Jour du Macaron

Readers, I'm going to shock you. Until just weeks ago, I had NEVER had a Parisian macaron.

Well, okay, I guess that's not strictly true since I had some frozen ones from Picard once at someone's house, but I'm not going to count that. I had never hit the big spots for this most famous of French cookies - Laduree and Pierre Herme. So when the Jour du Macaron rolled around this year, I knew it was time.

Actually, this Jour du Macaron thing was all new to me. Organized by Pierre Herme, the "bad boy of French pastry" (what does that mean? I'll get to it), this is a relatively new charity event that each year donates to a different cause by giving away macarons for a voluntary donation. Yes, give a penny, get a macaron. Stores all over town do it, and of course it works out great for them as well, since once you have one macaron you are basically hooked.

Yes, these are the crack cocaine of cookies, as may have been reported to you already. I kind of couldn't believe how good they were. I had spent a lot of time dismissing them in my mind as a kind of dainty, girly because of the way they look - but they are freaking delicious and don't need to be girly at all.

The king of making the macaron a thing of robust, masculine deliciousness is Pierre Herme, who on occasion puts foie gras in his macarons - which is actually AMAZING.The chocolate foie gras macaron was so good I got an extra six of them, then went back the next week for MORE, only to find it was a special flavor he did only for Jour du Macaron. Rats.

But as Pierre Herme is the pioneer of the "creative" macaron, there are lots of other interesting flavors, including Jasmine, Mandarin Orange/Olive Oil, Earl Grey Tea, Rosewater, and Lychee. And they are all AMAZING. I am jumping on the Pierre Herme bandwagon. Thank god he's got several Paris locations.

Breastfeeding at the Musee D'Erotisme

Yes, so this thing happened. My friend Maya was here and we decided it might be fun to go to the Musee d' Erotisme. Its right in Pigalle, near the Moulin Rouge and coincidentally walking distance from my apartment, thus making it a good place to visit with baby since its both bizarre and conveniently located.

What separates the Musee d'Erotisme from other sex museums is that it's French. Which is to say, yes, there's porn, and its in the middle of Paris's red-light district, but its also got aspirations to be a serious intellectual thing. There's an impressive collection of fertility sculptures and symbols from many countries - in fact, I learned a thing or two - most of the fertility symbols were phallic, natch, but there were a few that were all about the great Earth mother and her birth canal, including these oil lamps from Tibet carved in the shape of a vulva with the flame right on your hoo-hoo. Right on, Tibet!

Godzilla plunders a co-ed while Maya looks on.

There was also a floor with a history of Parisian porn and prostitution, and an exhibit of naughty cartoons. These were pretty tame compared to the exhibit of French supernatural erotic movies, which involved a lot of vampire fellatio - I wasn't totally ready for that, but hey. Vampires, as you might expect, have HUGE dicks. 

But its challenging to take a baby to a museum, especially on a very hot day. They get fussy, hungry, what have you. So, about half an hour into our trip through the porn show, Sophia needed to be fed. So I took a seat in the only seating area, very comfortably facing a loop of silent film porno movies that were surprisingly graphic (one involving nuns and dogs, people! Nuns and dogs!), and starting nursing my child. I should also mention that we had taken a walk in the Bois de Boulogne beforehand, so I was wearing yoga pants and a tank top and was looking a little sweaty.

THE PARIS LETTER: Claire's Best Films of 2011

So, Saturday night Matt and I were invited to a French movie premiere – pretty good first date out after baby, right? Though really, what I should say is that Matt and I were invited and then FAILED TO ATTEND a French movie premiere, which is probably a more typical first date out after baby.

But I don’t want you to think this was from lack of trying. Even though I toyed with the thought of having our date be “sleeping in our bed while Matt’s parents look after Sophia”, which sounded like the best date ever to me, Matt vetoed my impulse to be a homebody and I actually put on contacts and makeup and we left the house. I was feeling pretty good about myself – so what if I still apparently look pregnant enough for men to offer me their seats on the metro?

Anyway, so the movie we were invited to was another one produced by my friend Eugenie’s husband Michael, a real rising star in the world of French cinema. Last year he produced Julie Delpy’s latest film LE SKYLAB, which I went to the premiere of in September, and now following on the heels of that, he’s got this high profile film called L’AMOUR DURE TROIS ANS, or Love Lasts Three Years, based on a book by Frederic Beigbeder. Never heard of him? Don’t worry, neither had I – though he is a HUGE deal here in France, kind of a literary bad boy along the lines of Jay McInerney, but with real writing chops. Plus, he DIRECTED this adaptation of his book himself, making the whole thing even more highly anticipated.

Now, I have been to many premieres in the US as part of my job, and they’re usually decently organized – you’ve got a red carpet/ press line area for the important people – the actors, the people who worked on the film, etc – and then another line for the industry peons like me, where we can quietly get into the theater and get checked on the RSVP list by some bored PR flak without being in the way.

Not so, apparently, at this French premiere – More on this, plus my top films of 2011, after the jump.

THE PARIS LETTER: The Whole Story

5 weeks old yeah!

Well, I’m back, and there’s a whole new person living in my house now. Her name is Sophia and I love her to pieces even though she’s been known to projectile poop on me. She is almost six weeks old, and while Matt and I are tired, we are pretty much thinking this whole parenting thing is one of the best ideas we’ve had.

I had a really tough labor and delivery, the subtitle of which could be “expect the unexpected”. The word I’ve used the most often to describe it is “insane” – this might be hyperbole (not something I’m a stranger to), but despite my best efforts at preparation the whole thing really threw me for a loop. I’m going to tell all here, because I need to both for my memory and for myself.  If you’re not into details you may want to skip this post, it is up to you. I will give you the short version now: Sophia is here and she is healthy and gorgeous. I had a difficult labor with a few complications but am on the mend, and both Matt and I are crazy in love with our little girl.

Okay, now all you people not into oversharing can go do the Sunday crossword or something –

For the rest of you, here is what happened, after the jump:

THE PARIS LETTER: Sophia!

Hello All -
We just got back from the hospital yesterday, so this post will be brief but I want to introduce you to our daughter -

Sophia Lundberg Valley

Born 11/21/11 at at 8:55PM at the Clinique Da Vinci in Paris

Weighing in at 3.97kgs (8.75 lbs)

51 cms/ 20 inches long

She came out smiling and alert, and we are head over heels in love with her.

There's lots to tell about her birth and her first week, which I'll get into this week as we settle into a routine here at home. But for now, Matt and I are both feeling like having a kid was a great idea. 

THE PARIS LETTER: Getting "Bonjoured"

Montmartre Stairs

France and America - we have such a long history together, both of fascination and irritation. We love each other but we hate each other. Its very complicated - like, goes back to the Revolutionary War complicated. 

Lots of Americans feel the French are rude -they come to Paris and they try to be nice, and the French won't give them the time of day. What gives? As you get a little more deeply into the culture here, you realize that many French people find AMERICANS rude - they come here in droves, crowding into subway cars shouting in English and bumping people with their fanny packs, demanding hamburgers at 4PM and wondering why things aren't open on Sunday. 

Clearly, this is a very complex issue, too complex to really handle in a blog post. But there's one word at the center of so much of this, and that word is: Bonjour.

Yes, Bonjour, the simplest French word, the first one you learn - Hello. 

Allow me to explain, after the jump:

THE PARIS LETTER: Sunday Afternoon Snack

Oh, Paris letter, how have I been writing you for so long without mentioning one of my favorite subjects, CHEESE? 

Those of you who have been following this letter for the last year know that in fact many of my culinary adventures in France have to do with finding NON-FRENCH food - I've looked for burritos and bagels, made traditional Thanksgiving dinner and served chocolate mole to dubious Parisians. What can I say? I like variety on my plate.  

However, there are a few areas where France just excels, period. One of these is bread. And the another is cheese. They are just consistently better here than in the US of A. Yes, we have some very good homegrown cheeses and you can get a great diversity of breads. But look at that picture, people! That's our Sunday afternoon snack! And we can get that kind of good-lookin' snack easily in our neighborhood, no trucking out to Murray's Cheese or Acme Bread. Yes, there's a huge variety when it comes to cheese and bread here, and you can get a super shitty baguette and some boring emmental just about anywhere here as well.

But again, I refer you to the picture above. Let's discuss....