I am packing my bags once more.

After two months back in Paris I feel I’m getting to know the city all over again.  Staying in different neighborhoods has allowed me to explore more than I ever have, and the book is slowly sewing itself together.

For the month of November I’ll be leaving this beautiful city.  I am off to the South of France tomorrow to work in the quiet country side, where I don’t have to worry about money and a roof over my head.  I can also bask in the luxury of cooking in a big kitchen, drink wine from down the road with my mother and go on long country walks with my dad.

And then, for two weeks, I am meeting my love in Italy.  We are starting in Rome, before exploring Sienna, Venice, and some country roads in between.  It has been a while since I’ve seen him and I’m looking forward to sharing antipasto plates with buttery olive oil and driving through the Tuscan landscape, his warm presence back in my life.

I will miss my apartment in the Marais.  I’m sure the men at the fruit stand will wonder why I’m not stopping by to buy medjool dates and the chocolate shop will wonder why there’s still chocolate left on their sampling platter.  I’m sure they’ll get by.  Either way I’ll be back in Paris in December, with new adventures and a very special visitor.

A bientot Paris.  Must finish packing.  Have to figure out the best way not to squish my macarons and butter cookies en route.

‘You got very hungry when you did not eat enough in Paris because all the baker shops had such good things in the windows and people ate outside at tables on the sidewalk so that you saw and smelled the food. When you were skipping meals at a time when you had given up journalism and were writing nothing that anyone in America would buy, explaining at home that you were lunching out with someone, the best place to do it was the Luxembourg gardens where you saw and smelled nothing to eat all the way from the Place de l’Observatoire to the rue de Vaugirard. There you could always go into the Luxembourg museum and all the paintings were heightened and clearer and more beautiful if you were belly-empty, hollow-hungry. I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry.’ -Ernest Hemmingway

While I sympathize with Hemmingway for living in Paris on a writer’s budget, I am much happier to explore the city with a little food in my belly.

After waking early and working on some writing, I knew I needed some fresh air and headed over the the left bank to the Marché  Maubert.

As I walked across the bridge the woman walking towards me seemed very familiar.  It was hard not to recognize the short chic hair cut and impeccably stylish glasses from the night before.  And while I hardly flinch when I see movie stars in public (I grew up on film sets), I knew I had to say something to Dorie Greenspan.

“I heard you speak at the Library last night, you were wonderful!”  I was nervous, but honest, and told her how happy I was that her book fell into my lap the way it did.  She was warm, talkative, and when I told her I was heading to the Marché  Maubert she said I had to check out the cheese shop.

As she walked away I considered how wonderful it is when timing and location allow such moments.  I took off to Maubert where I did enter the cheese shop, which has some of the most beautifully presented and shaped cheeses I’ve seen in Paris.  I also explored the market, bought some dried fruits and nuts from a small organic shop and took off to find somewhere to write.

I settled on the upstairs at Cafe Flore, because it is the one place I know that is almost always dead even though the downstairs is constantly bustling.  I set up my computer and ordered a tea when the waiter arrived fifteen minutes later.  When you want time to write, slow service is a luxury.

It is 5 euros for a tea, but a luxury I have to accept to get myself out of the apartment.  And because the bathroom attendant was so friendly, and I used the bathroom twice, I threw in another couple of euros there.

After writing for an hour I took off to explore the luxurious streets of the Sevres-Babylone area and I was surprised by how many people approached me for money.  Among some of the most chic boutiques and designer stores, beggars were on every corner.  I wondered if I should have saved my 2 euro coin for someone who needed it more.  I never know in moments like this.

But I knew that I also had a couple of gifts to purchase, including some make-up for my blooming young Turkish friend who is about to turn sixteen, and some Paris sweets for my brother down South.

Shopping the boutiques is much more fun when you’re looking for others.  I explored the Bon Marche from top to bottom, bought nothing, then found the gifts I needed inside of Mac make-up, Poilane and Pierre Herme.  If you’re going to splurge and give something, it might as well be beautiful and/or delicious.

As I started to head back to my neighborhood I spotted Garance Dore, the well known blogger, fashion photographer and illustrator laughing on the street as she spoke to a young woman who had approached her.  I could see that Garance is to this woman what Dorie is to me, an inspiration.

Paris is good for inspirations, and I took off back to my apartment with my head full of ideas, the smell of macarons on my mind and the taste of Poilane’s butter cookies on my tongue.

I made a dinner that Hemmingway may approve of, throwing together a giant salad with canned corn and avocado, costing next to nothing by Paris standards.  With a day so full of luxury it would be a shame to overdo it.

Epoisses might possibly be one of the best cheeses ever made. It makes Brie look like Kraft singles.



Window display at Repetto

Every time I pass these giant nougat cakes I wonder if they taste as good as they look

You know you’re in a civilized neighborhood when half of the shopkeepers have taken off for lunch

Fur coat season in Paris is starting early. It is amazing how many older women wear these in winter.

Lovers in the park

The timeless Bon Marche department store

Cafe time at Le Babylone

There are few things I enjoy more than talking about food.

When I heard that David Lebovitz, pastry chef author of The Sweet Life In Paris, was speaking at the American Library of Paris I knew I had to go.

When I found out that Dorie Greenspan, who wrote Paris Sweets, as well as Alexander Lobrano, author of Hungry for Paris (The Ultimate Guide to the City’s 102 Best Restaurants), would be there as well I knew I was in for a good evening.

I admire all of these food writers, all of whose books seemed to have fallen into my hands lately.

After spying Lebovitz’s The Sweet Life in Paris in the bookstore in Canada, I told myself to wait and left it on the shelf.  Then one day, after I had been having a terrible time waitressing, I found it sitting on the kitchen table with a small baking dish and a thoughtful note from my boyfriend.  I had never mentioned the book, but he researched online for something I would enjoy and came up with the one book I had wanted all summer.

As for the other two books, I found Paris Sweets on one of the beds upstairs at Shakespeare & Company, the coziest English bookstore where the upstairs is designated to reading rather than buying.  I got comfortable and lost myself in Greenspan’s descriptions of the butter cookies at Poilane.  I thought to myself ‘Wow, I like this woman.’  As for Hungry for Paris, it just happened to have been left in my apartment, and I discovered it one evening while hunting for restaurants.

I enjoyed a long walk to the library from my apartment this evening, and stopped in a brasserie beforehand to work on some writing.  I had a strong glass of red wine from the South alongside a perfect salade nicoise before making my way down to the library.  The place was full, but I still managed to grab a glass of wine and a seat in the front row.

Dorie Greenspan was the first to speak.  She is a petite, lovely, eloquent woman who also happens to be a special correspondent for Bon Appétit, and a cookbook author who has written two cookbooks with friend Pierre Hermé.  Needless to say, I am in awe of this woman.

The first thing she talked about was the strawberry tart that changed her life.  When she first came to Paris she had a tart with fraises au bois so perfect, as they tend to be, that she decided to return as soon as possible.

She also talked about every bite of a French pastry being a bite of history.  The recipes for French pastries have been passed on from generation to generation. Pierre Hermé himself is a fourth generation pastry chef.

Alec Lebrano is not a pastry chef, but knows how to appreciate them.  He spoke about his first visit to Paris as a young boy, and visiting La Dureé on his first day with his mother, then feigning sick the next day and going twice on his own.  When he returned as a man years later, the lovely relationship with the famous pastry shop continued.

David Lebovitz spoke about the standards rising for American customers, who have a much more educated palate these days then they used to.  Frozen fries and soggy salads won’t cut it for tourists anymore, and the French are upping their quality.

There was a lot of discussion about the difference between American and French pastries in the question and answer part of the evening.  A major difference mentioned was that a lot of American pastries are made with corn syrup and lower quality ingredients.  In France, the butter is divine and real sugar is used.  There is no skimping anywhere.

People come from all over the world to taste the pastries in Paris.  Even though I don’t have a huge sweet tooth, I love to admire the mini works of art, and find that eating a Pierre Hermé macaron is the most sensual experience I’ve ever had with food.

Greenspan said it best when she said “It is something to be savored, intellectually, visually, but mostly through taste.”

It was a rich evening and I took notes on a few pastry shops to try.  I walked home in the dark, the Eiffel tower glowing and the Louvre lit up inside.

It is nice to spend time in a city where history is everywhere, whether it’s in the buildings, the museums or even in your favorite pastry.

Homemade map to get me to the library


Les bouquinistes


The Sweet Life in Paris, signed by David Lebovitz

I took off early this morning as the sun lit up the streets.

At the fruit market I filled a paper bag with medjool dates and wild dried figs, which I licked happily off my fingers as I made my way to the marché d’Aligre.

I visited this market years ago and was intimidated by the vendors yelling in different languages, the busy market place and the stands piled high with used clothing.

This time around I was thrilled by it.  Every table that lined the street was loaded up with fresh fruits and vegetables, avocados cut open to reveal their perfect soft interior, sweet slices of oranges and apples up for the taking.

At one stand a young man gave me samples of fresh pineapple, mango, papaya and a tropical fruit called cherimoya that I’d never even seen before.  I thanked him for adding to my breakfast and bought a ripe mango and papaya to take home with me.

I also wandered through the tables covered in used clothing and odds and ends, ventured into the Asian super market and stopped to buy chickpeas and olives at the Middle Eastern store on my way out.

The market is open every day but Monday and Sunday, and comes alive the rest of the week.  It is not that far from where I’m staying so I might have to return before the week is over.

In the afternoon I had the pleasure of meeting another food lover, Diane from Girl Cook in Paris.  Diane moved to Paris four years ago and decided to make a a major career change and go to cooking school.  She not only attended Ecole Ferandi, one of the best cooking schools in France, but she knows how to make Pierre Herme macarons and croissants herself.

It was nice talking to her over a steaming mug of tea at Cafe Martini, and I enjoyed her company so much that we walked down to my favorite exotic food store together so she could buy some red curry paste.  I stalked up on dried fruit, made her try some medjool dates, and we said goodbye under the setting sun.

It has been a delicious day, and I’m now enjoying some of my fresh goods from the market while I try to pull this book together, one chapter at a time.

For the longest time I never knew about the islands in Paris.

The funny part is I had walked through them many times, but being the fine daydreamer that I am never realized I was on an island at all.

But there, in the middle of the Seine are two islands connected to the Left and Right banks.  Île de la Cité is home to the Notre-Dame cathedral and the smaller  Île St-Louis is full of small shops and old mansions.

I like walking through the islands first thing in the morning.  As the sun rises over the city the streets are silent, the shops are closed and the brasseries are serving up their first espressos.  At this hour the islands feel more like little towns than the tourist hub they’ve become.

Later in the day the streets come alive with foreigners licking ice cream cones.  If you’re wondering what it is about the islands that makes people so hungry for ice cream, look no further than Berthillon, the famous ice cream shop that always has a line-up down the street.  From what I hear the cold treats are all natural and the flavors are divine.  If you happen to want some while skipping the line-up, you can find a sample of flavors at most of the restaurants on the  Île St-Louis that proudly advertise it on their signs outside.

Île de la Cité is often visited for Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle, both amazing works of gothic architecture.  The long lines outside of Notre Dame have always held me back from entering, but I’ve heard the long climb up the tower is worth it for the view.

The islands are lovely to wander through but you can’t spend all day there.  Unless of course you buy  a bottle of wine, some cheese and a baguette and perch yourself along the Seine.  Not a bad idea on a nice day.

But I usually prefer to stroll over to the Left Bank, have a wander through the books at Shakespeare and Company and maybe grab a mint tea on the roof of the World Arab Institute.  Not a bad way to spend the day.

View The Islands in Paris in a larger map

Île St-Louis



The famous ice cream shop, Berthillon, is closed Mondays and Tuesdays but has the longest line-ups any other day of the week! Luckily the ice cream is sold in many other restaurants and brasseries on the island.


La Ferme St-Aubin cheese shop



Brasserie de L’Isle Saint Louis


Île de la Cité

Massages on Pont Saint-Louis


Line-ups at Notre Dame

Looking for the hunchback

This afternoon I wandered home from Montmartre and allowed myself to get lost.

I followed my instincts through small streets and walked where the sun shone brightest.

When I saw an old passage before me I couldn’t help but walk through. I found myself in the passage de Jouffroy, where I found an incredible tea shop, an old toy store and la Cure Gourmande.

La Cure Gourmande glows inside and out and is filled wall to wall with fresh cookies, different types of caramel, nougat and hard candy. The child in me screamed with joy and I gladly accepted a small raspberry pastry offered to me from a tin box by the saleswoman.

The passages in Paris always seem to trigger memories from my childhood. I visited many times when I was young, and still hold on to vague memories of old train stations, marbled floors, shops selling beautiful nightgowns and dipping my croissants into steaming cups of hot chocolate.

The passages remind me of old Paris. They remind me of the Paris I’m always searching for, beyond the postcard stands and bateaux mouches, these covered arcades are like old memories you try hard not to forget.

They were designed by town planners in the nineteenth  century so that pedestrians could avoid traffic, mud and horse-drawn vehicles. Many have been renovated and restored, but they are still hard to miss.

As I left the passage Jouffroy I found myself stumbling into more and more passages. Some were full of shops and people while others were quiet and somber, with beautiful glass ceilings and stained glass decoration.  Most shops were closed due to it being Sunday, but the tea rooms were full and the bars mostly busy.

Since these sneaky passages are so easy to miss, I put together a map that takes you on a walk through all of them, just in case you’re not lucky enough to stumble upon one like I did.
Afficher Paris passageways sur une carte plus grande

The Marais has quickly become my favorite neighborhood in Paris.

I left my doorstep today excited to explore the small streets, to buy big bags of dates from the fruit stand, to stop in my favorite chocolate shop and to admire all of the boutique windows.

I walked through the Jewish quarter and peeked into windows piled high with buttery pastry stuffed with dates and almonds.  I watched people line up for steaming falafels at a small window, and admired the big tubs of hummus and various dips inside of Chez Marianne.

Heading up into the small streets of Temple, right above the Marais, I stumbled upon a Comme des Garcons Pocket store.  The tiny boutqiue is a mini version of the original with a cool selection of t-shirts and sneakers.  It’s tucked away on a small street and somewhat genius.

One Rue de Bretagne people lined up outside a patisserie for a buttery pastry to make their Saturdays just right.  A woman walked out of a flower shop  with her arms full of bright pink roses and the grey street seemed to light up immediately.

I walked past Rose Bakery, where the delicate plates of British inspired baked goods and cups of tea invited me in, and I promised to come back later.

All the while I put the finishing touches on my walk, throwing in more delicious bites here and there.  Life should be a feast for your senses, and there’s no better place to indulge than the Marais.

La boutique jaune, a delightful Jewish bakery that has been open since 1946

They serve great pastries from Eastern Europe and Russia

Some of the spreads at Chez Marianne

diptyque

Wine bar in Place des Vosges

Places des Vosges

The best hot chocolate in town at Cafe Martini

Incredible hat shop

Chez Janou

Tea shop

Beautiful boutique hotel

Sunshine to my day

Rose Bakery

Comme des Garcons Pocket Store

It’s Halloween at Jadis et Gourmande, and I can tell you from experience that the pumpkin chocolates are divine.

I used to come to the Latin Quarter to listen to music in smoky bars and slowly sip my vodka.

Back then I was still a teenager, new to the city, and I found comfort in the small tourist streets by place St.Michel.  Live music and stiff drinks made me feel less alone, and I came back night after night in search of distractions.

But these days it isn’t bars or tourist spots I’m after.  Even the Notre Dame’s line ups hold me back from climbing to the top to see the amazing view and intricate gothic architecture.

These days I go to the Latin Quarter hunt down specialty food stores on the rue Mouffetard, to stroll through the Luxumbourg gardens and to explore the small boutique laden streets that lead into Sevres-Babylone and to the Bon Marche.

Today I walked around, notebook and camera in hand, trying to plot the perfect route that would provide a delicious day for any young woman.  I hope that whoever follows my walk shares my love of picnics in the park, vintage Chanel, incredible pastries, tea salons and hearty French food at the end of the night.

Sabre, a colourful dishware store on the Rue Aux Quatres Vents

love bowls at Sabre

Brilliant window at a children’s clothing store. Can you spot your favorite designer?

Beautiful bites at Gerard Mulot

La Cremerie, a tiny wine shop and bar

Apero menu

Mariage Frères Tea

I overheard this man at Fouchet telling the saleswoman “These are for my wife. She doesn’t like grand gestures.” After he had her carefully select a perfect selection of sweets.

Tea time at Foucher

• Sabre
  4 Rue des Quatre Vents
  A little shop with some of the most beautiful dish ware in vibrant colors and all shapes and sizes.

• Foucher
  134 Rue Bac
  A lovely little chocolate shop with a tea room in the back where you can sit and enjoy a coffee, tea and even a tasting plates of chocolates or other sweets.

Most mornings in Paris I wake up to grey clouds and a cold chill.

As much as I love this city, the bleak winter weather combined with loneliness makes me it hard to look on the bright side.

But this morning I woke up calm, content and well rested. When I lifted up the blinds a soft sunshine poured into the room for a change.

I left my apartment in a happy hippie daze to my new favorite juice bar down the street.  With my stomach rumbling I stopped into a small shop selling tights at discount prices, and decided to pick up a pair since the price was right.

When I reached into my bag for my wallet the spell was broken.  ”Oh sh-”.

I left my wallet, which has the keys attached, in the apartment.

I apologized and left the shop, wrapping my head around the fact that I had no money and no way of getting into my place.  I was also dangerously low on phone credit.

I called my dad and asked him to call me back immediately.  Through the magic of the internet he found the apartment manager’s phone number.  I gave her a call and told her as quickly as possible what had happened.

Christine, my angel of the day, left the class she was about to teach to meet me with the extra set of keys.  I felt terrible, but the sun was shining, and I hoped that a few students got to enjoy it because of my forgetfulness.

While part of me was stressed, starving, light headed and upset with myself, I stayed calm.  Stress, I’ve learnt, gets me nowhere.

An hour or so later Christine met me on the street.  I am so grateful to have such a great woman in charge of the apartment.  Beyond managing apartments she is a published writer, an activist against slavery, has a great sense of humor, wicked style and the best selection of colored tights I’ve ever seen.  I liked her from the start, and I loved her for saving me in my moment of crisis.

Eventually I was back in business with my wallet and key safely in my bag.  Starving, I headed off to the market in search of something satisfying to eat.  On my way there I stumbled across the cheapest Asian grocery store I have found in Paris.  This store will soon become my temple, because with miso paste, korean hot pepper sauce and tofu at prices I can afford, there’s no stopping me from daily visits.

At the Marche des Enfants Rouges I headed to the Lebanese stand dreaming of hummus and tapenade when an older man called out to me.  Standing behind the Moroccan food stand he said: “You want some Moroccan food?”

“No, not today,” I replied smiling.

“Why not?  Have you never eaten here?” I sadly told him no, and before I knew it his smile convinced me and I was sitting down at a wooden table eating a steaming couscous with vegetables stewed in tomato sauce.  I knew I made the right decision when he brought me a complimentary cup of mint tea, bursting with fresh leaves.

When I got up to leave he came and said, “But we haven’t talked yet!” I told him I had to get to work on my book, but promised to return soon, maybe Saturday.  He smiled.

I had my day planned around taking photographs and starting shooting away.  The lighting was perfect, and just as I was about to snap an older woman standing by a flower shop…my battery died.

It was one of those days.  I laughed it off.  I bought a bag of cashews and kept walking, eating them as I walked along.  Life doesn’t always give you what you expect and it would be boring if it did.

So instead of taking photos I took perfect memories with my eyes.  Watched the light flicker off the Seine, and the young nun talking to a couple on a small cobble stoned street.

I walked through the flower market and inhaled deep floral scents with undertones of pine and burnt wood, and remembered what it was to be in love with fall.

In the evening I returned two designer tops to a woman who had sold them to me for a fair price.  I decided they weren’t for me, and dropped off a bar of chocolate from Patrick Roger as a thank you.

I’m getting to know myself through all of this.  What stresses me out, what isn’t worth my time, what is and isn’t worth my money, what makes me smile and what motivates me.  And even though some days all I see are grey skies, it feels good to let the sunshine in.

Locked out.

The temple of Asian food stores

Vegetable couscous

Late lunch at the market

Mint tea and a sneak peek at my walk

My new friend

Lunch menu

L’Estaminet, a cozy lunch or breakfast spot

Working hard at the Italian deli

Lovely red bike by the antique shops

Antique glasses

Photography shop

There are worse ways to spend your birthday than drinking martinis with a view of the Eiffel tower and one of your best friends by your side.

Sometimes I feel so lucky I wonder how I deserve all of the wonderful people that come into my life.

I wonder how I end up in these magical moments, and then I realize that if you want something badly enough, you can make it happen.

My birthday started at 2 a.m. that morning.  I came home from a late night of babysitting and opened the paper bag in my closet that read ‘Do not open until October 17th‘, in my mother’s fine handwriting.

I unwrapped a candle, a great new book and the scarf I’d been coveting and grinned.  It is nice to feel so loved.  In true birthday tradition, I lit the candle and put on the Beatles ‘They say it’s your birthday’ and danced around the room.

I fell asleep around 3 a.m and woke up a few hours later.  I threw on some comfy clothes, my boots and my winter jacket and headed out the door.  I stopped at the fruit stand and bought a big bag of medjool dates, the perfect birthday breakfast.

I ate my dates as I walked past the Louvre and along the Tuileries to hotel Meurice.  Here’s where we get really fancy.  My boyfriend wanted to me to start my day off right and booked me a massage in one of the city’s great spas.

The hotel concierge led me along the marble floor to the elevator and told me to take it downstairs to the spa.  There I was greeted and led to the changing room, where I giddily put on the fluffy robe and slippers.

I tested out the sauna and steam room, unsure of the protocol in taking off your clothes I wrapped a towel around me (thankfully as a man passed me at one point).  But had most of the morning alone to myself.  Eventually a woman come and told me it was time for my massage.

For the next 50 minutes my body travelled to a far away land of pleasure of which I hoped to never return.  When she whispered for me to get ready at my own pace, I considered kidnapping her, then remembered I had a day of birthday celebrations ahead of me.

The best gift was waiting for me at the apartment.  I walked up the stairs of my building to find one of my closest childhood friends grinning in a big grey sweater.  ”Gilly!!!”  she yelled.  My friend Jenny flew over from London for the weekend to see me.  We hugged, got ready slowly, had a good skype session with my parents then took off wandering.

We caught up over big organic salads, a rich vegetable lasagna and organic red wine at Le Potager du Marais. We made up for our vegetable consumption by hitting up the chocolate store next, where we filled a bag, and I walked down the street with chocolate covered fingers and the biggest child-like grin on my face.

We walked and explored, kicked back strong espressos, then bought some hummus, tapenade, baguette and a bottle of champagne for our pre-dinner party.

At the apartment we got decked out, threw on some heels, talked over cups of champagne then ran down the street to catch our reservation at Georges, the sexy rooftop restaurant at the top of the Georges Pompidou centre.

It was a gorgeous evening of small bites and strong martinis.  We celebrated my birthday in style, and I was happy to have someone so close to me by my side.

We continued the celebration all weekend, with a picnic in the park, more chocolate, a visit to my Turkish family and a long late night walk around Paris.

Today I get back into my work groove, with my heart rejuvenated and my confidence back in place.

I’m 23-years-old, I feel good about what I’m doing, I have people that I love me and I’m living my life the way I want to.

Early celebration in my apartment with a gift from my mother

Poppin the champagne

Jenny and her glass (no flutes in this apartment)

At the end of the night after many martinis, rose and free magazine in hand

Picnic in the park

Assortment of goodies

A lot of this was consumed

My gorgeous, playful friend getting silly with her spoon

On the roof of the Arab museum

Mint tea on the roof of the Arab museum

I love her. And yes that is the same jacket, a hilarious surprise.