The Sweet Life in Paris: Living Vicariously through David Lebovitz

If you're thinking of traveling to Paris any time soon, you NEED to read David Lebovitz's The Sweet Life in Paris, carefully with pen and paper in hand to take notes and be prepared. And if you're not lucky enough to be contemplating a trip, then you should DEFINITELY read The Sweet Life in Paris as you will be transported to the City of Lights, or at least your taste buds will be.

Chapter by hilarious chapter, Lebovitz shares his experiences adapting to life as an American in Paris. Having grown up there and being half-French, I can attest to the fact that he depicts Parisians accurately, even as he bares some of their more unflattering idiosyncracies.

After reading the book, I finally fully understood my parents' horror when, overly influenced by my American education, I insisted on marching into the Ritz, woefully underdressed in sloppy shorts and flip flops. As Lebovitz explains, it was only once he realized that he had to dress up to put the garbage out that he truly felt like a Parisian.

Lebovitz not only explains the puzzling Parisian habit of cutting in line and their mystifying dinner etiquette (never cut your salad with a knife or chop the head off a wedge of cheese), but he also divulges all of his favorite restaurants and food stores. I consumed The Sweet Life in Paris in one sitting and had to physically restrain myself from jumping on the next plane to explore his recommendations first hand. I was familiar with some, such as E. Dehillerin, the mecca of copper pots and the rich Chocolat Africain at Angelina's Salon de The, but I'm dying to try the confitures of Christine Ferber from Da Rosa, the cheeses of Fromagerie 31, and the chocolates of Michel Chaudun. I am literally kicking myself for not visiting his blog prior to our March trip to France as he continually updates it with new recommendations.

Each chapter of The Sweet Life in Paris is concluded with some of the recipes that Lebovitz creates and refines in his tiny "cuisine Americaine." In addition to the decadent desserts you would expect from the author of dessert and ice cream cookbooks, there are plenty of appetizers and entrees as well. Ironically, the recipe I am most excited to try is the American one: Dulce de Leche Brownies. They're the bribe Lebovitz used to open the hearts of Parisian shopkeepers.

I read The Sweet Life in Paris on my way to BlogHer Food and then had honor of meeting David Lebovitz to gush about how much I loved it. After I recovered from the thrill of meeting such a food blog superstar, I then spent the rest of my
dragging everyone I met to the book table to buy their own copy.

So please consider this my virtual drag to your local bookstore. I guarantee that this book will inspire you to either book a ticket to Paris or start cooking, or maybe even both.

Paris Day 4: La Marche a Pied

Today was our last full day in Paris, and we spent it doing one of the greatest things there is to do in Paris: walking.

First we walked to find a market. We wanted to gaze upon piles of blushing peaches, admire plump white asparagus, and hear the calls of the vendors offering their produce and their meats. But we somehow missed the market, probably due to the fact that we are still all getting up very late in our jet lag haze. So we made do. We went to a butcher and a produce market across the street and bought the makings of a glorious market lunch:

• Fresh crusty baguettes
• Sweeter than candy Melon de Charentais
• Good and greasy Rillettes d'Oie (definitely one of those foods that you should just enjoy without asking too many questions about what you're eating)
• Jambon Blanc, just regular French ham, ham that made the kids pause when they saw it was more than one uniform pink color, but made them close their eyes in appreciation when we finally convinced them to take a bite.
• Saucisson Sec - French salami - cut into thin slices at the table, salty and greasy and delicious.
• Pommes Dauphines - the French answer to Tater Tots (mashed potatoes meet puff pastry dough).
• Strawberries from Spain - little and bright red, they were long on promise but short on taste.
• Nectarines - we almost skipped these as they looked so boring, they gave no hint that they would be packed with sweet juice that would drip down our chins.

After we recovered from our feast, we set off on foot again, this time along the Seine. As we strolled, we realized why Paris is known as the City of Love. We walked past many couples sitting on benches, standing up, lying down, all doing nothing other than expressing their love. There was kissing, there was touching, there was stroking... all in the plain light of day. And there was something wonderful about such displays, to see real people coming together so lovingly. Not movie stars on jumbo screens, just regular people in love. What would America be like if we took a little more time to make out in public like that?

As we strolled, we shopped. Another glorious Parisian activity. I looked longingly at the Dior windows, but we mostly entered tourist shops and children's clothing boutiques. We scored at DPAM, the French equivalent to Old Navy. Low budget still feels classy when you're in France!

Although the kids are having a blast, I'm still not sure whether they realize that we're in a real City and not some wing of Disney World. We happened to walk by a "little person" wearing a suit smoking a cigarette and talking on a cell phone outside an official building. Jack took one look at him and just walked right up to him and squeezed his arm saying, "Bonjour! Are you a real?" The guy looked startled by the intrusion but he just kept on talking on the phone as we hussled Jack away explaining how some people don't grow tall.

We couldn't leave Paris without seeing at least one church, so I dragged them to the most beautiful one: the Sainte Chapelle. Built in 1300 by St Louis, the upper level is almost entirely stained glass, a truly magical sight. I was looking up with Bella when I realized that Jack and Juliette had climbed on a pile of rubble in the corner, I ran over to get them down and we beat it out of there in a jiffy under the disapproving glare of the guard.

When we re-emerged into the light of day, we began strolling towards Notre Dame and we came upon a somber sight. The massive bells of Notre Dame were tolling and the parvis was filled with Air France pilots and stewardesses dressed in black uniforms. Press was everywhere. We had stumbled upon the funeral mass for the victims of the Air France flight 447.

The only way to recover from all our walking (and from being confronted with our own mortality) was with some excellent ice cream and a little sit. We perched ourselves on a wall over the Seine and enjoyed some more Berthillon ice cream. When the kids asked for second helpings, we didn't even hesitate as it felt so good to sit down. We let them supersize it without batting an eye.

Our dinner was filled with more adventures including threats of corporal punishment - but that will have to wait until tomorrow as it is a post in itself!

This is an original Chefdruck Musings post. Please don't copy without permission.

Paris Day 3: le Desastre

My camera has an amazing battery life. It goes for weeks and weeks. It lasts so long that I never think to even check it.

But when it dies, it just dies. Without warning other than a little discreet flash at the corner of the LED screen.

And when it's done. It's over. C'est tout. Fini. No turning it off and turning it back on to squeeze an extra couple of shots. No taking out the battery to magically blow on it to bring it back to life with the power of potent breath.

And that's what happened today in front of the soaring glass Pyramid of the Louvre, otherwise known by Jack as "the KINGDOM" as in "Take my picture in front of the KINGDOM, Mommy!"

You won't see any pictures of the kids looking down into the Pyramid.

You won't see any of our family picnic of croque monsieurs and sandwiches au jambon on the cerulian lawns on the Jardin des Tuileries with the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre facade in the background.

You won't see the image of Juliette's chubby face painted with decadent Angelina's hot chocolate.

No snapshot will freeze the kids' laughing faces on the motorcyle ride at the Jardin d'Acclimatation, the little amusement park I used to beg my parents to take me to when I was a little girl.

And as for that gorgeous pink sunset that lit up Notre Dame's darkening shape as we strolled across the bridge from the Ile St Louis finishing up our Berthillon ice cream, it will only remain in our memory banks.

When we got home, I rushed to plug in the battery in the recharger, only to discover that it was only compatible with 120Volt plugs and would be fried in the French 240 Volt outlet. I would have to wait until I reached my mom's house to recharge it in her tranformer.

I thought I would have to either buy a disposable camera in order to capture our last day and half in Paris, but that's when blogger fortune smiled on us. I found a Casio camera the lovely folks at Coyne PR had sent me to review in my purse. I had tucked it in there to Fedex back to them before we left, but had run out of time. In my rush to get tout the door, I forgot to take it out of my purse!

And wonders of wonders, my memory card from my regular camera fit right in. Battery was fully charged and ready to go. Now this little Casio Exilim will really get reviewed and we won't have to rely on our memories alone to remember this epic trip.