u m a m i

July, the month before August

            

Yesterday was the hottest day we've had the whole year. 31C in the shade. I  decided to have sushi for lunch and when I tried to pay the bill I realised I had left my wallet in my other bag at home. Husband drove out to bail me, a 15 minute trip in normal circumstances but yesterday it took him 45 minutes because of the terrible traffic jams all over the city. In the evening, he was stuck again because they closed off most of the roads around Champs Elysee and his 10 minute car journey turned into a 2 hour nightmare. Moral of the story: leave the car at home.

June came and went in a flash. We had looked forward to welcoming friends and family and before we knew it, they had arrived, conquered and waved us au revoir. Weylin and her boy-boy made us sumptuous breakfasts while we slept, and one night there was even a laksa gravy bathed fish! Mummy and Aunt L enjoyed the shopping- this year discounts run deeper and earlier, many stores slash at least 50% off and 70% is not unusual- as well as the pastries, chocolates and Iberico pata negra.
      
            

The eating, well, it has been really too hot to eat much. We get by on granitas and frozen grapes and other fruits including canned longans by Aroy-D (their longans and stuffed rambutans leave the competition in the dust). The cherries have not been fantastic, the weather had been too rainy this year. Flat peaches and strawberries are slightly better. Asparagus was good, one day I even found wild asparagus selling at 3 bunches for 1 euro! Zucchini flowers appeared, and we grabbed a trayful, they started curling within a few hours but were still very tasty fried up with or without stuffings of goat cheeses. We are easing into tomatoes and more salad leaves: cold tomato soup with mint cream and a hint of sweet peppers served at kitschy Findi's (24, Ave George V in the 8th, T: +33 1 47 20 14 78) was one of the best thing I ate recently.

Next week Barcelona. I need to starve a bit before going, our champion gourmand travelling companion has earmarked 4 major meals a day at all the greatest hits places in the city and beyond. Will I be able to wear any of my new dresses by the evening of THE dinner remains a big question.

Also, in August we are going to Singapore from 4-8, and then KL from 9-21. I am planning our itinerary in Singapore but KL is still a big blank. Fellow food bloggers in KL, please email me if you organise any makan sessions I would love to meet up with y'all.

We are a Typepad Featured Blog!

New York was just fabulous, I am so infected with NY everything I think I'll watch all the 6 seasons of SATC again. We ate A LOT, even taking into account a terrible sore throat which came over me three days ago and ruled out eating too much spicy or deep fried foods with crispy surfaces.

When I swallow, it feels like my tonsils have been slashed all the way to the inner ears so right now eating has been quite impossible. Dinner was a sweet omelette- all soft and runny inside just like all the diner omelettes I saw on Food Network this week- but tomorrow we are promised the 'best nasi lemak in Paris' which I definitely do not want to miss out on so we'll be guzzling lots of liquids tonight in a vain attempt to get better quickly. I also got me The Tudors (actually C brought this over from London), Gilmore Girls and Deadwood too in case we get SATC overload; contrary to what the travel gurus advise I gave in to fatigue and slept the afternoon away so will probably not sleep much tonight.

In other news, this 4 and a half year old blog was selected as this week's Featured Typepad blog. Thank you Typepad. I would also like to extend a warm and sincere welcome to new readers who found your way here via this publicity. Regular blogging will resume next week, promise!

Acide

               

Since I am in a bit of a sour mood I decided to pick up a box of frÜ Sicilian Lemon cheesecake dessert. It's good if a bit expensive, and their GÜ range of chocolate desserts is not too bad either.

Why am I in a sour mood though? One, all the China-bashing in the press has been dragging me down. The protests against the Beijing Olympics and its associated hypocrisy, overbearing presumptiousness, smugness and bare-faced opportunism have been so unrelenting it's effects have instead waken some latent Nationalist sentiments in myself. My father would be proud of me I think.

Two, the métro station closest to my school is closed until mid-June so I am not liking this inconvenience.

Three, I just spent a whole morning reading this rubbish book called Doggy Bag by a French writer Philippe Djian. He tries to write in a chick flick meets American prime-time series format and fails abjectly: the plot never moves along, earthquakes mix uneasily with alcoholism and preoccupation with sex, one third of the way through and I still couldn't tell the characters apart. I should have saved my 8 euros for an Asterix comic or settle for yet another translated P.G Wodehouse caper. 

Four, I was walking along the streets and at the corner of Ave George V and Ave Pierre Charron I spied from the corner of my eye a tall suited Caucasian man walking at cross angles and mentally calculated that at the speeds we were both walking along we would definitely bump into each other. In the past I would have stopped, or veered to the side but I was in a mutinous mood. Why should it be me who gives way? The French would never do such a thing, if they bump into you they pretend it didn't happen, if I bumped into them first I would be "tsked tsked" at. Husband says only the Chinese and Japanese do the zig zag walk, and bearing his words in mind I walked straight ahead and hoped for the best. The tall white man in the suit stopped, if he was a cartoon car he would have slammed onto the brakes and screeched to a halt. Whew, I quickly walked away, but not before hearing him say "Pardon" in an English accent. I felt a little bad, but also pleased. Which also explains why when I was perusing the dessert shelf in Carrefour I shunned all the French brands and went English instead!

The Olympics flame passed our street junction

 

Last night it snowed. It was the last thing I expected when I drew the curtains for bedtime. At first I thought it was so strange that the rain was pouring in a horizontal direction, then my eyes registered the flurries and dances of the flakes by the light of the streetlamp. It was mesmerising and beautiful. We wished hard that the snow would settle, from our window we could see husband's car getting a fine dusting, and hoped that the next day V would wake up to see snow. Alas, in the morning it had all melted and the weather was cold and chilly though not in an unwelcome way, looking at all the green trees and jaunty flower beds we are definitely putting winter behind us.

In the afternoon I was interrupted by the sound of helicopters circling overhead. It's not an unusual thing in this neighbourhood, the helicopters come out at the slightest reason- a marathon, Bastille Day celebrations, Veteran's Day, inauguration of the President, a state visit etc- and we are usually grateful if they do not also close the metro stations and/or block the roads. Still, the helicopter was so loud it was practically outside, when I popped out to check, it was actually above us. Looking into Place de Beyrough I saw that Avenue Marceau was completely blocked to vehicles other than police vans.  People from the opposite building came out to observe on their balconies, and traffic came to a standstill.

It was the passing of the Olympic flame, though I was clueless at that time and did not keep an eye out for a runner bearing a torch. Oops, I've just read that the torch was extinguished three times and they had to put it in a bus. Apparently 3000 policemen were deployed in this exercise alone, although  most of them who passed our junction were sitting safely in a van instead of facing off with the protesters. By the time the bus came round I saw and heard only one protester, and a handful of press photographers, contrary to what is reported elsewhere. Also, does this mean that if the Chinese don't do what the protesters want, the games would be boycotted and the thousands of sportsmen who trained so hard have to put their dreams on hold and miss out on the medals.

            

Still, one may ask, what has all these events, fascinating as they may be, have to do in a food blog? Nothing. But I do have a picture of a roasted leg of milk-fed piglet which I bought for a Saturday lunch from the market butcher . The meat was milky and tender, delicious, we finished the lot in one sitting and the dogs got to chew on the bones so they too were happy.

          

Too right says Mimi. Now if only someone could explain to her why the helicopter is still around even though it is nearly 10 p.m The protesters are not tired yet?

Also, I am updating my Twitter more frequently, see column on right hand side.

Malaysia Boleh!

It's Election Day in Malaysia and results show the opposition taking at least five states. It's absolutely fantastic and I didn't see it coming so I am really moved and happy.

I've never voted in my life before, due to various reasons I have always been out of the country during elections but my parents and most of my dad's family in particular have been long-time DAP supporters. I remember my fourth aunt telling us of how my late paternal grandmother would ride in BN buses to the election booths because everyone knows that BN has bigger budgets and therefore more comfortable buses and provide Milo and biscuits whereas DAP buses are never that comfortable. But when she comes out of the booth she will tell my aunt that she voted for the 'rocket' party.

My dad advised us not to be involved in politics, and even my friends would not openly say who they would vote for. This year though, people have been wearing red t-shirts in public to show their DAP allegiance; we have definitely come a long way. For many generations we have accepted the deplorable state of affairs with resignation and hunker down to look after our own. Perhaps after today, with the BN majority hanging in such precarious balance things will improve. I hope the new MPs would work hard for the rakyat and be able to make a difference. Malaysia Boleh!

Spring Festival

               

It is drizzly but not too cold today. The florist have pussy willows and curly bamboos. Living in a temperate country really makes the promise of spring relevant, little wonder then that in China they also call this celebration Spring Festival. We saw some cherry blossoms in Belleville last weekend but silly me did not think to buy until it was too late and the shops have shut for the night.

The house is reasonably clean. I've even swiffered the books and wall moldings, as anyone who's ever visited us will know, ALL our walls have moldings. GG has made the crackers for tomorrow's yee-sang, and I am still fretting about having enough gas canisters for the hotpot.

Also, we finally finished making a new set of placemats for the dinner table. Two cotton prints, with handfinished bindings, no batting or quilting involved. Like the spring/summer fashion collections, we have florals; in the autumn/winter months we can go crazy with green dots. I made a mistake in cutting the dotted fabric and had to improvise by re-adding a strip of the floral but it turned out well in the end we think.

         

May all of you have a New Lunar Year full of blessings and happiness. Collect lots of ang-pows, win lots at mahjong and eat lots of pineapple tarts and bak-kwa!

Gong Xi Fa Cai

Kong Hei Fatt Choy

Happy Lunar New Year

Kong Hei Fatt Choy 2008

                  

Daddy called last week, and asked if there is any festive mood in Paris. I had to reply "none at all" and had been lackadaisickal about our celebrations beyond calling the cousins over for a reunion dinner this coming Wednesday. But yesterday the postman sent us a lovely and unexpected package from my friend L- it included a CNY card, an ang-pow for V and the above, festive greetings which back in Singapore I would have found cheesy beyond belief but somehow in Paris it just made us so happy and excited. My bank manager had also sent 5 packets of UOB ang-pow packets, which we turned into wall decorations. Some of it we will dangle from the 'chataigne' or chestnuts stalks which I've ordered from the fancy florist- it is what they call pussy willow. I also made some brittle with cashewnuts and almonds, and will have to find some other snacks to fill the snack trays. It is hardly like the frenetic celebrations back home but it'll do.

                  

Last Friday we finally managed to visit Isami, the most well-known Japanese restaurant in Paris, or at least the supposed best. Our lunch set of nigiri sushi comes with ankimo which I was not expecting at all (there was also a separate bowl of tiny conch-shells which I gave to husband), again I never used to like it much when Thomas (of Tomo Fine Dining, Singapore) served it to us but absence must have made the heart fonder because it was so extremely deliceux I was making the most indelicate of noises in the restaurant.

                  

The nigiri sushi does not include uni, that I ordered separately, it was okay but I still prefer Japanese uni if one can get it. The sushi items in the set were all very good, they even ask if there is anything I didn't like, so the salmon I didn't want was substituted with tuna, and the wasabi was served on the side. What I like about Isami's sushi is their rice- the seasoning is so subtle it is almost not there, so one has to chew more thoughtfully on the rice, when it eventually releases its natural sugars it then fuses with the topping in slow-motion nirvana. The maki items are all different- ume in one, minced tuna belly in another, an undefined spiciness in one which was unexpected but not unwelcomed, all in, an exciting meal. The set does not include dessert, so we walked a bit and I treated husband to a tiny cone of Berthillon caramel ice cream. Then he went back to his office, with my reminder to get his hair trimmed before CNY ringing in his head, while I took the slow bus 63 ride home.

Finally husband decided on Marrakech and not Istanbul for our planned winter getaway, but we've been procrastinating way too long. All the riads that we liked, and we shortlisted 10 including the names of their rooms (gingembre, coriandre, casablanca, safi etc etc) are completes i.e. full, for the weekends we wanted.

The friendly lady on the other side of the line was apologetic, their weekends are booked all the way till April. How about weekdays she enthusiastically suggested, we have rooms available any weekday in February. Nobody comes on weekdays, she said, her exasperation can be felt all the way in our apartment which has become cold again. I wish I could too.....

Cheese, meet apricots

                  

Two weeks after Christmas we still have leftover Comté. Unbelievable but true. Because the  doorstopper-sized hunk of 40 month cheese turned out to be terribly disappointing. It seems that age has just made it super salty instead of intensely umamilicious. It could be because I bought it from a new fromager who, erm, specialises in goat cheeses. So this monstrous chunk sat in the fridge, together with its soft brethren Brie which was even more of a lost cause, on the top shelf where I can see it as soon as I open the door, sending out waves of hope and expectancy. It was OK melted on top of some bruschetta, but we are on a post-holiday bread embargo. My usual way of eating Comté- like munching it on its own, in between meals and especially when watching television- is out of the question now.

But one day I had a brainwave. How about pairing it with dried apricots, a whole kilogram of which I had procured at the organic market at Raspail? The apricots are gorgeousness personified in their deep jewel-brown tones untainted by artificial orange colourings, and super-delicious, all sweet, meaty and warm, like the sun. I chopped up some, and tasted. Bham! A pairing made in heaven, they are so perfectly matched. The sweet playing off the salty, the full bodied fruit making up for lack of it in the cheese, finishing with a pleasantly gritty salt crunch. Not the most novel pairing, but I've never had it so in sync. No wonder then that Mimi was waiting by my side, hoping for some cheese to fall off by accident.

Donc, quoi de neuf? What else is new? Not much. We're still feeling very full from all that eating in December. All that crabs, the multiple forays to Nasi Kandar Pelita (KL) for roti canai, the double bowls of beehoon-pok at Lai Heng and that blowout on Christmas Day has taken its toll. The only remedy is healthier eating which means more soups and vegetables, and less of the féculants (French for starch, doesn't it sound so very bad?) and deep fried anything.

It started with the Salade Toute Orange at Delicabar in Bon Marché, which every other table was also ordering. Served in a deep orange plastic bowl, the salad mixes clementines, shards of carrots, boiled lentils and emmenthal cheese, the whole pile topped off with an orangey nutty dressing that could well have contained more emmenthal. Delicious and a perfect antidote to a Figue Farcie au Foie Gras, which is a whole poached fig stuffed with creamy foie gras mixture, available in the food hall downstairs at only 2.50 euros a pop, crazy!

It means sushi instead of steak frites. I get my sushi fix at one of the not-so-few tiny joints in the 16th arrondissement. It is hard to get reservations, and the chef prefers if you order takeaways instead. He is not very friendly and his waitress even more unhelpful. Yesterday she proposed something off-menu to some other regulars, but when I asked her about the day's specials, she pointed me to the stupid carte of which I can recite by now. But my French is not good enough, and my Japanese negligible, so I resigned myself to some nigiri sushi. Just she wait, I'm coming back every week (my French conversation teachers- they both take turns to host classes- live in the very neighbourhood) and I will impress her with my immense greed. One day I might even work up the nerves to order a whole bowl of spicy tuna don, easily the most popular item on the menu for their French customers but quite incomprehensible to me.

Next week of course, the sales start. Running for six weeks from 9 January, discounts can go as deep as 70%. V needs more stockings, husband some warm housepants which is quite difficult to find because the French of course don't wear elasticated anything at home. I also have to polish up my miserable French in order to sit for the placement exam in my soon-to-be French school, don't want to be placed in a junior class by now do we? Excuse me while I go stroke my electronic Larousse and have yourselves a Très Bon Weekend.

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The contents on the blog, or usual lack of it, would not change. For this year we will continue to document our bumblings and misadventures in Paris and beyond. I very much hope for the beyond actually, there are so many places to visit, foods to try and new experiences to be savoured. 

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