5 Things I Miss About America

These words have never felt more applicable than now, because of the way they perfectly encapsulate how I feel about my homeland. Having been born and raised in the US, there are countless things I've taken for granted and only now am beginning to appreciate since, well, France is a very different place. So while I still don't consider myself much of a patriot, per se, I'm starting to see that for all its social, political, economic and other problems, America is pretty fucking great.

​This is a grilled cheese sandwich from one of my favorite diners in Seattle. I miss them (i.e. the sandwiches) too.

5. J. Crew

I'm not disputing that Paris is hip, trendy, etc., but merely admitting that a lot of the stuff I see in stores errs on the side of the extreme. Maybe I'm just not fashion-forward enough (seriously though, every time I leave my apartment I start to feel like Anne Hathaway's pre-makeover character in The Devil Wears Prada) but I miss J. Crew's basic wardrobe staples, that also come in petite sizes for the vertically challenged like me.

4. One-stop shopping.

Shopping in Paris always feels like an arduous ordeal for an American accustomed to behemoth Walmarts and Safeways. Instead of having access to everything under one roof, Parisians favor specialized shops that typically end in -erie (e.g. the fromagerie for cheese, boulangerie for bread, charcuterie for meats, etc.).* While the quality of the products, at least for food, is probably better this way, it can be in a pain when you're really hungry and/or don't have much time to shop.

*The one exception is Monoprix, which is like a toned-down version of Target. I go there a lot.

3. Getting things done online.

As the nation that produced Facebook, Google and Twitter, it's unsurprising that we rely so heavily on the internet to get things done. But for the rest of the world, this is not necessarily the case. I won't go into specifics here, but there have been multiple occasions where instead of taking care of something online, like I would at home, I've had to make a phone call or an appointment to see someone in person. And sometimes I just want to sit around at home in my pajamas and not deal with real people, OKAY??

...But actually, I'm embarrassed of my French so I prefer to email when possible. Otherwise many awkward silences and me repeatedly saying, "Encore une fois," ensue.

2. Coffee culture

Previous posts may suggest that I have an affinity for Starbucks bordering on obsession. This is somewhat true. It's not so much the actual coffee that I like, but rather that Starbucks is one of the few places in Paris where you can:

a) get a wide range of coffee and espresso-based drinks and

b) get them to go or

c) sit and enjoy it there for a couple hours.

Beyond Starbucks and other "American-style" coffee houses, your only options to satisfy a caffeine fix are potently bitter espresso shots or a weak café crème (basically steamed milk with a dribble of coffee). Clearly living in Paris has brought out the Seattlite coffee snob in me.

1. The English language.

"Je comprends mieux que je parle," (I understand better than I speak) is what I always tell people, my little disclaimer before they try to strike up a conversation. But if I'm not being an active listener, then whatever the other person is saying starts to resemble one long string of unfamiliar sounds, at the end of which all I have to offer is an eyes-glazed-over quizzical look.

I feel like a big part of living abroad is learning to accept that in a majority of social situations you won't have any clue what the hell is going on. And for someone as inherently neurotic as I am, that's probably one of the biggest adjustments.

Don't get me wrong - I think French is a beautiful language - but I miss being able to passively listen and still be fully aware of what's going on around me.

A Weekend in Amsterdam

The last time I was in Amsterdam the only thing I saw was the inside of my hotel during a 12-hour layover on the way back to SFO from Cannes. So it was with great anticipation that I awoke before dawn to catch the first train out of Gare du Nord, tagging along on a friend's pre-planned trip. 

One of the first things I noticed upon entering the city proper was the way that the old town (the part that includes both the red light district and infamous weed-friendly "coffee shops") resembles something out of a Tim Burton movie or Dr. Seuss book. And not because of the interesting characters drawn to the area, but due to the buildings that lean every which way in structural design-defying ways.

Walking around the various neighborhoods reminded me of the Scandinavian cities that I visited this summer. To me, Amsterdam had the old-world charm of Copenhagen combined with the grungy/hipster/rebellious streak of Stockholm but with more ethnic diversity than either of the two others. I was both surprised and pleased to see lots of Asian restaurants that were pretty authentic-tasting (and appeared to be run by people of the corresponding ethnicity). We had good sushi and Thai food, but also saw lots of Chinese, Brazilian and Argentinian restaurants.

Another thing I enjoyed about Amsterdam? The coffee culture. (I'm referring here to actual coffee shops that specialize in products that come from beans, not dried flowers). Even though I only drank it once or twice over the entire weekend, I found it comforting to walk around and feel surrounded by cafés sporting lattes and the like because it reminded me of Seattle. Paris does a lot of things well, but coffee is not one of them.

Confessions of a Culinary Student

"'Eetz okay,' pronounced the chef in heavily accented English, after I had presented him with my apple tart. It was only my second day at Le Cordon Bleu, the culinary institution famous for producing chefs like Julia Child and Giada de Laurentiis, but for the nth time I felt myself slipping into a soon-to-be-familiar state of passive anxiety." 

- via Bonjour Paris

This is me receiving my certificate in Basic pâtisserie.​ PC - ...the photographer LCB always uses. Currently trying to track down his name.

I've avoided writing much about everyday student life at LCB because there are countless others who have done it before and much better than I could. You'll probably find that most LCB student blogs deal in food porn (I'm an addict myself so I don't mean that in a derogatory way), but if you really desire to know what goes on inside 8 rue Leon Delhomme, I suggest you pick up a copy of LCB alumna Kathleen Flinn's The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry.

I read it over winter break and, honestly, it prepared me a lot more for my first day than anything the school ever sent me over countless emails, admission proposals, etc. Flinn was a cuisine student (I'm pâtisserie), but regardless her descriptions of the school and the characters in it are spot on. (The school sells the book on-site near the reception area, but I think they should consider making it required reading for incoming students).

So when the opportunity arose to write about my experience at culinary school for Bonjour Paris, I took it. The story is probably about as comprehensive as I'll ever get about being at LCB, so I encourage you to read it in its entirety if you get a chance.

Redesigning the Redesign

​I had a nagging feeling when I moved to Squarespace that it's a little (okay, maybe more than a little?) pretentious to have your given name as your domain name. Unless your name is David Lebovitz, in which case it's perfectly fine. At the time that I registered I was nervous that if I went with something more "original" I would eventually get tired of it - whether that would be next week or next year. My name, on the other hand, I'm pretty much stuck with for the long haul. But it does have a nice ring to it, if I do say so myself. (Tanks, parents!)

​As that feeling grew stronger I simultaneously came to the realization that I miss Tumblr...so the obvious solution was to combine this site with my previous blog Vittles & Libations (click the Tumblr icon up top). There are lots of fun things over there, like drink recipes, how to play a baseball-inspired version of beer pong, and a brief narrative of the time that a friend and I hit up five different happy hours in the span of a single drunken afternoon (my most popular post, as it were).

Some of the old content might make an appearance here. I'm not exactly sure what direction this is headed in, but it feels like a good start.​

Earl Grey Madeleines

Last time I complained about moving so now it's time to appreciate the silver lining: my new place has an oven!

Having done a fair bit of apartment hunting in Paris, I wouldn't go so far as to say that an oven is a luxury, but given how small kitchens usually are it can be tricky to find a place that's decently equipped for an aspiring chef.​ To give you some idea, the "oven" in my last apartment - a 2BR that I really liked - was the size of a large toaster and operated on a strict on-off basis sans temperature control. So you can imagine how pleased I was when I moved in a realized I could practice and experiment in the kitchen.

As one of my favorite lessons in basic pâtisserie, Madeleines were a logical first project because they don't require any special equipment or ingredients, except for the shell-shaped cake mold.​

Recipe ​(adapted from LCB's)

What you need:​

• 1 1/2 eggs
• 65 g sugar​
• 15 g honey​
• 30 ml milk​
• 1-2 Earl Grey tea bags​
• 100 g butter (room temperature)​
• 100 g flour​
• 5 g baking powder​
• 1 g vanilla extract and/or the beans from half a pod​
• Zest of 1/2 lemon​

What you do:​

Prepare the milk by steeping the tea in it. Heat to a simmer, then set off to the side to cool. I discarded the tea bags after squeezing out the milk, but for more flavor you could try using loose leaf and leaving it in the batter.​

Preheat the oven to 170ºC.​ Grease and flour the cake mold well if it's not non-stick.

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In a large mixing bowl cream the butter and vanilla beans (by hand or with the paddle attachment of a stand mixer). Add the sugar and continue to mix.​

Add the lemon zest, honey and vanilla extract, and mix well.​

Next add the eggs gradually, scraping down the sides of the bowl as you mix.​

Combine the flour and baking powder in a separate bowl, then add to the batter in several additions.​

Finally, add the milk in slowly. If using a machine, finish up by hand so you can scrape the bowl.​

Scoop the batter into a pastry bag, cut off a sizable piece of the tip, and pipe a ball of batter into each shell.​ Don't worry about spreading it - that will happen naturally in the oven. Make sure you pipe enough batter that it sticks up over the surface of the pan.

Bake for about 10 minutes, before turning the oven down to 160ºC and rotating the pan. Then bake for another 5-7 minutes until done. The cakes should be golden brown around the edges and the center firm. ​Look for a nice bump on the non-striated side.

Enjoy with a cup of your favorite tea or coffee. The cakes are good fresh but even better the day after.​

Defining 'Home'

Yesterday after class, with the help of a couple friends, I made the inevitable move from my apartment in the 15th to my new home for the remainder of my time in Paris in the 5th. For the days leading up to the move I had been battling my dislike of packing with my yearning for the ability to finally settle down and fully nest; trading my awesome roommate for a host family; being able to walk to school in 10 minutes versus...well, I still haven't figured out how I'm going to get there from the new place. In short, there were and still​ are many mixed feelings. 

The new neighborhood seems a lot more lively, and I'm not just saying that because when I moved in there was a police barricade around the corner. ​There's a better Sunday farmer's market, more brasseries and bars, and of course the mosque down the street that serves excellent mint tea. But, as a creature of habit, I don't like my daily routines getting interrupted and having to find new ones. 

This summer when I logged into Facebook I felt a small pang of jealousy ​each time I saw someone post pictures or a status about moving into their new studio/apartment/house. I wish I had that stability of permanence and the independence that comes with having one's own place. Not to mention the fact that many of my school friends live relatively close to each other and get to hang out and do "grown-up" things like go to happy hour together. I think one of the hardest things about living abroad is that, no matter how much fun you're having, there are times when you can't stop thinking about everything you're missing out on at home.

As I write this I'm sitting in an American-style bakery/coffee shop, the type that serves brownies, cupcakes and coffee in to-go cups, and that I used to spend hours at with ​friends while allegedly writing papers and studying for exams. I've missed the people from home since, well, maybe week 2 of class. But it's only now that I'm beginning to miss the other things, even those that I usually took for granted. 

An Australian friend recently asked me if Starbucks is much of a fad at home.​

Being from Seattle, I replied, "It's not a fad. It's a way of life."​

My peers at school sometimes make fun of me for shelling out €4 for a tall soy latte, but I say you can't put a price on nostalgia. And anything that keeps me awake during an 8:30am class is a worthy investment.​

Celebrating 22 at the Mojito Lab, Paris

On Saturday I turned 22, and for the second time in a row celebrated my birthday away from home. Last year I was at the Toronto International Film Festival, so I went out for drinks with some newfound film buddies. This year, I went out with my French roommate and some friends from LCB.  

The main event of the evening was a visit to the sleek Mojito Lab in the Bastille neighborhood. As the name suggests, the bar exclusively serves mojitos (20 variations on the menu, I believe), grows their own mint, etc. But we weren't there just to drink - for €35/person, the Mojito Lab offers mixology classes for small groups. So after a harrowing taxi ride from the 15th (during which our driver nearly hit and subsequently swore at every cyclist we passed), the four of us descended to the basement 'lab' below the normal lounge and bar area.

So for the next couple hours our bartender and instructor for the evening, Florian, taught us how to make classic mojitos, a virgin passionfruit variation, and a syrupy raspberry-based version. Having gotten my bartender certification last summer, I already knew the basics of free pouring and what not, but it was a treat to play with the lab's fancy barware and ingredients - particularly the wide variety of pre-made fruit syrups that I haven't seen stateside.

And because it was my birthday, Florian concocted this lovely strawberry basil mojito and some shooters. A good start to a great night.

One of the other bartenders stopped by to give us a juggling demonstration. Video below.

bartender at the Mojito Lab in Paris shows off his skills. all goes well until the end. unfortunately i didn't catch it from the beginning, but you get the idea...