I dunno if this week’s forecast of warm temperatures and summery sunshine, coming after a full month of rainy Winter in August, is Parisian Gods’ way of saying “Look, I’m sorry for what happened, I’ll treat you better from now on”…
But if it is, then consider this my most heartfelt “Too little, too late” break-up letter.
Lining in front of me this morning at the subway ticket counter: a vastly overweight woman wearing offendingly stretchy pseudo-designer clothes and tacky sunglasses, extra large Starbucks latte in one hand, giant glazed donut of same, in the other, busy yapping with another equally attired woman in the loudest yankee accent this side of Jersey…
Just when I’m about to turn the volume up on my headphones, I get a glance at the tiny flag proudly pinned to her backpack and nearly fall over laughing.
Oh yea. She looked Canadian alright. Nearly had me fooled too.
This morning before work, I had to put my bank in Paris on the phone through to my bank in Tokyo.
I seriously don’t know which one of the two spoke the least English.
You know…
Breezing past some über-snooty Parisian nightclub’s door personnel, wearing your most casual Summer pants and flip-flops, may be the epitome of scenestery cool.
But is sure as fuck doesn’t make it any easier to dance in them.
Yesterday, I had convincingly authentic Japanese food for the first time in Paris and felt it deserved a mention here.
Issé restaurant (“tempuras & tapas”) has a soberly stylish decoration and seemingly caters to a large japanese-speaking clientele, both reassuring points when compared to the flurry of Chinese-speaking sushi chefs and horrifyingly cheesy pseudo-oriental kanji signs, customary of most other places that claim to offer Japanese cuisine in this city.
The menu there is classic, yet not stereotypical, which means a lot of small dishes, no ramen, and only a few makis on offer. Somewhere between a typical Tokyo restaurant and a high-end izakaya (lots of the same food, but less greasy): we had loads of tempuras (shiso, seafood, a bunch of other veggies… even mozzarella…), seaweed salad, agedashi tofu, and a couple other dishes. All great and tasty (ok: I reckon my agedashi tofu is better, but I may be biased) and infinitely more reminiscent of the whole Tokyo experience than many a j-food joints on rue Saint Anne.
Prices were about average to high, but very reasonable for the quality of food (around 20-30 euros/person for dinner and a drink).
And for those who ever lived in Japan: sit there, sipping an iced ohlong-cha with schochu and nibbling on edamame, and I swear you won’t be able to shake the natsukashiness away.
Sartres says “others”.
I say: “others, checking out sales at a major Parisian department stores on a hot Summer day”.
On the other hand, that satin-lined tux is so gonna get me envious looks from every last pimp in the neighbourhood.
Yes folks, satin-lined.
Damn. There goes my vacation plan to Manaus next year.
If you happen to live in France, 9pm to 10:30pm tonight is possibly the best time of the decade to:
On the other hand, if you’re looking for a quiet romantic evening, I’d stay out of Brazilian restaurants.
Anyway: we’ll be on the Pont des Arts with some fine food and a bottle of red wine, enjoying the quieter surroundings until late, quite likely all night, if Brazil’s pummelling of the French goes as planned.
Tonight, in Paris and most other urban areas, is La Fête de la Musique
Not that there’s any point mentioning it: if you don’t live in France, you rightfully don’t give a flying rat’s ass, if you do, I reckon you are all too aware of it by now.
To the attention of the shopkeeper who has repeatedly been trying to shortchange me during my lunch pause:
Sir,
Either you are in good faith, and truly unable to count up to 20 euros without getting it wrong more than 60% of the time.
In which case, I would strongly advise for a career change.
Or…
You are just another average money-grubbing lowlife trying to improve his profits and survive in the dog-eat-dog world of small businesses by less than commandable means.
And I would then have to question the wisdom of running such a trade across the street from one of Paris’ major universities, specializing in Science and Mathematics.
If anything, I feel a bit insulted.
A while back, I posted about finding some specific ingredients in Paris (mainly Japanese but also Thai and generally all sorts of non-French food) without having to pay for overseas shipping each time.
Following some kind readers’ suggestions and with a bit additional exploration, I have since resolved all my culinary woes. I figured I’d post a quick recap and a few extra advice for the sake of past and future seekers of exotic food in Paris:
First off: the bestest, cheaperest, fresh tofu, along with countless other goodies (can you believe they even had konnyaku!?!) was found at Supermarket Paris Store on Avenue d’Ivry (about 10 minutes from Place d’Italie, on the left side), thanks to Chrys, whom we shall dearly miss now that she has relocated…
Unlike most other Asian stores in the area (Tang Frères etc.), this one stocks up a fairly consequent aisle of typically Japanese products.
Of course they also carry the usual south-east asian fare, though their curry paste didn’t turn out all that convincing to my humble curry-loving tastebuds (their coconut paste: not at all). But these are much easier to find anywhere else in the neighbourhood… I still want to find some of this mucho combiniente cononut powder (same taste, much lighter to carry around), but the canned stuff is available everywhere… On my next trip, I might even try some of their kimchee (kimchee ramen… yay!).
E. is currently visiting and has retained my services as personal bodyguard and multi-purpose interpret.
Expect lighter-than-usual blogging while I’m busy scaling Parisian monuments and translating food menus into Japanese.
My mum always told me that when you have nothing nice to say, you should keep your mouth shut.
Obviously my mum has never heard of blogging.
I was really looking forward to hearing Bumcello live. I have loved many of their electro-loungy-hip-hop productions of the past few years.
Seeing the ‘acoustic’ mention on the bill when we got there was a big tip-off: when your band is a two-people act and so much of your music relies on sampling and overdubbing, pulling a proper live show would already be enough of a challenge. But choosing to strip it down to a couple drums, a cello and two lo-tech samplers while mostly improvising outside of your usual repertoire… is taking a huge leap of faith in your own live performer abilities.
Something they did, unfortunately to very mitigated results.
It may be the “most famous avenue in the world” (at least outside of the single-digit-as-name category), but trust me: whether visiting or residing, you have no business venturing anywhere near the Champs Elysées.
Of my previous residing years, I don’t remember ever setting a foot there in broad daylight. Even our recurrent late-night excursions to some of the ridiculously haughty Parisian nightclubs that seemed to flourish in the area were never an excuse to dally around. And neither should they be to you, unless you are a bored teenager making it your ambition to crash through as many bitchy door policies and crappy discopop tunes as humanly bearable in one night.
By day, it is an endless sea of tourists walking the avenue in either direction, past the alignment of prominent international luxury brand boutiques and much-less-prominent but no less expensive greasy food stalls. Shopping-wise, nothing you won’t get in a dozen other neighbourhoods or department stores in the city, and about as typically Parisian a sight as the Ku’damm, Omotesando or a dozen other similarly lined high-end avenues in the world. In fact, I am quite positive you will see less Japanese walking down Tokyo’s version of the Champs Elysées.
But it’s not all tourists and tourist traps.
… that I haven’t had a proper BLT sandwich.
Where do they hide the bacon in this damn country?
Do I have to start raising pigs in the courtyard of my building?