A Few More Pictures

Not great images from the Blackberry, but still...

Pretty loo :)

One gorgeous Sidecar glass.

This Ain't the Ritz. Oh Wait, it is!

I love a good cocktail- I especially love a good Sidecar. They are the House Drink around here, as they are dead simple to make, and so many people love them. Knowing I’d be back in Paris, I decided I wanted to pay tribute to my House Drink by visiting two bars that made them famous- Bar Hemingway at the Ritz, and the bar that invented them, Harry’s New York Bar.

We started our night at the Ritz. We’ve been there before, to the bar on the Place Vendome side, and to l’Espadon for one of the best meals I’ve ever had, but we didn’t get a chance to try Hemingway’s. I knew the bar requested “smart casual”, so I insisted the BF wear a jacket and no jeans. Upon arrival, it became apparent that tourists think “smart casual” means ill-fitting jeans and t-shirts (I shudder to think what these people wear on Casual Friday). I wore a simple black satin dress with a sweater, since it was quite chilly that night. Unfortunately all of the bar seating was taken, so we sat at a cute little table that was free. Within a half hour, the place was full, and we felt badly for some well-dressed people who were turned away while the ones dressed for a baseball game continued to hog the bar.

Hemingway’s is a small, intimate place, with room for maybe 30 people. The walls are honey coloured wood panelling, and there are, of course, Papa-themed items all around. The big draw, however, is the bartender. Colin Field has been named the Best Bartender in the World, and it’s easy to see why. I had a French 75 to start, which was light and a good first drink, while the BF had a Sidecar. This was the smoothest, best Sidecar either of us had ever tasted. It was also perfectly composed, which is something I struggle with. It was 30 Euros, so I am guessing it wasn’t made with the $19 Cognac I get at the liquor store in Buffalo. The BF declared it a perfect drink to sip and savour.

For my next drink, I had a glass of Ritz Champagne, as I love it, and was on a mission to try as many kinds as I could in 2 ½ days. Around then, Mr. Field came over to chat with us. I told him about a friend who made his own liqueurs, and asked him for an autograph for said friend. We spoke for some time about the skill of mixing drinks, the best bars in New York, and what it means to translate a vision into something that is both artistic and ephemeral. Then he gave me a pile of Bar Hemingway coasters so I would “never drink alone."

After the Champagne, I had a Robertino, which tasted of mint and berries. The BF had a drink that Mr. Field described while talking with us, which had pear liqueur and other yummy things in it.

The vibe of the bar encourages talking among patrons, so we chatted with some other folks about the décor, and just leaned back and enjoyed the evening. The bill was astonishing, but we won’t be back for quite some time, so it was definitely worth it.

(Also worth it is the fact that I now know where another bathroom is tucked away in the Ritz. When you want not to just avoid squatters, but to have gold-plated fixtures, this is the place to “go.”)

Then we were off to Harry’s New York Bar, where the Sidecar was invented. After the Ritz, it was a bit of a come-down, but I was there for historical purposes. Our waiter, who resembled Uncle Fester in looks and temperament, finally brought us our Sidecars, and I was able to celebrate “my” drink. This one tasted like I made it, to be honest. It was good, but not in the class of the Hemingway offering. Not in that price range, either, to be fair. Anyway, it was enough for me, and we left the bar for a stroll down the Champs-Elysees.

I was a wee bit tipsy by then, as we had eaten a late lunch, and dinner ended up being the delicious munchies that came with drinks at Hemingway’s. Cashews and home made potato chips are not enough to keep this girl standing up after 4 cocktails, so I began to stagger ever so slightly. No dinner also meant that I would have to pee a lot. I used the Ritzy bathrooms, on the Cambon and Vendome sides, then Harry’s, but I needed another stop on this walk, so I stood up tall, grabbed the BF by the arm, and strutted towards the Crillon. I gave a firm “bon soir” to the doorman, who greeted me back, and opened the door. As long as you look like there is the slightest possibility that you belong, you can go anywhere!

After my high class pit stop, we walked for a while, reveled in the lights, then headed back to our hotel. After I popped that Advil at 4 in the morning, I felt just great. A night I will always cherish.

Lori's Sidecar:

1 part Cognac (as good as you can afford, which is not so good if you are me)

1 part Cointreau (not Triple Sec, not Grand Marnier. Cointreau!)

1 part freshly squeezed lemon juice, strained (not from a bottle, not from concentrate!)

Dump into an ice-filled shaker, and shake! Pour into a nice coupe glass, or a Martini glass if that's all you have available. Sip, though you will be tempted to chug. If you chug, your sentences will soon be missing verbs.

Depth and Breadth

I have been to Paris before. I have been to Rome, Florence, and Tuscany before. So no, this trip didn’t allow me to check new locations off the map, to impress people with the breadth of my travels. What it did allow me to do was to share an amazing week with a group of true friends, and to go deeper in exploring places I have only scratched the surface of in past trips.

When you don’t have to think about the Coliseum or the Eiffel Tower, you can instead focus on people and real life. Side streets. Food. Oh yes, food. And little villages that no one writes about, like Piegaro, in Umbria, where I spent that glorious week with friends.

I must give a shout-out to the BF for all the planning he did regarding the drive to the villa. The owner, Colleen, provided great instructions, but the BF Google-Earthed the route, so he knew every twist and turn on the way there. This isn’t a village you find easily, unless you happen to be on a back road and interested in some hairpin driving, but it's worth it when you get there.

Not a lot of English is spoken, but we all got along just fine. One friend on the trip is Italian, so when needed, we’d defer to her to communicate, but most of the time, we all just muddled through. (One funny misstep- one morning a friend lapsed into Starbucks-speak at the bar, and ordered a latte. She was given a glass of hot milk. It’s caffe latte in Italy!)

We met the locals, ate at their restaurants, shopped at their stores, sat with them, and didn’t see a single tour group lead by someone with a megaphone and an umbrella. We were only there for a week, but we were able to get closer to Italian life than we would have if we had just run in for a photo-op then left town. It may be a cliché to travel to Tuscany and Umbria, but only if you scratch the surface. If you are willing to go deeper, you will be rewarded.