Oh My Gawd!

For the love of God! Holy mackerel! Jesus Christ! Why all of the ecclesiastical expletives? Other than wanting to irritate my Jesus freak parents by “taking the Lord’s name in vain,” there is just no other way to describe what I discovered last week. Don’t you love when the food world and design world collide? I do, and that is exactly what happened when I discovered Aux Merveilleux de Fred.

We were driving through the 5^th arrondissement on our way out of Paris for the weekend, and I started screaming, “Stop the car! Stop the car!” I spied out of my keen little eye, a little “boîte à bijoux” offering the most scrumptious meringue delicacies called merveilleux… Macaroons can suck it from here on out. Meringue is the new black.

Let’s start with the decor. Black, gold, ivory, marble, illustrated walls and Venetian chandeliers. Look look look…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, now let’s talk meringue. Truth be told, I’m not a huge meringue lover, but roll that meringue in whipped cream and chocolate shavings and I’m all in. These little morsels of heaven absolutely melt in your mouth and explode in your mouth at the same time. Delicate, fluffy, moist, flavorful, petite, creamy… Addictive. I ate every one of them in about eight seconds and nearly the box that they came in and did not share with my caregiver who was sitting right next to me, feeding them to me. Can you say “greedy fat b*tch ?” Look look look…

 

 

 

The Merveilleux : Meringue, chocolate whipped cream coated with dark chocolate shavings

The Incroyable : Meringue, Speculoos biscuit whipped cream coated with white chocolate shavings

The Impensable : Meringue, coffee-flavored whipped cream coated with crystallized coffee meringue

The Excentrique : Meringue, cherry-flavored whipped cream coated with crystallized cherry meringue

The Magnifique : Meringue, praline-flavored whipped cream coated with almond chips and caramelized hazelnuts

The Sans-Culotte : Meringue, caramel-flavored whipped cream coated with crystallized meringue

See! Don’t you just want to die! So, I think everyone needs to call Air France and book a flight to Paris ASAP. You can stay at my apartment. Wait wait wait, not so fast, unfortunately you are going to have to hold on until September. Why? Because they are closed all of August! Who does that? Oh, I remember, the French. Oh well, c’est la vie. It’s worth the wait.

 

 

A toute!

 

Aspen Food and Wine Classic: Overserved

 

So, June 20-22, 2014 is the Aspen Food and Wine Classic. I have a really funny story to tell you. Let’s start with a little background… My family is a “foodie family.” We always have been. It is who we are. My grandmother was an amazing cook and her recipes are cherished. My aunt, Judy Sipe, was the Chief Culinary Officer for the Food Channel. My mother taught cooking classes out of our house. A seat at my mother’s dinner table was coveted. So, growing up, we did not do “regular” food. Everything was an ordeal. A gourmet ordeal. Sometimes it was a little embarrassing. For example, growing up in Springfield, Missouri, I was the only kid whose mother had cornichons in the refrigerator. I was so happy in high school to meet my friend, future chef Giada DeLaurentiis, whose family was as obsessed with food and cooking as mine was. Everyone teased Giada when she brought blood oranges in her school lunch. I was like, “Isn’t that normal?” All my family ever talked about was food and decorating.

 

Right after I graduated from high school, my mother opened a gourmet cooking shop in Malibu, California. It was called EveryDay Gourmet. As usual, with everything my mother does, it was remarkable. We had all of the top-of-the-line cooking tools, dishes, cookbooks, gourmet food items, cookware, espresso makers, bread makers, copper pots, napkins, tablecloths, flatware, etc.. I stole something from the store every day so within two years my kitchen was a mini Williams-Sonoma.

 

My idea of a fun afternoon was reading cookbooks. It was in my blood. In 1994, I was lucky enough to “work for free” at my mother’s second cousin’s resort, Big Cedar Lodge. I had the run of the Café called Truman’s Cottage. It was a little gourmet deli for the hotel guests. Since nepotism was occurring, I was allowed to use the main restaurant’s supplies for anything that I wanted in my little café. I loved working at the Truman’s Cottage Café but I really wanted to go to cooking school. I applied to The Culinary Institute of America. The main chef at Big Cedar Lodge wrote an outstanding reference for me and I was accepted! A big deal, a very big deal. Unfortunately, the same week I was accepted, I found out I was pregnant with Gracie. No cooking school for me. Thanks Grace. Just kidding.

 

So, as you can see, food is not just food to us. My most cherished photograph is one with me, Gracie, my mother and Julia Child! When I met her, I almost had a bloody heart attack. Flash forward years later to the Aspen Food and Wine Classic. We were living in Aspen at the time and the Food and Wine Classic is one of the highlights of the year in Aspen. Here’s what the locals do… They sign-up to “volunteer” at the Food and Wine Classic. No one ever has any intention of actually “volunteering.” Aspen locals just want to get in for free (it’s super expensive) and have full behind the scenes access. My mother, my ex-husband, my father and I were lucky enough to score 4 exclusive volunteer passes. My mother and I were so excited to see all of the famous chefs, attend all of the cooking demonstrations, taste all of the culinary delights and just be in our world of food. My father was excited to have free wine. My poor ex-husband had no idea what was in store for him that day.

 

So, the funny story is about my mother. A little background. My mother does not drink, has never done drugs, has never stayed out past 11:30 PM, has never smoked a cigarette, does not swear, goes to church and is a perfect lady. Basically she’s a total bore. But not this day! My mother’s vice is food… Particularly “sweets.” My mother once told our family that she did not like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. However, she continued to say , “But, if I Had to eat a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, I would.” We were like, “Really, Mom? When would you Have To eat a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup? In what situation would you be forced to eat a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup?”

 

Anyway, so here we are at the Aspen Food and Wine Classic. Everything is going perfectly until my lovely mother is offered a little tasting cup of a new sweet mango drink. Unbeknownst to her, it was an alcoholic drink. It was so sweet and delicious that she did not notice the alcohol. So what does she do? She has about 40 of them. In about an hour. None of us noticed because we were off selfishly stuffing our faces with food and alcohol samples. I remember someone coming up to me, pointing, and saying, “Is that your mother?” I look over and there is my fancy, well raised, well-respected mother slumped over in a chair in the hot Aspen summer sun like a Raggedy Ann doll drunk as a skunk at the Aspen Food and Wine Classic! I was mortified. I’m pretty sure I pretended like she wasn’t my mother. I ran to get my father and ex-husband to help. We decided that we needed to get her out of there without anybody noticing. No such luck. Apparently, my mother is a loud drunk. I don’t know what she said but her volunteer pass was removed from her neck by security. In addition to that, my lovely mother was getting kicked out of the Aspen Food and Wine Classic!

 

Envision this… A grown woman with her coiffed hair and capri pants being dragged out of the Aspen Food and Wine Classic. She could not walk. My ex-husband and my father were on each side of her dragging her out with her ballet flats dragging in the dirt behind her. I swear to God! My mother! Miss Manners, Miss Emily Post, Miss I Care What People Think about Me, Miss Fancy Pants. I have never laughed so hard in my entire life. I was laughing but I was also like, “Wait, should we take mom to the hospital?” My father refused. I think he would rather have had her die of alcohol poisoning in private than humiliating her and taking her to a hospital where her stomach would’ve been pumped. She sobered up after a couple of days and honestly, I think she immediately moved out of Aspen.

 

Isn’t that funny? So, Aspen Food and Wine Classic 2014. If you haven’t ever been, I totally encourage you to check it out. Charming town, amazing food, incredible wines, celebrity chefs and free-flowing booze.

Aspen Food and Wine Classic

June 20-22, 2014

Aspen, Colorado

 

 http://www.foodandwine.com/classic

 

Paris Redemption

Paris redeemed itself today. How can I say that about this beautiful city? What’s wrong with me, you ask. I’ll tell you what happened. Last week I started to think, “Maybe I should go back to the states.” What’s wrong with me? Did I miss my husband who is in LA working? Did I miss my friends? Did I miss the beach? Nope. Do you know what I missed? Bacon. Real bacon. I was about to throw my entire beautiful life in Paris away over bacon. All I wanted was an American BLT sandwich with Wonder white bread, Miracle Whip, Oscar Meyer bacon, iceberg lettuce and a juicy tomato. Yes, yes, yes Paris is the mecca of cuisine, but honestly I was getting sick of such good food. I want real food. I have a wonderful caregiver who used to be the chef for the designer, Nina Ricci, and she makes me all sorts of delicious French food. But I don’t know how to say to her without being rude, “Can I just have a grilled cheese sandwich?” It didn’t stop there. I started imagining all the deliciously disgusting American food that I missed. Taco Bell bean burritos at 2 o’clock the morning. In and out Burgers. I don’t even eat meat, but I would now. Chinese chicken salad from Chin Chin. Regular Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies. A big fat glass of iced tea with a crap load of ice. That doesn’t exist here. Fried chicken. Waldorf salad. A submarine sandwich. I would love a Thanksgiving dinner. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich, like the kind you get in your school lunchbox. Biscuits and gravy, yes, I’m from Texas and Missouri. Barbecue from some nasty roadside stand in the South. Okay, you are getting the picture. So I was getting a little, “Down with Paris!”

 Then, then, then I went out yesterday.

Glorious, glorious Paris. The cherry blossoms are starting to bloom. Flower shops are bursting at the seams. Everyone is enjoying the sunshine sitting outside a cafés. The beautiful gardens are packed with Parisians walking their perfect Parisian dogs. Short sleeves on Vespas. Passing the Louvre on the way to the grocery store doesn’t suck. And best of all, yesterday, was the opening of the Empress Josephine exhibit at the Musée de Luxembourg! I took both of my caregivers with me so it would be easier to haul my paralyzed ass into a taxi with some sort of grace. One positive feature of being completely handicapped and in a wheelchair is that I get into museums first and free! No three-hour lines or €20 tickets for this girl. First and free! So in we go to the exhibit. Par for the course, it did not disappoint. There were about 120 pieces of Josephine’s possessions. Paintings, jewelry, tea sets, beautiful engraved champagne glasses, her makeup table, her harp, her dresses, sculptures, books, etc. It was fabulous. The collection had been pulled from various other museums around the world. My sweet African caregiver told me that this was the first museum that she had ever stepped foot in. Then she asked me if everything was for sale. 0MG. Love her.

 

 

I learned a lot about Josephine at the exhibit. For example, her name wasn’t even really Josephine. Her first name was Rose. But Napoleon didn’t like that name so he used the feminine form of her middle name, Joseph. Josephine as the Empress was always on display and considered the best-dressed women in the Empire. She was elegant, cultured and loved the arts. Renowned architects designed new models of furniture for her, such as the armchair with armrests in the form of swans. She collected paintings, antiques, her rose collection was the largest of its time, loved music, brought the first Australian black swans to Europe, and loved botanicals. Maybe she was a bit like the Jackie Kennedy of Paris

I got through the exhibit within a half an hour because I’m a professional museum goer, and I don't dillydally. Next up, the gift shop. Oh, how I love a museum gift shop. I bought the exhibition book and a giant giant giant poster of Josephine that I think will look best over the toilet. What’s wrong with me? Next stop? Lunch at one of my favorite little patisserie/boulangerie/sandwich shops in Paris called  Gerald Mulot in the 6^th near the museum. You walk in and on the right side there is a bevy of bright colored desserts. Keep going a bit and there is the, I guess you would call the deli section. Lots of salads, tabouli, green beans, ratatouille, croque monsieur, shrimp in a creamy sauce, lots of fluffy quiche, and sandwiches galore. I chose a delicious hard-boiled egg sandwich with creamy mustard/mayonnaise, tomatoes and lettuce. My African caregiver made sure that her sandwich did not have pork because she’s Muslim. My other caregiver chose a buttery pain au raisin.

 

So, in all, a lovely day was had. I guess I could learn to survive here in Paris without Taco Bell. It’s a give-and-take.