter yet...

BLUES BAR-B-Q
1 Rue Sedaine 75011 Paris
M: Bastille or Chemin Vert
+33 (0)1 48 06 79 53
Tues-Sat lunch and dinner, open till 10PM
Sunday lunch and dinner, open till 8PM
Closed Monday

From their sign:

Le Vrai Barbecue Americain - 
Nos Viandes Sont Fumées avec le Bois Hickory
 or:
Real American Barbecue
Our meats are Hickory Smoked

THE PARIS LETTER: Finally, American beer in Paris!

Not available in Paris ... until now!

I don't know if I've written about this before, but you can't get American beer in Paris. Like absolutely you can't get it. Not in a can, not in a bottle, not on draft, not in the supermarket, not in a bar, nowhere. There's one beer store here that occasionally has a few Sierra Nevadas that they sell for 4 Euros each, but that's it, and I'm sure those came over in someone's luggage.

But wait! What's that I see in hip South Pigalle? Could it be Brooklyn Lager ON TAP? Indeed it is, gentle reader, and you could have knocked me over with a pint glass because how is this happening??

Well, all I can tell you is that it IS happening, at a bar called LE GLASS that is some kind of only-in-France mashup of hip cocktail lounge and American college bar - in that it is ALL BLACK and has no sign, but then when you walk in they have numerous American beers and you can order pitchers, onion rings, and hot dogs. Except everyone is wearing black and speaking French. Only in Paris, but there's good beer, so who cares?

LE GLASS is the offspring of the same people who run Candelaria, the Mexican cocktail bar/taco stand in the Marais where I once got very drunk on margaritas. They just opened up Le Glass in September, and I didn't even know about the ABOT (American Beer on Tap) until I walked in - I later learned they're the only bar in all of Paris to offer it. Yay for it being walking distance from my house!

LE GLASS
7 Rue Frochot 75009 Paris
M: Pigalle
Open daily from 7PM-2AM
Too cool to have a phone.

THE PARIS LETTER: A Nora Moment

Last night, I had what I'm calling a Nora Moment. This is after Nora in Ibsen's A DOLL'S HOUSE, and yes, I was a theater major in college.

For those of you who don't know the play, A DOLL'S HOUSE is a classic work about women's liberation that was first performed in 1879. In it, the aforementioned heroine goes from being a secure if somewhat infantilized wife and mother to walking out on her husband and children forever.  When asked by her husband how she can abandon her most sacred duties of being a wife and mother, she famously replies: "I have another duty, which is equally sacred: my duty to myself."

Needless to say, this play was extremely explosive when it came out, and continues to provoke strong reactions in people, largely because Nora's choice at the end is so absolute and goes so deep. Even in our post-feminist age, when I think about the play I can't imagine doing what Nora does in the end, ever.

But. I have had a few Nora moments.

A Nora Moment is a moment when, as a wife and mother, you just want to get the hell away from your husband and child and be by yourself, possibly forever. A Nora moment is when you feel like you spent all day thinking and doing for others - and even though those others are the people you love the most in the world, you just don't remember who you are anymore, or what you want from life. But you desperately WANT to remember, and you know you were doing something before all this happened. A Nora moment is, I imagine, very similar to a Room of One's Own moment, though I've never read that book - I'm just going from the title.

I had one of these last night. Sophia is teething in a major way, and keeps waking up screaming even after big doses of Doliprane (French children's Tylenol). Matt is sick and also might be out of town for part of the upcoming week, the day care is having an emergency closure tomorrow, and I spent the day inside cooking - which I used to love and find very relaxing, but I just overdid it yesterday and ended up feeling like all I do is cook, wash dishes, and do laundry. And then at three in the morning Matt was very grumpy post-Sophia wake up, and said some grumpy things to me. And I was like: Get Me Out of Here! WHEN will I actually have an unbroken stretch of time to THINK!

I have a friend here who was on bedrest for the last three months of her pregnancy, and when her daughter was six months old, she took herself on an overnight to Chartres. Alone. I remember when she told me this, I was surprised! But as she explained it - I just needed one night to myself, morning when I could wake up when I wanted and have breakfast already waiting for me.

I have to say, though I didn't need this when Sophia was 6 months, I think I may need it now.  Stay tuned - I talked this over with Matt and he said he would take Sophia so I could go away for the weekend by myself. "As long as you come back!" he said. Which of course I would. I love my little family. But sometimes you need a break in order to be true to yourself.

THE PARIS LETTER: A Trip to Brussels

Why yes, that is a giant Brussels sprout

We were looking for an easy and cheap trip to take from Paris with the baby, and we settled on Brussels, just 90 minutes away by train. Brussels is a totally lovely city, and another nice thing about it is that the pressure is off - there are no can't-miss sights.

Normally, this wouldn't be a recommendation for a vacation; as my New York friend Liz put it - "I feel like you're advocating I take a vacation to Philly". But sometimes its just nice to be in a new place, and to make your own schedule. There's no Louvre or Eiffel Tower, just some pretty walks, good food, and even better beer. And French fries. And the European Parliament. You know, some typical weekend stuff.

We arrived at Brussels Midi station around 11:30, and were able to walk to our hotel in about 20 minutes. The impetus for the trip was really that I had a free hotel night from Hotels.com, so we stayed at the Vintage Hotel, a funny little boutique hotel where all the furniture is very Sixties.

On a side note, I'm working on making the photos better on this site. Really I am. I need to start by not taking them with my Blackberry. Or maybe I should just not even have a Blackberry. Seriously.

The hotel was right near the Louise metro, though we ended up never taking any public transit and just walking everywhere - its that kind of town, though with a few more hills than Paris. Matt and I enjoy exploring new cities on foot, and this often leads to some awesome discoveries and some long trudges through boring parts of town. Here are some highlights from our walks, after the jump:

THE PARIS LETTER: Maison des Petits, CentQuatre

Way better than hanging out in our tiny pad

It rains a lot here. In fact, Paris's dirty little secret is that it's weather is exactly like London's. Or Seattle's. It never gets too cold or too hot, but it is gray. Graaaaay. And rainy. We've already had two months, June and October, where it rained for at least half the time. And while I'm very happy to have skipped out of New York before Hurricane Sandy, or any number of severe blizzards and blistering heatwaves, I can tell you that rain rain rain day after day is no fun either.

Especially when you've got a child. And a 450 square foot apartment.

So that is why this week's endorsement goes to Paris's many free indoor playspaces, which I've been exploring this fall. Today's playspace: Maison des Petits at CentQuatre.

CentQuatre, or 104, is a huge public arts space in what used to be Paris's premiere crematorium and coffin factory. Yes, that's right. Just like Parc de la Villette repurposed Paris's slaughterhouses, CentQuatre has turned this factory for death into art. So French, right?

Anyway, it is GREAT -  a huge space where you can go hear a concert, see an art installation, have lunch at Les Grands Tables de CentQuatre (or at the fun Camion a Pizza, a pizza truck with a woodburning oven).

And, if you have children between the ages of 0 and 5, you can take them to the Maison des Petits:

This is basically a giant playspace, with areas for toys, fingerpainting, books and music, plus a little space for babies who aren't walking yet, coffee and tea for parents, and an all important changing room. Though at least one parent is expected to stay with their children at all times, there is a staff on duty that runs things, helps kids get toys, and breaks up any conflicts, so you can sit in the corner and read a book if you want, or chat with other parents.

For me, its both a great way to get Sophia out of the house on a rainy day, and for her its really stimulating to be around the other kids , and - of course - all the new toys -

On the weekends and on Wednesdays (when maternelle, the French preschool, is not in session) there can be a bit of a wait, but CentQuatre is so lively that the wait is never boring - one afternoon we got to play with huge boxes of Legos provided by a charitable organization while we listened to a rock band tune up for a concert that night (Sophia found the thumping bass particularly exciting), and another day we found ourselves in the middle of a breakdancing festival, so we got to watch various dancers do amazing tricks.

Each time, the wait was not much more than 20 minutes, and if you come right when they open there's usually no wait at all. And, did I mention it's free? Paris tourists with little ones, this is also an option for you, though be prepared to speak some French and blend in, as this is more designed for Parisian families -

Here's some details for all you cooped up parents out there:

LE CENTQUATRE

LA MAISON DES PETITS
LE 104
104 Rue d'Aubervilliers, 75019 Paris
01 53 35 51 21
Metro: Stalingrad or Riquet
Tuesday-Friday  3-6PM
Saturday/Sunday 2-7PM 
Closed Monday
 

THE PARIS LETTER: Trapped by Socialist Childcare

Hey everyone!

The new Slate piece is up, just in time for the election. This one is about childcare policies in France and how they've made it easier for Matt and I to both pursue our professional goals and be there for our daughter - The comments are amazing and already eliciting the kind of discussion I'd hoped for when I came up with the piece.

Please go give it a read, comment, like it on Facebook, yell at me about Socialism, whatever you want -

President Hollande visiting a creche at the Elysee Palace