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.

Carry On Packing

Well, I'm Europe bound in 2 weeks, and my dream is to travel light. Really light. Now, I have done this before; on my last trip to Italy, I was quite proud of myself for restricting my packing, and being frankly brutal about it. I packed a few T shirts, a frumpy skirt, and a pair of cargo Capri pants that I wore everywhere (even in Capri!). The result of this is that I looked, well, gross. I didn't look the way I imagined myself looking while wandering around some very sophisticated places- I looked like I do when I'm cleaning the tub and taking out the recycling. It didn't take long for me to regret my packing job. Especially considering that my travel buddy managed to get a bunch of skirts, a straightening iron, and what seemed like 50 lbs of coordinating jewelry into her carry-on. I vowed to do better next time.

Well, it's next time. Rather than packing the clothes I took last time, most of which have olive oil stains on them anyway, I am planning to look more put together. This is the plan: I'm packing 5 dresses, a denim skirt, 4 tops, (nice) cargo pants, and a bathing suit.

For the flight, I'll wear jeans, slip on shoes, a t shirt, sweater, and jacket. Easier to wear the bigger things, and I am always freezing on planes, so this works fine for me.

Here are all the clothes laid out; we have a washing machine at the villa in Umbria we're renting for the first week, so I'll be able to clean things before heading off to France (I'm sure this year's olive oil stains will be a challenge, however.)

Everything rolled up looks pretty packable, right?

I'm taking 3 pairs of shoes- all comfortable, and the sandals are cute enough to wear in Rome or Paris. I'm very into comfort, but I wouldn't be caught dead walking around Europe in running shoes.

The espadrilles are toe to toe along the long end of the suitcase. The sandals will be wrapped together and shoved down the right side.

Enter the packing cube, meant to hold things together and to maximize space. I'm addicted to organizing products.

About half of the rolled up dresses, shirts, and skirts fit nicely into the packing cube.

Stick the packing cube into the suitcase, with shoes on 2 sides.

Everything else fits on top, with the bathing suit shoved into some empty space by the shoes.

Yes, I am bringing a hat. As much as I wanted a really nice Panama, this linen hat is super-packable, and that's what it's all about on this journey. (Intimates are rolled and stuck in the inside zippered section of the suitcase top, for those who care).

Toiletries- small sizes, including some Tide for washing clothes, and everything else I should need, for the first week, anyway.

The non-liquid toiletries- makeup includes stick foundation, mascara, and a Nars palette. I'm also bringing floss, bandages, a small sewing kit, in case I have to go full MacGyver for some reason.

Ta da! Everything is in the carry-on, waiting to go. Actually, it's all back in the closet. Rolling supposedly helps avoid wrinkles, but even I'm not anal enough to pack 2 weeks before departure.

Next up- packing my Travel Mate purse. Stay tuned!

Ten Dollar Dinners

I find myself, shockingly, to be a big fan of the Food Network show Ten Dollar Dinners! The reason I'm shocked is this- I am often quite a food snob, especially where cooking shows are concerned. (Also, when it comes to food, I often Spend Too Much! Get it? Ha...) When I first tuned in and saw a perky blonde American woman, I thought, "Oh, here we go, another Sandra Lee, here to tell me to dump cans of soup into everything." I was ready to mock, but instead I was intrigued by Melissa's recipes. Not at all unsophisticated, pretty frugal, and the ones I've made have been just delicious!

Now, some of the recipes aren't at all complicated, but, like many of Nigella Lawson's, gentle reminders that you only need a few things to make a cheap, tasty, and healthy dinner. Garlic Oil Sauteed Pasta with Broccoli was one of those recipes. Sauteed Cannellini Beans was another. Both were really good. This weekend I'll be making Lentil Quinoa salad with Pesto shrimp, (Google it yourself, I'm tired of adding links!) but the recipe I want to rave about today is Garlic Spaghetti.

Just a few simple ingredients, no time at all, and I had 6 portions that got me through the week. Yes, there's butter in it, but what you get is a richness and smooth taste that plain spaghetti sauce often misses. Melissa's recipe is a little rich, so I made some adjustments. Below is my version, and, damn, is it good.

Also, I ate this so fast I didn't get around to taking photos, but, really, it looks like you'd think it would.

I box whole wheat spaghetti

5 tablespoons olive oil

8 cloves garlic, minced

1 jar tomato passatta

3 tablespoons butter

salt and pepper

grated parmesan to taste

fresh basil leaves

1. Cook pasta according to directions on box

2. Meanwhile, heat olive oil gently and add the garlic. Cook over low heat 20-30 minutes

3. In another pan, heat the passatta and butter. Cook over low heat until the butter is melted

4. Dump in the olive oil with garlic, salt and pepper, and simmer 10 minutes

5. Toss with the spaghetti, and add torn basil leaves and parmesan when serving.

Supposed to be 4 servings, but make it 6, trust me.

Humanity

Some really shocking news out of Egypt this week. CBS reporter Lara Logan was attacked in Tahrir Square. She was separated from her crew, and according to the statement CBS released, she experienced a "brutal and sustained" sexual assault. That description is chilling to me, but hardly more so than the reactions to this crime that I've been reading since the incident was reported.

Now, I'm not at all a fan of Ms. Logan's reporting. Scroll down a few posts and you'll see why. That being said, I am still amazed at the vitriol I'm reading about this woman and this crime. The nastiness tends to fall into one of three categories:

1. "Whatever- she sucks and is a terrible reporter"

Like I said, I can't stand Lara Logan's reporting, but aside from sociopaths and this douche, who can't see that this doesn't matter now? Is the world so shockingly Black and White, Us and Them, that average people don't mind when their ideological opposites are tortured? Wow.

2. "What did she expect? That's what happens to pretty blondes in dangerous places."

This one has many angles, and they're all vile. First is the implication that CBS should have sent either a man or an ugly girl to get the story. Never mind the fact that most TV reporters are hired in part because they're "telegenic", we end up confirming the old nonsense that women can be divided into 2 categories- Ugly/Serious and Pretty/Vapid. Shockingly, there are unattractive idiots and beauties with brains, but who am I to take issue with a stereotype that makes judging women easier? Secondly, since attractiveness is something that women often enhance with makeup or nice clothes, yes, pretty lady, you brought this on yourself. Wash off that lip gloss and put on some overalls, because if you don't, well, you're just asking for trouble.

3. "Just shows you what a bunch of animals Muslim men are."

How lucky we are in the Western world, to live in a culture where rape never happens... oh wait, unless you count these women, and these women, and what this Mormon dad just confessed to doing to his own fucking daughters... But still, it's so much easier to blame this on the lack of respect for women in the Middle East. It's entirely true that there is systematic oppression of women all over the world, and Arab nations are some of the worst. Still, it takes a true simpleton to lump all Arab men together as rapists because of this crime, while naturally not applying the same standard to Western men. Our men are individuals, but Foreigners are all the same. Citizens of the Idiocracy are losing the ability so see shades of grey and to appreciate complexity. And the gall required for right-wing assholes who are doing their best to roll back reproductive rights in the US to get all Feminist when bashing Muslim men is off the charts.

Blame and justification are fear-based reactions. This is the time to reject these emotions. A terrible thing has happened to a fellow human being. She deserves compassion, respect, and privacy. Let's be better people, and give them to her.

Goodbye, Cupcake!

Ok, like a drunk after a lost weekend, I have returned from a vacation in the American South (well, Virginia and Washington DC). Anyone think I stuck to a diet of "rabbit food", as a colleague calls it? I did-- if rabbits eat pulled pork and potato salad, and wash it down with plenty of booze and a cupcake chaser. Like the aforementioned drunk, I now need to get with the program. No Twelve Steps for me, just two: eat healthy and exercise. I'm cutting back, and as I do, let me share some fond memories of delicious southern meals before I am forced to erase these thoughts from my mind, and replace them with visions of carrots and treadmills.

Five Guys Burgers and Fries. We don't seem to have them in Canada yet, but there are a ton in the US. They started in Virginia, so it seemed appropriate to check it out. (Note- during the 2008 election, the Obamas mentioned liking Five Guys, but I had already had it and loved it. So there.) As befits American-sized portions these days, if you order a regular burger, it comes with 2 patties. To get just one, you have to order the mini. The mini is like 800 calories. Not so mini, don't you think? Anyway, the burgers are really yummy, and the french fries are fantastic. There is a sign in the restaurant that is updated daily to tell you the name of the farm in Idaho that grew the potatoes. One order of fries is enough for 3 to 4 people, so if you're alone, watch yourself! They also have refillable fountain Diet Coke, which is the greatest beverage on earth aside from Champagne. All in all, I love my annual Five Guys visit, but I really don't think anyone should be eating there on a regular basis.

One night, we went to a CFA event on the grounds of a "farm" called Seven Oaks. The place was spectacular, as was the food. There were buffet stations with food from around the world. I had a plate of hummus, asparagus, and salad. But before that, I had this: Buttermilk fried chicken, truffle mac and cheese, potato salad, and pulled pork with barbecue sauce. Kind of a wonder they don't keep a defibrillator on that buffet table.

And now, cupcakes. I returned to 2 of my favourites, Georgetown Cupcake in DC and Capellino's Crazy Cakes in Charlottesville. Georgetown Cupcake makes the best cake of any cupcake bakery I've tried. These are from Capellino's- the New Yorker, and the Red Velvet. Very good, but not the best.

That award this year goes to a place in Dupont Circle (DC) called Hello Cupcake. The dulce de leche cupcake was sublime. The icing had a wonderful caramel taste, and the cake itself echoed that flavour really well. If it hadn't been so hot, I would have tried to bring home a half dozen, so I guess I should be grateful for the heat. It's time for me to get back to eating well, so instead of Hello Cupcake, for now, it's goodbye :(