Archive for the 'food' Category

Happy Birthday Mom!

Sunday, December 22nd, 2013

Happy Birthday to my Mom today! I visit my mum in Idaho every year, but not anywhere near December when it’s her birthday.  However in honor of her birthday, here’s a coffee treat that we had in August at the Flying M Coffeeshop.  She:  coffee and cookie.  Me:  decaf latte and a gluten free chocolate baked good.


And after we were done…


L’Auberge de Quincy

Thursday, November 28th, 2013

Another Paris eating adventure:  L’Auberge de Quincy.  I wanted to do some classic, old school, only-in-Paris kind of eating, so I sought out a few lunch bistros.  Despite the rumor that the owner of the Quincy is notoriously finicky, I was seduced by the thought of rabbit in white wine and shallots.  Little did I know that I would have to beg to be fed.


I saved the Quincy for my last day in Paris.  I planned to be there right after the start of lunch since all the reviews say that you need reservations (which I found to unnecessary, repeatedly).  But the Metro broke down and I was forced to run many city blocks to get to the Quincy, all under the threat of a major thunderstorm.

I must admit, I probably did look like the total “Americaine” when I arrived, panting and wearing, quelle horreur, yellow Vans sneakers (albeit with my simple black dress, very chic).  A waiter and an older lady took one look at me and silently said “non.”

I said I’d like to eat lunch.  They were like, lunch for one?  Is she folle?  Then they said, “We only take cash…no credit!”    I replied “I  have cash I have money I have 100 euros”.  Which is pretty gauche, but I was caught off guard.

Then they said, “you have to be very hungry, you must eat a lot”.  I turned on my full charm, using my bizarre accent,  yet speaking fluently and dropping as many slangy words to prove I was not some tourist.  I told them I was starving, starving to death, that I had been walking since 7am and hadn’t eaten and that I wanted the rabbit.

And I guess this Oscar winning speech finally convinced them.  They told me to have a seat.  BUT out in the foyer!  Not in the inner womb of the restaurant, where there were many older guys, drinking lots of wine and eating.  I suppose it was their equivalent of a martini lunch.  However, I was prevented from even peering inside as they blocked the entrance with their bodies. It was so silly, it made me giggle.  But there’s more to that later on.

So out in the foyer I went.  The restaurant truly is like a little inn in the middle of a blah urban street in the 12th arrondissement, near the Gare de Lyon.  The foyer walls were rustic carved wood, curtains were red checked and the country style chairs had straw seats.  Paintings of roosters and cute little lampshades on the lights.  I was surprised to see the same linens as La Fontaine de Mars, where I also ate an old school lunch.  Even the embroidering was the same (just the restaurant names were different).L'auberge-De-Quincy

They brought me the requisite salami, wheat bread and butter.  The waiter (an older, silver haired man, seemed seriously disturbed that he had to wait on this deranged girl) asked if I wanted wine. As if that were optional?  And oh…this is such the best part.  I sat down, still out of breath, in a cozy little room and a bottle of red all to myself, feeling totally elated.  Right at that precise moment…the skies opened up and a mother of all thunderstorms commenced and went on for my entire time eating at the Quincy.  I think I had one of those pure moments of true happiness.  I leaned back in my chair, took a sip and just let the happiness roll over me.


It rained so hard, that a guy walking by (completely drenched and laughing at himself), stopped to fill his Evian bottle from the rain overflowing off the roof right above where I was sitting.  I am used to crazy Texas thunderstorms and somehow the weather followed me to Paris.



The waiter asked me what I wanted, which I found out meant what three courses did I want.  Ok, um, how about the quiche (that should be light and airy, right?), then the rabbit, then dessert which that day was rice pudding.


It was a lot of food.  Oh my, I was full after the quiche.  But I had to live up to my boast that I was starving, that I could devour all that they placed in front of me.  Drinking wine helped, if nothing else to just impair my nutritional judgement!  The food was  good solid cooking.

P.S.  I didn’t realize that the rabbit came with noodles.  And you’re supposed to dip your bread in the broth.  I think I had my carb intake for three months in one sitting!


Then came the rice pudding, in a huge terrine, so that I could go back for seconds and third servings if I wished (if I wished to explode, that is), with raisins to add and then a biscotti cookie too.  Whew.  That is a lot of carbs.



The whole time I was eating, the waiter would come in and ask me questions.  Where was I visiting from?  Texas, y’all, by way of Switzerland.  Why was I eating by myself? Why the Quincy?  What’s up with the crazy accent?  My dad was French-Canadian and I learned French in Idaho.  I sometimes stumbled around with my words (it’d been 26 years since I’d been in France), but I generally could sound like a local with the words I chose.  And I’m a firm believer that one must be prepared to tell an entertaining story.  I consider that an obligation for social interactions.

Every time I answered, the waiter would go back into the inner room and I could hear him relaying verbatim what I said to everyone in there.  Then they would guffaw.  So there you go, I was the afternoon’s entertainment.

I might add, I had to be surreptitious taking iPhone photos to document everything.  I had to dodge the waiter’s repeat interrogation visits, which made me feel even more conspicuous.


Un cafe and voila, the bill.  67 Euros. That’s like $80 for lunch, just for one person.  For the wine, they put a string down in the bottle to measure how much I drank (looks like 15 Euros).

The waiter came by, this time changed out of his waiter outfit (lunch took THAT long!).  I believe he asked me out.  He was definitely all smiles now.  And I won over the older proprietess too.  She came in, with a complete about face, to tell me to stay as long as I wanted.  I would’ve, but Paris was calling.  I had more exploring to do.  And I had to walk off all that food!


gourmet pastries

Saturday, October 19th, 2013

Amazing gourmet pastries from Riccardi’s, just over the border from Switzerland.  Even the wrappers and doilies are gorgeous!