Now we go to Paris.
Our book recommended a seafood place right by our Inn so we scored ourselves a table to fuel up before our night time bus tour of the city. (This is one of those touristy things Ains talks me into and then ends up being quite rad.) We stared with this pizzette thing- not very photogenic- but pretty awesome.
For our mains, I got some dish with Squid Ink pasta because I was feeling adventurous and what spells adventure more than Squid Ink? I’m pretty sure it was Cod on top.
Ains decided, despite being at a seafood place that he needed a little dose of chicken. It more or less rocked his world.
I decided the next day that I had to have French Onion soup whilst in France. I knew the stock was probably filled with Vache-ful stock but I didn’t care.
Still on an adventurous kick, I ordered mussels for dinner. I’ve actually had them before, but usually shared so that you just have a few. But when the meal was delivered- a huge cauldron was set before me.
The French fries aren’t better in France but I did some damage working my way through this one.
In the meantime, Ainsley had become slightly obsessed with Croque Monsieurs and continued to order them at every chance.
The next morning we had an omelette. Sure it looks like a pretty standard omelette. And it was. But we ate it with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tour and chatted with a textile-designer from NYC during the meal so it seemed kind of special.
That afternoon found us at Laduree- the Motherland of all French Pastry shops. I managed one shot before being scolded for taking a photo inside:
An incredible cupcake:
And French Macaroons:
Which were so incredible, that after gushing and tearing for a second, I immediately re-entered the Pastry Shop as Ains laughed at me to load up on more macaroons which we managed to get all the way home with only minor damage. The explosion of flavor in each of these macaroons makes the “flavor explosions” that gum commercials talk about seem like the biggest crock of merde ever.
We had eaten cheese and had picnics, but I wanted to have a picnic of cheese by the River. I managed to find this Brie that Cara had researched and told me to get as well as some other goodies.
The next morning I got artsy with breakfast. We each had a bowl of latte magic. Ains had croissaints with jam and butter.
They were light and fluffy. We discussed the potential explanations for the extreme superiority of the bread in France at length.
My meal was an egg poached inside of a piece of Briochre:
I also had to get one last cheese plate. This plate was THE CHEESEPLATE THAT ALMOST KILLED ME. It was SOOOO much food. But it was my. last. cheese. in. France. gasp! and I really could not stop myself.
It was painfully clear that we weren’t in France anymore.