Ms. Glaze's Pommes d'Amour

Bon Beaune Burgundy

JOKE: What do French wines and French train strikes have in common?

PUNCH LINE: They both cost you a lot of money!

Okay, that wasn't funny. But that's how rock-bottom my sense of humor is right now. You thought this post was going to be about the oldest and biggest charity wine auction in the world! NOT!!! This post is about the French Grève (the strike) and how it practically ruined five peoples long awaited vacations.

No, just kidding, it's a little bit of both.

My friends and family came to visit from various parts of the world so that we could gather in Paris and head off en mass to Beaune, the famous city in the heart of Burgundy, for pinot noir and chardonnay tasting. We've been attending the wine festival for the last three years. It's become a family tradition.

We don't go to the auction itself. I'm sure I could weasel some press passes, but if you don't have big money, it's boring. Just a lot of tall hat texans, cold Russian mafia, and riotous rich Scotsmen in kilts with the odd Frenchman thrown in and a ton of media. My posse is not interested in paying 15,000 euros for a barrel of wine. Even if it does go to charity and even if we do get our names put on the Hospice de Beaune labels. It still is just a wee bit out of our league. We like to smush our faces up against the windows of the auction hall and watch the numbers go flying up along with the prices per barrel. Much more satisfying.

So just how did we get to the Beaune festival this year? My brother-in-law, "Clyde" Wittman, lassoed a private plane down to the ground while his sass talkin' girlfriend "Bonnie" held up the pilot with a snickers bar in her pocket. The rest of us climbed in while Bonnie and Clyde blackmailed the crew. No, that's not it. We just got there. Not all at the same time and not all on the same day – merci SNCF for costing us extra money and vacation time!

One activity we do like to participate in when we're not hijacking airplanes is the wine tasting at Patriarche Pere et Fils located in the town proper. They open up their extensive underground wine caves to the public once a year and share newly released wine along with several special vintage bottles. Patriarch Pere et Fils are wine brokers that have been in business since the 18th century! They buy the cream of the crop from the surrounding areas (Meursault, Chassagne, Pommard, Chambolle Musigny, Gevrey Chambertain, etc.) and bottle it privately under the famous Hospice de Beaune label.

Buying wine at Patriarche Pere et Fils is fun. We normally begin with the programed public tasting of 15 wines that meanders through the cool stone caves and then end with a private tasting.

The part I like about the private tasting is how our salesperson cages us in one of the smaller caves while she pulls out more good stuff for us to taste. There's no escaping! All and all it's around 30 wines to sniff, swish, gargle, and spit (or swallow). This normally annoys the rest of the public that doesn't get to come along but is allowed to watch us taste special wines through a locked iron gate. Peasants – let them drink 2001 Musigny! If you want to buy wine they will do the same for you. Just ask for a salesperson when you get to the last public tasting and they will customize the rest of your tasting according your interests.

My favorites from Patriarche Pere and Fils this year were the sexy Vosne-Romanée 1980 (pinot noir), The feminine Musigny Grand Cru 1960 (pinot noir), and an stunning 1957 Bâtard-Montrachet Grand Cru. The last one, a chardonnay was one of the most memorable wines I have ever had. I could have put a straw in that magnum and sucked down the whole thing. Talk about gold clover honey with a clean acidic citrus-y finish. I couldn't believe it. Most old whites loose that fresh acidity and turn to vinegar.

Of the newer vintages, all the 2005's I tasted both in the Pinot noir and in the Chardonnay varietal were outstanding. Drinkable now but structured enough to last for a decade or more. The Perrier Corton and Chassagne were my fav's.

We didn't just come to wine taste ourselves silly. We also came to eat. You've got to eat well if you're going to drink well! The city turns into a festival of food and crafts for the weekend complete with corking competitions and marching bands. Traditionally we start the morning out with a breakfast of champions: foie gras, baguette, comté, chevre, jambon, croissants, pain aux chocolate, and coffee. Then we leave our hotel room stuffed and head straight for the town hall for oysters and escargot. They shuck the oysters for you right from the crates and they are 4:00 A.M. ocean fresh.

This year we included a winery tour outside of the town with Susan Boxell who began the original tours or the area (in English) with her company Burgundy On A Plate. She has access to many private wineries and long standing relationships with the wine makers so the experience is special. One of the hits of this tour was getting to meet and talk with Monsieur LeFlaive of legendary chardonnay and pinot noir greatness. He's a third generation wine maker in Burgundy and quite an upbeat character. His wines are in restaurants across the world and he spent two hours just with our small hung-over group taking us through his cellars and explaining his traditional methods of wine making.

Our last tasting of the weekend, at a small wine shop in town that promised vintage tastings, was a let down. It was so bad. I tasted a wine that smelled exactly like bong water and another that tasted like Crackerbarrel cheddar cheese. And you know what? My whole family agreed that they smelled and tasted exactly that same way. (Parker's got nothin' on me baby.) This only goes to show you that not all wines, even from the most prestigious areas like Pommard and Gevrey Chambertain, are good. Before you go and buy a case of something you think is going to be outstanding, taste it. Even if it claims to be a Grand Cru. Each winery has their own style and the differences even between hectares of the same varietal and same classification can be extreme.

We weren't quite as rowdy as we were last year. I think the Scotts and Texans out-did our partying this time around. Mainly because somewhere along the weekend half our group was food poisoned. Must have been the escargot. We had a long ride back to Paris with the strike and our queasy stomaches. And I won't even mention how we left two 1980 Vosne-Romenée magnums on the train. Oh wait, I just did. But we'll be back next year gluttons for punishment and fantastic wine. I think next time we'll ship all the wine home.

When to go: The second weekend of every November
Where to Stay: Hotel Cep
Wine Tours: Burgundy On A Plate, Susan Boxell
Where to Eat: Ma Cuisine for bistro fare, Bernard Loiseau for Michelin cuisine, Town Hall for oysters and escargot
How to get there: lasso a plane and hijack the crew or take a train from Paris to Beaune
Fun Bars: The Pickwick (this is where all the Scotts go to for dancing on the tables in their kilts), La Parte Des Anges for wine tasting and local clientele.
Wine Tasting in Beaune: Patriarche Pere et Fils

Technorati Tags: Beaune, Burgundy, chardonay, festival, hotel cep, ma cuisine, pinot noir, wine auction

All Stars Cuisine

I don't know how I got from crepes and croissants to garlic fries and pulled pork sandwiches but there are some things in life that take priority over haute cuisine. Namely baseball.

I'm a season's tickets holder – bleacher section 138, thank you very much – and if you're anywhere near my row and wearing L.A. colors I suggest you find another place to cheer. Either that or suffer the consequences. The guy next to me gets kicked out regularly for fighting and the woman above me with the "Duck the Fodgers" t-shirt is a trash talking baseball badass who's a little scary after three pints of Budweiser.

But I'm not going to bore you with the details. This is a French food blog after all. You wouldn't want to know about the six homerun derby balls that landed within two feet of our seats or the American league beating the National league for the tenth year in a row (boooooo!!!!) or the Dodgers kicking our butts for three straight games (what's a matter with Lowe? He's a bum!!!).

The Giants may be cursed and Barry may never hit a home run again but our baseball park is a sight to behold and the cuisine – now we're talking – the cuisine is worth listening to Dodger's fans mouth off for at least a few innings.

It's good to be home...

Technorati Tags: all stars, Barry Bonds, giants, hot dog, At&t park, San Francisco

Ms. Glaze in Marrakech

This was my first trip to Morocco and I hope one of many. I was thoroughly charmed by the people, in awe of the architecture and handicrafts, and all consumed by the spicy food.

The intoxicating smell of Marrakech still lingers in my head (and my suitcase – I knew I shouldn't have brought back all those spices!). It is impossible to ignore the spice shops with their tall bright colored cones of cinnamon, cumin, paprika, and tumeric. When customers buy the spices, it's fun to watch the the sellers scrape the tall cones with a spatula without spilling any to the floor. Miraculous.

Fresh mint is sold at every corner for use in the traditional mint tea. The smell of mint wafts through the overcrowded marketplace of Medina intermingling with the spices and barbecued meat stalls. Every time I sat down some one offered me a cup of mint tea – whether I was buying handmade rugs, enjoying the street performers, or relaxing in our riad (hotel). The tea was so refreshing amidst the chaos of the markets and the scorching afternoon heat.

The riad we stayed at, Dar Les Cigognes, was exquisite. It is hardly noticeable from the outside, but once you enter, there is a paradise awaiting. The riad has been restored with attention to every detail from the intricately carved plaster moldings to the stone polished walls. We had a difficult time leaving our hotel especially after we experienced the spa and hammam

My favorite part of our riad (aside from drinking Moroccan beer on the terrace and getting scrubbed down in the hammam) was taking cooking lessons from the resident chef. He taught me how to make lamb tangine and other Moroccan specialties! Here's a Moroccan cooking tip: when you think you've added enough spice to your tangine – add more!!!

My video below doesn't do the city justice. I was so overwhelmed by all the color and music and people that video taping took last priority. Honestly, I'm a total tongue twisted idiot in this video. I'm sure you'll notice that I only describe food as "delicious" even though there are a million better adjectives for Moroccan cuisine.

If you're wondering why I don't know what I'm eating at any of the meals in the video, it's because people kept brinigng me things to eat without a menu. None of it disappointed and I had a difficult time keeping my fingers away from the olives and salted peanuts that seemed to follow me everywhere. Especially those red olives – DELICIOUS!!! (shit, there's that word again)

Our guide, Mustafa, was incredible. He took us through the confusing streets of Medina, in and out of the different markets explaining the history and introducing us to prominent people and shop owners. I finally asked him how he learned to speak English and he told me that in the '60's the hippies who used to smoke hashish in the Medina sqaure, taught him English little by little. Now he makes a substantial living as a tour guide and helped to write the Lonely Planet guide on Marrakech. He's also been interviewed on several travel shows.

The last tour he gave was for Gwen Stefani and he has her personal cell phone number to prove it!!! He said he really didn't know her music too well, but his kids were big fans. Apparently she filled her mansion in L.A. with rugs, furniture, and antiques from Marrakech. Mustafa took us to all the shops she went to just in case we wanted to fill our Paris 'mansion' with goodies too.

We didn't want to disappoint Mustafa so we bought a few tiny things. Including a beautiful antique vase (God, I hope it makes it back here in one piece), some hand woven wool rugs, and a few lanterns for the terrace. Oh, and a ton of spices – I'll be making tangine for the next hundred years!

In the video you will notice a disclaimer to one of the Casbah's we visited. We got our adventure a little confused that day. We were supposed to take a mule ride up to a Unesco Casbah and then come down and drive to Richard Branson's Casbah for our reserved lunch. However we got up to the top of the first Casbah and asked if it was Richard Branson's and the host said 'yes'. We stayed for lunch thinking it was Chez Branson.

Lunch was DELICIOUS but when we got back down our taxi driver was wondering what happened to us. We missed our reservations at the Branson's casbah. I'm glad we did, I don't think anything could compare with that view of the snow covered mountains or the freshness of ingredients in the tangine (I think it was lamb, again no menu).

All in all I would definitely go back to Marrakech. But this time I want to take some belly dancing lessons instead of cooking lessons. Then I can come home with all those great sexy moves and shiny outfits!

Technorati Tags: Marrakech, Moroc, Morocco, travel, travel guide, video

London Treasure Hunt!

Instead of hanging around in quiet Paris this Easter, my husband and I did something totally out of the ordinary – we left Paris for a weekend in London! Along with our close friend Marine, we carted ourselves over to London via the Eurostar for a long leisurely weekend of treasure hunting.

If you are going to London, I suggest buying this month's Time Out magazine. It contains a treasure hunt that takes you all over the city and it is much more fun than one of those silly tourist buses. For each city section it provides a pub, restaurant, and activity for the kids too. The best tour I've ever had of London – and I lived in the city for 3 years!

We made a video of our treasure hunt and the restaurants we ate at. Hope you enjoy it...

As featured in video...

Hotel: Miller's Residence in Notting Hill. 5 minutes from Hyde Park and 5 minutes from Portobello Road
Restaurants: Ping Pong for Dim Sum, Brown's Hotel for high tea

Technorati Tags: Easter, high tea, London, London hotels, Ms. Glaze, travel guide, treasure hunt

My SF: Afternoon at the Ferry Building

Call it SF or San Francisco but pleeeeease don't call our city Frisco– that is so totally un-Bay Area like. And that song, you know the one that starts out "Are you going to San Francisco?..." in a lilting half-stoned kind of way? Yeah, that song bugs bigtime.

Those hippie days are gone man, we have evolved into the technically savvy earth aware hipster who is fiercly proud of our diversity and totally organic food driven. Hence, all the cutting edge restaurants that rival if not surpass New York, not to mention huge farmers markets (right on the Bay) that highlight Bay Area small farms.

Yes, it's good to be home on vacation after 8 months of cooking in Paris, and I am one proud San Franciscan.

Here's one of my favorite things to do in San Francisco. Next time you're in town take an afternoon and go to the Ferry Building. It was converted to a huge market a few years ago and houses many specialty stores and trendy restaurants. Hop on one of the old F-trains through downtown to the Bay, have a stroll by the water, and then check out all the shops and the farmer's market at the Ferry Building.

I like to brunch at the Market Bar. Their limited menu always includes local organic farms and they make killer Bloody Mary's. I ventured out and tried an interesting carrot and mussel curried soup topped with zucchini blossoms that was delicious.

My absolute favorite cheese shop on this earth is Cowgirl Creamery. They make all their own cheeses and have won several first place awards (even beating the French – can you believe it?) for their Redhawk cheese. I like the fresh ricotta for baking and always enjoy sampling as much as possible before purchasing.

The Wine Merchant plies us "crack heads" (read the board) with great picks from all over the world. You can sit in their wine bar and sample the latest greatest or sign up for their monthly program and have it shipped to you

Stop by my Cousin Jason's Village Market inside the Ferry building for specialty olive oils, wines, pastas, spices and chocolates. He's always got super yummy samples out and loves to talk about food and wine. If you've got a question about how or where to find an ingredient he's either got the answer or will find out for you.

There are many many other restaurants and shops, but you'll have to come by to take it all in. Saturday is the big farmer's market and Tuesday there is a smaller one that is less crowded and equally fun to browse and taste your way through. Yummmmm-y!

Technorati Tags: Cowgirl Creamery, Ferry Building, Market Bar, San Francisco, SF, Village Market

My NYC: Lower East Side

I know, I know, I live in Paris, I should be taking the national August vacation to discover other European cities. But the problem is that the rest of France has that exact same idea! Besides I haven't been home forevah and what could be more fun for a cook than a layover in NYC dedicated solely to food and debauchery on the way to SF?

I love NYC – the people, the food, the theater, the energy – I don't love the weather, but it's no worse than Paris. We stayed in the Lower East Side and spent time with old theater friends currently taking respites from their Broadway careers.

Playing soon in a theater near you!?!?!

Lo-side used to be seedy but now it's the place for food, music, and eclectic boutique stores. They even have some trendy cool hotels now such as the Rivington Hotel. The area has always been a haven for music with venues like the legendary CBGB's (closing soon –quick get a t-shirt) but the food is incroyable and affordable.

Here's my suggested itinerary...Start at Suba's, a tapas restaurant whose Chef de Cuisine is a prodigy and the recent recipient of the James Beard Best Restaurant award. Sip fresh peach white sangaria while waiting for a table (hopefully next to the moat – yes, there is a little river that surrounds the restaurant) and get into the spirit of the evening while listening to latin inspired techno grooves spinning overhead. The tapas are divine, but our group opted for main courses because we needed fuel for the night ahead...

After Subas, walk down Ludlow street just before Rivington Street to the rockabilly hangout, Motor City. As one city search reviewer described it: "The bouncer is the Lower East Side and the bikini girl dancing in the window is directly out of 1950's. Cheap beer, decent drinks and a Star Wars pinball machine". Couldn't have said it better myself...

And don't forget the Pabst Blue ribbon with the shots of tequila

After Motor City check out the local venues for music. We went in and out of different places in search of the the best grooves and more snacks. We poked in Katz Delicatessin the famous 24-7 eatery but decided we weren't hungry yet and headed over to Arlene's Grocery for live music (it's not a grocery store) but they wouldn't let me in because I didn't have my ID with me. Bummer! – don't they know who I am!?!?

Somehow we ended up at a dive bar on the corner of Clinton & Houston Street bordering Alphabet city that had a secret backroom where a salsa band was playing and it just happened to be right across from the famous Clinton's restaurant known for their cuban sandwhiches. The service is notorious slow, but worth the wait.

We finished the night at the marvelous afro-french colonial restaurant Le Pere Pinard on Ludlow Street, for some well made nightcaps, groovy beats, tarot card readings, and French conversation with the fabulous owner FiFi.

One last photo...we had to get a picture with the local fireman. I'm not too sure what they were doing up so late at night or where exactly the fire was – but we attempted to put it out! God Bless the New York Firemen and all those that lost their lives.

Quel Bonheure!

Technorati Tags: Arlene's Grocery, La Pere Pinard, Lower East Side, Motor City, New York, NYC, restaurants, Rivington hotel, Suba, travel

Walking Tours In Paris: Notre Dame

I am spending my last two days of life as I know it entertaining my parents. Thank God for this wonderful distraction. Otherwise I would be sitting around nervously awaiting my new position as an official 3-star potato peeler. I start my apprenticeship (stage) at Guy Savoy on Thursday and I haven't been given a schedule yet. They want to see "what level I'm at" on the first day. I'm supposed to show up and bring three knives – one to cut my wrists with if I fail miserably.

Before my parents leave me and take off for Provence in search of Sistercian Abbey's, we've been galavanting around Paris looking for evidence of the Parisii, Romans, Francs, and Merovingians. Today I donned my chunky camera & strapped on my fanny pack ready to brave the cobblestone. Okay, I'm joking about the fanny pack, but we did take a walking tour today that was incredible – fascinating!

The oldest clock in Paris, still works!
Our group met outside the metro station Cité and we walked around the original Island of Paris ending at Notre Dame. I have tromped through this area many many times from the Prefecture de Police (oh, what a ghastly place) for my Carte de Sejour to Notre Dame but I have never noticed the architecture. Or, if I have, I haven't been able to decipher it.

Faces underneath Pont Neuf bridge
The leader of our small group, Iris, was knowledgeable and lively bringing alive Paris's last Eighteen hundred years. Not an easy task. I found it curious how many of original buildings were replaced with similar modern ones. For instance the Conciergerie, or Justice Hall, is built on top of the old Roman courts of Law and Notre Dame was built on top of the Roman temple to Jupiter. It seems they recognized those pieces of earth to be meant for certain tasks: justice, worship, etc. and continued to use it in that way, just modified a little bit.

Courtyard memorial wall dedicated to French deportation, 1945
I also had no idea that there is a memorial to all the WWII deportees behind the courtyard to Notre Dame. It is dedicated to the 200,000 Parisians (126,000 who were Jewish) that were taken from Paris by the Nazi's, never to return to Paris again. The memorial is subtle in appearance on the ground level with a little grass courtyard and small patch of roses, but walk down those same steps to the Seine that all those prisoners did, and you will never be the same.

Above center doors at Notre Dame Cathedral
We left the memorial and continued our walk along the side of Notre Dame and ended our historical tour right in front of the huge ornate center doors with a statue of Jesus looming overhead, palms outstretched to all of us tourists . A nice way to finish.

PARIS WALKS
www.paris-walks.com
e-mail: paris@paris-walks.com
Tours include: Ile de la Cité & Notre Dame, Medieval Latin Quarter, The Marais, The French REbolution, Montmartre, Paris and the Da Vinci Code, Saint Germain-des-Prés, and Hemingway's Paris,

For more info, stop by the Red Wheelbarrow bookstore in the Marais for updated flyers

Technorati Tags: Church, Notre Dame, Paris

St. Denis: Burial Place of Kings & Queens

What happens when you get a history fanatic, a Catholic, and a graveyard obsessed nut together? You go to all the church's in Paris that's what!

My parents are here in town for my graduation from Le Cordon Bleu and we're sight seeing. My mom is a history-o-holic. She's probably the only person on earth who's interested in touring France for it's Sistercian Abbey's (not for the wine and cheese). She's also the only person I know that can correct tour guides on their facts. God, I love her.

My Stepdad is the Catholic. Growing up in a strict Lithuanian Catholic family, he is able to decipher many of the symbols that elude my mom and me. However, I think the church has mixed memories for him and when I asked if he wanted to light a candle for anyone the other day, the answer was a firm "No." Then he joked and said, "I'd rather buy some indulgences..."

I'm the graveyard obsessed nut. When I was a child if we passed a graveyard on a road trip I would throw a fit until we stopped and walked through it. I had my gravestone picked out by the time I was six. This worried my parents greatly and still continues to mystify my Mom. I've always been fascinated with death and burial rituals.

We arrived at St. Denis, the famous final resting place of all the French Kings and Queens, on a cloudy morning . Many of my notorious favorites are buried here including Catherine Medici (who brought artichokes to France) and Marie Antoinette (Let them eat cake). According to my mother, it is also one of the earliest gothic churches, although it was embelished by later peiods, and influenced famous churches like Chartres.

The outside is in bad shape. In fact, we thought we had come to the wrong place. We were surprised once we walked inside to see the vaulted ceilings and beautiful stained glass windows. We headed to the crypt, with morbid curiosity.

During the Revolution most of the tombs were desecrated. Many years later restoration was begun under Napoleon I to consecrate the church as the Imperial burial place. Under his authority the search began for the bones and relics of all those naughty Queens and Kings that had been dumped into two pits outside the church by the revolutionaries. Thankfully, the mausoleums had been preserved underneath the church and were restored above later.

The mausoleums are incredible. Those made after 1285 are lifelike, carved from death masks. Many of these are of King's and Queen's together naked on their deathbed showing detailed muscular structure, hair, and features. I was surprised to find out that they had been commissioned this way by the royalty themselves. Above their twisted deathbed statues they are dressed in coronation clothes showing their former decorated selves.

Marie d'Espagne really gave me the heeby-jeebies. I was taking a picture of her when I noticed that she was looking at me. I put my camera down to rub my eyes and make sure I wasn't hallucinating, and her eyes seemed normal again – a blank marble slate with no pupil or retina or direction. When I went to take another picture, I could swear she was looking at me again. I changed the angle of my camera to see if it was the lighting, but no matter where I moved, there she was peering at me from the corner of her eye. I showed my mom the pics after we left the church and we both got shivers.

Marie Antoinette's masouleum is saintly. She looks like a perfect little beautiful Queen deep in humble prayer. To betray otherwise, we noticed that her breasts are haflway popping out of her dress (unlike all the other Queens) and they are shiny from people rubbing them. It must be the new buddha-like tradition in St. Denis – rubbing Marie Antoinette's breasts. Although, I can't see how that would bring anybody luck. Nonetheless, there is something about her, even her statue, that is intriguing. Can't wait to see the new film coming out on her. I hope it's good and not too forgiving of the spoiled Queen.

As we walked out of the church back through the nave, my Stepdad remarked on the incredible architecture, "Imagine, they did all this without a computer or anything, just with their hands. Funny how enlightened we are today and we can't build anything as beautiful as this." We all paused to admire the endless archways and heavenly light peering in through the stained glass one last time before heading to the duldrums of metro Line 13.

Where: St. Denis, St. Denis Basilique on Line 13

Technorati Tags: Paris, St. Denis, travel

Pays Basque

3 days, 3 gorgeous coastal cities, and 3 unique Basque cultures: Biarritz, Hendaye, San Sebastian...

Forget Nice & Cannes and come to the original Cote d'Azur for surfing, delcious food & pinxtos, fabulous inexpensive wine, and happening nightlife. From Paris catch the TGV to Biarritz and the local trains between cities, each within 18 kilometers of each other.

Biarritz, prized for it's natural beauty and healing waters, was popularized by Napoleon III who built a palace for his wife Eugenie upon the gorgeous coastline. Now us "little people" can enjoy the same luxury at Eugenie's palace which was converted into the famous Hotel Palais. The hotel is famous for more than just hosting Emperor's and Empresses, it was turned into an American army college after World War II to re-educate war veterans so that they could earn degrees and enter back into American society with new skills.

Biarritz is by no means a sleepy surf town, there is still a glitzy french feel to the seaside cafe's and nightclubs. However, one can easily tell that it's hay day has come and gone. New construction and spa hotels are attempting to bring it back to it's former glory, but I hope it remains as is.

Take the train to Hendaye for a more unique Basque experience. Here, most of the population still speaks Basque, but you can get by with Spanish or French. Our friend's just bought a house by the beach, so we spent the day walking the coastline and the night eating delicious home cooked food: potato tortilla, rabbit stew, cider, Basque wine, jambon – cut from the leg itself (which, they actually have in their house!!!). I was really impressed by the potato tortilla which is also called a Spanish omelet, a mixture of potatoes and eggs. Simple and delicious (recipe to follow)

If you're a fan of Spanish tapas, then you'll appreciate the Basque version called pinxtos (little pinches) and the tradition of munching from one restaurant to the next in search of the best bite. These little treats run the gamut from baguette slices piled high with crab salad, smoked salmon, and caviar to bites of freshly carved jambon with pimento and melted sheep's cheese. We walked up and down the streets paved with history eating, laughing, drinking, and enjoying each other's company.

San Sebastian, our final Basque destination, retained all the beauty and glitz of Biarritz (if not more) but had a dominant Spanish influence as opposed to French. Warm people, picture perfect coastline dotted with sail boats and sun worshisers, and the best nightlife of all three places. San Sebastian reminded me of Barcelona but with more places to grab pinxtos and wine. I was also impressed by the age range of the night life. This is place for all ages to enjoy a little stroll down the beach and glass of rioja or sparkling cava (the Spanish version of champagne) at night – it doesn't matter if you're 91 or 19, everyone's strolling about at night and having a good time.

We returned to rainy Paris by train, disappointed that we weren't able to soak up more sun and fun. Lazily, we watched the sun set through our window and munched tasteless train food dreaming of pinxtos, rioja, cava, warm coastlines, and good friends...we'll be back soon, I'm sure.

Spanish Potato Tortilla recipe on next page..

Technorati Tags: Basque, Biarritz, Hendaye, San Sebastian, surf

Easter Souvenir's

I was struck this Easter morning by an email my Mom sent me that opened the floodgates to lost memories like an uncontrollable river hurtling over everything in it's path. Who knew that Easter eggs could contain such precious jewels? She reminded me of the beautiful Easter dresses my Grandma would buy for me, the bunnies and chicks my Dad raised, the psychedelic Easter eggs we tie-dyed when I was going through my Grateful Dead stage, the Lithuanian eggs we decorated with wax when she first met Joe my Stepfather, the beautiful brunches, neighborhood egg hunts, and fun we had with family and friends.

Appropriately, the French word for a memory is 'souvenir'. A souvenir to me, is like a charm you keep around forever and take out every so often to polish and reflect upon. They don't vanish the way memories do.

Wishing you many souvenir's to put in your basket on this Easter morning!

Technorati Tags: Easter, Paris