Catacombes de Paris

Honestly, I am completely embarrassed that it has taken me 3+ years to make it to the Catacombs of Paris, deep in the 14^th arrondisment. This was not due to a lack of effort – in fact, today marked my third attempt to gain entry, the first two blocked due to poor timing (we almost made it in time) and an electricity outage (now that I have been deep down there, I can only imagine how terrifying that must have been).

After a long wait in line (about an hour, in scattered rainshowers), we finally made it into the tiny vestibule where tickets are bought and one starts their initial descent. Both my visitor and I commented on how stark everything was and moreover, if this was the US there would be eerie organ music and an introduction voiced-over by Morgan Freeman looping the background. To say that I am thankful for the lack of crass commercial manipulation in France would be an understatement.

The self-guided tour started off with a not-so-quick history lesson. Apparently long, long ago, the land we think of Paris today was submerged under a land-locked sea. Following massive tectonic movement, continental drift, human evolution, settlement and civilization (yes, this was covered in one info-graphic), the locals began to excavate massive amounts of limestone from under the city to build the monuments we all gawk at today.  Following a massive outbreak of water-borne disease (traced back to contamination of the city’s water supply by an excess of shallowly buried, decomposing bodies – eeew), the government ordered the above-ground cemeteries emptied and all remains thrown the unused quarry tunnels. In 1809 a very astute business man (whose name is currently lost in the tunnels of my mind), decided that the display of those remains would rake in the Francs, so he initiated the massive undertaking of reorganizing, stabilizing and opening the ossuary for public viewing. That is forward thinking.

After being prepped for what we were about to see, we descended further into the quarry. Long, damp tunnels were haphazardly lit and we could see initials and dates of individual workers carved into the stones around each new corner.

The first decorative item we came across was this stunning castle, carved into the stone wall. According to the signage (everything in English! Bravo!), this was carved by an excavator who had been imprisoned in the south for many years, with this castle as the only view from his cell.

Again, more info-graphics. Not only did the quarries provide a perfect final resting place for 6 million (!!!) Parisian remains, but they also play a critical role in our current understanding of the geological time scale of the European continent. A core taken from deep within the quarry now represents the international standard  of the different layers of rock and sediment from the major geological periods of the past. The hole from which the core was taken is now an extremely deep well.

After educating us all about French history, geology and paleontology (there were fossils!), we finally got to the bones. SO. MANY. BONES. You have been waiting for them as well – here you go (please forgive the focus issues, it was *dark* down there):

There really are not words to describe this place. It was eerie and overwhelming. It was claustrophobic, yet peaceful. It was a collection of so many lives and so much history that it was impossible to truly take it all in. I cannot recommend it enough – worth every wet minute in that line and more. I cannot wait to take another round of visitors back and absorb the melancholy and the sacred all over again.

In Images – Visitor, day 2

The tour of Paris continued today. We ate, we gawked and we ate some more. Currently, we are sprawled at home in a falafel coma. Good times.

(We started off the day with coffee and a croissant, as one should)

(Next was the winding metro ride across the city to the Catacombs. The line was long and the weather blustry, but we stuck it out and it was well worth it.)

(After emerging from the land of the dead, it seemed a good bet to counter with Notre Dame. Note the gathering darkness in the sky…)

(We crossed the Seine and ventured into Le Marais with a clear goal in mind, although we were slightly sidetracked by a torrential hailstorm – those clouds meant business.)

(Following a warming cup of coffee, a quick introduction between friends and a respite from the storm, we pushed on to our final destination. The best falafel in Paris. Recommended by Lenny Kravitz, even. How can you go wrong? Don’t answer that – you can’t, I promise.)

Psst – don’t fret, the Catacombs are next…

In Images – Visitor, day 1

(Amazing care package. Take note – tortillas and chipotles!! There are enchiladas on the horizon.)

We all have those friends. The ones where years pass, but somehow when you are together, it seems like no time has gone by at all. Over lunch today we realized that it has been 25 years since we first met. And what a joy it has been to share my home with her this time around…

(Moules gratinées for lunch. Somehow seafood + cheese does not sound so good at first glace – but that is a newbie’s mistake. This was amazing). 

(Then the requisite trip to Le Grand Epicerie for any food lover – admittedly a low-res photo, those security guards keep me on my toes. We exited overwhelmed, dazed, confused and delighted – and happy we’d eaten ahead.)

(A walk along the Seine and across the Pont des Arts, complete with the locks of love.)

(Through the Louvre, where it was somehow sad to see these children stealing wishes in the form of coins, from the fountain.)

(Into Tuileries, where the sun was shining down, despite looming clouds and a brisk wind.)

(Where everything was in bloom.)

(And we were able to see the beauty of Paris before the rain poured down again.)

(But we kept warm with a spinach and feta quiche, topped off with some of the care package Zinfandel.)

Tomorrow - the Catacombs. But, will I be able to take photos inside? That is the ultimate question…

…Hello, Spring

A little over a year ago I took the leap and splurged on a Nikon D3100 – it has proven to be, without a doubt, the best investment I have ever made. Taking pictures (of everywhere, everything and/or everyone) quickly joined cooking and knitting to round out the top three things that I would almost always rather be doing with my time. My budding obsession with love of photography has also reinforced bonds with my father who was a professional photographer for many years. After discussing my options extensively pre-purchase (Canon vs. Nikon? 15 megapixels vs. 18 megapixels – worth the extra $200?), he decided to get the matching model and we have been comparing techniques, questions and photos ever sense.

This Christmas I was gifted with my first non-kit lens, a 55-200mm zoom. After looking through a collection of photos I had taken in the past year, from an aerial view above Mount Everest to a tight shot of the veins of a cabbage leaf, my dad encouraged me to use the new lens to really play with my technique, specifically in terms of depth of field, texture and color. He particularly noticed my lack of any portraiture experience and, after hearing numerous antecdotes about how emphatic and expressive the French can be, suggested trying to catch French faces, unaware and in mid-gesture while sipping an aperitif on the terrace across the street (and some of you are concerned about my following potential FFFPs?). Like father, like daughter.

So lately, while touristing in the Tuileries garden trying to soak up the few rays of sunlight successfully piercing the persistent cloud cover or exploring Parc de Saint-Cloud with a dear friend, I have pulled out the new toy to experiment. What I have seen is a glimpse of the spring that is coming, one laughing child, speeding sailboat herb garden(!!) or budding flower at a time.

(My own little piece of spring, right outside my living room window; those long evenings and warm breezes cannot come soon enough.)

 

Weekly Harvest: Goodbye, Winter…

Although we have had brief glimpses of warm spring days (picnics along the river!), winter is doing its best to keep a stranglehold on the city past his official season. With the exception of two amazing weeks, mid-March, the city feels like it is trapped under a wet blanket – cold, grey and persistently damp. Not exactly what the tourists had in mind when they booked their spring break in the City of Light.

There are a few hints that spring is on its way. Radishes, spring onions and lettuces have popped up in the panier and offer a crisp, fresh glimpse of things to come. Yet we are still receiving plenty of cellar goods (sigh, kiwi) – including more potatoes and carrots than you can shake a stick at (side note: can someone fill me on where that saying came from?). To be completely transparent, this was last week’s take – this week the vegetables are taking their spring break, hopefully somewhere warm and dry. In preparation for the return of the panier, hopefully filled to the brim with vine-ripened tomatoes, sweet peas, succulent cherries, artichokes and zucchini (let’s not get too carried away), I took advantage of the week off to empty the larder of all their leftover, cold weather cousins.

(when I said ‘extra brown’, I meant it – that apple caramelization is the key)

Much has already been said (re: shouted from the proverbial rooftops) about this applesauce. I will not bore you again except to, one last time, entreat you to make this – I know it is currently storming something vicious in California and this has to be the best cold weather salve invented. Make it now (I have a second batch in the oven as we speak). ‘Nuff said.

Beyond the overflowing apples, the mountains of potatoes, bunches of leeks and bags of carrots also need(ed) to go. The carrots will go to soup later this weekend, with curry and ginger, I’m thinking. I chose to tackle the potatoes and leeks first.

First up was this potato and leek soup. I did not grow up a big soup fan. Maybe being raised in such a temperate climate did not allow for that cold-weather appeal of a big bowl of soup to catch on, or, more likely, it was a texture thing. Yet, as most childhood pickiness issues, this has faded with age and, more importantly, I have made the happy discovery of how easy, fortifying and fun a big pot of soup or stew is to make (and eat) on a cold winter’s (or, spring, boo!) night. This one was shared with a good friend and complimented by those radishes and an excess of bread and cheese. Perfect.

The rest of the leeks (and remainders of various hard cheeses – I’m on a ‘use it or lose it’ kick) went into my standard quiche recipe; the aging cauliflower was revived by a stint in the oven. Crispy brown edges, flaky salt, pepper and a squiggle of Siracha and a quick Friday night dinner was ready to go…

Now to get back to those apples…

Five Things About Me

(I love this and I don’t care who knows it)

To say that it has been too long since I’ve been here would be the understatement of the year (or, two, actually, depending how you count). I certainly have been drafting posts in my mind, carrying my camera everywhere and the food… oh the food I have consumed in the past four months – all with the excuse of sharing it with you. Yet, that is what I’ve come to accept. I do not need an excuse. Not for that 9 course pop-up restaurant in DC (oh, yes, that happened), not for cheese-tastic feasts and, importantly, not for my most recent in a long line of blog recesses… Life got in the way. I do the best I can. I look back and wish I had prioritized differently and I forge ahead hoping that I will have learned from the experience. So, let’s move on, shall we?

(an embarrassment of cheeses riches cheeses)

Inspired by Jenna (who does not know me, but is now my most recent favorite person for unknowingly providing me with the above photo – and post idea), I figured a list is the best way to shake off the old and bring in the new. Who doesn’t love a list of random factoids? I know I do!

1. Yoga is good for me. This is my nod to Mr. Gosling above, and will be my only ‘self-improvement’ entry on this list. Last summer I got into the habit of doing 20 minutes of yoga each morning. It was a slow, conscious way of starting each day and I felt the benefits almost immediately. My posture improved, as did my patience, and I was proud of committing to a small, daily practice for just me (those 15-20 minutes of yoga were certainly a much better use of that time than the ‘snooze’ button). All was good (and balanced) until the weather cooled, skies darkened and winter set in. I fell off of the interconnectedness wagon. The warmth of my bed cocoon was too tempting. I now feel ready to get back to it, but have not found the get-up-and-go each morning (‘snooze’ has reconquered my world) to make it happen. So, I’m saying it here – and hoping that accountability to blog friends and strangers will push me farther than I have been able to push myself.

(that’s my face!)

2. I had both of my jaws realigned in 2005. Due to an overbite and resultantly wacky teeth , I had both of my jaws realigned while in graduate school. This involved getting braces for the second time and several weeks consuming only liquids. In preparation for the best diet ever (joking – sort of), I took the opportunity to be a complete glutton, which had its moments. I joke that perhaps they will unearth my skull and think that I am the missing link between man and machine. Besides rapid onset ice cream headaches (all the metal in my face cools down way faster than tissue and bone do in cold weather), the only perk is to freak people out by having them touch the one screw you can feel, at the top of my nose… Truly one of the best party tricks ever.

(Camille and Meg. Post-cheese – and, perhaps, some wine)

3.  I create a family of friends wherever I land. I have been very lucky in life’s endeavors so far, even if they continue to take me further and further afield from the place I consider ‘home’ (most anywhere on the CA coastline). Although I try to focus on the positive and be enthusiastic about the opportunities I am given, there are some days when this is just downright difficult. Enter my ‘family’. I have, in most cases, blindly stumbled upon the most amazing people in each city that I have inhabited. Intelligent, generous, hilarious people who have welcomed me into their lives, opened their hearts and shared in the ups and downs of daily life, so much so that I feel at ‘home’ when I am with them. I could not imagine better friends – here, in Boston (now moved almost entirely en masse in DC) or, waiting for me to return, some day, to CA. Talk about lucky…

(my *first* niece, Sophia Rose)

4. In this year, I will become an aunt 4 times over.  Speaking of family. Mine has been gettin’ busy! Ours is a modern (re: fragmented, eccentric, wonderful) family that has spent a lot of time apart, each of us finding our own way. Yet, in the past year, things have been, uhm, coming together (?) and two sisters and two brothers will (or have) both bring (brought) bundles of joy into this world for me to love, hug, squeeze and call George (or, Sophia, whatever). Seeing this happen, being part of the inner circle, and frantically knitting baby blankets has made me realize that, for all of my world traveling and far flung soul searching, there is nothing like family. No matter how dysfunctional. Kidding, I swear!

(make. this. now.)

5. I have conquered apple exhaustion and now cannot get enough. There have been stories of apple excess in years past. It is like the Groundhog Day of the panier set; more apples? Yes. OK, at least a few more weeks of winter to go. This year the apples were somewhat offset by an overwhelming quantity of kiwi, a winter fruit I now dread more than the apple (at least you can make something with apples). However, despite the kiwi distraction, I still find myself in early April with more apples than I can fit in my tiny, Parisan kitchen.  This weekend I was done. I had had enough. No more crumbly pies, or last minute tarts. It all had to go. Now.

Applesauce was clearly the answer. Rather than my go-to recipe, I chose to follow Luisa’s instincts (note to self – never hesitate to follow Luisa’s instincts from here on out). Please, for all that is holy, go make this now. Buy apples (if you have to) and then loosely follow the recipe. Maybe you substitute brown for white sugar and, if you are so lucky as to get vanilla-infused butter from your friends as gifts (I told you so), drop a few dollops of that in. Bake until extra browned and mash away. Yes, you must taste as you go, but do not forget to let it cool, or you won’t be able to feel that center-front spot on your tongue for the next few days – believe me. Even better, add a dollop of crème fraiche and slowly savor each sweet, caramel-y bite – like the most perfectly bruléed tarte tatin, without all that crust nonsense to get in the way. I am seriously considering picking up some more apples at the store on the way home tomorrow. Just sayin’.

So, there we go. Not nearly caught up (that will come), but at least reconnected, which, for now, is a big step in the right direction. Bonne Nuit!

Indian Summer

Why is it that we think of resolutions and new beginnings only on January 1st? I much prefer the idea of replacing the epic annual ‘brand new me’ habit and, instead, taking each month as an opportunity to try something new, adjust or create new habits and then check-in with myself every 30 days or so. Today seems to be a good start – it is the first of the month, seasons are in transition and, although it has been to the evident detriment of my blogging output, I have made considerable and tangible progress in the lab. Now I get some time to play.

What a great day for it. Mother Nature did not get the memo about the arrival of autumn. She has not noticed us all readying ourselves for the coming winter, purchasing rain boots and houndstooth blazers (with elbow patches!). In fact, it seems that she finally realized that she never gave us a real summer and is making up for it, all at once.

All of Paris was out today en forme, soaking in as much sunshine as possible. It was a perfect day for long walks, late afternoon sunshine glinting off of gilded monuments and terrace dining somewhere deep in the 15th (it was deemed an ‘exceedingly acceptable’ burger, by one who should know).

Although we topped out at 28C (82F) this afternoon, there was no hiding from the hints of fall. Those warm winds not only lifted the hair off my shoulders (such a relief), but also spun the already fallen, crumbling leaves into small eddies, whirling along the Esplanade des Invalides.

It *is* only a matter of time before the cold creeps in, bringing the darkness along with it. Each day is noticeably shorter, pears and figs are overflowing the neighborhood fruit stands and I saw my first roasted chestnut vendor today (seeming quite ridiculous in this heat), a sure sign of winter-to-come.  I can handle it – bring on the dark evenings (and mornings), the slow braised stews, squishy-soft handmade scarves and vin chaud. Until that moment, however, you can find me, along with the rest of the city, worshipping that glowing yellow ball in the sky for as long as I can.